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moxfirefly · 3 years

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So I’ve been working on this for a little while now after a comment @supershiny-raven left on one of my post. I present to you:

How the others find out you and the turtles are dating.

Raphael entered the Lair with you in his arms. His brothers stumbling by him, Leonardo actually tripping.

The gang had gone to drink at Vern’s fancy penthouse, a round of drinks had turned to four and before anybody had common sense he had broken out his fancy wine collection.

That had truly been everyone’s undoing.

Yours as well.

Raphael the tank had pretty much only gotten buzzed, even more so upon seeing your state he figured he needed to somehow get you and everyone else home safe and in one piece.

“Where do we dump Donnie?” April had one of his arms slung over her shoulder while Mikey had his other, they had quickly found out the purple banded terrapin was a fan of wine. “Whatever is flat and comfortable, you think you can manage him and Leo?” Raphael nudged his older brother who had dozed off while resting against the couch.

“Yeah yeah brah, we totally-“ He unceremoniously let his brother fall on the nearest cot, poor April taken along for the ride. “Shit, sorry girly”

Raph shook his head, you groaned stirring awake and tightening your hold on him. Raph was basically carrying you with one arm beneath your rear. Making his way towards his room he gently placed you on his bed and set about the task of removing your shoes. “Hey hey mister, I got a boyfriend” You squinted at the large terrapin at the end of the bed.

“Yeah I heard, lucky guy gets to put ya drunk ass to bed, where’s your makeup bag baby?” He got up when you half hazardously pointed at the dresser.

Pushing yourself up a little on your elbows you watched him gather your face creams and a pack of makeup wipes. He sat back down but next to you and motioned towards his lap. “C’mere, let’s get your face off” You giggled when he manhandled you onto his thigh and took out the wipes. Slowly and in the most excruciatingly loving way Raphael set out to wipe off your makeup. Each stroke removing foundation and eyeshadow, you mumbled something he somehow understood in your inebriated state. “Yeah yeah I got ya kid” With all the careful dexterity he developed over time, he gently removed your eyelashes.

“Somebody has been paying attention” You giggled, feeling the buzz in your body shift into grogginess. Raphael looked inside the bag, adding some cream to your face to hydrate it. He examined his work, a lazy smile as he caressed your face. It felt bizarre he could actually do this, touch a beautiful girl and do something so silly as help them out with their face routine. The two of you had been rather quiet about your relationship, enjoying it all to yourselves.

“Ya were the cutest drunk at that party” He ran his knuckles across your chin, You smiled sleepily lifting up enough to catch his lips in a languid kiss.

The door creaked open and there stood April, her own slightly drunk face breaking out into a sweet smile. The two pairs of eyes that landed on her read ‘get out’ and ‘keep your mouth shut’ slowly April backed up nodding with a giggle.

Then there was a ruckus of what Raphael only assumed was April tripping and Leo drunkly laughing his ass off.

____________

Michelangelo

Oh he was screwed.

So insanely screwed.

How could he misplace something he kept on his person so diligently?

Mikey turned over everything he could in his room, currently he had done just that with the mattress but to no avail.

His phone was missing.

His phone with that very scandalous polaroid you’d taken for him.

Mikey had nearly passed out when you gifted him the picture and to his delight he had stuck the polaroid on the back of his phone in its clear phone case. He kept his phone on him all the time, sure he’d have to be a little sneaky about placing it down but he could manage.

Now though? He was about to have a coronary.

Okay, currently in this disaster there was no trace of it. This meant he’d have to scavenge the living room.

Where his family was.

Mikey swallowed and scurried out with a silent prayer that it would there.

Raphael and Leonardo were currently watching a basketball game. They seemed pretty engrossed and perhaps wouldn’t notice that he was scouring the ends of the earth for his actual girlfriend’s literal boobs. He peaked aglance at the couch, his large brothers had to take up so much space to make it worse.

“What are you looking for?” Came Donnie’s voice from the kitchen. The orange banded turtle froze, he tried giving him a nonchalant shrug. “Just checking how I can give Raph a wedgie ya know” Donnie raised a brow ridge, mug of coffee to his lips.

“I double dare ya numbnuts, the Knicks are down ten points and I’m pissed” Raph grunted as the opposing team landed another shot and Leo sighed exasperated with the outcome. His eldest brother got up thankfully which allowed him to take a look at the that side of the sofa. To his dread but relief there wasn’t anything.

Where the fuck was his phone?!

“Hey snot face, can ya order a pizza?” Raph grumbled as the game seem to worsen, a pizza could fix up his mood. Mikey frozen, mouthing a series of ‘shit shit shit’ as he frantically looked around.

“Oh man that would fix this terrible game, can you order it with extra bacon too?” Leo went straight to the fridge to grab something to drink. “Order some cheesy sticks too will you?” Donnie asked as he poured himself another mug of coffee.

Yes all of this sounded wonderful and his stomach did grumble but

HIS GIRLFRIENDS BOOBS.

Raph had scooted further to grab his own soda from the coffee table and just as he did he saw his phone. Relief washed over him but to his immense dismay and terror, the back of his phone was facing up. Which means the clear case he had was displaying the infamous polaroid he had been gifted.

You had simply asked him one thing.

‘Please don’t let your brothers see my tits’

It all felt slow motion, his eyes going wide, his hand diving to the couch and just as he did, Raph’s quick reflexes kicked in unfortunately and he turned to grab his youngest brothers wrist. “Ya ain’t giving me a wedgie man!!”

Raph’s eyes followed Mikey’s hand and then his eyes bugged out.

“Why are there titties on the sofa?!” Raph made for the phone but only got a face full of pillow cushion. He snatched the phone before it could be grabbed by anybody else. The red banded brute grinned as his brother hugged the phone to his chest. “Advert your gaze you perv!” Mikey all but shrieked.

“I’m not the one walking around with a titty pic as my phone cover” Raph grinned, just to make matters worse Leo and Donnie had gathered.

“Mikey why are you walking around with a random porn pic on your phone cover” Came Donnie’s disapproving tone.

“It’s a polaroid” Was all Raph needed to say.

The silence that fell was brief, then a series of ‘ooh’s’ sounded off and Mikey all but frowned and felt his cheeks heat up.

“No way! That can’t be...” Leo was incredulous. The relationship between Mike and you had remained rather on the down low. It was fun, a little secret away from the world that could stay between the two of you.

“Mikey, are you and y/n a thing?” Donnie asked exactly what the rest wanted to know but Mikey dreaded to answer. He sighed dramatically and tucked his phone into his pocket, shooting Raph a glare as his green eyes followed the motion.

“Listen dudes she made me promise that nobody would see that picture and I’ve already broken that cardinal rule thanks to this jerk face” He frowned at Raph, who in turn rolled his eyes.

“Well maybe keep the picture in your wallet or your room?” Leo sipped his soda with a matter of fact tone.

“Or as a background on your phone cause honestly man” Donnie smiled to himself when Mikey shot him an incredulous look. “Why’d she give you that?” Raph inquired sneakily with a smirk.

“For our three month anniver- AH YOU DICK” Mikey huffed out as Raph began to laugh, it was so easy to trick Mikey when one played their cards right.

____________

Donatello

Investigating could take a toll on anybody, even if by all means you weren’t a detective it still didn’t mean you wouldn’t find yourself researching and investigating crime. It seems to be part of the job description when you befriend four giant crime fighting terrapins.

In away you could help, you did.

Everyone had huddled around the living room, the coffee table littered with pictures, clues and all sorts of pieces of evidence that could possibly lead to the culprit they were trying to catch. You had set down a stack of papers, eyes already screaming for a break. Leo and Casey were at the kitchen talking, Casey had just clocked out and was reporting back what the nights investigations had gathered. Raph and Mikey were checking out the pictures Casey had brought over and Donnie naturally was researching on a laptop he’d placed there.

You had nudged him to come over and join the huddle, and secretly you just wanted him close. The two of you were dating, quietly and unannounced, but in those first few stages of just wanting to be glued to one another it was a little difficult to do said glueing.

On a few occasions with prying eyes preoccupied with their investigating, you had reached over to rub his cheek, his sleepy eyes spoke greatly of how tired he felt. Donnie had been at this already for a while, you’d been there with him along the way.

With a stretch of his arms, Donnie yawned and rolled his neck. The clock on your phone read 3:45am, he was due for a nap at the very least. “Why don’t you lie down, I can keep helping out here” You reached over again and took off his glasses, he smiled tiredly but shook his head. “I’m fine, I can keep going” Despite his entire body language screaming otherwise, Donnie would always soldier on.

By the time another hour passed, people consumed enough Coffee to give themselves an additional pulse (and somebody committed the mistake of giving Mikey said coffee) the investigation had died down. A few walls were hit but a few leads had come from it as well. Everyone was ready to call it a night (or morning).

Casey yawned, twisting his neck to let out a few pops. “Okay who’s staying and who’s coming with me?” By the sounds of April softly snoring against an equally happily snoring Raph, it seemed she would stay. Casey had a few hours of sleep to catch on before heading for his next shift and you had to preoccupy yourself with the same before tackling a night shift at your job. Donnie’s tired eyes expressed how he wanted you to stay over but he knew work was closer to your place.

“I guess I’m carpooling with you” You told Casey, already grabbing your jacket and bag. A quick hug to Leo and Mikey, a bow to a recently awaken Splinter and you were next to Donnie.

He’d been sitting on the kitchen table, arms crossed and looking closer to being k.o’d.

It was the sleep deprivation honestly, on both your behalves.

Because you had spread your arms for a hug and so had he, but your face had met in the middle and before either of your foggy brains could comprehend what was happening you had smooched him.

On the lips.

For about a minute.

Minute and a half honestly.

You both froze, the awake members of the family staring with raised brows. Donnie furrowed his brows, lips pursed in a thin line, you still had your own in a kissing motion.

“Well at least we solved one mystery tonight” Spoke Mikey with a snicker, Leo nudged him.

Donnie sighed by shrugged. “Not exactly how I wanted to announce this so yup, I’m her boyfriend, she’s my girlfriend, please hold all inquires for a later time when I’m actually awake” He pulled you in again for a hug, and another kiss (greedy boy) and instructed Casey to deliver you home safely.

With a blush but albeit happy look on your face you waved everyone off.

___________

Leonardo

Keeping a relationship quiet had never proven to be so difficult. Truthfully it came easier when the circle of people surrounding you was bigger, but a close knit one? Everyone suddenly had the powers of observation up to God level.

But Leo’s ninja skills were God level too and you knew how to keep your trap shut and not sigh like a love struck teenager every second you saw him. So it had gone good, real good for a while. The thrill of maybe sharing an intimate kiss while others we’re around was a sensation you never expected to enjoy. When it was time to leave, Leo would ‘walk you’ home safely and by ‘miracle’ run into a few thugs on his way back.

Because there’s no reason a brisk ten minute walk to your apartment should turn into an hour and a half.

Raph wasn’t buying but cared little to stick his nose into it. Donnie was too busy to bother. Mikey had an idea but decided due to bro code not to voice it.

His father though?

Splinter knows what’s going on because well, he’s Splinter. You live long enough with four giant sons all with their unique personalities and traits, you pick up a thing or two about parenting pretty easily.

And Splinter is a phenomenal parent.

Both Father and Mother to his sons.

So naturally he’s irked that his eldest is sneaking out at odd hours and trying to conceal his return. Because Splinter feels that out of all four, Leo has always been the most open with him. Once Raph hit those pre-pubescent mood swings, Donnie began to teach himself all matter of subjects and Mikey was too busy trying to set a new record of heart attacks to give his father while skateboarding; Leo always remained the same.

Even with all the acolytes Leo has achieved in his ninjutsu training, he still had his hiccups and his father would never spare the opportunity to turn into a teaching moment.

So when Leo had kissed you passionately on his way out of your window, you still in nothing but the skin that he had dedicated a fair amount of time in kissing and bitting. He thought he was being slick, he thought he was going to ninja his way into the Lair, into the showers and straight to his bed.

What he didn’t account for was his father waiting up on him. A mug of hot tea on the kitchen table and hands clasps together in what Leo recognized all to well as ‘Dad Mode’.

He’d been caught with the proverbial hand in the cookie jar. His gear was half hazardously on, mask slipped down around his neck and for Christ sake he was holding a shoe. It was 6:30am and he smelled like a girl, a pretty girl no less. The jig was up, especially when his dad motioned for him to come forth and seat opposite him at the kitchen table.

“Dad I can ex-“ Splinter held up a finger and pushed the mug of tea towards his disheveled eldest son.

“My son, I am not angry” Which was truthful, he wasn’t, in fact he was ecstatic that Leo had found somebody, somebody good and somebody that loved him for he has. Long ago he had accepted the pain that his sons would not find suitable partners and the ache it would come with for them. But here was Leo, nervous and trying to adjust his clothing because he’d been with a woman, a woman he clearly loved.

“I like y/n, she is kind, thoughtful and caring to us” Splinter emphasized each trait with a tap of a long nail on the table. “She should be treated with respect, I hope I have instilled that teaching unto you, a lady is to be respected Leonardo” Leo nodded at his fathers words, he nodded and prayed that the underwear he had stuffed into his pockets wouldn’t magically transport on the table to further humiliate him.

“So please my son, do not lie to me, do not come home late in this state and not expect me to know what has transpired” Dad voice was on, coupled with the sympathetic eyes though, man Splinter was good at this shit.

Leo hung his head, clearly ashamed of his dishonorable doings. “Hai, sensei” Even as an adult being scolded by his father never stopped hurting.

“And please do tell her that there isn’t anything hide, she is welcomed in our home, I would not mind getting to know my future daughter in law a little bit more” Splinter enjoyed the way his son nearly choked on his tea.

“Perhaps I can tell her a few anecdotes of your growing up” He smiled when Leo looked at him with pleading eyes. “I believe I have a few embarrassing ones she will find most delightful” He stood up and placed a hand on his sons broad shoulder. “I’m sorry dad, sorry for sneaking around and not telling you” He was earnest in his words and Splinter bowed his head.

“I know, thank you Leonardo” He walked away, hands behind his back.

Leo sighed and pulled out his phone, shooting you a quick text.

-so my dad wants to formally meet you... as in introduce you as my girlfriend.

It felt nice to hit send on that message.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt Leonardo #tmnt Raphael #tmnt Michelangelo #tmnt Donatello #Leonardo #Raphael #Donatello #Michelangelo #tmnt Leo #tmnt Donnie #tmnt Raph #tmnt Mikey #fluff #comedy #slightly ns*w

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taexual · 4 years

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i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (17)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst → smut (dom!jjk themes but only because he can’t control himself lol)

words: 8.2k

chapter seventeen

Namjoon dropped you off back on campus and was even kind enough – or guilty enough – to offer his help in your search for Jungkook, but you didn’t want to take up any more of his time and, in the case of actually finding Jungkook, you didn’t think you’d make the situation better by having Namjoon with you.

The first thing you did after you exited his car on campus was leave the campus – because you thought that Jungkook may have lingered by the club where Parental Advisory performed tonight; even if his bandmates didn’t seem to think so, since Yoongi insisted they’d lost their lead vocalist – and walking around in the shoes you’d picked today was almost enough to make you regret not asking Namjoon to drive you around, after all.

You hadn’t worn heels but the ballet flats were still not fit for this much walking and, once you circled the club twice and even asked the manager – who was having a smoke outside – if he’d seen Jungkook, you decided that you could understand why Yoongi had been so upset about his bandmate’s disappearance.

As you returned to campus, you decided that you were also ready to strangle Jungkook once you finally found him.

“Have you heard anything from him?” you asked in your text message to Yoongi and then informed him, “I’m on my way to my dorm now to change into more comfortable shoes but I’ll check some of the buildings where he has classes after that.”

Just as you passed the library – and peeked inside because, although slim, there was the possibility that Jungkook may have been hiding out here (he wasn’t) – your phone buzzed with Yoongi’s reply.

“The guys and I will check them,” he was saying, “are there any other places on campus that have some significance to you and him?”

You did a double-take when you finished reading the text, not liking the wave of awkward and misplaced guilt that returned when you fully grasped what Yoongi was implying – he may not have been accusing you of anything, but he was, clearly, convinced that you were the reason why Jungkook missed the encore of his show and then disappeared off of the face of the Earth.

“I’m not sure,” you started to type back as you walked past the double-doors of your dormitory, startling your seemingly drunk RA who had been dozing off on the couch in the first-floor lounge. You stopped typing to press the elevator button, but then resumed, “I’ll walk around. He couldn’t have gone far.”

“He could have,” came Yoongi’s arbitrary – but, frankly, objective – response and you sighed as you read his words, your reflection looking very gloomy in the mirror of the elevator. “But let’s hope he didn’t. If you find him first, kick him where it hurts most. And then punch him for me, too.”

You couldn’t help snickering at the absurdity of the situation that you were in – you definitely never thought you’d end up bonding with Jungkook’s bandmates over your mutual frustration with him – as you typed back your response.

“If his phone isn’t back on within the next ten minutes,” you were saying in your text, stopping for a second when the elevator ding! announced that you’d reached your floor, “I will be doing a lot more than just—”

You stopped typing as an audible gasp escaped your lips, prompted by the sight at the far end of the hallway, right by the door of your dorm. Your phone nearly left your hands, on its way to crash on the floor. You’d caught it—miraculously—your eyes still locked on the figure, sitting on the floor by your door.

“Jungkook,” you said, meaning it as a question but not being able to articulate it properly due to your shock. The dim lighting of the hallway made it difficult for you to make out if it the silhouette was actually him, or if it was someone who was incredibly similar to him.

“Oh,” the person replied and – clumsily – stood up, relying heavily on the wall to help him support his weight. It was Jungkook alright. But barely. “You’re here.”

“I’m—of course, I’m here. I live here,” you said, not sure how to react. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

Various unintelligible sounds left your mouth after he said this – the first syllables of all the words you wanted to say in the moment; all of them rated-R – until you settled on watching him for a minute to get some time to form a coherent thought and to asses the damage.

It didn’t look like he’d been in a fight. It simply looked like he got very drunk and plopped down on the floor next to your dorm room.

“Waiting for—Jungkook, fuck—do you know that your band is literally out there, looking for you?” you demanded after inhaling sharply. “There’s a whole search party for you and you’re—you’re here.”

“I was waiting for you to come back,” Jungkook said. He was a lot more sober now than he was hours ago, but he still wasn’t sober enough to recognize his own guilt. Actually, he was probably never sober enough to feel guilty about anything, but alcohol had little to do with it. “I was going to drive over there to find you—”

“You’re drunk,” you snapped, interrupting him.

“Yeah, and that’s why I didn’t,” he said, pausing for more effect as he waited for you to express your admiration for his self-control but, after it didn’t come, he cleared his throat and, sounding disappointed, explained, “I knew you would give me shit if I drove a car drunk and I promised you that I wouldn’t. So I didn’t. I waited for you here instead.”

“You should have known that drunk-driving is unacceptable because that puts you and everyone around you in danger,” you countered, the moral superiority in your voice clouding the meaning of your words, “and not just because I would give you shit if you did it again.”

He rolled his eyes but chose not to expand on this argument because you didn’t look like you were in the right mood to understand his point of view about “conforming to societal norms”, even if it meant that he was putting himself – and those around him – in danger. Not to mention, he was still too tipsy to hold out a proper conversation.

“How long have you been here?” you asked after he didn’t reply.

You were well-aware that you were having this conversation in the hallway when you could have, theoretically, had it in your room. The door was right there. The key was in your handbag.

But entering – and inviting him inside – wasn’t something you were ready for just yet. The adrenaline from not knowing where Jungkook was and what had happened to him still hadn’t faded. Your breathing still hadn’t calmed down – funnily enough, it would not calm down for the rest of the night, but you didn’t know that yet.

“A while,” he replied just as you remembered you were supposed to let Yoongi know you’d located the missing boy. You got your phone out while Jungkook continued, “I bribed your RA with my six-pack of Heineken. Well, actually, it wasn’t really mine, I just took it from the bar, but—”

You stopped typing the text message to give him a hard look. “You stole six bottles of beer?”

Jungkook blinked, thrown off by the fever in your eyes. “No. I took them.”

“Without paying?” you asked. He nodded. “That’s stealing.”

“I do it all the time,” he waved his hand dismissively – and pushed himself off the wall in the process, only to lean back against it again a moment later, when he realized he was still not steady enough on his feet. He nodded his head at your phone, “ask Yoongi. The manager knows us there. We get drinks on the house.”

“I’m—how do you know I’m texting Yoongi?”

“You said there was a search party for me,” he said, taking you off-guard with his accurate conclusions. You wondered what sort of effect alcohol had on him, “Yoongi is the only one that cares enough to lead it.”

He didn’t mean to make it sound sad – in fact, his facial expression remained the same: somewhat cautious and a little irritated – but you still felt an unpleasant pang of misery in the pit of your stomach.

“He’s—well, I care, too,” you said with a nervous cough that was meant to rid you of all pity you felt towards him because pity didn’t justify what he did. “A lot of people care. You can’t just disappear like that in the middle of your show and—”

“It is Yoongi you’re texting, right?” Jungkook asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing. “Not someone else?”

He was probably trying to be nonchalant about it but, consciously or not, he ended up making his question unbearably obvious. The “someone else” may have been an abstract concept to outsiders – your peers, lurking by their doors and watching the argument play out through their peepholes – but you both knew whom Jungkook had in mind.

“Yes,” you said. “I was texting Yoongi. We’d agreed to let each other know if we found you.”

“Okay, good,” Jungkook said and proceeded to act like this was all a mere misunderstanding that wasn’t worth a lengthy discussion. “Can we go inside now? It’s weird to talk in the hall.”

“Are you going to tell me why you got drunk before your show?” you asked, your voice on the edge of yelling. “Or why you skipped out on the encore?”

Understanding that answering this was the one condition to enter your room, Jungkook sighed.

He was hoping you’d come to your own conclusion about this and he could just roll with whatever you thought was the truth – that he was useless, untrustworthy, reckless, and any other thing that people regarded him as – because explaining himself meant talking about his feelings. And he was so good at pretending that he didn’t like to do that.

“Because you weren’t there,” Jungkook answered.

You couldn’t help but groan. You’d gotten so tired of his no-more-than-four-word responses to serious questions, you couldn’t hear any more of them. You hated having to ask specific questions to get him to talk when he knew very well what you wanted to know.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you questioned irritably. “I wasn’t at your previous shows and that didn’t seem to be a problem.”

“Before—”

“Not to mention,” you continued, choosing to let it all out now that he’d shown you he wasn’t going to be completely upfront with you, “you knew where I was. We’d talked about our plans for tonight extensively, and I wasn’t supposed to hear from you until the barbecue ended and you wrapped up your show.”

“Okay, fine,” Jungkook said, his voice rushed. He didn’t want to hear any more of your accusations because he knew he would lose the battle of wits – he would have lost it on an ordinary day, but today, everything he said seemed extremely wrong. “It’s because you were with him.”

“With Namjoon?” you clarified, crossing your arms over your chest.

Not liking your defensive stance, Jungkook swallowed and said slowly, “yes.”

You looked away from him then – as if you were gazing into an unseen camera and waiting for someone to yell that you’d been punk’d – your eyes losing focus.

“Are you kidding me?” you asked with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

“I’m not,” he replied, his jaw clenched. “My own father sent me the picture.”

“The picture?” you raised your eyebrows, almost laughing. “It was just a picture of the company employees! Namjoon happened to be standing next to me. You can’t seriously be acting like that because of something as minor and irrelevant as this. I thought we’d already talked about this.”

Completely forgetting every past conversation, Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Minor and irrelevant,” he repeated, an undeniable snarl in his voice. “Is that what this is? At this point, you spend as much time with him as you do with me.”

“Why is that a problem?” you challenged. “We’d already agreed you wouldn’t do this! I am allowed to hang out with my friends. You have no reason – or no right, for that matter – to react like that. You know there’s nothing going on.”

“I’m not—”

“And I spend even more time with Inna than I do with Namjoon,” you cut him off, “why was she never an issue?”

“Oh, so, Inna, Namjoon, and I are all the same to you?”

You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the trap he must have set for you with this question. “Yes.”

“Oh, how brilliant,” Jungkook scoffed, pushing himself off the wall and turning his back to you as he spat, “your three closest friends.”

“I wouldn’t say—”

He turned around suddenly, his gaze full of blazing fire. “Do you kiss them the way you kissed me last week?”

His words seemed to punch you right in your lungs and all breath left them as you stood there, trying desperately to inhale and suddenly feeling a lot more drunk than he was, despite not having had a single drop of alcohol tonight.

“I didn’t think we were going to talk about that,” you said lamely, all conflict having left you along with your breath. It wasn’t really a response to his question but it was the best you could do when he was looking at you like that.

“We weren’t,” he said. “But only because I could see how much you didn’t want to. I could tell you were pushing me away—”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he interrupted you before you could properly interrupt him, and continued his tirade, “and I understand your reasons. I left you seven years ago and friends aren’t supposed to do that. They don’t abandon friends.”

Faced with this point-blank truth, you were forced to lower your eyes to the floor as you attempted to lie, “I-I didn’t—”

“I told you of my reasons back then,” Jungkook said, not needing your excuses. He knew what the truth was and he didn’t blame you for feeling insecure. “I wanted to keep you safe from myself. And maybe I have my reasons now, too.”

“What?” your stomach dropped. When you looked up at him again, he was already standing a few steps closer to you. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to walk away from you,” he said, spilling his next words in one single breath, “but I can’t handle just fake-dating you because the thought of someone else dating you for real, makes me want to tear the fucker up to pieces.”

You didn’t say anything, not entirely sure if you understood his speedy delivery correctly or if your heart was banging against your ribs for no reason.

“And maybe that’s why I should leave,” he spoke then, taking another step towards you and taking over your personal space not with just his words, but with his presence, too. “But we’re both adults now. I’m still learning how to properly be one, but I’d already missed one opportunity to be with you and I can’t miss another one. So, even though I should, I can’t fucking leave. I don’t want to.”

Speaking quietly, you asked, “then don’t.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said and you couldn’t find it in yourself to lift your eyes to his and settled on watching his lips instead, which was about ten times worse, “I am—I’m in love with you and I don’t want to be the same as the rest of your friends for you. And I really don’t fucking want to be the same as Namjoon.”

“Namjoon—he drove me here,” you found yourself saying as your mind short-circuited, “to look for you. He’s kind and understanding but neither of us are interested in one another. He… I think he always knew that my heart was elsewhere.”

This time, it was Jungkook who needed a full explanation, not an off-handed excuse. “Where?”

Right here, you would have said but you chose to show him instead as you leaned in closer, removing the remaining bits of distance between you by gently touching his lips with yours.

Jungkook reacted immediately, responding to you and refusing to let you pull away by placing one of his hands on your right elbow and another one on your waist. He wasted a split-second when he pulled back to inhale, but then he made up for it by kissing you again, his lips closing against yours in a tight lip-lock.

You pulled back, however, a smacking noise echoing around the hallway as you did, whispering to him, “are you still drunk?”

“Not in the slightest,” Jungkook replied breathlessly before pressing his lips to yours again.

Kissing him back and feeling how the quick, gentle pecks turned into deep, open-mouthed kisses as his tongue caressed your lower lip before making its way into your mouth, made your mind hazy and you were forced to hold onto him tighter.

He sighed into the kiss; the feeling of you clutching the flaps of his jacket was more than enough to make him lose his mind.

And then you let go suddenly, pulling away yet again.

“Are you going to do it again?” you asked because you had to hear him say it. “Are you going to leave? Stop talking to me?”

To be honest, Jungkook would have promised you the world in that moment. Hell, he’d have promised you the whole universe when you looked at him like that – with eyes full of need and parted lips as you tried to catch your breath.

“Never,” he told you.

You seemed to read his mind. “You better not be saying that so we could keep kissing.”

He could have laughed at this if he didn’t know how much this meant to you – how much this meant to you-and-him – but he did know, and that’s why he took your hand, pulling it away from the flap of his denim jacket, and placing it squarely on his chest.

“I promise,” he said in tandem with his heartbeat.

Your lips crashed against each other again and the collision could have had painful consequences if your hands wouldn’t have been there to soften it. You held onto one another, pulling each other closer despite already touching everywhere it was possible to touch.

You could still taste the alcohol on his tongue but you could also taste him – mint and strawberries – especially when he used one of his hands to tilt your face in the right angle that allowed his tongue to play with yours. And then, as if he’d just snapped his fingers, you completely forgot about your surroundings and focused on kissing him back.

His touch ignited your skin and, as soon as he lifted the corner of your shirt and barely grazed your bare hip with the tips of his fingers, you already knew he’d started a fire you couldn’t put out.

In a rare moment when your mind cleared – all because Jungkook needed to inhale before he kissed you again – you realized that you were still in the hallway where, technically, anyone could have seen you.

Except that didn’t scare you much.

What scared you was this very realization: you wouldn’t have cared who saw you here, as long as he was still so close.

“My keys,” you whispered. He understood what you were saying – and what you implied by that – but he’d have rather been struck by lightning than voluntarily pulled away from you.

And so, forgetting your sanity for a yet another moment, you cherished in the feeling of his lips on yours, letting him push you against the wall next to your door.

Only when his body was pressed so tightly against yours that you found yourself trapped in the most delightful way possible, did you realize that this wasn’t going to be enough and you needed to leave the hallway before it escalated.

“Jungkook—” you tried again, pulling away this this time. Naturally, he lowered his head to kiss the side of your face instead, going down to your jawline and planting kisses on your neck, all while you desperately tried to find the keys in your handbag, your hands – and your entire body – shaking. “I can’t—ah, please, let me—the door—”

Jungkook would have pulled away from you if you’d asked but you weren’t asking – you didn’t want him to. And he had a hard time focusing on what you were saying anyway, especially when the beginning of his name never left the tip of your tongue.

Finally, your fingers located your keychain and pulled it out from your handbag. But blindly unlocking the door proved to be even more difficult than finding the keys.

Had you been less lost in each other, you could have stopped kissing for one minute to enter your dorm room, but any thought of disconnecting your mouths and bodies seemed ridiculous and impractical. Why would you waste your time by not kissing each other?

You managed to push the key into the lock through sheer luck, and then, hoping to open the door, you took a step forwards, away from the wall and into Jungkook – who didn’t mind being the one who held you, not letting you get too far away from him.

The speed with which you entered your room once the door was opened, would have probably knocked you both off your feet. But God favored those who were in love, and, the thing that you ended up knocking down, was just the bowl for keys that you and Inna kept by the door. You couldn’t have cared less about it – you barely even heard it clatter against the floor.

Following the invisible pull towards your bed, you and Jungkook successfully maneuvered past the door frame separating the bedroom area from the hallway, and – only stumbling once, when he pulled back to take his jacket off – you finally reached the privacy of your room.

“If you want me to stop,” Jungkook mumbled against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours as he held your body against his; your bed was right behind you and you knew you’d have fallen on it with the smallest push from him, “you have to tell me now because—” he kissed you again with the same raw hunger as before, “I don’t think I’ll be able to leave otherwise.”

“No,” you breathed, matching the intensity of his kisses with your own, “don’t stop.”

And that was the permission he needed to nudge you forwards until he landed on top of you on your bed, leaning on his elbows on either side of you. It was so similar to the way you’d made out on Sunday night in his parents’ house, and yet, it was so different, too, because you were past the point of caring about any interruptions now.

If someone knocked on your door right then – if someone walked in – you wouldn’t have even flinched.

Lifting your shirt and exposing more of your skin for his impatient fingers to explore, Jungkook was forced to break the kiss again, so he could fully take the garment off. And then he had to pause again so he could take a quick breather because of how ethereal you looked like this: half-naked and daring him to keep going with your eyes.

“Jungkook,” your soft whisper brought him back to life and helped him realize that this time, he wasn’t dreaming. This time, he had you here with him.

And so, he took his own shirt off before leaning down to kiss you again – clumsily and sloppily – and the new feeling of his bare skin against yours was enough for you to arch your back off the bed, all so you could feel more of him.

“Fuck,” Jungkook cursed before bringing his hands up your sides and kissing down your neck. Encouraged by the sound of your whimpers when he gently brought his teeth over the spot below your collarbone, he sucked on the skin there with more force, leaving faint bruises.

Your hands slid down to his waist – reaching for the buckle of his belt – but they froze when you felt his tongue soothe over the new mark he’d made on your neck. It stung but you felt more pleasure than pain and, for a good minute, that pleasure was all you could focus on.

You felt his fingertips dance around the edge of your bra and heavy breaths left his lips when he brought his face back to yours, stopping just close enough to feel the pull of your lips, but far enough to still be able to look you in the eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, successfully undoing your bra in his first attempt – he wouldn’t have called himself an expert in that particular area; he was just determined to always get what he wanted and he wanted you.

You barely had enough time to hum in response before he lowered his face and reconnected your lips, sliding the straps of your bra down your shoulders in a motion so slow, you nearly threw him off the bed and did it yourself.

Instead, you chose to concentrate on finally undoing his belt, which wasn’t going well due to how badly your hands were shaking. But, once you finally succeeded and got through to the zipper of his jeans, it seemed like Jungkook was no longer so dead-set on taking this slow, either.

“Oh,” a sigh passed your lips when he threw your bra to a side and repositioned himself in-between your legs, his hips grinding into yours in a dangerously satisfying way that only left you wanting more. “Please, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he spoke and his normally melodious voice seemed deeper now.

He placed a kiss to your lips again and then pulled away to slide your jeans down your legs, tossing them aside before bringing his hands over the bare skin of your ankles, then up your calves, over your knees, and down your thighs again.

“Jungkook,” you tried again, “do something, please.”

“Hmm,” he wasn’t entirely aware of his surroundings as he cherished in the feeling of your skin right under his fingertips. He had to touch – to feel – all of you, so every bit of your body, every crevice and every wrinkle, remembered him.

Your breath got caught in your throat when he finally reached the waistband of your panties, and Jungkook was convinced he was going to die when he took them off of you – but he didn’t mind dying in the slightest, not if he got to see you like this first.

“I’m going to make you feel so,” he said, lifting your hips off the bed—just barely—so he could slide your panties down your legs, “so good.”

And he resolved to show you that he meant it, peppering the insides of your thighs with butterfly kisses that were the complete opposite of the tight grip he had on you.

Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he felt the way your body shuddered in anticipation as his kisses neared your core and he could feel his own pants tighten uncomfortably around his now rock-hard length.

Placing a soft, chaste kiss right above your clit, Jungkook heard your deep breath and that encouraged him to keep going, applying more force to his kisses as he went lower. Finally, just as your hands grabbed fistfuls of the sheets underneath you, he spread your lower lips with his tongue and lightly—so lightly, that you weren’t sure you didn’t just imagine this—licked his way up to your clit.

“Oh, shit,” you threw your head back and Jungkook – who’d already proved how much positive reinforcements meant to him – released a guttural breath that vibrated against your core.

The sensation added more to the blissful feeling of his tongue as he finally flattened it against your mound, licking and sucking with a loud and sloppy slurping sound.

You gasped when the previously teasing motions increased in speed and his tongue circled around your entrance, touching and tasting you in clockwise movements, never forgetting to pay special attention to the most sensitive spots on and around your clit.

“You taste so sweet,” Jungkook spoke breathlessly and you struggled to understand him not just because of how good he was making you feel with his mouth, but also because he did not pull away far enough and his words quavered against your core. “Talk to me.”

“I-I’m—that’s good,” you tried to say but your head was spinning, “so good, you—oh! Oh, fuck, Jungkook!”

Almost screaming out in surprise, you felt his fingers against your core, gentle and careful for the first second, but eager and energetic the next as Jungkook explored the wetness around your entrance. Bringing his tongue over your clit, he slid two of his fingers inside, ready to stop and wait for your reaction but that was not needed.

Arching your back off the bed, you sighed deeply and pleaded far louder than you’d intended, “p-please—”

Smirking to himself as you struggled to finish your sentences, he sped up his movements, not giving you a moment to collect your breath as he rubbed the insides of your walls with his fingers and sucked on your clit, the slow movements of his tongue contrasting with how quickly he was moving inside of you.

“Good girl,” he said, his hot breath against your core making your whole body tingle. He felt one of your hands touch his hair, grabbing onto it; softly at first, but gradually pulling harder when the circling motions of his fingers sped up. “Are you close, baby? Tell me.”

You were close – and the pet name only increased the burning pleasure inside of you – but, at that point, you were only capable of moaning weakly, “hmmm, yes. Don’t stop, please, d-don’t—”

Gasping again as Jungkook removed his mouth from you, readjusting himself on the bed so he could move his fingers in and out of you quicker, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried desperately to keep your sounds to a minimum.

“Nngh—so close,” you spoke and just then, you felt his thumb rub vicious circles on your clit. The motion was so delicious, you were forced to abandon your attempts to stay quiet, almost shouting when you felt your walls tighten, already so close to your edge.

He could feel you clench around his fingers – a feeling that did no good to the painful hardness in his pants – and applied more force to his movements, maintaining the same speed that allowed him to pay equal attention to your swollen clit and the soft walls inside of you.

“Come for me,” he said, his voice coarse. “I want to watch you come for me, baby, please.”

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you groaned, barely able to catch your breath as he thrust his fingers in and out of you, circling and curling them in a way that was just right, until the knot in your stomach unraveled with a pop so strong, your whole body seemed to lift up from the bed as you whimpered, unable to make any other noise.

Watching you lose control of your body, Jungkook used his free hand to hold you down as he kept the pace up with his fingers while you rode out your high. Barely any sound left your mouth when you reached your peak but your heavy breaths and the rise and fall of your chest as you came still overflooded his senses.

Jungkook didn’t think it was healthy to need someone this much.

When you opened your eyes a moment later, still breathing heavily, he was hovering above you, leaning on one arm as he sucked on his fingers, exhaling shakily when you bit your lip.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to have you here like this,” he said, “how long I’ve wanted to hear you sound like this.”

Still overwhelmed and momentarily rendered speechless by the strength of your climax, you replied to him by sitting up so you could reach his lips with yours.

Kissing him – and hearing him growl into the kiss as soon as your hips pressed into his, adding pressure against his hard length – you could distinctly taste yourself on his tongue, but Jungkook wasn’t going to give you a lot of time to analyze all the different sensations you were feeling; he flipped you over until he was on his back, and you were straddling his hips.

Being on top of him gave you a lot more control of the situation, but it also made the shaking of your hands all the more obvious. You lifted yourself off him slightly to slide his jeans and boxers down, not bothering with teasing him – even though, that would have been the fair thing to do, considering how slowly he’d undressed you before.

He didn’t regret that one bit – that was plain obvious in the darkness of his lustful eyes that followed your every move – but he did wish you went a little faster because each brush of your hands right by his length made him think he was going to explode.

“There’s a condom,” he said, swallowing, “in the pocket of my jacket.”

You had to look around the room to find the jacket and, when you located it, it still took you a few minutes to get the glittering wrapper out. Biting your lip as you made your way back to Jungkook – sprawled almost helplessly on your bed – you couldn’t help yourself.

“Do you always carry condoms around in the pocket of your—”

“No,” he replied, obviously not very interested in discussing his condom-bearing habits when you were unwrapping the packaging with your teeth after your fingers weren’t enough.

“Ah, so today was a special occasion?” you asked, smiling teasingly because your heart wasn’t really in this conversation, either – you could analyze why he’d brought the condoms with him later.

Unrolling some of the latex in your hands, your fingers finally touched his length as you pinched the tip of the condom and rolled it down his shaft. Jungkook exhaled with a low grunt, not particularly enjoying himself in a position this vulnerable – he didn’t think the simple act of putting a condom on had ever aroused him this much before – but not being able to do anything about it because this was you.

And if you wanted to take your time with the condom – since you seemed to double-check to make sure if it was really properly on; he thought you were just teasing him, really – then, he was going to let you take your time.

For the first twenty seconds, anyway.

Just as you raised your eyes to meet his, Jungkook sat up and pulled you closer to him, only lying back down on the bed when he made sure his arms were wrapped around your body, which was pressed against his as tightly as he could manage without breaking any of your ribs with his arms.

“If I wait any longer,” he whispered, his mouth so close to yours, you could almost taste him as he spoke, “I’m really going to pass out.”

“Well,” you said, your heart beating wildly behind your ribcage and echoing against his chest, “then don’t wait.”

“Fuck,” was the last word that left his mouth before he connected your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss and sat up a bit to reach his length with his hand and position himself at your entrance. “Tell me if you want me to stop.

“Mmhmm—oh,” your hum of approval was quick to turn into a shaky gasp as his length slid inside of you, stretching you out far more than his fingers had before.

He watched your facial expression the whole time, entering you slowly, inch by inch, so he could stop if he noticed any pain. Mercifully, the only thing he noticed in your eyes was a silent plea to keep going – well, that, and the fact that you did most of the job for him by lowering yourself on him until he was fully inside of you – and Jungkook was sure of it: he was most certainly going to lose it.

“I’m not going to last long,” he warned breathlessly, “you’re s-so tight—you feel so good—I—”

His grip on you had loosened, which allowed you to place one hand on his chest and push him into the bed, until his head landed back on the pillow. As soon as he bottomed out inside of you, he stopped and you closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing for a second, before you looked up at him again and lifted your hips.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook whispered, his hands clutching your hips so tightly, he was probably going to leave imprints there.

Lowering yourself on him again, you sighed deeply, unsure what brought you more pleasure – the sight of his starved gaze and swollen lips as he allowed you to set the pace, or the feeling of his length, caressing your inner walls and reaching places so deep inside of you, you could have used a warning.

“Y-you’re so—mm, good,” you mewled, your hips rising and falling on top of him as you tried to get used to the feeling but failed, your walls clenching around him each time you moved.

“Baby,” Jungkook said and it was almost a whine, “I need you to go faster. Can you do that for me?”

“Hmm,” you weren’t sure what he was saying.

Your senses were malfunctioning as you lost yourself in the feeling, so, instead of going faster, you lowered yourself until you could feel your walls hug his entire length. You stayed still for a moment, but hearing him sigh in desperation, you finally started to move again – grinding your hips against his quicker.

“O-oh,” the sudden change of pace took him off guard as Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut. The feeling of your warmth wrapped so tightly around him was pure bliss. “That’s good. Y-you’re doing so good.”

You continued to move on top of him, grinding your hips in large and smaller figure-eights, as Jungkook slid his hands up and down your sides, feeling your silky skin and gently kneading your breasts. He brought his fingertips over your sensitive nipples and, noticing how your breath got caught in your throat as soon as he did, he applied more pressure to his touch.

“Jungkook,” you said weakly and then completely lost your voice when he sat up – suddenly reaching even deeper inside of you, even though that probably shouldn’t have even been possible – and brought his tongue to your nipple, carefully toying with it at first, and then sucking harder later.

Your hips were still moving against his but you were losing your stamina, not at all helped by the fact that his smallest touch nearly tipped you over the edge.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you sighed and, somewhere in his own name, he heard the request for him to take over.

Fully immersed in the feeling of having you on top of him, Jungkook had no plans to change the position. He pulled away from your breasts, licking his lips, and then, finding a more fitting position on the bed, he locked both of your arms behind you by wrapped a hand around your waist and lifting his hips off the mattress.

He roughly thrust into you once – and then once more because he couldn’t stop himself – and then paused to gauge your reaction. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed, but your parted lips and the excited movement of your hips as they met his when he moved, was a clear indication that you didn’t mind the faster pace.

“Look at me,” he instructed, not moving until you did. “Good girl.”

Finally, he slammed his hips into yours again, this time not pausing for a single second, even though both of you were completely breathless already. His length drilled into you, rubbing your walls until the fire in your stomach started to spread and you involuntarily closed your eyes again, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Jungkook—”

“What did I tell you, baby?” he asked, holding your hands behind your back with one of his arms, as he used his other hand to bring your face to his again. You opened your eyes. “That’s it. Are you close?”

“Hmm—I-I’m—” the next words didn’t come out when Jungkook straightened his posture and thrust into you with enough force to send you backwards until you were laying flat on your back again. “Fuck, I’m really close.”

His hips continued the relentless pace but he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep going, especially with the way you squeezed around him each time he re-entered your warmth. You could already feel your orgasm creeping in as you bit your lip and felt your vision go out of focus, the ceiling of your room spinning as the whole place seemed to shake from the force of his hips.

“Don’t look away,” Jungkook spoke, breathing heavily and setting himself up for failure because he nearly collapsed as soon as you returned your eyes to his – all dark and clouded with near-euphoric delight. “I want you to look at me when you come, yeah? Will you do that for me, baby—please?”

“Y-yes—” you managed, barely getting the word out before you felt Jungkook readjust his weight by leaning on one arm and lowering his other one to your core.

He brought his thumb over your clit and, matching the speed of his hips thrusting in and out of you, he began to rub circles on your already over-stimulated center.

“Jungkook!” you weren’t sure if you were screaming, your heartbeat was too loud in your ears as you felt yourself tip over the edge. “Oh, fuck, fuck—right there!”

“Y-yeah? Does that feel good, baby?,” he groaned, “I can’t hold out for much longer, so I’m going to need you to come for me. Hmm?”

“I’m—please, fuck—” your pleas turned into an incomprehensible mess when Jungkook applied more pressure to your clit, flicking it before rubbing it in circles again, and you were completely done for.

Throwing your head back against the mattress and lifting your hips to meet his, you reached your high and Jungkook – cursing and trying his hardest not to lose his balance – bit his lip because he knew he was going to follow right after you.

His hips had slowed, although only a little, as he continued the assault on your senses by thrusting his throbbing member into you and simultaneously rubbing your clit all through your orgasm.

Your warm walls that hugged his length tightened around him when you came and, groaning loudly, he felt his own climax take over him. He stopped moving with one final thrust into you, loud grunts mixed with your name leaving his lips as he released himself into the condom.

Breathing heavily but still not getting enough oxygen, you both stayed still as you tried to recover.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook exhaled when he regained some control of his body. His eyes met yours and he did not hesitate before adding, “I love you. I’ve loved you for so fucking long.”

You allowed a heavy moment of silence to pass as you watched him. Then, you propped yourself up on your elbows and brought your lips to his. The kiss may have been less enthusiastic than the one in the hallway earlier tonight, but it still didn’t lack any heat.

“I love you,” you replied, the words as pointless as they were necessary, because your feelings for each other had been obvious from the very beginning, but neither of you confronted them. “I’ve loved you for much longer.”

“No,” he disagreed, kissing you again as he pulled out of you and rolled off to the edge of the bed so he could discard of the condom. Turning to look at you one more time before standing up, he said, very matter-of-fact, “I’ve loved you my whole life. Through every happy moment and every fuck-up, and every—”

With your lips stretching into a smile, you warned, “don’t try to one-up me with your pillowtalk.”

He already had his back turned to you as he walked towards the bin in the corner of your room, but you heard him laugh. When he turned around to return to you, there was a wide smile on his bright, red lips, still wet and swollen from kissing you.

“That’s not pillowtalk,” he countered, laying down next to you and draping an arm over your waist as he nuzzled his face into your neck with a delighted hum, “that’s just me telling you what I was supposed to tell you on the day I talked to you at my party.”

“I’m glad you told me now,” you replied, lifting one of your hands to touch his disheveled hair and the few stray curls that were stuck to his sweaty forehead, “even if you did cause a scene today.”

The softness of your touch was almost the exact opposite of the hidden razor-sharp meaning behind your words. Jungkook – who’d closed his eyes so he could breathe you in – suddenly lifted himself up on his elbows and gave you an inquiring look.

“I did not cause a scene,” he said, not in a very defensive manner because he did not think he needed to defend himself, “I was peacefully waiting for you to come back home. You caused a scene when you saw me.”

“I—oh, wow,” you scoffed in surprise, “you really are an expert at blame-shifting.”

He would have protested – and he was going to – but laying here next to you, with not a single piece of clothing preventing him from feeling the softness of your skin, he just shrugged. There were far more important things to focus on, he decided as he traced indiscernible patterns on your navel.

“Don’t do that again, though, okay?” you asked him then.

Smiling – because he was proud of his title as the resident Little Shit – Jungkook replied, “which part, exactly?”

The feeling of his fingertips dancing on your stomach was distracting, but you persevered for the greater good.

“Don’t change all of your plans if I spend time with someone else,” you said, swallowing. “Don’t put yourself in danger.”

“I won’t.”

His promise was brief but he leaned down to kiss you to seal it, and the feeling of his lips against yours had more impact than just his words alone. Then, pulling away a moment too soon, Jungkook surprised you with a warning look in his eyes.

“But don’t ask me not to kiss you in public,” he said. “Don’t ask me not to hold your hand. Don’t—”

You blinked, not following him. “W-wait, why? I wasn’t going to ask.”

“No, but you already did. At the last party we went to?” he said and then tried to jog your memory by adding, in a vexed tone, “when you were talking to Brock, and I—”

The party – and the long, long conversation that followed – returned to your mind even before the mention of Brock. You were just trying to understand why Jungkook was thinking about all of that now.

“Well, that’s because you were being a possessive dipshit,” you told him as an explanation, not an excuse.

You weren’t apologizing for standing up for yourself when you felt like your dignity was threatened, and he didn’t need you to. What he needed, was for you to understand that:

“I still am a possessive dipshit,” he said with the most unapologetic grin you’d ever seen adorning his features.

“Oh, yeah?” you raised your eyebrows, the mock-surprise completing your sarcastic look, “would not have guessed.”

“Funny,” he leaned down to kiss you again before making it clear, “I can’t stop myself from wanting everyone to know—”

“But they do know,” you said, cutting him off but not sharply, “everyone knows, Jungkook. You’ve made your point.”

“No, people still have doubts about us,” he said, “they’re still not fully convinced that you’re—that we’re together,” he paused, flashing back to the night at the party and remembering the words you’d said to him then, “but they don’t matter. It’s not about them. It’s about us. And I don’t want to imply that I own you or that you’re an object—or anything of the sort. I know you’re a person. You’re a great person. And you belong to yourself. You’re yours. B-but can you be a little bit mine, too?”

“I am,” you said and, even though you may not have always liked it, this was the truth. There was no way around it. So, pressing a soft kiss to his waiting lips, you admitted, “I’ve always been yours as much as I’ve been mine.”

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driedmarigolds · 3 years

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Red carnations

Its me, ya boi....back at it again with....a Vyn fic. I've gotten severe Tears of Themis brain rot. Well anyway. Feel free to kudos on Ao3 if you like! Link to the fic on ao3 Pairing: MC x Vyn Richter Series: Tears of Themis Rating: T Word Count: 1800

Sitting in his study, Vyn felt strangely lonely. It wasn’t like him to miss anyone, but it had been more than two weeks since he last spoke to Rosa due to another large case that needed all hands on deck at the Themis office. Even so, he couldn’t help but almost ache from her absent; whenever she crossed his mind, his chest would tighten. He was far past accepting that these were new feelings in his life and it wasn’t the mysticism of ‘Love at first sight’. Still, the ache that accompanied these feelings was something he was struggling to get used to. So unique and admirably was she, that he struggled to stand in her blinding light some days, and yet much light a moth to the flame he would do so anyway. A few scorch marks on his heart was nothing compared to the valued time he had with Rosa.

The last time they were together they had gone to the local gardens to see the freshly Bloomed Carnations before going to dinner at a spot Rosa was sure he would love. He barely remembered the food, but the Blooms were so vivid in his mind because he couldn’t help but remember how wonderful they matched her. How it seemed like every flower in the garden only accented her beauty. Vyn remembered that he also bought her a bouquet of the Red Carnations because he knew it would be the last time they would see each other for at least a week and he thought they would remind her of him.

That raised a question he had tormented himself with again. Did she think of him often? By now Vyn was willing to wager that she did think of him, but to what end? For how long? How often? He wanted to know every part of her thoughts and feelings, every inch of her heart and while it was so easy to read what she felt on her face, he wanted to know specifics to hear her voice say it. She knew in so many words the contents of his heart; something he spilled in front of Wayne, but he wasn’t so sure she trusted him to be so open nor believed it was real even when he had explained it to her. He craved her trust.

With a sigh, Vyn shook such thoughts from his head, returning his attention to the patient file before him, much like her, he also needed to do more work. An excellent distraction from the aching absence of his ‘special one.’

----

It was after several hours of focus when Vyn’s phone rang, pulling him out of his current task to see the name pop up on the screen; much to his joy it read ‘Rosa’. Again his chest squeeze as he answered her call. “Rosa? Hello.” His tone was even and pleasant, though it was probably hard to miss the undertone of relieved.

“Dr. Richter! Hello! I haven’t talked to you in a while, but we just finished! We won the trail!” Vyn was taking in the excitement in her voice, the corners of his lips curving up into a smile. Though he had so desperately missed her, she was happy and that was almost worth it to him; he couldn’t help but wish that he was the cause of the happiness. “Can we meet up?” He heard the pause in her voice before continuing. “I mean, if you’re not busy. Sorry I should have asked that first.” The smile was quickly replaced with a slight frown. She never needed to ask—rarely was he too busy for her, for anyone else? He was too busy but never for Rosa.

“I am not busy.” He pushed the file off to the side with his freshly written notes. “I would like to see you again, perhaps, since it is dinner time I could come over and we could get take out from some place that you like?” Vyn would have offered to take her out somewhere, but he wanted to monopolize her from the rest of the world for a moment. Everyone else got to see her, now it was his turn. “I have a gift for you.”

“Huh? A gift?” He could hear the surprise, which was another success to him. He enjoyed pulling all different emotions from her. “You didn’t have to do that! Just hanging out is nice!” Her voice sounded far away for a moment, quickly he realized it meant she was switching ears.

“I did not have too, that is correct. I wanted to.” Vyn stood from his desk, stretching his back. “If you are home, I can come over now so we can decide what we would like to eat.” Pleased, when there was a hum of agreement on the other end of the line. “Then I will be there as soon as I can be. See you, Rosa.” Hanging up the phone, he gathered the gift he had made for Rosa before heading out.

---

It was sometimes later when Vyn knocked on Rosa’s door, which she opened immediately with a smile so bright it lit up his world. “Dr. Richter, you made it.” Stepping back, she let him into the room. Quickly, he took off his shoes and turned towards her wondering if she thought he might not come. Of course he would, he always would.

“I did, indeed.” He smiled at her—hoping that she felt the warmth he constantly felt with her. After a moment of just admiring her, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small hair clip that looked hand made. It had a red carnation on it, much like the ones in the garden they had visited although a little more crude. Still, her eyes lit up as she looked at it despite her earlier protests that he didn’t need to do that.

“It’s beautiful, Dr. Richter! Now I have two hair clips from you that I can wear.” Once again, success—she was happy, and it was all because of him.

“Here, let me put it into your hair.” Vyn stepped closer to Rosa, gently, tenderly, lovingly running his fingers through the strands for as long as he could get away with before pinning the clip in place. His hand slid down to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her cheek bone. This was a little more daring before; he hadn’t shied away from touch—but never so intimate and….electric. But it was as soft as he had found himself imagining a time or two. He could tell she didn’t know what to do as her cheeks turned progressively darker, he breath almost stopping completely. Perhaps he had pushed too far this time. With a small chuckle, he dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “Yes, well—What would you like to order to eat?”

That seemed to jolt her back into a working brain, thought I was obvious she was a little shy and nervous now. “Right, sorry. I..Uhm, maybe from that family restaurant?” Rosa was avoiding eye contact, but she didn’t seem mad so that was enough for Vyn. “The one we, ah…” She was digging through her pockets, presumably for her phone. “The one we went too before.” The one where we had been mistaken for a couple. He remembered clearly, there was a level of Euphoria that came with that whole situation, even if he had be...anxious? Though anxious might not have been the right word.

---

“I think that would be good.” He leaned in, the glow from the evening sun reflecting in his golden eyes, radiating a kindness and affection Rosa couldn’t recall seeing before. Never had she realized that as cold as those eyes could get, they could get so equally warm. Her heart was faltering from nerves. Usually, Rosa felt calm in Dr. Richter’s presence, but when he got so close like this—though this was closer than he had ever been, she felt both like she was floating on air, and sinking into the ground. He made her feel things she simply wasn’t used to. It was….difficult, and she wasn’t entirely sure what any of it meant, but Artem’s warning to keep it business was always in the back of her mind—even if it were far too late for any of that.

“Right, I will call. I think they do delivery, if not walking would be nice.” Yes, fresh air would be good right now. “Actually, why don’t we just walk over and order there and bring it back?” Her phone was up in her hand, almost as if it was shielding her from his intense and potentially unearned affection. She still hadn’t pulled part what all of that with Wayne meant. “It’s a really nice evening and I have been locked in the office for a while.” Hopefully, he would bite.

“That can be done, but are you sure you want to walk? I’m worried you might be tired from over working.” Really, he just wanted to stay here, the two of them but he was willing to relent if he must, and it seemed he must when she nodded and put her phone back in her pocket. It was a shame, but he wouldn’t ruin her fun for his own selfishness.

“Yes, I think it would be nice to take a walk with you.” Rosa had already gone to slide her shoes on and grab a light coat that wouldn’t overly heat her but would be nice in the evening breeze. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to go on a walk with you for a while so it’s perfect; one stone and all of that.” She laughed, finally relaxing again.

Vyn smiled at her with admiration, the smile on her face was worth pushing his own desires deeper down and it’s not like they were going to be away from her home all night, just for a little bit and then he could have her all to himself again. Sliding on his own shoes, he followed her outside and waited for her to lock the door behind them. Satisfied that it was locked, Rosa turned to Dr. Richter with a nod before turning to walk in the direction of the Restaurant. Vyn walked next to her, letting the silence of the calm evening settle over them—pondering over what had made him so bold earlier; not that there was any regrets at all. Perhaps he was simply bursting at the emotional seams. No matter, he was here with her now, and nothing could stop the joy creeping through is heart. Like the vines from misplaced Ivy, she was growing into the cracks in his foundation, and he found it harder and harder to mind.

#tears of themis fic #tears of themis #vyn x mc #vyn richter #my wrting

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writerwrites · 4 years

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Little Town Street

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: A college fling with Andy Barber is rekindled when you move back to Boston and you’re both single.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Smut 18+, language, tinge of angst, Defending Jacob spoilers / all the warnings that would go along with the series, fleeting mentions of divorce and bad breakups

A/N: *THIS IS A ONE SHOT* This is the Week 3 prompt to the Optimistic Captain Donut Challenge created by @captainchrisbaby, @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho , and @donutloverxo || The Week 3 Prompt was based on All Too Well by Taylor Swift || I’m only 3 months late, minimum || Fall dividers by @firefly-graphics

Boston. Your heart raced just thinking about getting back to the place you went to college. The glide of the tassel across your cap and the memories of late night conversations over pizza and beer while elbow deep in a tort. You’d loved the smell of law books and the haze of the green lamps on the library’s oversized and ancient oak desks. The magic of that place was lost on you while you were there, as was the magic of the few relationships you managed to establish while getting your law degree. But here you were, the little suburban town just out of the city, boxes piling up in the empty living room as you settled into your newly single life at a small firm that liked your big New York City success. This was a needed change after a painful breakup. This was your clean break.

Covered in sweat with your hair in a messy top bun, tank top slithering up the steep curves of your soft sides while the sun kissed the back of your bronzed skin, you heard a honk at the intersection in front of your house. The unexpected sound jolted you and the heavy box of books slipped from your fingers and landed on your foot. Hopping to the steps of your new brick home, you looked over at the intersection. It was a near-accident that was the cause of the ruckus. Both cars now at a standstill at the center of the four-way intersection. It took a minute for you to process the shock as you rubbed at your aching foot, but there he was, thick brown hair and bright blue eyes looking at you through the windshield of a black Audi A6. Andy Barber.

With such a public court case and the subsequent car accident, every news-viewing American knew who he was and knew a little too much about him. The problem was that while you’d sat in your own office in the Big Apple, trying to put yourself in Andy’s shoes, you watched a person you once knew in a new light and while your now-ex kept bringing up the commentary of obvious guilt, you couldn't help but sympathize with the collapse of his life. It was too easy for you to slip into the heartache of a family stalked and ruined, a person left so completely exposed and judged by everyone that you’d trusted. It was, after all, why you’d left New York. It was a miracle you’d gotten your fresh start, the Barbers certainly didn’t. You could picture it, but you never speculated, never stayed on the channel when the case came on. Every fiber of your being couldn’t look at him, not because of what broadcasters said but because of the too real memories of a love lost.

You were the one that ended the stare-off, your foot aching more with every passing second. Jaw clenched and lips pressed into a line, you were just about to convince yourself that there was no way Andy Barber, your biggest competition in college and your first love, was outside your new home… and then you heard him say your name. God, it always sounded so good coming from his mouth. The last time you’d heard it he was asking you not to go, drunk outside the bar you’d had your first date telling you that what you two had was bigger than the careers ahead. He didn’t see the tears streaming down your face once you turned away to get in your cab. Maybe, after all this time, he thought you didn’t hear him scream your name.

When you opened your eyes Andy was there at the bottom of your driveway on that little town street, brows knit together with concern as he locked his car that was perfectly parked on the steep driveway like he’d done it a million times. “Don’t look so worried about me, Andrew. You’re the one who just nearly crashed a bajillion dollar car.”

He laughed, despite noticing how you’d used his full name like you two were standing on opposite ends of a courtroom- and maybe you were. But that laugh, the warmth of it wrapped you up and you were thrown back through the magic and memories of that romance once more. The plaid shirts you stole in the middle of the night to run to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Your skin was covered in goosebumps despite the heat as you remembered how Andy had peeled you out of his shirts to warm you back up with his skin on yours, the metal of the fridge pressed to your back. Every moment with him was crystal clear in your mind the smells of autumn and taste of cider and beer when your tongues met, the feeling of his beard scratching your thighs, and... It took his hands on your chin to pull you out of the pain and want of those happier days that you’d ignorantly run from scared of settling. “Are you sure the box didn’t land on your pretty little head?”

The sound that passed your lips was practically a damn purr, you mentally cursed him for pulling it out of you with familiar ease. Opening your eyes to look up at him, you wondered if the emotions of that tumultuous relationship sat at the forefront of his mind too and if it was written on your face. “Nope, definitely landed on my foot.” Swallowing at the sandpaper in your throat, you looked at the swollen discolored mess. “You didn’t have to see if I was okay.”

“First, yeah, I did. It’s been fifteen or sixteen years since I’ve seen you. Second, I saw you hop over here clutching your foot. I can’t leave a wounded deer on the side of the road, can I?” His hands were stubbornly placed on his hips and that’s when you noticed the pale indent of a missing wedding band on his left hand’s ring finger. His blue eyes followed your gaze and he rubbed at the spot like he’d not gotten used to the absence of the cool metal. A similar thin, faded line from a discarded engagement ring on your matching finger. “I guess we’ve both been through it.”

Offering him a small smile, he helped you up and as Andy’s strong hands clutched your waist you wondered if he’d remembered just how ticklish the space between your ribs and hip were when he was careful to not touch you there. When you grabbed at the perfectly tailored coat trying to hop around the man let out an amused grumble and scooped you up. “Aren’t we a little old for grand gestures?” Your head rolled back as you laughed and he turned to get you through the door without smacking your injured foot on the frame. “Jesus are you hitting the gym and benching thick girls, Barber?”

The laughter filling the house was only amplified by his unceremonious dropping of you onto the love seat. The crooked smile looking down at you made you melt. That look, it was a drug that you’d had you first taste of in a mock trial, when he knew he’d won his case and looked back at you in the seats behind him, taking notes. “Other than the box on the lawn, are there any more?”

“You don’t have to..”

“But I’m going to and I want to. Besides, you can’t.” Andy was already pulling off his coat, loosening his tie, and buttoning his shirt before you could protest... not that you were capable of it. He bit his lip when he caught sight of you drinking him in. The slacks and the undershirt that clung to him. “Like what you see?”

“It’s rude.” You stated matter of fact, gesturing to all of him. Andy raised his hands as if to apologize, heading to the door to get to work. Closing your eyes, you could perfectly picture that one picture of the two of you at your graduation. Inadvertently, you mumbled to yourself. “I miss looking that damn good.”

If your eyes hadn’t been closed maybe you would’ve seen the way he froze in the doorway, biting his tongue before stepping out. It wasn’t until you heard the hefty thunk of a box on the hardwood floor that you peaked your eyes open. A clear sheen of sweat glistened on his brow and you bit your lip, the heat running over your body was hardly from moving boxes or the summer heat pouring in the front door. “Please tell me the rest of it isn’t boxes of books, Legal Beagle.”

Scoffing at the old nickname you sighed, “Nope, it’s just bottles of wine and liquor and pictures. The remnants that I didn’t want to break or misplace in the moving truck that came a few days ago.”

“You’ve been here for days and you didn’t call.” His tone was surprisingly wounded.

“Well, Legal Eagle, you didn’t exactly shoot me an email either.” Andy’s eyes burned into you when you used his old nickname back, but you couldn’t decipher what that look really meant. Before you could ask or apologize he was turning back out the door, leaving you there to chew the inside of your cheek raw.

Andy made quick work of the boxes in your car while you nursed your bruised foot trying to unravel the feelings bubbling to the surface of your mind in memories and regrets. When the front door shut, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look up, eyes fixed on the bruise while you thought about the emotional bruising you’d caused each other. It wasn’t hard to really know why he hadn’t emailed, nothing funny in the broken pieces you bother were left to pack up and move on from. When had you started crying? Cheeks wet when his hands cupped your face, forcing you to look up at him, thumbs brushing the tears away. “Hey, if it hurts that bad maybe we should take you to get it looked at.”

Reaching up you grabbed Andy’s wrists, but you found yourself hanging there, incapable of pulling him off of you. Instead, your thumbs brushed across the inside of his wrists just applying a little bit of pressure before skimming your hands up the firm muscles of Andy’s forearms. Each of you tried to translate the signals the other was putting off. If it hadn’t been for the haze of being so close to him, maybe you would’ve had the sense to pull away. With a sniffle and apologetic smile you shook your head ‘no’- or at least to the best of your ability when he was still comforting you like no time or pain had passed between the two of you. How long had you been holding on to this first love?

This close you could see it, the little creases of age at the corners of his eyes and a little salt and pepper in his beard. Despite the way those lines seemed to crease his face like words of chapters you’d not been privy to, his blue gaze was unchanged and every welcoming detail of them looked at you like you hadn’t changed either. The moment his knee pressed between your thighs to your core you realized just how needy you were, whimpering and parting your legs as he lowered himself onto you. His hands moved down your neck to your breasts and a firm squeeze and the brush of his thumb over your nipples elicited another breathy moan from your lips. How long had it been since anyone had looked at you like that? How long since you’d gotten off?

“Andy,” The weight of his name on your tongue was dizzying, but the way he said your name back was just as heavy. You pulled his mouth to yours and he parted his lips to wrap around your bottom lip. His beard scratched at your chin, sending shivers down your body.

Picking your hips up from the couch, you satisfied the ache between your legs on his thigh. Smirking against your lips Andy pressed harder into your core. “You missed me.”

“To the bone,” The confession passed your lips and all you wanted was for him to stay, the thought alone so wholly selfish. Your eyes fluttered open, scared that it had been poison on his own tongue, noticing how he’d pulled away ever so slightly. “That wasn’t fair.”

Though it seemed like a poor apology, Andy was already shaking his head to reassure you that it wasn’t. That quiet, it wasn’t a trait in him you recalled. His hands moved down your frame and he pulled you onto his lap, careful to let you move your legs to straddle him and not hit your foot along the way. “Did you think I wouldn’t care that you were coming back?”

Before you could answer, he stole your air again. Andy’s lips pressed to your neck and he hummed as he tasted the salt on your skin. Then he found the spot he used to always mark, that spot that always seemed to peak just a little out of your favorite courtroom blouse. Gasping, your nails scratched softly at his sides. He took it as a hint and pulled off his undershirt, throwing it at the boxes that had his tie, coat, and button up. “Andrew. I’m trying not to assume anything here but…”

He looked up at you so sweetly that it erased whatever logic you were trying to pull on him with that one dopey smile. “Tell me this isn’t home.”

“I..” Your mouth bobbed open and you looked at him with wide eyes. Did he mean Boston or this moment on his lap like pieces were falling into place since you’d left.

Squeezing your thighs in his palms he repeated the question. “Tell me this isn’t home. Tell me you don’t remember the promise you broke. Tell me those boxes with pictures don’t have the pictures of us all over this town.” Was this a call out? If he hadn’t been looking at you with such heartache you would have looked away. “Maybe I asked for too much and maybe I was just as scared as you were about the future I saw for us… but tell me we didn’t just find our time.”

The tips of your fingers moved up his chest and settled at the sides of his neck, innocently tugging at his beard. Leaning forward you pressed your lips to his forehead and slipped off of his lap though your whole body seemed almost unamused by the cruel neglect of his warmth, your legs staying draped over him and one arm still linked through his. Looking over the boxes you found the stack with the bright blue sharpie, ‘winter clothes’ sprawled across the top as it sat halfway between the bottom of the stairs and the closet by the front door. “Grab that one.”

Andy untangled himself from you with his fingers burning across your skin, reluctantly slipping off the couch to grab the box. When he came back with it you noticed a hesitant look on his face. His eyes moved to his discarded clothes and you sighed and pulled him back to the small couch. “Want to tell me why you’re avoiding my questions?” Ignoring him you peeled the box open and moved a few things out of the way while you pulled out exactly what you knew you needed. “I don’t break over honesty anymo-”

Words seemed to escape him the moment he saw his scarf from the first time he’d gone home with you to meet your family. He didn’t do the meet-the-parents charade and the relationship had been new, but yours had welcomed him in and made him want his own one day. Andy never thought he’d settle with someone else, but that’s exactly what he’d done when you didn’t call, write, visit, or move back… he’d settled. That little trip was a memory he’d revisited often in the torment of waiting for you to come back. The pair of you had spent most of the holiday either studying for exams on your twin sized bed or pouring over old photographs from your childhood. Now you could practically see the memories flooding back as he reached for the scarf and brushed his fingers over the soft fabric.

So, it was your turn for a confession, an apology even. “I remember it all. I miss it all. We may have been young, but we weren’t wrong. No one knew me like you did. No one ever has. We grew up, but you lingered here.” Your fingers combed through his hair and tapped his temple before moving down his body to his sternum, tapping at his pulse, “... and here.” Andy covered your hand in his, drawing your fingers lower to the buckle of his slacks. Your cheeks went red and you nodded a ‘there too’ without being able to form the words.

“Do I get a hundredth chance?” The hope in his eyes was mirrored in your own, your racing heart no longer felt like a warning sign.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” A shaky laugh passed your lips. Andy wrapped his arms around you, tender, before he laughed too, his body shaking against yours. “Oh, this is a prank? Well, damn. That’s embarrassing.”

Andy looked at you and lunging forward, mouths ricocheting in a deep kiss, tongues hungry for the lost time. Only when you came up for air, the pair of you now buried in the couch cushions, did he speak up, “You deserve all the hell I’m going to give you for waiting this long to let me love you.”

“Does that mean you’re going to stay and rub my skin raw with this beard?” Squirming under him, the pair of you frantically reached for every clasp and zipper until there was nothing left between you. His lips moved down your frame and you surprised yourself, pulling him back to your mouth. “You’re staying with me Andy Barber.” Your fingers wrapped around his length and pumped him, brushing the head of his cock against your slit, already dripping. “You’re staying so beard on thighs can wait.” Pressing your mouth back to his as you continued to tease him you whimpered, not even needing to say it but recalling how much he used to love hearing it. “I need you. Don’t make me wait anymore. I need to feel all of you. I miss-”

The begging and pawing, he couldn’t take you slowly, not yet at least. Andy rutted himself into you, growling when your tight wet heat wrapped around him. He buried his forehead into the curve of your neck as he thrust into you over and over, savoring the way you gasped at his every slight movement. Andy worshiped the new softness of your frame and none of this felt like strangers trying to figure out how to get each other off. His thumb brushed back and forth across your swollen clit and, unlike anyone else, you stuttered his name as you got closer, clamping around him, hips bucking off the couch to meet every deep thrust as he slowed his pace to draw this out for both of you.

You loved the look on his face, the way he bit his swollen lips between a million kisses left on your sweaty skin. The way he lost focus when you said his name and how he gently grabbed your chin as you stuttered his name again; so close, so wet for him, so ready to finally get off. Permission, your legs shook and you whined as he kept you right there at the tipping point, building himself up to his own orgasm while he edged you. “Come for me, lover.”

The words were so welcome, just enough to push you over the edge and quickly chased by you begging him, “Stay inside me.” Andy throbbed inside you as you pulsed around his cock, your fingers digging into the meat of his thighs as your orgasm didn’t seem to stop, the room seemingly silent as the echoing thrusts and calling out of names tapered out to the sticky collapse of you both tangled up on the love seat.

Your eyes closed, exhaustion settling in, and Andy watched you breathing. Softly, Andy nuzzled his nose against the top of your head. “If you fall asleep, I’ll fall asleep.”

With a hum you nodded, reaching up to his hand that had settled on your breast, patting it, “Would that be so bad?”

More to himself, voice so low you almost couldn’t hear him. “I can’t lose you again. Can’t lose anyone else.”

“There’s probably a lot we can’t talk about, but this isn’t a dream, Andy.” Pivoting just enough to look at him you held his hand and kissed his chin. “I can’t lose you again either. I already lost a foot.”

There it was, that cheeky little smile. You both sleepy laughed and you watched his body relax. “You almost cost me my car.”

“I couldn’t run away again, even if I wanted to.” Crinkling your nose you smiled, brushing your finger over the smooth part of his skin where the missing ring marked him. He did the same. The scarf hung over the back of the sofa and looked up at him. “I don’t want to, if that wasn’t obvious.”

His blue eyes closed, his smile went soft, and Andy Barber fell asleep in your arms. If someone would have told you that this would have happened when you left New York you would have run back to Boston and spared the pair of you a world of pain. Though you were scared of bridging the gaps caused by the many roads the pair of you had taken to get here, you shut your eyes and smile at the reality that all those roads led home- to him. Like kintsugi everything seemed hopeful, incapable of breaking like the last time, stronger and made beautiful through the healing time of quiet apologies, verbal and physical.

It had been him all along, no denying it. Neither of you would ever have to ask the other to stay again.

All Content Tags: @tom-hlover

CEvans Content Tags: @void-hoechlin

#captainsweeklychallenge #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x oc #fic: andy barber #writer: writerwrites

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carrottuan93 · 3 years

Text

Haven't met you yet | Mark

Masterlist (2/4) | part1 - part3 - part4

Starring: MK x You

Tags: Mark Tuan, Fluff, Destiny, Waiting, Christmas, Bookworm, Nerd, Love, Fate

Total WC: 1420

You felt an agonizing level of pain hitting your head the moment you open your eyes to the sound of some lowkey hip-hop playlist in the background that you know nothing about. You don’t remember setting up your spotify on loop for the rest of the night but still you find the music suit for your taste despite hearing it for the first time. You shuffled on your bed, uneasy with the throbbing sensation of your cranium being drilled in the process. You sat down on your spot and were greeted by a glass of water and aspirin purposely located on a nearby table to tend on your painful hangover. Your eyebrows creased in confusion as you roam your eyes around the unfamiliar black and white interior of the room. Eyes squinting, you placed the partially emptied glass on the table after drinking the medicine and still you’re in no better means of explaining as to why you’re feeling weird today. You give your head a slight massage and a few taps on your cheek as you gather your composure. You noticed that you slept on your black above the knee dress and must have forgotten to switch into your pajamas last night, which explains you still have your coat intact when you went home but it is missing already by the time you woke up. Where could it be? You shuffled at the edge of the bed and slumped on the ground looking for your stilettos when you came across the sight of a shoe cabinet filled with converse sneakers aligned in pairs as well as an open dresser filled with different varieties of hoodies and men clothing that are too foreign to be included in your own cabinet.

“Shit!" reality hit you like a thunderbolt in a desert void of air, cutting all possible passageways for blood to flow freely on your circulation as if you became anemic at one point in your life. The lucid interval took effect when sobriety woke your being upon hearing the sound of someone using the shower and the smell of fresh shave accumulating on the slightly opened bathroom door. You gulped as you start to look for your sanity being thrown away on the windowsill and you're mentally preparing to jump outside as well because you still have no clue on how you ended up in a different room. What have you done for Good lord's sake?

----

You glanced on your phone whilst taking your 3rd cup of coffee for the day. 10 minutes before 5pm, you read as it flashed on your screen. You haven't eaten any decent meal ever since you left the stranger's room in a hurry this morning. Fearing that you'll be seen by the guy in the shower, you escaped in the flash of a lightning. To make your day even worse, you cannot find your stilettos underneath his bed and you even grabbed the wrong coat on your way out. Worry haunted you like a madman after discovering that you accidentally went to room 1207 across your unit 1212. You're mentally skinning yourself alive by breaking into the lion's den without even knowing whom did you spend the night with. Your best friend sent you tons of messages asking for specific details because you’ve been sending her cryptic texts about your situation. You weren’t thinking straight and the bile in your stomach is rising up like it’s about to explode any minute now. But you can’t escape your work with your current dilemma that’s why you need to stay sane until you meet with Eunhee tonight.

"Ms. Y/n, thank you for submitting the report on time even on a holiday. I know it must be troublesome for you to go here while you're in the middle of your Christmas spirit but we’d like to fully adhere to our schedule on time before new year. Mr. Raymond is an important client, so we need to make sure that we're being transparent at all costs.” After a meaty discussion with your senior, you gladly took a breather when your meeting adjourned. You’re an accountant and being part of an accounting firm surely entails hours and hours of long work leaving you with no time at all for yourself. It’s a busy season as usual but you won’t miss out the holidays for your busy roll. You’d like to check your schedule on your planner but to no avail, you misplaced it last night. Since you’re carrying it wherever you go, you’re 101% sure that you left it on the unit across your place along with your other stuff. You haven’t had the opportunity to claim your things this morning due to the embarrassment crisis that is weighing down on your shoulder. Your current work engagement with this particular client is a big deal for you, so you chose to save your ass from being reprimanded by your boss and being late to work. Maybe your best friend can think clearly than your wasted self. ‘Just kill me already’ is all you can tell your poor being. You heard your phone rang all of a sudden and Eunhee’s name flashed on the screen.

“Girl, where the hell are you?” You must be zoning out. You reached the brink of your anxiety when the clock’s hand struck to eight, wondering how come 3 hrs has already passed with you just sitting on your cubicle.

“Eunhee, I’ve been through a tough day and I don’t know how to explain my current situation but I’ll be there in a second I promise.” And the Amazing Race Christmas edition has begun. Dressed on your black turtleneck blouse tucked in your skinny jeans, you complete your party outfit with a stylish beanie to match with your caramel trench coat so as not to look underprepared for the occasion. You then rushed through the nearest macaron store to grab your order and have decided that you just finish doing your makeup inside the uber to maximize your time. Geez, it’s freezing cold outside and the streets are filled with lovebirds which only made your stomach turn into a sour milk. You’re famished by the time you arrived at the address Eunhee sent you and you were welcomed with her bright smile and her expression demanding for an explanation.

“I know that look on your eyes Eunhee but feed me first before I prepare for my death bed.” You hugged her so tight like your world depended on her. She dragged you inside the house which you believe to be Jackson’s place. You didn’t think of Jackson as some kind of a party jock but sure this guy knows how to throw a proper party for a group. His house is warm and inviting, you gotta commend his taste for classical music filling the air but he’s nowhere to be found. You’re slowly getting into the holiday mood, with a few acquaintances that you meet along the hallways and a feast filled with nothing but sweet treats, you began to think if you went to a gingerbread house instead of an adult’s party.

“Before everything else, where are the drinks?” You need a booze so you can open up easily to Eunhee but she ordered you to pick a paper inside the bowl in return.

“Calm down, Jackson’s little cousins from the US are coming as well so you won’t be expecting to see liquor at this early hour. We serve the kiddie treats first and we move on to a full-grown up party in the midnight but you gotta choose your secret Santa first.” You gave her an inquisitive look and wonder what secret Santa is she talking about? You picked a random green paper.

“Wait, what’s with the secret Santa thing?”

“Everyone is required to bring a gift for someone else”

“I wasn’t informed? You didn’t tell me!” Maybe today’s series of panic attacks aren’t enough for your breakdown but here’s the cherry to the cake.

“Oh my god, Y/n.” Eunhee gasped in shock just in time when Jackson entered the living room in his bright holiday spirit.

“Hey Y/n. Looking good tonight, huh? You like my place?” He went over to Eunhee and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek.

“My first time going to your place feels like home, Jackson.” You smiled at him and you could tell he came with a company.

“That’s nice to hear. But girls, I want you to meet my cousin from LA, Mark.”

#mark #marktuan #mark tuan #got7 #got7 mark #got7 fluff #got7 imagines #got7 fanfic #fluff #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #ahgase #jackson #got7jackson #got7 jackson

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ethospathoslogan · 4 years

Text

there will come a poet: chapter one (a vampire sanders sides fanfiction)

A/N: thank you all for the feedback on the prologue!! it all made me even more excited than i already was to post this first chapter :’) if you liked this, please considering liking/commenting/reblogging!!

summary: The vines, chains so tightly braided together that the knights of the Hartt Kingdom could neither slash them open nor burn them down, began to twist, and shift, and press inwards, and press outwards, and weave and unweave and tangle and shiver and, ultimately, open.

The Wall of Vine and Thorn, impenetrable for a century, had opened up a hole six feet tall, and just wide enough for a person to step through.

Patton, without hesitation, stepped through.

ships: eventual moxiety and logince

WC: 5,271

content: light injuries, light blood

read on ao3

read the prologue / next chapter

taglist: @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute , @glitchybina

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A twig crunched underneath Patton’s foot, and he tried not to startle too much.

It was silly of him to be so scared. He knew that there were worse things to be found in the Twisted Wood than a few misplaced branches.

Or maybe it wasn’t silly of him to be so scared, because he knew what lurked further in.

At least, he had been taught what lied ahead, but…

He shook his head, his curls bouncing with the movement, and pressed forward. It was barely dawn, the sunlight just beginning to look down through the darkened canopy. To stay and dilly-dally would only give those back at the palace more time to realize he was missing.

And it would only give him more time to think about turning back.

But… turn back to what?

(It also gave him more time to feel guilty about leaving Logan behind, but Patton would rather spend hours thinking about the route he could take back to the palace before he spent a minute thinking about his magical advisor, his best friend, sleeping within the palace walls, unknowing to Patton’s empty bed in the next room over.)

Patton swallowed thickly and forced his feet forward, one step after another, one breaking twig after another.

Besides, at least if he kept walking, he didn’t have to think about how tired he was. He just… he just had to keep thinking about the journey he was on! Just like in the stories he had read before! All those stories about dashing princes, riding in on noble steeds, sword at their hip! They… they had to mean something!

Right?

Well, Patton had no armor, no sword, and no horse, but he liked to believe that he could make do with his blue cloak, unused dagger, and the most comfortable shoes he owned.

Another branch snapped underneath his foot. A bird cawed overhead, and Patton looked up to find a crow perched on a branch not too far ahead. He tried to ignore the chill running down his spine as the crow cawed again, shooting its song up into the canopy, before turning its dark gaze onto him.

“H-Hello, birdie,” Patton stammered quietly, forcing a smile on his face. If he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that he was just being polite, and that the nerves in his chest weren’t bubbling into rambling. “What’cha- what’cha doing out here so early?”

The crow tilted his head left, right, and when Patton crunched another branch under his foot, flew away.

“Okay,” Patton said, mostly to himself, and ducked his head, watching his feet as he walked.

He wondered if the Twisted Wood was so unsettling because of the history stooped in it, or if it was just because it was called the “Twisted Wood.” A simple title change could do the forest a lot of good.

Patton would know.

He was, after all, Prince Patton, son of Titus Hartt, the Iron King. Titus the Great, or Titus the Valiant, or even Titus, Patton’s dad, would have had a different ring.

So the Twisted Wood could have instead been the Winding Woodlands, or the Vast Meadows, or the Guiding Grove, or just… The Forest. A forest. Doesn’t even have to have a title!

Patton sighed and, looking up, readjusted his glasses.

He just hoped he was going the right way, though he had a feeling that a wall of thorns standing a mile high would be pretty hard to miss.

Maybe that meant that they could see him from miles away, too. Whatever “they” were.

Okay, Patton knew what they were, but- but what if there was nothing there? What if it was all just a scary story told to princes to stop them from going and looking for themselves? No undead, no beasts, no monsters, just- just a vacant clearing! And then Patton could laugh and turn around and skip right back through the forest that was no longer scary! And maybe he could even sneak back into the palace without being seen, and then he could tell Logan this story that they would laugh at for the rest of the day!

Except-

Patton slowed his step and looked up through the leaves, the dull sunlight glinting off his glasses.

Except he didn’t know if he would be laughing.

He didn’t know what he was looking for. Not really. He just…

Something had to be better than nothing, right?

He was given enough time— just enough time —to debate that when, in the distance, the tall, thick trees began to blend in with the background, forming a wall of twigs and green- and Patton’s stomach dropped out of him when he realized that, after over two hours of walking, he had reached the heart of the forest.

Just like the legends always said, the Wall of Vine and Thorn stretched farther out than Patton could see. The Anguine Kingdom was rumored to remain inside, and the only reason it was rumor instead of fact was because no one actually knew what was left inside. Not since the barricade went up one hundred years ago.

(Patton had checked the date before he left, and today was actually the first day of the hundredth and first year.)

As Patton pushed himself forward, he could see more and more of the true… greatness of the Wall. It stretched upwards as if, one day, the vines could eventually reach out and touch the sky, but what he found himself even more amazed by were the trees that surrounded it. Almost like they had adjusted themselves to fit their new scenery, the trees closer and closer to the wall had grown, too: their trunks wider than Patton could reach around, their leaves blocking out the sun and, most curious of all, the trees bent towards the Wall. The branches and leaves all leaned over, and Patton could only imagine that they met in the middle.

He had heard legend that the Anguine Kingdom was thrown into eternal darkness the moment the barrier went up, but to see it in person…

He was close enough now that, if he just reached out, he could touch the vines thicker than his torso, or the thorns as long as his forearm.

Keeping his hands close to his chest, he took a step forward.

“H-Hello?” he called out, hoping his voice reached whatever was past the vines. “I- I don’t know if you can hear me? Or… or if there’s anyone there to hear me? But… I’m from the Hartt Kingdom. And I know what everyone… says about this place. About the princes. But I… I just want to know…”

He trailed off.

What did he want to know?

He had left the palace with an abstract desire and, if he was being honest, he had hoped that his subconscious would think of a question for him.

“It can’t be that bad, right?” Patton finally asked. “Whoever you are can’t be that bad, right?”

The moment the words left his mouth, it felt like a stupid thing to ask, like a child’s question.

But he… he needed to know.

For a moment, everything was silent.

On the second moment, Patton shifted and winced when he snapped another twig beneath his foot.

And, just when he was ready to shake his head and turn around, chastising himself for really thinking that he could get an answer, the vines shifted.

The vines, chains so tightly braided together that the knights of the Hartt Kingdom could neither slash them open nor burn them down, began to twist, and shift, and press inwards, and press outwards, and weave and unweave and tangle and shiver and, ultimately, open.

The Wall of Vine and Thorn, impenetrable for a century, had opened up a hole six feet tall, and just wide enough for a person to step through.

Patton, without hesitation, stepped through.

He had been right: the trees met in the middle to block out the sun, and the slivers that burst through never made it to the ground.

If he squinted, though, he could still manage to see enough.

And what he saw was… the Anguine Kingdom. In the early morning air, it was still. Ivy crawled up the buildings, choking them out through the windows and the chimneys. The forest floor had long overcome whatever stone or wood once laid, dulled by footsteps from a time long ago. Craning his head up at a bird’s song, Patton watched as a dark shadow swooped among the leaves, startling them only for a moment before they resumed their hold above the remains. And, as Patton’s gaze shifted downward, he could make out the dark spire of a castle— the castle—looming in the distance. Patton watched it for a moment, and a moment longer, and made out no flashes, no shadows, no figures moving past the peaked windows.

It was hard to imagine the kingdom harboring monsters for over a century when it was this… peaceful.

He let his feet carry him forward, trudging carefully through the overgrown weeds and bramble. It was only when he heard a shifting, a slithering, behind him that he looked back and, to his sudden horror, found that the opening in the vines was beginning to close.

“Wait!” he shouted out without thinking and, his feet nearly catching on the brush below, sprinted. It was, at most, with his short legs, twenty paces, but when he reached the Wall, the vines had already sewn themselves back together and, skidding to a poor halt and tripping, Patton hissed as his left palm sliced open on one of the thorns and his knees crashed to the ground.

Instinctively, he whimpered in pain before squeezing his eyes shut, willing back any sudden tears at the sharp pain that sprung throughout his hand. Pulling his hand away from where it pressed into the ground, he grimaced at the gash running from the base of his middle finger to the heel of his palm, and did his best to ignore the streak of blood dripping down his wrist.

“Well...” His voice, quiet, only petered out more as he looked back up at the barrier. “Oh no.”

Patton, for a moment, tried to decide which would be worse: the monsters were real and he was stuck with them, or the legends were fake and Patton was stuck alone in the graveyard kingdom.

At the sound of running footsteps behind him, his anxiety decided for him that being trapped with something was much worse than being trapped with nothing.

And, as Patton whipped around and scurried backwards, daring the thorns to piece his back, for the first time that morning, he regretted leaving the castle.

“Remus, what is all this-”

And Patton watched as, around the corner of the nearest building, a figure cloaked in black came bounding towards him.

It took a moment for Patton to place him. In legends, in paintings, in story books, he was always signified by his eyes: one untouched, one ruined. Some depicted it as gashed, others depicted it as glassy. Some chose not to depict it at all, instead leaving him with a gaping, black hole. That one was the one that scared Patton the most as a child.

Instead, though, the eldest brother, staring down at Patton on the ground before him with his one brown eye, had a black patch over the other.

And Patton, with his blue eyes, stared back up.

The eldest brother held his gaze for a moment in pure astonishment. Perhaps he, too, was not able to process exactly what he was seeing in front of him.

And then, all Patton had time to process was the anger twisting on his face before he was being yanked up by his collar by gloved yellow hands, his face now mere inches from the eldest brother’s.

“What-” His voice, gripping with malice, ripped through Patton and sent his body into a tremble “-are you doing here?”

“I- I-”

All he could focus on were the fangs where canines should have been.

That, and how close they were to Patton.

“How did you get in here?” The brother hissed, his grip tightening. “Answer me!”

“I- I don’t know!” Patton cried out. He couldn’t tell if it was tears or sweat streaking down his face (or both).

“What do you mean-” And the brother yanked him closer “-You. Don’t. Know?”

“They let me in! They let me in!” Patton rushed out, gripping the brother’s wrists with his hands as if he even had a fraction of the power he needed to deter him. “The vines! They- they opened!”

“They-?” The brother’s face was only twisted in confusion for a moment before he stilled. His one eye, which up until then had never left Patton’s, darted to his right hand, which Patton was clutching desperately with his left.

Together, they watched as blood seeped through the brother’s yellow glove.

A scream barely caught in Patton’s throat as the pupil of the brother’s eye became a slit, his fangs bared, and-

And he threw Patton back to the ground.

“You shouldn’t be here!” The brother growled, ripping off his stained glove.

“I can’t- I just-”

“You just what?” The brother shouted. It could’ve just been Patton’s nerves, but he swore the canopy above them shook.

To say that he just wanted to know felt… wrong.

“I can’t get back out,” he whispered.

The brother turned his steely gaze from Patton to the vines.

“You can’t,” he repeated, “get back out.”

Patton shook his head but, for the first time, the eldest brother’s attention was elsewhere; as if he was in a trance, he stepped forward, past Patton, and put a hand to the barrier of foliage.

“Who are you?” the brother asked quietly. It was the calmest Patton had seen him yet.

“P-Patton.”

“Patton what?”

The answer caught in his throat as the legend flickered through his mind, and it was only when the brother’s eye flicked to him again that Patton was able to force out:

“Hartt. Patton Hartt. Of the- of the Hartt Kingdom.”

The eldest brother, for just a moment, froze.

And then he began to laugh, and he kept laughing, and it chilled Patton to his core. It was bitter and pained and, ultimately, seething.

“Wonderful!” He managed between his manic laughter. “Another one of you! After a hundred years! Fantastic!”

“I’m not here to-”

“Well, might as well make yourself at home!” The brother reached down and, grabbing Patton’s uninjured hand with his still-gloved one, yanked him up. “Since it seems like a Hartt is here to- to-” He cut himself off with another bark of laughter.

“I don’t know what you’re-!”

“And of course this is how it happens!” The brother’s grip tightened on his hand as he dragged him along and Patton, wincing, struggled against him. “Why should I have expected anything different? How foolish of me when-”

“You’re hurting me!” Patton cried out, yanking back against his grip, and the brother froze.

His grip on Patton’s hand loosened and then, eventually, dropped.

“I- I’m-” The brother sighed and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Apologies.” He then continued walking, this time without Patton tugged along. “My brothers… will want to know about this. You.”

Patton nodded, the fear and the curiosity making an uneasy coil in his gut, and, keeping his hands pressed close to his chest, followed slowly behind.

The stone steps to the castle swirled lazily up, drawing large circles around the overgrown courtyard. It made Patton nauseous to look down, but it made his knees tremble to look at the large, wooden door at the top, a tattered orange tapestry hanging above.

Overall, if Patton had to be honest, he wasn’t having a great time.

When they reached the double doors, the eldest brother took one last look at Patton, his eye narrowed, before he huffed and pushed the door open.

“Welcome,” he said, “to the Anguine Castle.”

Patton, when he stepped through the threshold, could not help but marvel at the site before him. The Hartt Castle, steeped in white marble and silver, seemed dull in comparison, even if the room in front of him was still drenched in darkness. Rich, red curtains hung closed before the windows. Dark wooden flooring stretched out, only stopping when met with the black, bricked walls. Accents of gold bespeckled themselves throughout the parlor, found in the decorations seated on the end-tables, in the frames holding aged portraits, in the bases of the unlit oil lamps on the wall. The room had a chill and Patton wished he brought something heavier than his cloak but, even for just this moment, he could not be bothered.

“Wow,” he breathed, looking around. Now choosing to marvel at the grand staircase leading up (and up and up and up) to the second floor, he watched as the eldest brother walked briskly to the foot of it.

“Roman! Virgil!” He called, his voice carrying through the chamber. “Get down here! Now!”

With a quick turn, he began flipping the switches of the oil lamps, each one turning on with a burst of flame before settling into a flickering calm. As they did, however, Patton noticed the light catching something on the brother’s hand and, as his eyes finally focused, he couldn’t help but stare at the scales encroaching upon the top of his hand and fingers, curling inwards to his palm.

Patton averted his gaze when the brother turned back to him, but from the way his brown eye was fixed on him, he blushed at the realization that he had been caught.

Before he could stammer out something that would either embarrass him further or send him to an early grave, a figure began to descend down the shadowed staircase.

“Janus, what the fuck is-”

Having stopped, frozen at the foot of the staircase, Patton was able to get a good look at their new guest (well, technically, he was the guest). He wore a simple black outfit similar to the eldest brother’s— Janus’s —except without the yellow accents. He stared at Patton—who couldn’t help but take note of his gaunt features and dark circles pressed under his eyes—and flicked his dark brown hair out of his eyes, as if that would make the scene in front of him any different.

“Is Remus home?” Janus asked.

“Janus, what the fuck-” His voice then broke off as his eyes flicked to Patton’s hand and widened, and that was when Patton became aware of the drying blood down his left hand and forearm “-What the fuck did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Janus snapped. “So Virgil, answer my question, is Remus home?”

Virgil, lost for words, shook his head.

“Good,” Janus said. “I need you to take care of him, then.”

“How did- Who- What the fuck-?”

“Yes, I know,” Janus bit. “Apparently the wall opened up for him!” He then looked back at Patton, who sheepishly smiled, before back to Virgil. “His name is Patton Hartt.”

Patton tried to ignore how harshly he said that last part.

Virgil’s jaw, dropping just enough to reveal his own fangs, stared at his brother before shooting to Patton. He faltered a couple times before finally managing out, “Hartt?”

“Yes, Hartt,” Janus repeated. “Now, take care of him, while I-”

“I- wait, why do I-”

“Because I have things to do!” Janus shouted, throwing his hands up. “I need to- where is Roman?”

“You think I’m gonna be the one to get him up?”

Janus growled low in his throat and pushed his way past Virgil. “The fucking-” He whipped his head back over his shoulder to stare down Virgil “-Virgil, take care of him. Be smart.”

Patton watched as Janus ascended the stairs before turning his gaze to Virgil, who still stared at him, dumbstruck.

He was suddenly aware that “take care of him” could have a wildly different meaning here.

“I- I-” Virgil stammered “I have so many questions.”

“Me too,” Patton whispered.

“I-” Virgil eyed his injured hand again and swallowed thickly, turning his head sharply away. After a moment, he sucked in a breath and released it before turning back and, finally, stepping off the landing.

As he approached, Patton couldn’t help but stumble backwards, and Virgil held up his hands, slowing his step.

“I- I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured. It was the softest voice Patton had heard that day. “Just…” He looked over his shoulder before back at Patton. “Did he hurt you?”

Patton shook his head. “Not- no.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow.

“He was really scary,” Patton admitted. “But I- I tripped.” He showed Virgil his hand again, but when Virgil quickly shifted his gaze, he pulled it back against his chest.

Virgil sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, Janus isn’t really one for good first impressions.” Then, after a hesitation, he eyed Patton’s hand again. “But he wasn’t being… threatening when he said to take care of you. You have to get that wrapped up or- or something.”

“And you’re going to help me?” Patton asked.

Virgil shrugged. “Apparently.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Patton offered him a faint smile. Virgil averted his gaze again. “Are you bothered by…?”

“Not as much as some will be,” Virgil said with a chuckle, though there was little humor in it.

Patton, gut twisting, chewed his bottom lip.

Virgil caught his worried look and sighed. “Look- sorry, we just-” He broke off again and shook his head. “Just… follow me.”

He waved Patton down the hall to his right and, a few paces behind, he followed as Virgil switched on oil lamps as they passed by. They illuminated more portraits, those of men and women and families throughout the years, though all dressed in fashion that Patton hadn’t seen before. At least, not outside of the old portraits in his own palace.

The question on the tip of his tongue was soon answered for, as they entered into a dining hall, his eyes immediately fell upon the large portrait on the opposite wall.

Having only seen the King and his four sons drawn in storybooks, to see them human… it was unsettling. The King, his name lost with his perishing, sat upon his throne, orange cushions supported by what could have only been gold. Wearing a hard look on his face, Patton couldn’t help but let a chill run down his spine. Janus, his dark brown hair styled neatly and both eyes staring out at Patton, shadowed him. His hands, folded and unscaled, rested on the back of the throne, and, starkly different from the man he just met, his lips curled up in a smirk, paired with an arched eyebrow. To his right was Virgil, the same dark brown hair styled messily but, even from where Patton stood, he could see that his brown eyes had life in them. He looked more alive, his cheeks fuller and his skin blushed with pink, all put together with a small smile.

Then, on the opposite side, stood two red-heads. The second son and his duplicate, Patton could assume, though it felt insensitive to say it now. The one standing closest to Janus wore a beaming grin, his head tilted every so slightly. His hair was styled so closely to perfection, Patton wondered if it was artistic intent or reality. The twin to his left, identical to the twin to his right in all but the mustache, stared out and grinned, though something about it seemed much more… frantic. His red hair would have been perfect as well if not for a stray curl here or a fly-away there (again, Patton found himself wondering if it was reality or intent).

“So you’re the youngest brother,” Patton commented without even thinking.

Only after a long hesitation did Virgil say, “Yes?”

Patton blushed as Virgil motioned for him to take a seat at the dining table.

(Patton noted that it looked like it hadn’t been used in quite some time.)

“Sorry, sorry,” Patton said quickly. “It’s just-” He huffed and looked away as Virgil began rummaging through the drawers and cabinets. “We’re… taught… legends.”

Virgil let out another humorless laugh. “Can’t even bother to learn our names, huh?”

Patton decided to shift in his seat instead of saying anything more.

After a couple silent, tense minutes passed, Virgil finally pulled a roll of cloth out of the back of a drawer and dropped it in front of Patton on the table. “Sorry it took so long. We don’t get many… injuries.”

“It’s fine,” Patton whispered.

He watched as Virgil took a pot from another cabinet and filled it with water from the faucet. He must have shown some type of confusion on his face for Virgil explained, “We, uh- there’s a spring we managed to trap in here with us. The castle’s been connected to it for, well… centuries.”

Patton nodded. “Oh.”

Virgil sat a couple chairs away from him as Patton, carefully, started to clean the cut on his hand.

After a couple more minutes of silence, Virgil sighed and said, “Look, I’m sorry about the name comment.”

Patton, looking up, furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re sorry?” he asked. “I’m sorry! It was- it was rude of me to say that, and-” He faltered as Virgil raised an eyebrow. He sighed and shook his head. “I know what the legends say. We could’ve… we could’ve at least kept your names.”

Virgil stared at him for a moment, and Patton realized that there was no way of telling the difference between his pupils and the color of his eyes.

Finally, Virgil broke his stare and turned to look at the portrait. “Who are we?” he asked. “In your legend.”

Patton swallowed thickly and, with his uninjured hand, pointed first at the King. “The King.” Then to Janus, “His eldest son.” He hesitated when pointing to the twins, but finally stopped on the beaming one, “His second son.” He hesitated even longer when pointing to the other twin, “The… the duplicate.” Then, finally, he moved to Virgil. “His youngest son.”

Virgil nodded, staring at the portrait. Finally, he pointed as well. “Livius. Dead. Janus. You met him. Roman. Here, but I’m not gonna be the one that wakes him. Remus. Don’t let him hear you call him that. Me. In the flesh.”

“How old were you all?” Patton asked quietly.

“Does it matter?” Even as Patton focused on cleaning off his cut, he could feel Virgil staring.

“Perhaps not,” he murmured.

Another moment of silence.

“Shit, I’m not good at this,” Virgil huffed, and Patton lifted his eyes just in time to see Virgil drag his hand through his hair. “We were, uh- Janus was twenty-seven. Roman and Remus were… twenty-three. And I was twenty-two.” He shifted in his seat. “The kingdom fell a year later.”

Patton nodded. He didn’t know what to say to that. Anything he could think of felt… useless.

It was history. He couldn’t change that.

“And the vines really… let you in?” Virgil asked when Patton finally tied off his cut with one of the remaining bandages. Patton couldn’t even tell if he was scared anymore, but he still figured it wouldn’t be… wise to leave it just out in the open.

Patton looked up when Virgil said that, and Virgil, quickly, averted his gaze once more.

“They did,” he answered with a soft laugh and a sheepish smile. “I just… I spoke to them? And a little… doorway opened up.”

Virgil turned back to him, his eyebrows furrowed. “You spoke to them?”

Patton blushed. “Y-Yes, it was silly, I guess, but-”

“What did you say?” Virgil pressed, leaning forward on his elbows. Even from a couple seats away, Patton could feel his intensity.

With those dark eyes on him, it was as if Virgil was seeing through him.

“That it can’t be that bad,” he finally answered, his voice barely a whisper. “That… you all can’t be that bad.”

Virgil held his stare for a moment longer, and Patton felt like he was drowning in it.

And then, Virgil, with a dry laugh and a shake of his head, leaned back. “Well… shit. You really must be a good person, huh?”

Before Patton could even begin to question him, from down the hall and back in the parlor room, both their heads turned to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

“I had just gotten into a much needed rest,” a voice was narrating—announcing?—as they came down the steps. “Something that a man of my caliber so greatly needs-” And he was coming down the hall “-Only to be so rudely interrupted by our cruel older brother because-”

And then, in the doorway, stood Roman, the second son. Donning the same grin in the portrait before him, completing his look with the same neatly styled hair and white button down (not buttoned all the way, the collar rumpled) tucked into black pants, he eyed Patton before finally meeting his eyes.

“Apparently-” And Roman cocked his head “-there is another prince in our home!”

“Uh, yes- yes!” Patton stammered as Roman sauntered over, taking the seat in between him and Virgil. “Patton- Patton Hartt!”

He stuck out his hand and Roman, adding a raised eyebrow to his look, took it with a hand chilled to the touch.

“Prince Roman Anguine,” he said, his brown eyes passing over Patton’s face once more. “Charmed.”

From behind him, Virgil rolled his eyes. Leaning forward, he fixed where Roman’s collar curled up.

Roman, in a movement faster than Patton could comprehend, smacked Virgil’s hand away. “It’s stylistic intent, Virgil,” he bit, the grin having slipped off his face. “I would be the one to know it.”

Still, though, he adjusted his collar.

Virgil’s glare hardened as he leaned back in his seat. “Is that what you’re calling it, Ro?”

Roman, ignoring him, turned back to Patton and put back on his grin. “Apologies for that,” he said, laughing. “Just some gentle ribbing among brothers.”

“Uh-huh,” Patton said quickly, nodding. He was partially unconvinced and partially intimidated.

“If you two are done-” Patton had to grip the arms of his chair to stop himself from jumping out of his skin as Janus appeared in the doorway “-Roman, where’s Remus?”

Roman, pulling a face, waved a hand flippantly. “How would I know?” he asked. “I’m not his keeper.”

Janus, shutting his eye for a moment, huffed before looking at Roman again. “And you have no clue where he might go?”

Roman scoffed. “You think he tells me anything?” he asked. “I’m lucky to know when he’s going! Besides, why does it matter?”

Both Janus and Virgil pointed to Patton, who blushed as Roman’s eyes shot to him, his lips forming a small o.

“Oh right,” he breathed out, nodding. “Right. Human.”

“Exactly,” Janus said, looking at Patton.

Patton then realized that all of them were looking at him.

“We don’t want…” Janus said slowly, as if he was choosing his words carefully, “To be caught off guard… when Remus returns.”

Next to him, Roman shifted in his seat.

“So,” Janus continued, “It would be best to make sure that Patton is not… left to his own devices when Remus-”

And, with that, all four startled at the sound of two heavy doors crashing into walls.

“Dear brothers!” A voice boomed through the castle. “Hope I’m not waking anyone! We all know how the dead can be!”

“Well,” Roman said, his eyes flicking to Patton and then Janus. “Found Remus.”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #stuff i write #it feels weird only tagging patton and virgil when janus and roman are there too #but i gotta play into tumblr's tagging system #vampire au 2.0 #i should really get a better tag for this askjdsjksd

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

Text

Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- This is the end, though I feel like its not the end that everyone’s been anticipating, but I’ve had it planned for almost two months.) Chapter Summary- Y/n and Daniel make a decision about their marriage and a reunion with Keanu isn’t a easy as anyone thought it would be.

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Warnings- Some angst

Chapter 17

Their house sits at the top of a winding, nearly two mile long, cobblestone driveway, manned at the front by an impressive gate. Yet, even from upstairs in their shared bedroom, she can hear the hum of his car after the creek of the wrought iron.

For a minute, Y/n just sits on the bed, not really affected by his presence, before standing to greet him downstairs. On her way to the grand stairs, she passes another bedroom, the door has been left ajar and inside, a small boy plays with the electric train set that his grandparents brought from their last trip to London, just a month ago. Ryan. He adores it, at least for now, he has so many that his affections towards his toys barely last a week. He isn’t spoiled though, at least his parents don’t think so, but their opinions might be subjective.

Y/n’s fingers ghost the smooth, varnished wooden railing as she descends to the first floor, journeying towards the foyer. By the time she gets there, Daniel has already shoved off his jacket and is now taking off his shoes. Y/n smiles lightly as he does it; at first, when they’d started living together, it had been hard for her to get used to switching shoes upon entering the house, but Daniel had grown up with the custom, and she’d eventually gotten into it for him.

At the sight of her, he straightens up, barely smiling as he starts towards her, “‘Evening,” Daniel greets quietly, pecking her at the corner of her lips. Not directly on them, he hardly ever kisses her there anymore.

“How was work?” Y/n trails behind him, following her husband to his home office, where he usually drops his stuff off before dinner. When he turns to her, for the first time, Y/n notices the faintest hint of a lipstick stain right under his jaw. It’s funny because that’s not even her preferred color.

“Good,” he says, leaning on the edge of his desk, folding his arms across his broad chest, “I know what you’re going to say,” his face falls, “And I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Y/n chuckles humorlessly, “I’m sorry too. I’ve been thinking,” she moistens her lips, raising her hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. Y/n doesn’t know why she’s so nervous about bringing it up, it’s what’s best for them. Blinking away the stinging in her eyes, “We need to.....” she couldn’t even finish the sentence, her father would be so disappointed if he was still he around, and her mother is going to be pissed when they tell her.

“Yeah,” Daniel nods slowly, “I’ll call the lawyers tomorrow,” when Y/n bends her head, swiping at her eyes, her agreement unspoken. “I really am sorry,” Daniel says in some kind of throw attempt to make the ruins of their marriage better, “I never meant-”

“Do you love her?” Y/n glances up at him. She loves him, but for some reason, the idea of having a failed marriage at thirty hurts more than losing him. Maybe it’ll be better if she knows that they're leaving so they can find what makes them happy.

Daniel hesitates before smiling, “I think so. Y/n, she’s.....she’s amazing.”

Offering him a watery smile, Y/n nods again, thinking about how she told the only man that she loved that they couldn’t be together, “That’s good, that’s really good.”

“Thanks,” thinking for a minute, he starts speaking again, “Maybe you could call-”

“Mommy!” Y/n jumps at Ryan calling out to her as he runs into the room, obviously intent on finding his mother, though, as he skids into the room, spotting Daniel, his little face lights up as he runs towards his father, “Daddy! You’re home!”

“I am bud,” effortlessly, Daniel lifts Ryan into his arms, “Missed you all day,” he pecks Ryan’s cheek and Y/n smiles, glad that he isn’t old enough to reject his parents affections. At a first glance, they look alike.....in a generic sort of way.

Daniel is a good father.

7Turning to her, Ryan frowns, “Why are you crying mommy?”

Sniffling, Y/n quickly tries to right herself, this isn’t how she wants him to find out, “It’s nothing baby,” Y/n approaches them a the desk, the loose, cuffed sleeves of her cable knit sweater fall over her wrists as she brings her hands to Ryan’s face, placing a kiss on his forehead, “I just love you so, so much that it makes me so happy, I cry.”

“And daddy too?” Ryan looks hopeful, as if telling her that he needs confirmation.

“Yeah baby,” she breaths, her words almost choked, “And daddy too.” It’s not a lie, not really.

She loves his daddy too.

He didn’t know why she’d called, but Keanu had gone. He’d always go.

Her office looked different from the last time he saw it, though, Keanu had never spent a lot of time there anyway. There were pictures; a few of her and Daniel and others of a child who seemed strangely familiar. The thought nagged him, but Keanu tried to ignore it. The colors were lighter too, and he could tell that she’d redecorated recently.

When Keanu heard the door open behind him, he stood from the sofa she had tucked away in the corner of the room. She looked different, but still somehow the same. Six years. Six years since she’d chosen Daniel, since she’d told him that she’d always love him, but her responsibilities came first, since Y/n became the one that got away. Keanu had dated since then, but halfheartedly so and nothing seemed to stick. He’d always find himself measuring women to her; they didn’t just look or feel different, but they could never make him feel what Y/n had, not even close.

“Hi,” she smiled, her voice quiet. For a minute, words escaped him. They hadn’t stood face to face like that since she was all decked off in white. Even then with tears in her eyes, she had this young, free look about her. But that day, in her office, Y/n looked the part that she’d assumed; president of a company, wife, mother.

Keanu swallowed tightly, not knowing if he should keep his distance or reach out to hug her, “Hey.”

Awkwardly, Y/n eventually leaned in, pulling Keanu into a lingering hug, her heels affording her the opportunity to bury her face in his neck, inhaling his scent; cologne, cigarettes and pleasurably familiar. She’d missed him, and there so much she had to say, so much that she’d kept from him. “Thank you for coming,” she breathed standing on her toes so her lips could be close to his ear.

“I was surprised when I got your call,” out of the blue, a couple nights prior when he was just leaving his sister’s place after dinner. Keanu hadn’t told anyone that he was going to see Y/n, hell, he didn’t even know if he was actually going until he parked his bike in the underground parking lot of where she worked.

Instead of saying anything on the matter, Y/n just pecked his cheek as she pulled away, “Can I get you something? Coffee, water, stiff drink?”

“I’m fine thanks,” following Y/n’s lead, they sat on the plush sofa, turned to each other, their knees close, almost touching; her smooth bare one nearly against his jean clad one.

“Alright,” Y/n wrung her fingers in her lap, her pastel manicured nails standing out against the dark burgundy of her stylish dress, “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” Keanu observed her, wondering what could make her so nervous and too anxious himself to be coy about it, “What am I doing here Y/n?”

Sighing loudly, Y/n began to speak, though overcome with hesitation, she stood, passing a hand over her chest, down her stomach before dropping it to her side. “Daniel and I are getting divorced,” she finally managed all at once, “He’s in love with this woman.....she’s a engineer at his firm or something,” Y/n waved her hand absently, “I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

Standing abruptly, Keanu met Y/n at the center of the room, gently placing his hands on her shoulders, trying to still her nervous movements, “I’m so sorry,” he frowned, “Are you okay?”

“Actually, I am,” she smiled up at him, but Y/n still seemed unsure. What was she expecting, calling Keanu there? That they’d just go back to the way things were. Life wasn’t that easy. “It’s been coming for a long time, and it’s good that he’s found someone that he really loves, he deserves it.”

Moistening his lips, Keanu’s palms slid down Y/n’s arms, so he could take her fingers in his, finally understanding why she called him there. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that though. Keanu had spent the past six years wishing for one more moment, but now that it was there, he wasn’t sure if it could be chalked up to all he’d made himself believe it to be. There were too many factors involved. “So do you,” he finally offered.

“I know,” Y/n met his gaze through her long lashes, “That’s why I called you.”

Pulling his hands out of hers, Keanu turned to face Y/n’s desk, running a hand through his tousled hair, “So you wouldn’t have to be alone?”

“What?” Y/n scoffed, “No, of course not. Because I should have chosen you at the beginning. Because if i’d married you, stayed with you, fought for us, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Because I’ve thought of you everyday since then, because it took Daniel one mistake and six years in a marriage that wasn’t meant to be to find the woman that he loves, but I’ve known who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with even before I started one with him. I was stupid for letting that happen Keanu, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Sighing heavily, Keanu still stood with his back to her, about to respond when his eyes fell once again on a picture of the little boy. Still, he got the odd, possibly misplaced feeling of familiarity, like Keanu had seen him before, but not really. Looking at the picture, he had this overwhelming, though completely irrational, sense that they knew each other. Shaking his head, Keanu swiped up the picture, forgetting about their conversation, bringing it closer to his face, “This is your son?”

“Yeah,” Y/n breathed, swallowing tightly as she watched Keanu put the pieces together, “He’s six.”

“Six?” Keanu mirrored, raising his brows, “You must have gotten pregnant pretty quickly after the wedding.”

Clearing her throat, Y/n stepped to his side, looking at the picture too. Everyone who’d met them liked to say that Ryan resembled Daniel, but if they’d met Keanu....”It was before, actually. I found out on our honeymoon.”

“Oh,” the little sound left his lips in the form of a quiet mumble. “Is he Daniel’s?” The question was tentative, as if he were afraid to ask it, though Y/n suspected that he already knew the answer.

Overcome with emotion, Y/n’s voice got caught in her throat, “No,” she admitted, for the very first time, out loud. How Y/n had kept him from Keanu for all that time was still a surprise to her. The truth was, that ever since she’d found out, Y/n didn’t believe for one second that the baby was Daniel’s. And when Ryan was born, Daniel knew too, but instead of causing a row, he’d accepted it, pushed past his hurt and raised Ryan as his own. He was a good father. He really was, but in the back of her mind, Y/n always wondered what it would have been like to parent alongside Keanu.

“Does Daniel know?” Keanu’s shoulders slumped and it felt like his life was changing in an instant. One morning spent in her office and suddenly, he was a father.

“Yes,” placing a hand on his arm, Y/n kept her eyes trained on the picture, “He’s so much like you, intuitive, sensitive, intelligent, strong and his hair is always a mess.”

For the briefest second, Keanu chuckled at the comment. Though, his expression quickly morphed into seriousness once again, “Why didn’t you say something? You could have called.”

By then, Y/n thought it was best to put some space between them, “And say what? ‘Hey Ke, I know I married someone else, but I just found out that I’m pregnant and I think it’s yours’?” Y/n shook her head, “Is that what you wanted?”

Putting the picture back where it belonged, “It would have been better than not knowing at all.” Keanu no longer seemed sympathetic. Instead, he was angry, and worst yet, hurt. “Y/n,” his voice broke, tears in his eyes, “He’s my son.”

“I know,” Y/n put her fingers over her quivering lips, salty tears blurring her vision, “But Daniel is a good father.”

“I could have been a good father!” When Keanu’s voice rose, Y/n jumped.

Clenching and unclenching her jaw. Y/n folded her arms across her chest, “You think I don’t know that?” Her words were strained with emotion and she could feel everything that she’d felt over the past six years, since she’d let Keanu go, coming back to her in a rush, “I know you’d be a good father, a great one! But I had to do what was right; I’d just gotten married, everyone was just looking to us to have a baby and-”

“And what? That was an easy fix? God,” he breathed, ranking his fingers through his hair, Keanu turned to lean on the desk. He didn’t look at her, instead scrubbing his hands over his face before folding his arms and looking towards the door. Y/n understood why he was mad; if someone told her that she had a secret kid somewhere, she would be too. But she just needed him to see that, at that time, she thought it was best. Y/n couldn’t have complicated her brand new marriage by telling everyone that the baby wasn’t Daniel’s, his parents; two people that had accepted her as one of their own, who absolutely adored Y/n, would have been heartbroken.

“No, it wasn’t,” Y/n hastily swiped under her eyes, shifting her weight to her left leg, “But everyone already believed it. I know it was wrong, and I thought about calling you everyday after he was born, but I knew that if you saw him, you’d fall just as deep in love with him as I did,” quietly, she sobbed, “And I wouldn’t have been able to let you go either. I’m so sorry,” her voice broke again, thick with pain, “Keanu, I’m so, so sorry.”

Sighing heavily, he glanced at her for a minute, so much going through his mind. The last time he saw Y/n, she was wearing a wedding dress, but wasn’t getting married to him. If only he’d known then; he’d have begged her to leave Daniel, make her any promise in the world, just to have her leave that reception with him. He’d have gotten on his knees and begged her to marry him. He’d have done anything to be a part of their lives, to make sure that they were a family.

But Keanu had no clue and his ignorance had cost him so much. First cry, first steps, his first word, six birthdays and everything in between. The sheer pain of everything that he didn’t know was crushing him and he had the desperate urge to make up for it, “Can I meet him?”

“Ke,” Y/n swallowed tightly, “He thinks that Daniel is his father, I can’t confuse him like that.”

“I’m not asking you to tell him,” he reasoned, “I just want to meet him, please.”

Mulling on it for a moment, Y/n eventually nodded, “Okay, yeah, you can meet him.”

After a long conversation about why mommy and daddy could no longer live together, Daniel had packed up most of his stuff and temporarily moved into one of his parents’ ritzy apartments in the city. It had been three months since they filed for divorce and one month since Y/n had told Keanu that Ryan was actually his son. They’d only had brief exchanges since then, most of them awkward and tense.

Initially, things had been hard; figuring out a working schedule that would ensure that Ryan could spend time with both Y/n and Daniel, trying to find steady ground with their own parents and finally, trying to make sure that Ryan was okay in the midst of all of it. Needless to say, Y/n hadn’t had the time to set up a time for Keanu to meet Ryan.

Though, after things had settled, Y/n had finally submitted into organizing an afternoon where Keanu would come over to her place in Beverly Hills, just a few streets over from where Y/n lived when they’d first met. She had discussed Ryan meeting Keanu with Daniel, and while at first, he’d been reluctant to let it happen, he had eventually given in.

When the day came, a warm Saturday in June, Y/n had sat Ryan down in the living room, interrupting his screen time to explain that she was having someone over that she’d like him to meet. Easing the tablet out of his hand, Y/n set it next to her on the plush sofa, drawing his attention, “Ry,” she smiled faintly, “Remember I said I had a friend I wanted you to meet?”

“Yeah,” he nodded vigorously, “You said he was coming over today.”

“That’s right, he’s gonna be here any minute now,” she ruffled his hair, “And if you two get along, he might come around more often. But that doesn’t mean you have to pretend to like him for me.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Ryan tilted his head, and Y/n chuckled at his question, “Because it’s okay if he is, daddy said it's okay for you two to be happy, even if it's with other people.”

Though the words left his lips with ease, Ryan still seemed a little uneased by the thought of new people in his parents’ lives. She couldn’t blame him, it couldn’t have been easy to come to term with the fact that they weren’t together anymore, especially when he couldn’t really see the reason for their split. The saving grace was that Y/n and Daniel had been civil through it all; no loud fights or vindictive comments. They still spoke highly of each other to their son and when Daniel had let Ryan meet his girlfriend, it had been a quiet affair and he had reminded him that she was in no way meant to replace his mother.

“He’s not,” Y/n’s smile faltered, reminded of the current tension between her and Keanu, “I know it’s been difficult to adjust, and lots of things are changing, but you know you can always talk to mommy if something’s bothering you, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded again, and just then, a housekeeper came in, whispering in Y/n’s ear that Keanu was just outside of the room. Mustering up a smile that she hoped didn’t seem nervous, Y/n told her to bring him in.

Y/n stood as he entered the room, and before they could even greet each other, Keanu’s eyes fell on Ryan, who was still sitting on the couch. “You’re early,” Y/n was the one to speak first,

“I was too anxious to wait,” he smiled sheepishly, “This must be Ryan,” he waved to him, and shy and a little startled without further warning, Ryan slunk behind his mother, fistfuls of her powder blue chiffon blouse scrunched up his fingers. He’d always been like that around new people; it had taken him nearly a year to warm up to his babysitter and when he started school, it had been the same.

Reaching behind herself, Y/n’s affectionately ruffled his soft, dark hair, chuckling quietly, “Sweetheart, Keanu’s here to meet you, don’t you want to say hello?” He didn’t respond, but Y/n felt him shake his head in a silent ‘no’. Turning back to Keanu, she inhaled quietly, “He’s a little shy, so it might take him a while to warm up.”

“Its fine,” Keanu assured her. Inside though, he was disappointed that his own son seemed afraid of him, but Keanu firmly reminded himself that Ryan still knew Daniel as his father, and that for all intents and purposes, he was just a stranger in the boy’s home. “You know, Ryan,” Keanu spoke even as Ryan continued hiding behind his mother, “You mom mentioned that you like motorcycles, so I brought you something,” Keanu gently shook a blue gift bag with white crepe sticking out decoratively.

“Look baby,” Y/n turned slowly, lowering herself so she and Ryan could be eye to eye, her grip on his fragile feeling shoulders firm but loving, “Keanu brought you something, don’t you want to see what it is? And thank him for bringing you a present?”

“I guess so,” he mumbled, his eyes trained on the carpeted floor.

“Thank you,” Y/n kissed his cheek, rocking back on her heel afterwards to allow him some space to approach Keanu.

Keanu grinned as he handed over the bag, and slowly, Ryan fished out its contents. Finally when he produced a remote controlled motorbike, his features lit up enough to match Keanu’s broad expectant smile, “This is so cool!” Fiddling with for a moment, Ryan deposited it on the coffee table nearby, throwing his arms around Keanu’s neck, “Thank you!” Though shocked at first, Keanu quickly reciprocated, holding Ryan close.

Y/n was surprised by his excitement and ready display of affection; he’d never been like that with anyone outside of their family. Maybe deep down he knew, the thought was troubling. Still, Y/n, smiled despite herself, and then, more than ever, she longed to know what it would have been like if Keanu were the one raising Ryan with her.

“Mommy?” He broke her thoughts, looking up at her hopefully, “Can we play with it outside? Please?”

After a moment of hesitation, Y/n submitted, “Why not?” For another minute, she thought of accompanying them, but quickly thought better of the idea. She trusted Keanu, and if she wanted any sort of relationship to be built between him and Ryan organically, she’d have to give them space. And moreover, if she ever wanted Keanu to trust her again, the least she could do was prove that she trusted him, “Why don’t you take Keanu out back, you can show him your playground and you can play with your new toy there, sounds good?” Nodding his agreement, Ryan was already eagerly taking Keanu’s hand, urging him down the hallway, “And stay away from the pool okay?” When Ryan didn’t seem to pay any mind to her, she called out to Keanu instead, “Keep a close eye on him, please?”

“Uh,” Keanu turned back to her, wide, giddy grin painting his face, still walking along with Ryan, “Yeah of course.”

From her home office upstairs, Y/n watched as Keanu and Ryan played in his fenced off, outdoor play area, sending the toy around the parameter and between the swing set and slides. Ryan seemed to be mostly in control of the toy, though Keanu was kneeling next to him, showing him things on the remote and at times, saying something that would make Ryan laugh. Occasionally, she’d take a lengthy sip from her glass of white wine, the crisp coolness calming her nerves; she knew that Keanu wouldn’t let it slip that he was actually Ryan’s father, but a part of her was still scared that it would somehow get out.

She really had thought of calling Keanu after Ryan was born, hell, she’d wanted to call the very day that she was sat in the beach house in Fiji, pregnancy test in her shaking hands, two pink lines telling her fate; not just a newly wed, but also a young mother. His words from the night of her rehearsal dinner had been easily recalled in that moment, he’d always be with her. Y/n had chuckled at that, just realizing that he was right, he would always be with her, if not literally, in the life they’d created together.

Y/n had spectated from the window for most of Keanu and Ryan’s play date, though, after a while, she’d decided to give them some privacy and went on to tend to her paperwork. Slowly, she worked though the pile of her desk, along with responding to some emails awaiting attention on her laptop, punctuating her session with slow sips of wine.

After a few hours, another housekeeper poked her head into her office, letting Y/n know that dinner was almost ready and that Keanu and Ryan had come in. Excited to hear things from their perspective, Y/n shoved the top of her computer closed and jogged down the stairs, only gaining some composure when she entered the living room, scrubbing her delicate hands on the soft fabric of her cream pants, “So,” she sat on the sofa opposing the one that Keanu and Ryan had stationed themselves on, “Did you guys have fun?”

“We did!” Ryan was nearly bouncing in his spot, proceeding to ramble on about all the cool tricks that Keanu had taught him with the toy. "And mommy, he has real motorcycles, he says we can come see them, can we mommy?"

"I uhhh….." Y/n glanced at Keanu, looking for confirmation.

For the first time since he'd gotten there, he directed a genuine, though faint smile to her, "I'd love for you two to stop by the shop."

Nodding slowly, Y/n knew that they'd have to spend some more time together before she'd make up her mind and take Ryan to Arch.

Sitting across from them like that, Y/n could see almost every similarity shared between them. Of course, Ryan had learned mannerisms and traits from Daniel, but still, there were subtle things that transcended physical likenesses, they were they both got animated when they spoke, fidgeted with their fingers in quieter moments and there was even a shared adventurous spirit.

When Ryan spoke again, his question wasn't directed to her, though she still listened in. He was turned to Keanu, eyes bright and pleading, "My mom's taking me to the zoo next Saturday. Can you come, please," he stressed.

Keanu wanted to say yes, he really did and Y/n could see it written on his face. But he certainly wasn't going to intrude on their time unless she'd permitted it. They were barely speaking after all. "Honey," Y/n gently intervened, "We don't even know if he's busy. I'll talk it over with him and we'll see, okay?" Ryan seemed a little deflated, taking her answer as a no. "Why don't you go wash up for dinner and I'll meet you there?" Nodding and then quickly hugging Keanu as a goodbye, Ryan scurried out of the living room.

As Y/n stood, Keanu did too, "Would you like to join us?" She offered, secretly hoping he'd say yes.

"I shouldn't," stuffing his hands into his pockets, Keanu shuffled his feet, the sound muffled by the carpet, "I have a meeting in the morning and then a couple errands to run. So I guess I should get going."

Y/n's smile faltered and she hugged herself, offering to walk Keanu to the door, "Okay." The silence was tense and the only thing filling it was their shoes softly thudding against the shiny marble floor. Though, when they neared the foyer, Y/n tentatively broke it, "You should come with us, on Saturday, if you have the time. We’re going to see the new Bengal cubs, Ryan’s been wanting to go since they talked about them on T.V,” she chuckled quietly. “I know it probably doesn’t matter, but I’d like for you to come with.”

“It does matter,” Keanu assured as they reached the front door. Y/n made no move to open it and Keanu no longer appeared to be in a hurry. In fact, he seemed to have a change of heart, or at the very least, interested starting the path to amends. Reaching between them, he took a loose hold on her fingers, “I think I’d like to tag along, you can text me the details.”

“Okay, great,” Y/n beamed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled at a man like that, maybe during her last days with Keanu, years ago. When her smile softened a bit, Y/n looked down at their joined hands. If only he knew how much she’d missed him. As hard as Y/n had tried, she couldn’t love Daniel, at least, not half as much as she still loved Keanu. “I’m sorry,” moisture gathered in her eyes, “About everything, about not trying harder for us, about Ryan.” Even if they’d met, it would never be the same as having Keanu raise him, he might never know the truth.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Keanu cleared his throat, his nerves, fighting to get the better of him. He’d rehearsed the words in his head for an entire week, and had longed for a moment alone with Y/n, though, now that it had arrived, he was scared as hell. “About us,” he eventually clarified, “What happened that night hurt, finding out about Ryan the way I did was even worse, but I’m starting to understand why you did things like that. And I don’t want to be mad at you anymore; miss you Y/n, I have ever since that night.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/n managed, and as a tear trickled down her cheek, Keanu raised his hand to brush it away with his thumb, “I still love you Keanu,” her breathy words were music to his ears, he hadn’t expected her to say them, even if his heart knew they were true.

“I know,” he mumbled, stepping closer. Y/n was propped up against the wall, near the coat rack at the front door, “I still love you too, I never stopped.” Moistening his lips, Keanu took a deep breath, unconsciously leaning into her. One touch, lips on lips, was all it took for the fire to be reignited. Though, maybe it had never been completely doused, and the embers of flames still burning had just found fuel.

Y/n’s hands found Keanu’s back, her nails sinking into the leather of his jacket, She stood on her toes, longing to get closer, trying to close six years worth of distance and Keanu gathered Y/n in his arms, snaking them around her waist and holding her steady and flush against his body. Their lips moved in unison and he could taste her tears and vaguely hear her sobbed breaths which were muffled by their endearment. His tongue roamed her mouth, recognizing her taste instantly and longing for more. How had he even gone six years without it?

Even when they broke, Y/n and Keanu still stood close, “I brought you something,” his voice was gravely from their lengthy kiss, and his words no louder than a whisper, “Here,” he reached into his pocket, getting out a necklace that Y/n recognized almost instantly, her eyes brightening a a faint smile curving her lips.

“This is…..” She looked down at the pendant in her small palm, silver with detailed workings and meticulously placed pearls. It was the one they had seen in Greece, their very first night together, when they were drunk and stumbling along the mostly empty scenic streets. That must have been what he was trying to give her on the night of her wedding reception, when she’d put an end to things, breaking both their hearts. “You kept it,” she mused sorrowfully.

“I’d keep it forever if it meant I’d someday have a chance of giving it to you,” Keanu pushed Y/n’s fingers closed around the necklace, the precious metal cool in her grip, “I don’t know if you’re ready for what I have to give you yet, but I’m willing to wait because you’re worth it Y/n.”

How could she have ever let him go?

“Thank you,” Y/n leaned up to kiss Keanu again, her free hand tangling in his soft hair, humming at the warmth of his palms on her waist.

“I should get going before Ryan catches me making out with his mom,” Keanu chuckled. Finally, Y/n opened the door, “I’ll see you on Saturday,” he waved, jogging down the front steps, rummaging through his pockets for his keys, his Porsche parked in her driveway.

“Actually,” Y/n came to lean on the door frame, folding her arms, “Daniel has Ryan on Wednesday night, you could see me then.”

Keanu’s lips split into a wide, expectant, grin, “Are you sure?”

“I am,” Y/n giggled, for a minute feeling like the girl she was when she and Keanu first met; giddy, excited and eager to be thrilled by his touch.

“Okay,” Keanu nodded, “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Okay, goodnight Keanu,” she waved as he bid her goodnight in return, getting into his car, rounding the circular patch of greenery at the center of her cobblestone driveway, headed towards the gate. Only when Y/n could no longer see his car did she shut the door, finally giving the necklace a scrutinizing glace. It really was the same necklace from Greece, though, when she turned it over, Y/n smiled wistfully at the engraving there, tears clouding her gaze and her heart swelling with love.

For the girl who has everything, The least I can give you is my heart. It’s yours forever -K

Turning, Y/n leaned against the door, putting on the necklace. She hooked the clasp and the circular pendant fell in the valley of her cleavage, moving to clutch it tightly as Y/n’s head lolled back against the door, still smiling giddily feeling exactly the way she’d felt when they were together before everything became confusing and out of their control. Before she’d made the mistake of marrying the wrong man and before she’d created someone that she loved above everything else in the world. When she was just a girl with her entire life ahead of her and looking for control in places where she had none. When Keanu was her safe place and the love of her life.

He still was, and Y/n was beyond grateful to have a second chance with him. They could make it work that time, it would take time, but if what had just happened was any indication, there was no amount of time that could weather what Y/n and Keanu shared.

It had taken them a lot to get there, but she’d always have his heart, and he’d always have hers.

***

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @paanchu786 @a-really-bi-girl @baphometwolf666 @sdaff2 @green-forest-dreams @weird-civilian @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick fanfic #lullaby #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #fluff #keanu reeves fanfiction #john wick fanfiction #chapter 17

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innately-pretentious · 4 years

Note

I'd love a preference for how Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville would react if they were asked aksed to a dance or school ball (by a Slytherin if that isn't too much detail) + if you do preferences for the marauders then those and Lily too. Thank you so much!! I love everything I have seen from you so far

I’m gonna split it up if you don’t mind! I’ll include the golden trio era and then the marauders a bit later.

Asking them to a Yule Ball would include:

Harry Potter

• Harry has been a bit preoccupied with the Triwizard Tournament, meaning that he has definitely missed the cut off time to ask a girl to the Yule Ball.

• Until you are paired with him in one of your potions classes.

• You have liked him for quite a while, but have never really had the guts to ask him out, until now!

• You say in in such a casual way, really taking him off guard. He blurts out yes a little too fast, resulting in the two of you giggling.

• He gets ready relatively quick, however, he will redo his hair at least five times. Somehow it just never fell in the ‘right’ way.

• He shoos Ron and Hermione away, leaving himself alone with his anxieties.

• He is pacing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for you to arrive, his hands are slightly shaking. He is wondering if he would rather battle a dragon than risk embarrassing himself in front of you!

• The two of you obviously have to dance before anyone else, which slightly puts your nerves on edge.

• After seeing how nervous Harry is, the two of you laugh about it, promising to pick the other up if the fall in front of everyone!

• After the first dance you two literally breathe a sigh of relief, now the two of you can enjoy the rest of your night in peace.

• You favourite moment was witnessing his horrible dance moves as he spins you under his arm when the live band come on!

• When the Ball is finally over you two are still laughing and giggling together, all the way up the stairs.

• He pauses for a moment outside of your room, debating whether or not to kiss you (he of course gives in and does!), he asks if you would like to sit next to him in your potions class tomorrow morning, so he can get to know you even more.

Ron Weasley

• He has no idea that anybody would ask him to the dance, when you approach him he is completely knocked off guard!

• He nearly can’t reply! His response is a mix of stuttering and a weak ‘Yeah, um, I-I’d love to!’

• A bit taken aback you start to second guess as you walk away, your fears are muted as soon as you hear him jump up and down with excitement as you leave!

• He is too busy stressing about his horrific dress robes, that he almost arrives late! He is running around his dorm repeating the word fuck as he shoves his feet into some shoes.

• When he sees you he literally cannot take his eyes away! He is so excited he gets to go with you on his arm.

• He tries to apologise for his ‘antique’ dress robes, however, you assure him that you really don’t care what he is wearing!

• Fred and George are absolutely astounded that he managed to get a date, they will tease the two of you for some of the evening, and share side glances while you are dancing!

• He is a surprisingly apt dancer, even if he dips the wrong way or misplaces his foot, you reassure him that it’s fine!

• He opens up as the evening goes on. Dancing together in front of the live band, giggling and moving like idiots.

• He is so upset when people begin to leave, you promise him that you will have to hang out again sometime in the near future.

• He obviously drops you off at your dorm room, perhaps stealing a kiss or two along the way!

Hermione Granger

• She is already a head strong and confident girl so I can only imagine that she asked you first! Which of course you had no trouble agreeing to.

• She asked you one day while you were studying in the library, on the opposite bench to her. She took a deep breath and walked up to you, asking if you had a date and whether or not she could accompany you!

• She was holding her breath with rose tinted cheeks while she waited for your answer, only letting out her breath when you confirmed.

• She spends hours trying to get her makeup exactly right, calling on Harry and Ron to check on her final look to make sure it is up to standard.

• By the shocked looks on their faces, she finally agrees that she is ready.

• When she sees you however, she is gobsmacked, thinking you look so much better than herself. You reassure her that you wouldn’t want her looking any other way!

• Throughout the evening she keeps an eye out for Harry and Ron, who keep giving her subtle thumbs up from across the ballroom. She thinks you can’t see. Ron is painfully obvious.

• Dancing with her is a dream. During the ballroom dancing you both take turns leading each other.

• But, when the band starts playing, you both dash to the dance floor and dance like idiots!

• When the night is over she literally can’t stop smiling. She has never laughed so much with another person, she makes you promise to go with her on her next trip to Hogsmeade so you two can finish where you left off!

Neville Longbottom

• Oh boy he is such a sweetheart, he has literally been planning this for months! However, one thing was missing. He had forgotten to actually find someone to go with.

• That is until you approach him one afternoon and confidently invite him to go with you as your date!

• He goes bright red and lets out a small ‘yes’! And after you leave he spends a good minute wondering if it was real, until he dashes off to his room to try and practise his dance moves.

• When the day finally comes, you better believe he has been up at the crack of dawn, stressing about the whole thing. Getting ready five hours before it actually begins, just to be sure!

• He also arrives super early to ensure that he is there before you. He has run through the evening in his head about a thousand times, but nothing could prepare him for seeing you emerge from the hallway and down the stairs.

• You literally have to pick his jaw up off the floor!

• He is such a gentleman, always asking if you need a refill on your drink, or if you want to dance.

• When yo make it to the dance floor, you are amazed by the way he can lead. Everyones eyes are on the two of you as he pulls out moves you would have never expected!

• You leave a little bit early to hang out in the astronomy tower, watching the stars together, leaning your head on his shoulder.

• He notices you getting tired and offers to walk you back to your dorm. Before you go in he steals a chaste kiss, unable to look you directly in the eyes afterwards!

• You find him the next day and make plans to study together in the library that afternoon, to carry on from where you left off last night!

Luna Lovegood

• She has never really put a lot of though into the Yule Ball, however, that all changed when you decided to ask her to go with you.

• You found her whilst on one of her walks through the forbidden forest. You offered her a bunch of wild flowers and asked if she would like to join you.

• At first she was a little disappointed, she though you meant as friends, but one you clarified that you wanted her there are your date, she was over the moon!

• She asked if you wanted to get ready together, which you didn’t mind at all. In fact you had a great time doing each others makeup and complimenting her dress.

• She has a sort of eccentric style, and offers to braid some flowers in your hair before the two of you leave, which were the same flowers you presented to her the previous week. Which you happily agree to!

• She is very independent and doesn’t mind what people think of her, so the two of you have no problem goofing off! Dancing wildly in the middle of the dance floor, ignoring the looks you get from your fellow peers, only focusing on each other.

• She spend the majority of the evening with stars in her eyes looking at you.

• An hour or two before the ball ends, she asks if you would like to take one last walk around the courtyard.

• You end up staying there fore well over an hour, sitting on the stone bench with your hands intertwined, talking about anything and everything.

• You keep your hands interlocked until she has walked you back to your dorms, she raises your hand to her lips and kisses it good night, promising to meet you in the forest tomorrow afternoon.

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anotherdayinchuckletown · 4 years

Text

They’re Funny That Way, Chapter 1

Hey, guys! How’s it going? I’ve been writing for about ten years now, but this is only the second ever fic I’ve shared anywhere, so I’m super nervous!!!

This is basically my take on a Harley Quinn origin story tailored to the universe of Joker (2019). It’s going to be Harley like we’ve never seen her before, with lots of Arthur, lots of Sophie, lots of original characters, and lots of twists and turns.

I’m SO beyond excited to finally share this with you guys, and I hope you all enjoy! Please like, comment, reblog if you do so that I know if you guys love reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it! This fic is also posted to my AO3 account (https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve), so you can also read it there if you’d like!

Without further ado, heeeere we go!!

Chapter 1

The apartment building at Eleven-Forty Anderson Avenue is an eyesore situated in the midst of a likewise ugly city called Gotham. A pimple on a face only a mother could love. A pariah among pariahs.

Management has long since stopped caring about its maintenance, leaving it a patchwork of leaking ceilings, cracking foundations, and broken windows haphazardly boarded shut. Even the most seasoned resident of Gotham City would quicken his pace when passing the telltale archways which separate the apartments from the rest of the city.

Sophie Dumond is currently doing her best to avoid saying any of that out loud.

“It’s really not that bad,” she lies. “Definitely a far cry from where you’re living now, but once you get used to it, it’s not the worst.” Although she is on the phone, she looks down at her shoes anyway, so as not to look her guilt in the face. A crack in the tile beneath her feet stares back accusingly.

“Really? My brother told me his appliances never work, and the maintenance crew is impossible to reach,” the voice on the other line replies skeptically. It belongs to another young woman by the name of Emma Boulanger – Emma Scott, actually, ever since her marriage – who has been Sophie’s best friend since the two of them met in elementary school. She is also the godmother of Sophie’s five-year-old daughter, which was an unpopular decision she had been made to justify more times than she would have liked (honestly, though, her sister could call her if she ever became less of a pretentious bitch).

This phone call marks the first time Sophie has heard from her in one month, two weeks, and six days. Not that she’s been counting or anything.

It’s just strange not to talk to her, as she’s always the first to know of any big changes in her friend’s life. Emma is certainly the first to know about changes in Sophie’s life as well. She’s there when they both open up their letters of acceptance into Gotham University, whooping and cheering and dreaming of finally, finally leaving this shithole, getting glamorous jobs in the big city. She’s there when Sophie is curled up on her bathroom floor, crying and clutching a positive pregnancy test, wanting the best for the child growing inside of her, yet fearing she would never be able to provide it.

That’s why it’s so odd when Emma’s twin brother is the one to mention in the hallway one day that his sister has filed for divorce. And furthermore, that she’s returning to Gotham to live with him until she gets back on her feet.

“Like I said, Emma, it’s not perfect,” she relents. “But hey, at least it’ll be nice to hang out again. It’s been way too long.”

“Yeah, it really has! I moved, what, almost two years ago?” Emma’s voice brightens marginally, and Sophie can nearly see the lopsided grin spreading across her face, so familiar is she with every tic, every tell, every minuscule inflection to her words. “Metropolis is boring as hell, by the way. I almost miss Gotham - call me crazy.”

Sophie huffs, knowing full well that Emma is playing it cool - trying not to let on how much she dreads moving back to a city she called a living, breathing prison for so many years. Best to keep things lighthearted then. Empathize with her, acknowledge her feelings, but never, never pity her. “You’re definitely crazy, Em,” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly does it for you, the enormous rats or the graffiti dicks?”

An almost imperceptible chuckle filters through the receiver. “Well, no one ever really escapes Gotham, do they? I figure I might as well develop a little Stockholm Syndrome.”

Sophie doesn’t immediately respond to the bleak sentiment. It’s simply a joke, of course, and as a matter of fact, very on-brand. But there’s enough truth to it to cause a momentary lapse in the lightness of their conversation.

Sophie has found gradually that Emma was right growing up. Gotham truly seems less like a place and more like an entity. It has a certain way of taking, taking, taking from a person, and when that person has nothing left to give, taking just a little bit more. The citizens meander like restless spirits, doomed to wander to and from their low-wage jobs for eternity. The air is heavier out there, tugging their faces down into sour expressions, aging them prematurely. A reflection of their surroundings.

Sophie often wonders if she looks the way they do.

If Emma notices the shift – which she certainly does, she always does – she politely ignores it. “I guess beggars can’t be choosers… It was nice of Eddie to let me stay with him on such short notice.” Fondly, she adds, “He may be a bit of a shithead, but he’s a good brother.”

Before Sophie can stop herself, she laughs aloud. “No comment. We do live on the same floor, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Do you two ever hang out?”

“Not particularly.” Sophie doesn’t dislike Eddie – quite the opposite, in fact. She always chalks up her lack of chemistry with him to simply having nothing in common. He and Emma share nothing but a birthday, a head of golden hair, and a pair of striking ice-blue eyes.

Rapid footsteps make their way into the foyer, breaking Sophie out of her reverie. “Mommy, look what I drew!”

Muttering a quick “hang on a second” into the receiver, she turns toward the source of the sound, and a sheet of paper is practically shoved in her face from below. She is met with a mish-mosh of various shapes and colors, one large brown figure taking precedence in the middle of the page.

She smiles warmly. “Wow, that’s very good, Gigi! What’s that a picture of?”

The artist beams with pride. “It’s the roach you killed in the bathroom yesterday!”

Son of a bitch.

“Can we put it on the fridge, Mommy?”

Blinking owlishly, Sophie scrambles for a response. They really don’t teach her this shit in those parenting books she sometimes finds at Gotham Central Library.

She settles on, “Honey, you already have so many nice ones up there, I just can’t decide which ones to keep! Let’s put this one away for now, and I’ll think about it, okay?” She offers her free hand to take the drawing so that she can accidentally misplace it later.

It does the trick. “Okay!” her daughter chirps, proudly handing over her portrait. Encourage, then swiftly change the subject – a motherly sort of manipulation that works in everyone’s favor.

“Holy shit, I haven’t even asked about Gigi yet!” Emma exclaims. “God, she must be getting so big! She starts Kindergarten this year, right?”

“Yeah, in the fall. And she comes all the way up to my waist now, isn’t that insane?” Unmistakable pride colors Sophie’s response.

“That’s so awesome! Did she miss me at all?” comes over the receiver as Gigi simultaneously begins an onslaught of “who’s that, Mommy, who’s that?”

“Miss you? Are you kidding? Listen to this.” Sophie crouches next to her daughter, holding the phone away from her ear, but nearby so that Emma can hear. “Gigi, your Aunt Emma’s on the phone. She’s coming to live here again soon, isn’t that great?”

The resounding shriek is a good indicator that she agrees. And that Sophie is going to have to bring the neighbors another gift basket so they don’t complain about her to the landlord.

“Can I talk to Aunt Emma, Mommy? Can I, can I, please, please, please?” Tiny, impatient hands grapple for the phone as laughter pours in from the other line.

“Come on, if I let you talk to her now, we’ll be stuck here forever.” A quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s nearing eight o'clock. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for bed soon?”

Gigi wrinkles her nose in distaste, and Sophie cuts her off before the complaints can begin. “No arguments, Gigi. Go start your bath – I’ll be there in just a minute.”

She receives a defiant huff; nevertheless, Gigi stomps her way to the bathroom, and Sophie waits for the sound of running water before she returns to the previous conversation.

“So anyway, Eddie tells me you’re holed up in a hotel room until the weekend. I’m guessing that Daniel didn’t take the…the breakup news very well?” she asks, somewhat cautiously. Talking about Emma’s husband – now ex-husband – is a mixed bag, even back when they were dating.

“You could say that,” Emma responds sheepishly. “It wasn’t pretty, let’s leave it at that. I thought it would be best for me to get out of the house right away, give him some time to himself.”

It makes Sophie nervous that she is skirting the question, but then again, Emma’s in a vulnerable position at the moment. And she’s rarely one to talk at length about her own emotions in the first place – she’s much more of a listener.

Sophie would like to ask what she means by “it wasn’t pretty”, but decides against prying. She would also like to ask why she ever married that jackass in the first place, since their relationship had been obviously strained from day one. It was always as if the two of them were tightrope walking over a volcano – bubbling quietly, boiling and threatening to swallow them both whole. The smallest change in the wind, the most harmless comment about Daniel not picking his towel up off the floor could send them tumbling into the inferno. She supposes one of them finally fell.

Something about that man has always creeped her out, but she gave up voicing her discontent with him after about the thirtieth time Emma brushed her off. She won’t say “I told you so”, since she wouldn’t want to belittle whatever pain Emma is going through. Still, she can’t help but feel a little relief – that doesn’t make her a terrible friend, right?

All of this can wait, though. It can wait until they’re seeing each other face-to-face again. Until Sophie isn’t on a strict time limit. She needs to wrap up the current conversation quickly because if she doesn’t, she could possibly be dealing with a flooded bathroom shortly. Five-year-olds do not generally care about the cost of repairing water damage if it seeps into the downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, with…you know…everything.”

“Of course!” Emma reassures her. “I’m perfectly fine. Like I said, I’m looking forward to being home. Honestly.”

Sophie is not convinced, and frankly, it sounds like Emma is not either. She wonders if her friend has been checking in on the worsening condition of their hometown from Metropolis. The homeless population is growing by the day, and the working class is becoming more and more restless due to low wages and poor working conditions in the inner city. Rumor has it that sanitation workers are chief among the dissatisfied, and a garbage strike is all but guaranteed by winter.

So much she wants to say. So much she can’t say. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

_______________________________________________________________

Emma remembers around this time last year taking a trip to Paris, France. She saw the premiere of a musical there called Les Misérables – it was based off of her favorite book by Victor Hugo, so naturally, she begged and begged to go.

And what a payoff! The show was spectacular, from the costumes to the stage design to the music. Oh, the music! Despite being there with her then-husband, she had the most fun she’d had in years, letting the melancholy chords turn her as light as the air and the lyrics carry her far, far away in the wind.

Even more than the music, she was captivated by the plot. She could practically feel the plight of the poverty-stricken citizens. One of the opening scenes depicted the starving masses singing of their grief over the way they were snubbed by the wealthy, left to rot in the streets.

That is the scene Emma finds herself stepping into today. Only this time, she is not a passive observer, watching the events unfold without being affected. From today on, she is one of the characters.

From the moment she arrives in downtown Gotham City by taxi, the tension claws at her with icy hands. It digs into her ribcage with each glare aimed her way, even in the mild September breeze. She knows she sticks out like a preacher at a Pride parade in her obviously expensive skirt and heels. It’s not like she had time to go digging around her closet for something more appropriate that night she left her house.

Handsomely tipping her driver, she climbs out of the car and rushes underneath a set of archways and inside the apartment building where she’ll be living for the foreseeable future. She doesn’t look very closely at it from the outside, so desperate is she to get off the street and away from whatever the hell that smell is.

Emma uses the opportunity to finally look around a bit, taking her surroundings in with narrowed eyes. The lobby is dimly-lit, with no color to it whatsoever. The walls are painted a chipped-up brownish yellow, which could have been white many years ago. It reeks of mold, to the point where the smell outside might be the lesser of the two evils.

Leaning carefully against the nearest wall, she mutters, “Not that bad, my ass.” From her purse, she retrieves her recently-purchased copy of a new novel titled Jumanji, and she waits.

And waits.

…

Emma’s eyes snap open - she hadn’t consciously closed them to begin with. She realizes with embarrassment that she almost fell asleep standing up. God, she’s more exhausted than she thought. How long has she been standing down here anyway?

“I’ll be home from work around four; I just need a little time to tidy up before you head over,” Eddie had said on the phone the night before. “I’ll meet you in the lobby and walk you up at six, okay?”

“That works,” Emma had replied. “As long as you’re actually there at six.”

“Hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve never exactly had a reputation for being punctual.”

“Jesus, Em. You think I’m gonna leave you hanging out down there alone?”

“We’ll see.”

Shutting her book, Emma checks her watch.

Six forty-five. That fucking flake forgot.

She groans, pushing herself languidly off the wall and scanning the room for assistance. No one at the front desk - in fact, there hasn’t been anyone there since she arrived, making her wonder briefly if she’s even in the right building.

Her eyes next land on the myriad of mailboxes against the opposite wall, closed off from the rest of the lobby by rusted wrought-iron bars, most likely to protect the postman. She walks through the open gate tentatively, and upon closer inspection, each mailbox has a sticker labeling the residents by apartment number. Bingo!

It doesn’t take long to find what she’s looking for. On the eighth floor, perfectly spelled out for her, she sees both S. Dumond in 8B and E. Boulanger in 8H. Why not visit the one who didn’t leave her stranded for an hour first? She could always call Eddie on Sophie’s phone anyway - the asshole probably smoked a joint as soon as he got home and passed out on the couch watching Magnum, P.I.

She heads for the elevator and presses the call button. As it whines slowly and almost menacingly down the shaft, she hears someone softly trudging along behind her, the very first sign of another life in here. As she enters the elevator, she politely holds the door open, and makes room for the clown getting on after her.

No, not a silly person. An actual clown. Painted face, red nose, neon green hair and all.

Of all the weird people she might expect to see in a place like this… Not even two hours in Gotham, and the evening is already shaping up to be quite the roller coaster.

Emma can’t help but stare as the doors shut and the clown punches the button for, coincidentally, the eighth floor. She settles into the far corner as she discreetly analyzes him. His posture, his defeated gait, the pitiful expression underneath his painted-on smile… His aura permeates the entire space, seemingly enough to weigh them both down, causing the elevator to drag slowly up the shaft like molasses, screeching all the way.

This is without a doubt the saddest clown Emma has ever seen. And she’s seen Pagliacci.

Around the third floor, there’s one long, particularly loud screech. Emma’s heart leaps to her throat as their ascent suddenly comes to a complete halt, and the lights in the tiny elevator space flicker on and off once. Is a three-story drop enough to kill a person her size? She prays that this isn’t how it ends - in this dingy elevator, terrified, with no one but a fucking clown. A clown who hasn’t moved an inch this entire time.

Thankfully, after a few seconds that seem to drag on for a lifetime, they start to slowly crawl up the shaft once more. Emma breathes an audible sigh of relief, and the clown seems to finally notice her, tossing a quick look of sympathy in her general direction.

Once she’s certain she can speak without her voice quivering, she does so. “Does…that happen often?”

Her voice really gets his attention. He whips his head around so fast she almost worries his little hat will come flying off like a frisbee. He blinks at her once, then twice, as if processing the fact that she is addressing him. For a split second, it looks like he’s going to say something.

Then, remembering himself, he simply shrugs bashfully. Emma lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding.

She notices the decorative red flower adorning his lapel, one of those prop flowers that’s actually a tiny water gun. Smiling in a way that she hopes is charming instead of ill-at-ease, she points to it. “I, uh…I like your flower. It’s very pretty.”

The clown tilts his head curiously. After a beat, he wordlessly reaches up and into his bright plaid coat, holding said flower slightly out toward her. Offering for her to come closer, to lean in and smell it.

Emboldened, she grins, shaking her head at him. “No way, mister. I know how that trick ends.” She’s kidding around with him, but she really can’t afford to get her clothes wet right now; she only has the ones on her back, after all.

Still, his lips at last curl upward, a real smile that reaches the lights of his eyes. And it’s then that Emma can see the color in them, an enchanting seafoam green that inexplicably draws her in, pulling her away from the corner and toward his side. He watches her carefully and intensely with an expression she can’t quite read. When he turns to face the doors once more, it’s not without keeping her settled in his periphery.

Most people would probably be a bit nervous being…examined so thoroughly. However, Emma finds his mannerisms endearing in an odd way. She’s never cared much for clowns before, but this one doesn’t seem so bad.

They ride in comfortable silence for another few moments. When they reach their destination, Emma is the first to exit.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely taking the stairs from now on,” she says.

The clown nods in response as he exits behind her, giant red and blue shoes flopping comically over the threshold.

The hallway is a bit noisy, voices of the residents drifting through the paper-thin walls like a mist, creating a fine haze over everything. The walls are just a touch too close together, making Emma claustrophobic and urging her to get to 8B as quickly as possible.

Not wanting to come off as rude, she introduces herself. “I’m new to the building, by the way - my name’s Emma. It’s a pleasure.” She extends a hand to shake.

The clown does return the gesture, but not before staring her hand down for an abnormally long period of time. And his grip through the rough material of his gloves is so soft and careful, it’s as if it’s barely there.

She’d honestly like to chat with this fascinating new neighbor of hers a bit longer, but instead, she pulls her hand away, settling for a polite nod and a cheerful “good night”.

She does not look back to see that the clown’s unwavering gaze follows her all the way down the hall.

#joker 2019 #Joker (2019)#joker #arthur fleck #sophie dumond #harley quinn #my fic #joaquin phoenix joker

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ohstardust · 4 years

Text

Rose Coloured Boy - [8/11]

Summary: Sebastian Stan & Eleanor Egan spent the better part of six years being the European outcasts of Rockland Country Day School. Despite growing through their teens as best friends, college soon broke down their friendship until nothing remained. Ten years later, a turn of events in a city as large as New York City, finds them running in the same social circles once again with nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x OFC Word Count: 5.2k Masterlist / Story Background / Playlist / AO3 A/N: I could just bang on about how it’s pushing 9 months since I last updated this because I’ve been struggling with actually fleshing out my plan, but I’m bored of doing that so please enjoy what I’ve managed to write. Part 7

APRIL 2014

It was just after noon when Eleanor awoke to a long and painful groan beside her, the air smelled thick with stale alcohol and she was sure a marching band were playing the show of a lifetime in her head. Her eyes stung painfully and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow to seek out the source of noise. The groaning continued, followed by a pitiful whimpering, she dragged an eyelid up to see Sasha curled into a ball on her bed, looking far worse than even she felt.

She gently patted her friends arm and dropped her arm back to the mattress with a heavy thud. Flashes of the night before started playing like a showreel across the backs of her eyelids, and if the snapshots went any faster, then she’d likely empty the contents of her stomach over her friend. She probably deserved it anyway, it was her fault they were in this state. Well, Sasha’s fault and Lisa’s too for daring to have a bachelorette party, but El was more than content blaming her younger friend instead. Drinking like a teenager was utterly ridiculous at almost thirty-two she mentally scolded herself.

At a painfully slow pace, Eleanor peeled back the duvet and swung her legs over the side of the bed, she pulled herself to her feet with a wobble and padded into the kitchen for eight glasses of water and any painkillers that could dispel this rotten feeling sooner rather than later. She flicked the switch on the kettle, and filled an empty glass with tap water, she splashed some on her face too to wake her a little more.

Don’t ever get married again after this, I’m never attending another bachelorette party, the next one will definitely finish me off she fired off to Lisa via text, and then proceed to down two glasses of water to try to, at least partially, remove the fuzzy feeling on her tongue.

By the time Sasha stumbled out of the bedroom, Eleanor had already drunk a mug of tea, four glasses of water, and scrubbed her teeth three times to remove the foul taste.

“You look even worse than I feel,” Eleanor snorted, lounging across her sofa with another tea, a blanket draped over her legs and just one curtain open to let in some light.

Her hair was stuck up in every which way, her shirt was off one shoulder and one eye looked all but glued shut, her eyebrows scrunched in as she tried to avoid the light, “I feel like I fought Lucifer last night, and he won ten times over.” She pulled a coffee cup off the draining board and poured herself a drink before trudging over to sit beside Eleanor, she pulled on the blanket to drape over herself too and tried not to pass out again with a steaming cup coffee in her hand.

“We’ve definitely made better life choices, I have to agree.”

“It was fun though, wasn’t it? It’s been so long since it was just us girls, no idiot men to cramp our style.”

“Yeah, it was a blast, I just can’t get over the fact that in two weeks, one of our group will be married,” El shook her head and smiled into her cup, “when did we get to this age that this is the norm? It’ll be you & Josh next.”

Sasha lifted her head off Eleanor’s shoulder and one eye popped open, “I wouldn’t count on it, besides who’s to say that someone won’t come in and sweep you off your feet and you’ll be married by the time you’re thirty-three?”

“First of all, you’re ridiculous Sash, secondly what’s the deal with Josh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why won’t I be getting fitted for another bridesmaids dress anytime soon?”

“We’ve talked about it, I brought it up one day and asked how he felt about it, he seemed rather blasé, and to be honest, that’s how I feel. We don’t really want to get married. He knows I love him, and I know he loves me, why blow a tonne of money to reiterate that to everyone?” Sasha appeared so nonchalant about it, but then that was her nature, if there was no use stressing over something, then she simply wouldn’t.

Eleanor studied her friend and slowly smiled, laughter bubbling in her chest. Her friend looked over at her and frowned, “What? What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing. I was just thinking how adult of you that sounds, I know you’re not keen on admitting you’re pushing thirty, but that’s a big decision to make and I agree, you’re both in love and enjoy your arrangement as it is, so why change that? It makes sense.”

Eleanor checked the time on her phone and wagered that she still had a good two hours before she had to be facing the world again, lunch with Chace had seemed like a good idea pre-hangover, but now she desperately wanted to cancel and crawl into bed and mull over whatever the heck she was feeling, in peace. Instead she dropped him a text, asking to meet her at the bakery a few blocks over so they could grab something to eat and take it back to her apartment. Fresh air would be a good idea but she didn’t fancy the prospect of being out in public when all she wanted to chain drink tea and cocoon herself in blankets.

A minute later, her phone pinged and Chace agreed, I feel like I’m half dead inside, lets each our body weight in food and binge-watch shitty films

She let out a weak laugh, jolting Sasha who was half asleep, she weakly asked, “Hey El, have you decided who you’re taking as your date to the wedding?”

“Uh yeah, Chace and I decided we might as well go together seeing as we’ve not got anyone else to ask.”

“Mm, I’m glad you’ve got him, I mean I’m glad we all have, but he’s good for you.”

Eleanor didn’t quite know what that meant, but she too was grateful for having Chace in her life, he was sort of like Sebastian was back in the day, the guy she always called upon. If she’d have thought about it more, she’d have maybe been concerned by how dependent she’d become on him.

Sasha settled back against her friends shoulder and sighed, peace and quiet settling over them as they reflected on their conversation. She was barely audible when she spoke again, “Given the opportunity, you’d get married though wouldn’t you?”

Pondering for a moment, and no longer, Eleanor nodded, “I guess I would,” her fingers stroked through Sasha’s hair and emotions started tightening her chest with disappointment in her relationships and where she found herself at this time in her life, “Yeah, I definitely would.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The day was beautifully idyllic in an enviable way. From the clear blue skies, to the panoramic views of the city and all of the love and happiness that worked its way in-between, Lisa & Harry’s wedding couldn’t be described as anything less than perfect. After having spent the evening before at 50 Bowery in the city, the large bridal party were beaming and gleaming and well rested, the bride-to-be fast asleep after a glass of champagne and a secured eye mask on her face to block out the light and everyone following suit shortly after, after all, the day to follow was going to be a long affair.

The following morning was anything but the chilled atmosphere it had been the night prior, Lisa was one panic attack from flying off the roof of the hotel, Sasha helped herself to the bride’s mother’s glass of champagne that she’d been too busy drink and Eleanor was trying to help anyone she could, get themselves ready - the odd zipper pulled up here, a shoe strap fastened there - if an earring had been misplaced, you can bet that she had found it before panic could set in. That was perhaps how she found herself the last one to have her hair and make up perfected.

Within fifteen minutes she was good to go with just her dusky duck egg blue bridesmaid dress to pull on and then came the onslaught of photographs, both professional and camera phone snaps - selfies, posed, candid - a plethora of images from every angle were being taken left, right and centre, both in the hotel and on the street below. The excitement was infectious, and the air was clear with less tension and stress as the women grabbed their bouquets and made their way through the hotel to the ceremonial room. Each person was paired with someone from the groom’s party and Eleanor was infinitely grateful that she was matched up with Chace, she could walk in there with her close friend and her date to the wedding, it was an all round win.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

There wasn’t a dry eye in the place by the time the ceremony finished, the pair were relatively traditional, so their own written vows laced with silliness and sappiness was somewhat unexpected, but still so utterly them. The pair were radiant and a fair few of the party felt somewhat envious amidst their elation for their friends, Eleanor especially. The bride and groom led the procession of family and friends to the roof for a series of photographs and afternoon glasses of fizz to toast the newlyweds. The city always looked extraordinary from above and the bustle seemed so far down that it didn’t affect whoever was viewing from up high. It was peaceful and calming no matter how many voices shouted for attention amongst the numerous attendees across the rooftop.

Eleanor took a seat beside Sasha and Josh and slotted herself into the conversation with their friends, gushing about the day and catching up on what they’d recently missed. Kara was mid story when Sebastian appeared at her side with a glass of water for her in one hand, and two glasses of wine in the other.

“Drink, Miss?” He reached one of the flutes over to her and placed the other two glasses on the glass topped table between the group so he could sit beside her.

“Thanks Seb,” she took a sip and set it down in front of her, “haven’t seen you all day, how are you doing, handsome?”

Sebastian blushed lightly and she snickered at the reaction, he always had been an easy target with the compliments, “better now I’ve seen you in that dress.” He smirked over the rim of his own glass and she softly smacked his arm with the back of her hand, “shut up.”

“Hey now, you do look gorgeous.”

“Yeah yeah, you scrub up well too.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Eleanor watched Chace talking to the photographer with a little smile on her blush pink painted lips and then he turned to point in her direction with his own grin, as he sauntered his way back over to her, she squinted her eyes a little in confusion but he just shook his head. His palms rested on her hips and nodded over to the photographer, “You look beautiful, I’m not missing an opportunity to have a good picture of us together.”

She laughed fondly and her eyes rolled, “You’re such a loser, Crawford.” Eleanor wasn’t sure what was happening with her younger friend, everything surrounding their friendship felt like it was shifting slightly, glances holding different weights, hands lingering on hands, lips pressed to cheeks for a moment or two longer. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on that though. The photographer was patient with them, snapping a few shots when he really ought to be focusing on the rest of the party, but Chace wanted this, and so did she, and maybe they ought to be a little selfish for a while.

She definitely wanted to continue being selfish when Sebastian had a date on his arm for the evening reception, one that stole his attention and made me smile in ways no one had seen him since Jennifer. Her name was Margarita Levieva, a fellow actress and she was undeniably beautiful. Eleanor heart clenched and her breath caught in her chest for a moment causing her heart rate to increase slightly. Chace noticed her reaction as they danced across the outside terrace, he was at a loss for how to comfort her, knowing seeing him with someone knew would definitely affect her, instead he pulled her close, playfully dipping her and twirling to turn her attention from the pair so she would continue enjoying the party, tomorrow she could dwell on her feelings.

Sebastian however hadn’t seen how she’d responded, just watched on as she laughed and swooped and moved with ease with another man, he didn’t want to admit just what that did to him or made him feel, not when he’d arrived with someone new that he was really enjoying getting to know in a romantic capacity. Maybe moving on with Margarita was just what he needed, someone who could give him the love and relationship he was sure Eleanor was becoming less likely to give him.

Two weeks later Sebastian didn’t hide his new relationship, nor did he outright tell his friends and that was the start of the next chapter his life.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

MAY

The crowd was bustling and borderline rowdy for the audience and set up at 54 Below the night of Eleanor’s birthday. Aaron had asked her a few months prior to join him on her birthday for one of his few performances and she couldn’t turn him down, he was still one of her closest friends and she’d walk on hot coals to see him smile. They’d had numerous practises for the song they had chosen to duet, a song that had become synonymous with him and one that pulled at her heartstrings no matter how many times she’d heard it, and felt it.

He looked so at home on that stage, like he truly was born to do it and she giggled at his silly stories and anecdotes, clearly picking up some tips from a good friend and mentor of both him and Eleanor, Norbert Leo Butz, a man that was raucously cheering him on from a table just to the side the stage. Eleanor wasn’t sure whether it was nerves or excitement that was making her leg bounce as she sat around a table between Chace & Damon, just a table over from Norbert.

��There’s a few familiar faces in the crowd this evening, some old friends of mine like Mr Norbert Leo Butz over there,” Aaron gestured over to his table with his arm extended, and bowed over at him with a clap and a laugh, he then looked over to the other table of friends and gestured to them too, “my onscreen cousin, Mr Chace Crawford,” Damon waved wildly over at Aaron causing him to giggle away from the microphone and nod, “of course, my dear friend Mr Damon Lovitz, and one of my best friends slash former musical love interest, a woman who I’m sure needs no introduction, Ms Eleanor Egan everybody!” His voice rose at the end of his introductions and he clapped eagerly to prompt the audience to also do so.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to invite the birthday girl up onstage with me to sing this next song, it’s one we love dearly and there’s no one else I could imagine singing this with, so come on up El.” Her cheeks burned and she nibbled at her lip as she stood and brushed her hands down her ivory cropped trousers, praying she didn’t fall in her heels as she stepped up onto the stage beside her friend. Damon & Chace both looked stunned at her keeping this cameo a surprise from them but cheered obnoxiously for her and made far too much noise that made her want to kick them a little to quiet down. Not that she didn’t appreciate it wholeheartedly.

Aaron embraced her once she was stood in front of a second microphone that had promptly been set up by a stagehand and waved his arms at her to prompt another cheer from the crowd. “C’mon Tveit, are you gonna blow smoke up my ass all evening or are we actually gonna sing?” She smirked at him and threw her head back with laughter once she saw his eye roll and faux unimpressed facial expression.

“Fine, fine, that’s me told. Here goes nothing.”

The opening piano bars of the song started and everything else melted away, Eleanor was lost in the instruments and the lyrics and sharing the stage with her friend once again, everything else seemed to vanish and she swore she would have cried at the feeling of home the stage always invoked in her had she not had to be so present within the song.

Let me catch my breath.

This is really hard.

If I start to look like I'm sweating, well

it's 'cause I am.

The crowd snickered and Aaron grinned at the reaction it always brought out from the audience, never tired from singing this song when he had to chance.

Run away with me.

Let me be your ride out of town.

Let me be the place that you hide.

We can make our lives on the go.

Run away with me.

Texas in the summer is cool.

We'll be on the road like Jack Kerouac

Looking back,

Sam, you're ready, let's go

Anywhere.

Get the car packed and throw me the key.

Run away with me.

Sam, I know it's fast.

I'm in love with you.

Sam, it's crazy, but Sam, I'm crazier for you.

I have these plans.

Sam, I have these plans

Of a house that we build on a bay

When we run away.

The contrast of their voices together was beautiful and the song fit a duet far better than anticipated, they alternated lines and verses and came together to harmonise for the final verse, the power rang throughout the venue and the tears formed in Eleanor’s eyes. Aaron’s hand found hers and squeezed it, his head tilted towards the microphone and sang to her, building a wonderful connection for the audience.

Run away with me.

California dreams here we come

Romeo is calling for Juliet

Ready, set

Sam, you're ready.

Let's go

Anywhere.

Say the word and I'm already there!

The final notes played out and Eleanor laughed a little and wiped under her eyes to stop any tears, the crowd erupted and she just hugged Aaron tight before flashing a wave to the guests watching and stepped off the stage to sit back with her friends. They both crushed her in a hug whilst the show continued on and without thinking she reached over to wipe a stray tear from Chace’s eye and dropped her hand to his to hold and comfort.

“You’re a superstar,” he whispered into her ear and pressed a kiss just beside it.

She really loved her friends more than anything.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

AUGUST

“Oh c’mon Seb, you know you want to really,” Eleanor childishly whined to Sebastian with her hand tugging on his, a fruitless attempt at dragging her best friend up to the karaoke machine Damon suspiciously had lying around his apartment that was now situated in Sebastian’s open plan living room.

He shrugged off her casually, turning down her request and pulling himself up from the sofa, “No, El, not now. I just want a drink, I’m sure Chace’ll sing with you.”

“You’re getting boring in your old age,” she huffed, eyes rolled and a pathetic pout pulled on her lips, reminiscent of teenage Eleanor that often pulled such faces to get her own way with Sebastian. He hated not being immune to it, still after all these years, and he nearly broke, she could see that evidently. Instead he pulled the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth and pondered for a dramatic moment, “Uhm...… yeah no, I’m standing firm with my answer.” With that, he turned on his heel and snickered at her aggravated expression.

She muttered under her breath, “Jackass.”

Seeing Margarita there was expected, but that still didn’t ease the ache in her chest or quell any of the tightness when she saw her greeting Sebastian with a kiss upon her arrival. They looked so at ease with each other, still firmly planted in the honeymoon phase where they were lost in one another, completely oblivious to everything around them. Completely oblivious to Eleanor watching them as if her world had exploded into flames, piece by piece. She was an actress though, so she hoped she’d managed a strong enough performance to not have alerted anyone within a 5 feet radius that things were gradually falling apart for her. Eleanor knew how to fake a smile and feign happiness, she’d spent the better half of a decade doing that in the not too distant past.

This is ridiculous, Eleanor wagered with herself, you’re not a teenager anymore, enough with the teenage crushes and puppy love.

But watching someone you have relatively deep feelings for, light up around someone else, look at that other person like they once looked at you, full of happiness, that was a tough scene to witness. It was heart wrenching, soul destroying and twenty different shades of I fucking hate this.

Eleanor placed fair share of the blame and hatred toward her self for a few moments, you had your chance, he told you he wanted you months ago, but you were too full of pride to tell him how you felt and turned him away. You only have yourself to blame.

Sometimes she really fucking hated her rational side, for ruling with her head and not her heart.

She felt a weight pressing down on her shoulder and her head snapped round to find Chace’s head resting there with a sorrowful look, “Everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

“If this is too much, we can leave, it’s okay.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your face says it all. Seb and Margarita? No fun for you, I’m sure.”

“Let’s not do this again, yeah? Don’t really feel like talking about it.”

His head raised and he nodded, arm looped around her shoulder squeezing her closer to him, “I get it, no more talking about them, promise.”

“How about you dance with me?” She asked with a soft half smile and eyes glinting. She reached for his hand to pull it in hers and led him over to a wider spot where a few other were dancing and mingling. Chace couldn’t deny her anything. And she’d be damned if she could deny him too. The bright light in the storm, her safe haven when things became too much. She really didn’t deserve him.

They were pleasantly buzzed as the evening progressed, their time torn between dancing close, chatting between themselves about anything and everything, and cracking jokes with their closest friends. Everything felt light and free and happy, everything aside from the one thing that Eleanor was constantly diverting her gaze to, the thing that was like a glaring beacon floating around the room, as if a spotlight were placed on the two people so seemingly aware of the inner turmoil she was facing.

Eleanor supposed it was like rubbernecking in a car accident on the freeway, (there was nothing catastrophic or treacherous about Sebastian and Margarita dating but that’s by the by), she just couldn’t stop twisting the knife a little deeper by watching them. However, when her eye line did divert, she found herself watching her friends interact, and feeling such a soft fondness to them all, and when her eyes swept over Chace every so often, there was a twinkling in her gut and her mouth involuntarily quirked upwards, just his presence and the weight of his hand resting on hers put her at ease. He’d almost always catch her eye when she was taking a moment or two to really look at him and he’d smile at her in a way that felt bizarrely intimate, or she’d feel the pressure of his hand as he gave hers a squeeze.

It was during another round of dancing, swaying through a slow song that left Eleanor with the urge to rest her head on his shoulder, mouth smiling into his neck (both of which she didn’t hesitate to give into to) when she held him close and told him how happy she was to be here with him, “Sure I’m hurting over Seb, but that’s my problem. At least I’m here with the best man in New York City, who else gets to say that earnestly?”

The lines had blurred somewhere between hazy smiles, minimal confessions of affection, caring friendships of trust and love and gestures of intimacy that settled down deep in their bones, it was the in-between portions that led to soft lips pressing to soft lips, a familiarity of comfort and warmth and you’re what I need, not just now, but always. It rattled Chace momentarily, a questioning gaze contorting his face, worrisome, but Eleanor squashed the worries instantly, shaking her head and smoothing her fingers over his cheek to pull him in close again and kissed him like her life had depended on it. She didn’t need the comfort of just anybody, she needed the comfort of the one person who, deep down, knew her better than anyone, better than Damon or Sasha or Sebastian, the person who had clearly loved her through everything and been her support system when everything felt like it was breaking down around her.

“Can we go home? I don’t want to be here anymore, I just want to be with you.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The sunlight that poured through the unshielded window was what woke Eleanor the following morning, well that and the movement of the mattress beside her. An ample amount of time had passed since she’d last shared a bed with somebody and it took her a minute to come to her senses and realise where she was. A bleary eyed glance beside her found Chace sleeping peacefully, his arm slung over her torso and his cheek buried into the pillow, one leg draped over hers and the sheets were tangled. The saving grace was Eleanor peeking down to see that she was wearing one of his shirts, underwear still intact.

It was during that quiet golden hour of morning, meek headache pains lingering in the back of her head, enough to remind her that she drank a few glasses last night, but not enough to have her crippling in pain that morning, that allowed her a moment or two of reflection. Last night had been a mixture of emotions, she was hurt over Sebastian’s new relationship (although knowingly having no right to feel that way), but also happy for him, she loved seeing him genuinely happy and at ease, that was worth the pain she felt. And then she looked at Chace and elements of her feelings and emotions and her life began clicking and slotting into place. She wasn’t sure why it had taken her so long to see him in another light, sure he’d always been gorgeous - she’d mentally taken note of that the moment they met - and sure she trusted him with her life, and sure she loved him to a fault, but she’d never seen him in this I like waking up with you in the morning and you’re taking my breath away every time I look at you way, at least not until the past couple of months. Probably around Lisa’s wedding. She surmised that’s why she wasn’t as monumentally distraught over Sebastian in the light of day.

Eleanor watched her friend as he slept, mapping out his face and thinking of the possibilities with him, hoping that when he awoke he wouldn’t be ashamed that they’d let a few glasses of fizz cloud their judgement and behave in a way they’d never dared to before. But the slow and lazy smile that spread to his sparkling eyes the moment he set his blinking eyes on her, she didn’t think there was all that much to worry about.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

The morning soon spread to afternoon, bodies sill intertwined in bedsheets, soft kisses and skin to skin, cups of coffee and discussions of where to proceed from here. The progression of their friendship to this new relationship, only formed a mere twelve hours before, seemed nothing other than natural.

Chace voiced his concerns about how she felt to which she assured him this was what she wanted, his eyes pleaded her to not make him a rebound relationship, and she kissed him in reassurance. It seemed so sudden and out of the blue for her, but for Chace, well he’d been half in love with her since the moment Damon introduced her to him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to give into this selfish notion of playing out this fantasy for as long as she’d have him.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Early November, amidst working and auditioning and trying to remember how to breath around busy lives, Chace and Eleanor had found an evening to hang out with their friends, announcing their new relationship and not leaving each others sides for the majority of dinner. Apparently Eleanor was the only one out of the loop, their group all chiming in with a chorus of finally’s and since when?, she wasn’t too keen on announcing the time surrounding their beginnings, the catalyst obvious to their friends so they told them sometime last August, just to appease them. She slyly wanted to watch Sebastian’s reaction, see what he really thought, but after a faltering second or two, he cleared his throat and smiled, his glass raised to toast his friends, he leaned over to whisper, “I’m really happy for you.”

Now felt like to the time to make it public, do it on their own terms and not someone else’s, so she pulled out her phone and located a shot from Lisa’s wedding that Chace had insisted on being taken and posted it to Instagram, captioned, ‘Sorry ladies. For those of you who were hoping to find Nate Archibald under your tree, looks like he’s already picked out his mistletoe mate’

As soon as she hit send, and her feed refreshed, the top post showed Chace had followed her lead with a picture of them looking more intimate, ‘Spotted: Nate Archibald looking a little too cosy with a certain brunette best friend. Is there something you’re not telling everyone Archibald?’

She tapped out a quick comment and hit send, her phone then placed on the table so she could curl up beside Chace again.

“I love you too,” he whispered, lips pressed to her head.

The comments flooded in, a mixture of congratulations, a few gossiping ones about how they thought she would be with Sebastian, even having the audacity to tag him their nonsense, but his response to the announcement was as she hoped, ‘It’s about damn time, you’re both lucky bastards’

She just smiled and rested her head on her partner’s shoulder. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

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17 notes · View notes

violet-knox · 5 years

Text

Skipping Breakfast

Year 6 - Chapter 29

Summary: You meet Severus after breakfast in the astronomy tower and discuss the conversation you had with James and Sirius the previous night.

Word count: 1692

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

Stepping into the Great Hall, ready to devoir any pastry you could get your hands on, your eyes instinctively went to scan the Slytherins across the room as usual, searching for the familiar head of slick black hair. Slowing down, you stood at the edge of the Gryffindor table, feeling almost lost, as if you’d just walked into unfamiliar territory. Severus wasn’t there and his absence had broken your usual morning routine, leaving you feeling misplaced. Odd. He was always first to show up, you always finding a place across him, not the other way around.

Taking a seat, you kept your eye on the door hoping to see him walk through those big doors when your attention suddenly snapped back to the table before you, the smell of the freshly baked croissants and muffins capturing you like a moth to a flame. Reaching for the nearest plate, your hand hovers over the English biscuit as your head turning back to the door anxiously. Where is he? Everyone had begun eating, yet Severus was nowhere to be found.

Peering back down at the all those scrumptious looking treats, you quickly decided to grab what you could, stuffing them into your robe before placing a chocolate filled croissant into your mouth and stepping over the bench of the table, heading towards the door.

The conversation you’d had with him last night rung in your ear as you made your way to the courtyard. You couldn’t get the idea that he’d felt much more passionate about the interaction you’d had with Sirius and James than you thought. And if you knew anything about Severus, it was his inability to let things go. Quickly scurrying into the astronomy tower, you hoped your instinct was correct and he’d simply made his way here to met you instead of joining the rest of the population for breakfast.

Sure enough, the second you opened the door, your eyes landed on Severus standing over the ledge of the balcony, hands on the railing, peering down at the castle.

“You missed breakfast,” you said bringing his attention to you. Severus turned and saw you standing there, as if appearing out of thin air.

“So what happened yesterday?” he asked, avoiding your concern at his lack of interest in food. His demanding tone set you off a little as you took a step towards him. You could tell he was anxious, just as you’d predicted, unable to let go of what had happened yesterday evening.

“Severus, you need to eat,” you said taking out a muffin from your robe and stretching out your arm to hand it to him.

“Stop avoiding my question (Y/N)!” he said, pushing the food away. Frowning, you took his hand and lead him to the corner where you took a seat, pulling him down with you.

“Eat, and I’ll tell you,” you said calmly. Severus looked at the food in your hands before peering up at you with an annoyed look on his face. Knowing you were too stubborn to let go of the ridiculous notion of eating breakfast, he finally took the muffin and began nibbling at it in defeat. Beaming triumphantly, you began to tell him what had happened last night when James and Sirius approached you.

“James thinks that I won’t let him on the team now that I’m Captain. Not that it matters now anyways since Quidditch is cancelled.” A look of longing splattered over your face as if you were talking about a loved one you hadn’t seen in years.

“What did Black want?” he asked with a mouth full of food, ignoring the disappointed tone in your voice. You looked up at him, his eyes so focused on you and your words, his brows furrowed in such a concentrated way. You weren’t stupid, you knew what he was after, what he wanted to hear, you just weren’t interested in talking down or complaining about others, even if they did cause you to hurt.

“He was just accompanying James, you know the two of them never go anywhere without each other,” you said as you looked down at your lap, your fingers playing with the laces of your shoes.

“There’s something else,” Severus said, swallowing his food. “Tell me what he said,” he demanded. You looked up at him in irritation. If you didn’t want to revisit the memory of last night, then you shouldn’t have to, especially not for the purpose he was after.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, “Really Sev. They were just acting like the gits that they are. Nothing I can’t handle.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile, hoping it would put a stop to this uncomfortable conversation, but you could tell its effect were less than convincing as his rage became quite apparent after he finished his food.

“What did he say to you?” Severus couldn’t help his attitude despite the fact that he could see your evident despair as he spoke to you. Potter had always been cruel to him, ever since the first day they’d met on the Hogwarts express, and Black had done nothing more than join his friend in his crusade to make Severus’ life a living hell. But the idea that they’d shifted their aim towards you was something he just couldn’t stand the thought of.

You sighed before giving in, hoping that he wouldn’t overreact when you told him. “Just the usual rubbish about me betraying Gryffindor.”

Severus shook his head in anger, but as you grabbed his hand and he looked into your softened eyes, he couldn’t help but relax his tensed shoulders, feeling his spite towards Black and Potter melt away. Taking a deep breath, he slowly curled his fingers around your hand in return, feeling a small tug at the corner of his lips as he admired your caring touch.

“You sure you handled it?” he whispered, worried that your encounter with the boys would lead to something worse.

“Yes,” you replied softly. You smiled, genuinely this time as your free hand went up to brush hair out of his face, your fingers gently following his hairline. You paused after tucking his hair behind his ear as your eyes met once more. Quickly retreating your hand from the cusp of his silky hair, you prayed he hadn’t noticed the accidental flirtatious move you’d just made. “I’m sure that it’ll all cool down until next year when I hold trails and James realizes I’m not out to get him.”

“Wait,” he said pulling back from you, his lips twitching in surprise, “you won’t bring him back onto the team will you?”

“He’s a really good seeker Severus, I’d be really stupid if I kicked him off the team,” you started, “Unless I find someone better, yes he’ll play next year.”

“Why would you do that?” he raised his voice, unable to comprehend why you would treat Potter with any sort of kindness. “After everything he has done. Everything he has done to you nonetheless, why would you give him what he wants.”

You frowned in disappointment as Severus let out a huff of frustration. Of course, you hadn’t forgotten everything James and his friends have done, the pranks the comments thrown your way, even more so directed towards Severus. But to throw such an opportunity to waste, to abuse the power you’d received as Team Captain, was an absurd expectation, even if it did stem from the hatred you knew Severus felt towards James.

“It’s not about me Severus. It’s about what’s best for Gryffindor and if that means James staying on the Team, then so be it.” It was clearly that Severus didn’t understand your point of view as you could see his anger bubbling to the surface again. “Look, Sev,” you quickly tried to reason with him before the argument you could see coming broke out, “we can’t bully them in return. That’s not the answer. It would only make the situation worse if I showed any sort of bias during trials.”

“But if he wasn’t on the team, you would see less of each other,” he tried to convey the benefits you could take advantage of from being Captain, picking who you pleased. He could only imagine what he would do with such power if he were in your place.

“I highly doubt that. He’s still in Gryfindor remember. Besides, if I kicked him off the team, he would probably torment me more than usual to get back at me. Is that what you want?”

His shoulders dropped, realizing you were right. Knowing Potter, he’d dedicate the year to making your life a living hell if you took away the one thing that gave him the praise he seemed to so desperately crave.

“No,” Severus softened his gaze as he suddenly felt the overwhelming need to protect you wash over him at the mention of harm coming your way. “Of course not. It’s just-” he looked down, trying to think of any other logical reason to get back at Potter without opening the possibility of some foolish battle breaking out between you all. “I guess you’re right,” he whispered.

Giggling you lifted his chin, seeking to capture his gaze as you give him a gentle smile. “It doesn’t change anything,” you said softly, caressing his cheek, “We’ll be out of here in two years’ time, and we don’t ever have to see any of them again,” you said optimistically.

Scoffing at you comment, Severus found himself unable to detach from the enchanting grace encircling your eyes. He continued to lose himself as he felt your fingers lightly graze across his skin as his cheeks burned red in fluster, wanting to hold you in his arms and tell you everything he felt., dreaming to hear you felt the same way. But he couldn’t, not when there was a chance you’d feel appalled by the idea of being with him, ruining your friendship as he did with Lily. He didn’t want to lose you too, but he couldn’t help but wish that the opportunity would come and one day both find yourselves as more than friends.

Next Chapter

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin @trashandshook @gbatesx @sneezy-s @emsdroid @leah-halliwell92 @dellightfullydeceitful @xxaamzxx @sparklingkeylimepie

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buoyantsaturn · 5 years

Text

Yeehaw (1/1)

summary: Or 5 times Will had a secret power and 1 time he didn't

word count: 1,704

read on ao3

The teams for capture the flag were on the move to the woods in clusters, whispering strategies to their teammates and trash talking their opponents. Will walked side by side with Chiron, having volunteered to sit out for the duration of the game and acting as medic instead, while Chiron acted as referee.

They’d made it to the edge of the woods before someone jogged up behind Will and grabbed his hand. Will’s head snapped down, and immediately broke out into a brilliant smile. “Nico!” He stopped in his tracks, dropping Nico’s hand, and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. “When did you get back?”

“Just now,” Nico replied, and Will noticed the dark circles under Nico’s eyes when they pulled apart.

Will frowned, cupping Nico’s cheek and swiping his thumb under Nico’s eye. “You weren’t going to jump into this game, were you? Because you should definitely rest--”

“No, no,” Nico replied, lacing his fingers with Will’s and tugging lightly until Will continued to walk. “I just wanted to stay with you on the sidelines for a little while before I go take a nap.”

“Aww, you missed me, didn’t you?” Will teased, bumping Nico’s shoulder with his own.

Nico rolled his eyes, bumping him back. “Of course I did.”

They continued into the woods, Will’s smile bright enough to illuminate the shadows around them, before they stilled beside Chiron on the makeshift sideline of the capture the flag grounds.

Chiron cleared his throat to get their attention, then said, “Will, whenever you’re ready.”

“Yes, sir!” Will replied. He leaned toward Nico and pressed a kiss to the side of his head before whispering to him, “You’re going to want to cover your ears.”

Nico frowned, but released Will’s hand to cover his ears. Will seemed to be waiting for him to do so before he put his index finger and thumb between his lips, then let out a piercing whistle that hurt to hear even with his ears covered.

Nico lowered his hands slowly once the sound had stopped echoing around them. “Holy Hades, how did you do that?”

Will shrugged, reaching for Nico’s hand again. “It’s a gift.”

II.

Will refused to do any paperwork in the infirmary without his lucky pen. This usually wasn’t a problem seeing as all of his siblings - and Nico - knew that they should never touch this pen. However, not everyone knew that misplacing this specific pen would force Will to turn the entire infirmary upside down in search for it.

Nico was laying on the floor, looking under cabinets and desks and cots, though with the fading light of the setting sun, it was too dark for him to see through the shadows. He sat up off the floor and looked toward Will who had taken everything out of the nearest desk’s drawers to no avail.

“It’s too dark to see underneath anything,” Nico told him. “Is there a flashlight in here somewhere?”

Will hummed. “You could check the storage room.”

As Nico stood and left the room in search of a flashlight, Will rose from his spot at the desk, and took Nico’s place on the floor. He couldn’t see anything either due to the darkness, but with a flick of his wrist, Will pulled a beam of sunlight through the window, shining it directly under the cabinets, then the desks, then the cots, until he finally saw something underneath one of the beds. He reached underneath to the furthest corner of the cot, and his fingers grazed the smooth, familiar surface of his lucky pen. Will pulled it out with an, “Ah-ha!”

As he sat up, he saw Nico returning to the room with a flashlight in his hand, stopping in his tracks when he saw Will with the pen in his hand. “How did you find it?”

“Luck, of course,” Will told him. “It’s my lucky pen!”

III.

Nico sat down at the Apollo table for dinner, knowing that Will wasn’t far behind. Once he finally arrived, Will had to sit across from Nico because it was the only available seat. Unfortunately, it meant that they couldn’t hold hands under the table like usual, but Will hooked his foot around Nico’s ankle to make up for the lack of contact.

They tried to join in on the conversations going on at the table, though for the most part the two preferred a comfortable quiet while they enjoyed their meals. During a lull in conversation, Nico caught Will trying to stifle a laugh, and nudged his foot with his own. Will looked up at him with a smile that was still fighting off laughter, and Nico noticed that his eyes appeared to be glowing green.

Nico frowned. “What’s going on?”

Will shook his head, and when he finally stilled again, his eyes were back to their beautiful bright blue. “It’s nothing.”

“Will.”

He rolled his eyes fondly and tipped his head to the left as though he was pointing toward the walkway between tables. “That Hephaestus kid is about to trip.”

Nico glanced over in a hopefully-subtle way, and his eyes locked on a newer camper who had an untied shoe. Nico turned back to Will and cocked his head in confusion. “I mean, probably, since his shoe is untied.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Will replied, and so Nico turned his attention back to the new camper. He watched as the camper knelt down to tie his shoe, then stood up and proceeded to trip over nothing and fall flat on his face.

Nico looked back to Will to see him hiding his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking to show that he was still laughing. He kicked at Will under the table. “How did you know that would happen?”

Will dropped his hands and winked. “I had a feeling.”

IV.

Nico searched the entire camp before he finally found Will at the archery range - Nico had never seen Will there before, which was why it ended up being the last place he checked. As he approached, he saw that Will wasn’t actually practicing his archery, instead throwing knives at the target across the range.

Every time, he hit the bullseye.

Will noticed him approaching and stopped throwing once Nico came close, instead wrapping an arm around his boyfriend and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Hey, babe, what are you doing around here?”

“Teach me how to do that,” Nico replied rather than answering.

“What? Throw knives?” Will asked, and Nico nodded. “Alright, come here. Take this.” He handed Nico one of the knives and moved him until he was standing in the place from which Will had just moved. Will shifted Nico’s feet into the correct stance with his own, and set one hand on his waist as the other wrapped around Nico’s throwing hand. “It’s almost like throwing a dart. Just pull back, throw, and flick your wrist to give it a good spin.”

Will helped with his first throw, resting his chin on Nico’s shoulder as he guided Nico’s hand to throw, and the knife bounced off the bottom edge of the target. Will handed him another knife then stepped away, saying, “Now try on your own.”

Nico raised his arm and threw the knife, though it fell short of the target by about a foot. From behind him, Will picked up another knife and threw it - his aim was completely off, even Nico could tell that much, yet it still hit the target dead-on.

“You’re cheating!” Nico exclaimed, spinning around to shove at Will’s chest.

Will laughed. “How am I cheating? I’m just throwing.”

“I don’t know, but you are! It curved! That’s not possible!”

Will set his hands on Nico’s waist and turned him back around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It just takes practice.” He handed Nico another knife. “Here, try again.”

The infirmary flooded with injured campers after an argument in the arena led to a full-on fight. As the fight was broken up, campers were escorted to the infirmary, where Nico was responsible for directing them to open beds while the Apollo campers did any possible healing.

While Nico was trying to find an open bed, the argument resurfaced between the two that had started the fight. Before Nico could get between them, he saw Will approach them and drop a hand onto their shoulders to push them apart while also holding them in place with his grip. “Stop shouting,” he said, voice booming and silencing the room around them, “and sit down.There’s no arguing in my infirmary.”

Without another word, both campers dropped into the nearest seats, appearing as though they’d never argued at all. Will started to walk away, though Nico caught him before he left the room. “What was that? How did you do that? It’s like you charmspoke them or something!”

Will gave him a tired smile. “No, I just have that effect on people.”

Nico was helping Will patch up a pretty nasty wound in the infirmary when Nyssa came knocking on the open doorway.

“Hey, Will, Nico,” she greeted. “I just came to check on Jake. How are things going in here?”

“Oh, I’m great,” Jake replied, at the same time that Will said, “Things could be better.”

“But we’ve got it under control,” Nico said quickly. “Will knows what he’s doing.”

“Oh, I know he does,” Nyssa said, and patted Will gently on the shoulder. “We all really appreciate how hard you work here. I know you aren’t that great of a fighter, and your powers aren’t all that useful in a battle, but you really are an incredibly talented healer, and I think that’s amazing.”

She turned to leave, but Nico felt ready to jump out of his seat, prepared to throw down and defend his boyfriend when Will tapped the toe of Nico’s shoe with his own. “Don’t worry about it, she can think whatever she wants. You and I both know the truth that I could probably even take you out in a fight if I wanted to.”

Nico huffed, still glaring at the now-empty doorway. “Yeah, I guess so… Wait, what?”

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tj-hearteyes-kippen · 5 years

Text

looking for love in all the wrong places

a soulmate au where everything you lose ends up in your soulmate’s possession somehow (on ao3 here)

or: a few times Cyrus was a disaster gay and one time he was still a disaster gay but differently

or: solemates

Cyrus wasn’t disorganized, per say. Just a little… absent minded. That’s what he was going to call it. His water bottle would slide out of his bag without him noticing until he got home, or he would get too caught up in some conversation to remember his pencil case on his desk. Never big things, just useful ones. He hoped his soulmate appreciated it, cause he’d lost a number of really nice pens.

Cyrus had gotten small hints to his soulmate’s personality, little things that showed up in his room or in his bag that certainly didn’t belong to him. When he was younger, sometime in elementary school, he’d freaked out a little when he thought it was Buffy. He loved her, for sure, but he knew they weren’t meant to be together like that. He’d brought the running shoe to school in a panic, shoving it in Buffy’s face as soon as she got there. “You didn’t happen to lose this, did you? It was in my closet this morning and I know it’s not mine.”

She wasn’t phased. “No, mine dont look like that. Besides,” she said, wrinkling her nose a little, “that looks like a boy’s shoe.”

So. An athletic boy probably. Cyrus could work with that.

He had tried to “accidentally” misplace the shoe later that day so his soulmate could have it back, but the universe didn’t work quite like that. He always found the shoe right where he left it, and he eventually just gave up and brought it back home. He put it in the wicker basket where he kept all of his soulmate’s things, tucked in the corner of his room by his desk.

When Cyrus and Jonah had first met, it was really easy for Cyrus to get a little carried away. For as long as he knew that his soulmate was probably an athletic boy, he didn’t really have any guy friends. But Jonah was a boy, and he played ultimate, and he was really cute and nice and Cyrus would have really loved for Jonah to be his soulmate.

Andi’s soulmate never lost anything that gave her particularly good clues as to who they might be. So it was a little unfair of Cyrus, but he never put a lot of stock into Andi’s crushes. It didn’t really mean anything that she liked Jonah. Not if Cyrus didn’t want it to.

Buffy was generally pretty tight lipped about her soulmate and whatever crushes she did or didn't have, which gave Cyrus’s imagination a lot of room to work. Cyrus would never tell her for fear of death, but when they first met TJ he thought for a second that he could have been her soulmate. He had told Andi this one day and she made him swear to keep that thought to himself. “She would have bothyour heads on a spike. Besides,” she said, turning her nose up slightly, “Buffy deserves better than that jerk.” Cyrus agreed, mostly, but he hadn’t met TJ yet. Once he met TJ though, things were a little different. Cyrus couldn’t explain it. He just knew there was something about TJ that everyone else was missing. He wanted to figure it out.

Anyways, Buffy was less pressed about analyzing the clues and finding her soulmate at this age. She was always trying to be the voice of reason for Andi and Cyrus, reminding them that things would just happen when they were meant to. That was a completely reasonable and logical approach and it was also way less fun. Why would the universe even bother with all these clues if not to overanalyze them?

It wasn't even a particularly dramatic moment, in reality, when Cyrus learned for sure that he had been a little off base. Jonah had reached into his pocket for something, probably his phone, and came back out with a tube of chapstick instead. Chapstick that Cyrus had certainly never owned and therefore couldn’t have lost. “Soulmate,” Jonah laughed. “They lose stuff like this all the time.”

Cyrus laughed along politely but he felt a little crushed inside. It had been reckless to let himself think it could have been Jonah, really, and in the long run it was probably better to find out sooner rather than later. It still sucked.

He pretended to get a text from his mom so he could go home. “Bye Cy-guy!” Jonah said in his usual chipper way, completely unaware of what Cyrus was feeling.

“See ya.” He said back numbly and then went home to lie face down on his bed for the rest of the day. He called up Buffy, later, and admitted the whole situation to her despite his embarrassment.

“It really felt like I was meant to meet him, you know? Now I just feel like I got way too attached to the idea of having him in my life.”

“Sometimes I think the universe gives us people we’re meant to keep who aren’t our soulmates. Like you, me, and Andi. You guys are still friends, Cy. That doesn't have to change.”

“I know. I just thought…”

“I know.”

So. Cyrus was never letting himself do that again.

It wasn’t even that hard to not do it again, once he got over Jonah. He mostly hung out with the same people all the time and he probably would have noticed if it was one of them, he figured.

Instead, Cyrus chose to spend his time imagining the moment he and his soulmate finally found each other. In his head he was very suave and he could only hope that all of this practice being dramatic and romantic would pay off in reality. Maybe it was for the best he hadn't found his soulmate yet. He probably would have said something dumb.

Not to say that he completely stopped thinking about who it might be. Every time they were at one of TJ’s games Cyrus would look at all the boys on both teams and decide if he thought it could be any of them. He was not ogling, despite what Buffy and Andi said.

(Ok, maybe just a little bit of ogling. All he's saying is if the universe wasn't there to pick an athletic boy for him he probably would've done it himself.)

In the end he was really there for TJ though, not his teammates. “Underdog!” TJ said happily as he bounded over after the game. He moved to give Cyrus a hug, but Cyrus was faster than that.

“Uh, no thanks, sweaty basketball guy.”

TJ gave him an exaggerated pout. “But I played so well!”

“Which I will reward you for after you’ve showered.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” TJ said, then noticed Buffy and Andi standing off to the side. “Buffy, Andi,” he gave them a bro nod, “thanks for coming.”

Once TJ had made his way back to the locker room and plans for a post-game meal at The Spoon had been settled, Buffy gave Cyrus a look. “Careful,” she said, and Cyrus genuinely had no idea what she was talking about. He said as much, and Buffy just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, getting ready to head out. “Nevermind. We’ll meet you guys there, yeah?”

Cyrus knew there was more to TJ than everyone initially thought, but it still surprised him sometimes when TJ would show off an unexpected new layer. A freshly showered TJ was at The Spoon talking animatedly about this book he’d been reading, and book nerd is not something Cyrus ever would have pegged TJ for. The author of the book he had been talking about sounded familiar, too, but Cyrus couldn't place them. He told TJ this and TJ just shrugged. “I mean, I’ve probably talked about them before. I love their work, so.”

It wasn’t until he got home that day that he realized where he knew the name from. Cyrus’s soulmate had lost a book by that author before! He thought, a little ridiculously, that he was glad TJ and his soulmate would have stuff in common so they could be friends. TJ had become pretty important to Cyrus, so it would suck if he had to play mediator like he used to have to do with TJ and Buffy.

The next morning got off to an unfortunate start, which is how Cyrus should have known that the universe had shenanigans in store for him that day.

Rats he thought as he rummaged through his bag, realizing his snack had disappeared somehow. As usual, he hoped his soulmate was grateful. They should really thank him when they finally meet. Cyrus only lost stuff that could be useful to anyone. (Except that time he blessed them with a mud soaked shoe, but he liked to pretend that didn’t happen). His soulmate, on the other hand, managed to lose an entire basketball last week. How does one lose a basketball? What was Cyrus even supposed to do with a basketball? He shook his head and headed towards the vending machine to get a replacement snack before his next class.

“Hey,” TJ said, sliding into his usual seat next to Cyrus right before the bell rang. Cyrus smiled at him and then turned his attention towards their teacher.

At the end of the period she explained their homework before dismissing the class. TJ gently kicked Cyrus’s shoes. “Want to work on that together after school?”

Cyrus’s legs were not long enough to kick TJ back from where he was sitting. “Sure! My house?”

“Perfect! Later, Underdog.”

Cyrus knew that he and TJ were always the face of focus when they worked together so he anticipated incredible amounts of productivity from the two of them that afternoon.

...Okay, so maybe the homework had gotten slightly derailed.

TJ was sitting on the floor sifting through the drawers in Cyrus’s desk while Cyrus was trying to make increasingly complicated paper airplanes to throw at TJ’s head. “Hey,” TJ said, apparently out of drawers, “What’s in here?”

Cyrus looked up to see TJ peeking into the wicker basket. “That’s where I keep my soulmate’s stuff.”

“Oh,” TJ sat back. “Sorry, I should have asked before I looked.”

“No, I don’t care. Go ahead.”

Cyrus focused back on his airplane. He gave it a test throw and it turned and went to the side of the room. He got up to get it from the floor.

“Hey, I used to have a pair of shoes just like this! One of them fell out of my bag though and and I could never find it…” TJ trailed off before looking up at Cyrus in stunned silence.

Cyrus turned to see TJ holding the shoe from his soulmate basket and froze. TJ? It couldn’t be. But then he thought about it. TJ was athletic. TJ was a boy. TJ was an athletic boy that Cyrus had an unexplainable bond with since the moment they met and suddenly it all made sense. He wanted to kick himself for being so caught up on Jonah when he met TJ that he had forgotten to overanalyze such an obvious candidate.

TJ was sitting on the floor with the shoe still in hand, frozen in place. He was always cute but the doe eyed look of shock was really, really cute.

Every coherent thought Cyrus had suddenly chose to vacate his head. “Uhhh,” he started and then paused, trying to think of something clever to say. TJ was his soulmate. They would remember this moment forever. “You're welcome,” is what his mouth settled on without consulting his brain.

That was enough to shake TJ out of his stupor, his eyes lighting up as Cyrus could feel his face heating. He slowly put the shoe down next to him and leaned forward with delight. “I’m sorry, did you just say ‘You’re welcome?’”

“Um, no?” Cyrus said, but it was too late. The damage had been done. Cyrus couldn’t believe himself. All that practice and for what?

TJ was way too amused by the whole thing. He had a big, stupid grin on his face as he said, “I mean you’re great and all but that’s pretty confident to assume I would thank you for the honour of being your soulmate.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Cyrus tried to salvage his dignity even though it was long gone and he could tell TJ was just messing with him. “I just meant-- because I lost some pretty good--”

TJ shrugged, cutting him off. “I mean, I would though. I think I got pretty lucky.”

Cyrus warmed at that a little and let the reality of the situation sink in for the first time since he opened his stupid mouth. Soulmates. Soulmates. “TJ, thats… I did too. Hold on, I want to say something really sappy but I need a minute to think before I speak, apparently.”

“Just come here,” TJ said with a laugh and wrapped his arms around Cyrus after he sulked over. Cyrus rested a hand on TJ’s chest and looked up at him, suddenly shy.

“Hi,” TJ said softly.

“Hi,” he said back.

Cyrus forgot to indulge in all of his cliche love story fantasies like counting TJ’s freckles and looking for the flecks in TJ’s eyes as TJ leaned in. Instead, he let his eyes slip shut as TJ pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

At school the next morning Cyrus was excitedly telling Andi and Buffy about how magical it all was when TJ himself came over and threw an arm around Cyrus, handing him a muffin. Cyrus looked up at him happily. Forever. The universe decided he gets to have this forever. Cyrus leaned into his side a little. “Thank you.”

TJ couldn't hold back his grin and Cyrus figured that he was having a similar moment. That is, until he looked Cyrus in the eyes with a wink and very deliberately said, “You're welcome.” Cyrus groaned and buried his head into TJ’s chest. Yup, he did this to himself. He did this to himself and now he was stuck with it forever.

He was looking forward to it.

#andi mack #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #tyrus #once again we play the fun game:#will this show up in the tag?#fic stuff

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