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smutandfluffohmy · 4 years

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His Sweater #4

From: Smutandfluffohmy Pairings: George Weasley X Slytherin!Reader A/N: How would y’all feel about George and the reader having a child?? (Not now, homeboy can’t even look at you much less take your pants off) Wait! Read it from the start (Part 1) Part 2? look no further (Part 2) The trilogy, but not really (Part 3)

Hanging on to George I tried to look anywhere but down or up. Where was there left to look? at the speeding trees passing us or perhaps Fred doing tricks on his broom? “Where are we going now?” I said clinging on the his shirt that I was sure going to be a wrinkly mess once we land.

“How about a drink and some food?” George yelled giving me a quick smile before looking back. Brooms the awful things, hypothetical I should learn how to ride one but the bloody things have no security.

“I’d l-” I smiled looking at him, Fred flew next to us interrupting me not even halfway.

“Merlin yes Hermione told me of this muggle place that’s in Diagon Alley.” Fred said flying under us, brilliant exotic muggle foods in Diagon Alley.

“Actually Y/n and I were thinking w-” George started saying and I frankly did not know what we were thinking as I for one was in fact I was wondering what food muggles ate.

Fred came back on the other side “Thinking about getting breakfast? Brilliant let’s go.” He said and I wondered what mental hoops he has his brain jump through to get to the conclusion of us wanting to eat breakfast at noon.

They landed the brooms in Diagon Alley that had a drastically different feel to it when it was not crowded by Hogwarts students. It all felt more grown up and I was starting to worry wee would get ratted out for being out of school. However we walked through the streets and sat down to eat without being thrown into Diagon Alley jail, I suspect that it had something to do with out frizzy hair and the twins towering over everyone.

Humming I looked over the menu, trying to figure out the odd names and what on earth was written down.‘hot dog’ blimey the muggles truly are ruthless if they serve up dog on a bun. Fred got up to go to the restroom and I for one was glad I could have some quiet without his excessive finger drumming which the worse part was that he didn't;t even play the drums.

George watched till Fred had disappeared behind the door before he even looked back at me. “You know I really meant what I said.” He said leaning in towards me, his forearms resting on the table top.

Leaning in I did the same “About marriage?” I questioned, while indeed a flattering offer I wouldn’t be too thrilled on getting marriage out of a business contract.

“No?” He mused, squinting at me as if it would further help him read my mind and with the look he was giving me I wondered for a second if he did in fact have that ability.

“Fred being a git?” I asked filling my head with bizarre thoughts to throw him off if he truly indeed was able to look into my mind.

“Yes but I mean about going out sometime.” He said, softer as if he were testing the waters to see my reaction. Perhaps I was wrong. He couldn’t read my thoughts.

I couldn’t help my face grow red at his suggestion. I guess this was what we were thinking on the ride over “Oh.” Was all I could say. After all how can you clearly answer when the guy you’ve been smitten with was a few inches away from you.

His eyes got big and frighten and his face drained of all color “If you don’t want to we don't have to I can go obliviate myself right now I-” He started going on, it’s something I learned about him. Whenever he gets particularly thrown off his mouth starts going speeds his brain can’t keep up with.

I reached over to gently pat his hand but by the way he reacted you would thought I reached over to strike him “George I ne-” I started to say, apparently interrupting people mid thought was a skill both twins were versed in. George started looking through his pockets and patting himself down.

“Merlin I can’t find my wand. Do you have your wand on you?” He said turning to me before rapidly looking away. I’ve seen him stunned but never to the point of obliviating himself, it was weird seeing the usually collected Weasley be so skittish.

“George calm d-”

He shook his head at me as if that were to make me disappear from were I sat. “I could always throw myself off my broom done it countless times what’s one more really.” He reasoned with himself, a skill I now knew he lacked greatly in.

Reaching over the table I clasped his hands down on the table “Merlin Weasley calm down I never said no.” I said looking at him wondering if perhaps I knocked my head a bit too hard and was now dreaming this all up. A peculiar dream but a dream none the less.

“Are you saying no now?” He looked at me trying to size me up, see if my eyes could give away the answer but I think if eyes held that much power I would’ve passed my O.W.L.S with much better marks.

“What? No! I’d love to go out sometime.”

“Alright that’s good. Swell indeed.” George gave me a tight smile but the color never returned to his face “I need to lie down I feel my heart about to explode.” He said and for a minute I wondered if I need to check his temperature and if I was even equipped to know the difference in a persons body temperature.

“I think it’s all the hash-browns you ate.” I said getting up from my seat to look at the state of him, I’d be real awful if I had accidentally killed him. He gave out a small laugh, not one that was earned but one that let me know that, at least for now, he was fine.

“George get off my seat.” Fred said swatting at his head and with that George sat up, noticeably more red but at least some of the color had returned to his face. “So what did I miss?”

George looked at the rather dull wall, in what I suspect that he suspect if he were to look at his brother he would know everything that happened in the time it took him to pee. “Nothing that concerns you Fredrick.” I said looking over the muggle menu for the tenth time waiting for the words to shift into something more comprehensible than ‘Coca-cola’.

Fred didn't believe us for a second and it was probably written all over our faces but how would I know. “Fine keep your secrets.” He said squinting his eyes at us before picking up and putting down the menu in front of him. “So how are we going to tell mum we dropped out?”

My blood ran cold at the thought that they had left out a vital plan out. Surving their mum, who I've heard various Weasley children say was rather scary, long enough to even set up shop.“You didn’t tell her?!”

George snapped out of his viewing of the rather bland wall “No figured we’d figure it out once we got to that part but” He said scratching below his eyebrow faking a deep thought that I knew he wasn’t capable of having.

“You complete our plans so well that we’re leaving it up to you.” Fred said airing fake responsibilities my way which I fake aired back to him rather aggressively.

“How generous.” I said with a tight lipped smile “I’m not doing it.” I shrugged leaning back on my chair and playing with a relatively loose button on my sweater.

Fred got quiet looking from George to me as if the answer to them living yet another day was encrypted there, somewhere. “You can snog George if you do it.” He said that made both George and I turn to look at each other with beat red faces, my hand tended making the button come off in my hand.

“Fred!” George said looking at his brother in utter disbelief and truly utter betrayal, I kicked Fred under the table wanting more than anything to melt into my seat.

He looked stunned as if he didn’t ruin out totally meticulous pinning we had come to perfect and that was all part of a bigger scheme and not at all because either of us were too scared to say anything. “What! You’re both always drooling over each other anyways.”

I was at complete loss for words “I’m not going to do it even less.” I said trying to figure out what muggle song was playing if one at all.

“Ouch Georgie that hurt me a bit.” Fred laughed shoving George who I suspect also wished to kick Fred in the shins. Rubbing my temple I wondered if they left all working brain cells at Hogwarts or if they had fallen out on the broom ride over here.

“Hypothetically if I agreed to help you. I would say to have a clear thought out plan of how the shop is going to run, a layout, business transaction you’ve already done, some product-” I started speaking feeling myself get lost in the meticulously planning they had obviously neglected or perhaps just conveniently forgotten about.

Fred rapped his knuckles against the table giving me a smile. A smile George often has and despite having similar faces this smile fit differently on Fred. “I hear what you’re saying and I can’t wait for you to think that all over to show our mum. You’ll love her come on.” Fred smiled pushing out of his chair and making his way to the door, thrilled I didn’t have to eat any weird foods but disappointed at trying to figure out what exactly they were getting at.

Getting up I walked quickly to catch up with Fred “No you’re going to have to tell her yourself.” I said pulling Fred by the arm, knowing full well hell stroll out of here and force me to tell their mum as to why exactly they had already probably received a letter from Hogwarts.

“She is our mum.” George said shrugging behind me.

Fred looked over my head, a habit I wished they would both kick, to look at his brother in utter disbelief “Oi what’s this? Two against one isn’t fair.” Fred said pointing between the two of us giving me a look that if it were for not them doing the exact same thing to me I would feel utterly horrid.

“If we do it now we can catch her with Remus and Tonks, she won't come down at us that bad is she’s there.” George reasoned with him, an awful reasoning but a reasoning none the less. I don’t suspect our ex DADA Professor would back them up on their plan and although I did not know who Tonks was nor her character she must be really cool to back up their poorly thought out plan.

Fred huffed walking to get his broom“Fine whatever. Bloke is already whipped, what hope is there left.” he whispered, badly and rather loudly, I threw the button I had in my hand at his head “Ouch! I didn’t say anything.”

“I told him he’s shit at whispering.” I said rolling my eyes at the back at Fred’s head that he was rubbing. I know for a fact it didn’t hurt him, if he can tells bludgers to the head he’ll live with a brown button being thrown at it.

George bumped my shoulder “I think I owe you a snog.” he said laughing.

“Shut up.”

He walked in front of me stopping me in my tracks, he really was tall and for a second I wondered just how tall “How about that date?” he asked

“Let’s see if you’ll live long enough for that.” I laughed walking around him, I wonder if I could slip it into conversation or if that was just an incredibly rude thing to ask.

“You’re not coming with us?” He asked

“God no I don’t want your first impression your mum has of me is that I’m irresponsible.”

“But you are irresponsible!” Fred called out to me as he mounted on his broom, next time I see him I should give him a good wack with it.

I turned my attention away from George to throw a finger to Fred who promptly did the same “Shove off.” I called out to him, which earned me the disapproving glares from some elderly couple. Who I think would do the same if they were in my more fashionable and probably more gun powder smothered shoes.

“See you later?” George asked as he got on his own broom. Next time I’ll make sure to bring a portkey, at least you can’t swallow a whole colony of bugs in a portkey.

“Not if I see you first.” I said smiling walking the opposite direction of the seemingly dreadful scene that awaits them. They took on Umbridge and I’m more than sure that their mum is loads better than that woman. But I guess in all fairness he-who-shall-not-be-named is probably more agreeable than she is.

A couple days passed and George wrote to me saying that their mum was crossed they dropped out without them telling her. A sentiment that I think if they would’ve told her she’d probably nail their robes to the school. He also said Tonks was rather excited for them and that I simply must meet her. He also wrote that we should have our date at the end of the week at 10pm.

Knocking on the door I began to wonder if my outfit was even appropriate to were he was taking me. The door swung open before I could give more thought into my choice of clothes.

“Oh hello dear you must be the girl George has been telling us so much about!” Mrs. Weasley said taking me into a hug, she had the same vibrant red hair as all of her children and the same kind eyes George had. Fred however I reckoned stole his eyes from the bloody devil himself.

“I swear he talks about you whenever you’re not around.” Fred said making talking motions with his hands and fake gagging at the thought of it. As if he himself didn’t also spend most of his time talking to me.

“What? No I don't!” George said between varying shades of red, an accomplishment I would've found rather amusing if not for my own face heating up.

Thumbing could be heard of someone coming down the stairs “Fred hav- oh this must be the girl George talks about all the time.” Who I assumed to be Mr.Weasley said and further solidifying my theory on Freds eyes.

I smiled at both of them “Hi it’s very nice to meet you.” I said sticking my hand out for a proper greeting before it got yanked by George.

“We should get going.” he said waving his family off, for a second I forgot that we were not sticking around. I had so many things I wanted to talk about like Mr.Weasleys muggle studies and if he knows how those miniature jukeboxes work and how Mrs.Weasley make the warmest sweaters.

“Bu-” Was all I could say, not only because I was cut off but because I did not know were or if I even had a formed thought to continue that sentence.

George said over me dragging me away “Bye don’t wait up!”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Fred called out to him before earning a smack on the arm from Mrs.Weasley.

“What wouldn’t you do?” George shouted at him and I wondered what in fact wouldn't he do besides actually come up with a reasonable non-lethal plan.

“George Weasley remember what we talked about!” Mrs.Weasley called out to George was tugging at my arm to drag me to his broom faster.

“I remember!” he called out dismissing them with a wave. I do not know what they had talked about and wondered if this was a werewolf situation and if it was I don’t think I’m prepared to be turned or mauled into one. Although I don’t thing anyone is ever ready for that.

“It was nice meeting you Mrs. and Mr. Weasley!” I called out waving goodbye to them the best I could and I could only guess they were waving at me too.

“It was nice meeting you too dear!” Mrs. Weasley called to me, I hope I could get the chance to talk to her again. George hurried me on towards the broom without another looks back at his family.

“What was that about?” I questioned that I both did and did not want the answers to. If I was being turned into a werewolf I rather it being kept a fun surprise.

“Nothing. Close your eyes.”He said standing in front of me motioning me to sit on the broom which I in fact did not do. “You don’t trust me?”

In all reality I trusted him with my life, however I did not entirely trust him with my life on a broom “I trust that you won’t let me die but I reckon if I fall off the broom you won’t notice.”

He smiled down at me placing his hands on my arms “I’ll notice before you hit the ground.”

“Charming.”

Crossing his heart he beckoned me to sit down “I swear I’ll take care of you.” He said and I swore I would melt as pathetic as that did sound.

Nodding I sat down and closed my eyes “Okay fine I’m trusting you on this.” I murmured. Time passed just like how kilometers passed but I could not entirely say just how many as I did promise to keep my eyes closed. George landed the broom with I took as cue that I could both open my eyes and I was in fact not dead. “Where are we?” I asked, the field around us was empty but filled with flowers and the spots that weren't were layered with grass.

George tugged me towards an already set up spot with a blanket laid out and various other things set on top of it that I couldn’t exactly make out “If I tell you it won’t be as impressive.” He sat down on the blanket “Come sit.” He beckoned me over patting the spot next to him. We both laid down looking up at the stars, I’ve never seen them this bright and it made me a bit cross that if I knew they looked like this I would've payed more attention in class.

George pointed up at the sky “That star looks like you.” I moved closer to see which one he was pointing at. He got a jelly bean out of the box and ate one “Yack lawn clippings.” he said through some disgusted chewing then proceeded to offer me one.

I put it in my mouth cautiously chewing swearing that if I got a barf flavored one I’d personally have a word with the creators “Dead?Popcorn.” I said thankful it wasn’t awful but also confused as to how exactly they made a jelly bean taste of popcorn. He took out more jelly beans handing some over to me before putting one in his mouth.

He smiled at me and for the second time in my life I felt completely stricken by George Weasley “No radiant.Hot chocolate.” He said breaking my fleeting train of thought that had become increasingly harder to keep up with, with him around.

Shaking my head I couldn't help but feel embarrassed, a feeling I often felt around him but never this strong.Never enough to make me at loss for words. “You’re such a sap.” I laughed looking at the star he pointed at trying to commit it to memory, but it seemed the more I looked the more it looked like all the other stars.

“You make me one.” He said turning to me before eating another jelly bean “Cherry Fizz. What did you get?” He asked turning to me, propping myself up with one hand not particularly minding the rocks gently digging against my palm.

“Hmm I don’t know what are the flavors again?” I said reaching over to the box but before I could George grabbed my hand in his. His face was dangerously close to mine and I was overly aware of my breathing.

I leaned in closer trying to ignore the loud beating of my heart that I could feel through my body.His other hand cupped the side of my face that he caressed with his thumb. He broke the small distance his lips softly pressed against mine, he smelt of the outdoors and fireworks and I could feel myself getting lost in it.

His hand moved from my hand to my knee, the two being fairly closed together but feeling I got in the pit of my stomach made me lean into his touch. My hand rested on his arm, touching the sweater I made my familiar acquaintance with last year.

He broke the kiss giving me the same goofy smile I’ve seen plenty of times but for once I knew why “I think it’s butterbeer.” He said slightly out of breathe, my lip gloss was smeared all over his mouth and I suspect mine as well. What was that rule? No kissing on the first date? Whoever made that up has obviously never been star gazing with George Weasley.

What felt like minutes had passed before I could trust myself with my voice again. “You’re going to be the death of me Weasley.” I whispered, my heart felt tight and my palms were sweaty. I wanted to reach over and cup his face but I was afraid this moment will disappear if I made any movements out fo script.

It wasn’t till the end of the year did George, Fred and I hear the news about Sirius Blacks passing. Everyone blamed themselves swearing that if it they were just there ,a minute earlier, if they hadn’t stoped for that cup of coffee three days ago everything would be different, Sirius would still be alive. But I don’t think that the case, I think more of us or someone else might be dead if we were all there. Death is unpredictable and we are all just one wrong move away from it.

I do feel bad for Harry. Seeing your Godfather die in front of you must be an awful thing. I feel bad sometimes, smiling, especially smiling in front of him. I feel like I’m mocking him but I hope he knows that those aren’t my intentions.Hermione keeps saying that time will make things better but time hasn’t been feeling the same.

Time all together feels altered. Everything moves at speeds it’s not supposed to but I reckon that's the effect looming danger has on people. I cannot tell how long I’ve been dating George Weasley but it’s been long enough that I know he’s fond of sweets but only after 12, he thinks muggles know more than they’re letting on, pranks are better without a purpose and balls of yarn are great for baby quidditch.

#george weasley #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #Fred weasley fanfiction

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beewolfwrites · 3 years

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An Iron Box - The Eternal Rocks

Apologies for the late update! My life has become a little hectic, so I haven’t been on Tumblr or AO3 as much. Hopefully I can make it up with new scenes that weren’t in AWIAF :)

If you’re still following this fic, thank you for reading. It means the world <3

The AO3 link is here if you prefer reading it on there.

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I had stumbled across the copy of Wuthering Heights shortly after becoming an executive member. When I first moved into my room, it was tucked away in a drawer, and judging by the curled pages coated with dust, it had been there a while. I’d never cared enough to discard it, nor had I cared enough to read it. Until now.

The noon sunshine filtered through the windows as I sat on my bed, legs stretched out and book in hand. So far, it was a trivial mess – a ditsy story of childhood friends turned teenage lovers. Of course, this was the kind of book she would read. And if she really did have a Masters degree in literature, chances are she had already read it.

Yesterday, when I was called to the meeting room, I had an inkling as to what the fuss was about. And sure enough, there she was, dragged in like a stray by Niragi of all people. What terrible luck.

Well, for her at least.

Things had panned out just as I expected. If only she had come with me when I’d asked, she wouldn’t have had to deal with Aguni’s militants. They had given me the whole rundown of her Eight of Hearts game... how she’d solved it a little too late... how she’d accidentally set herself up by mentioning my name.

And now, I finally knew her name.

After showing her to her new room yesterday, I’d rolled it over on my tongue, memorising the foreign feel of it, the way the vowels stretched and consonants collided. It suited her, in a way. However, it seemed it would be a while before I could call her by it. According to the grapevine, she had disappeared into her room and hadn’t been seen since.

This morning, when I went downstairs to get breakfast, my eyes had instinctively scanned the crowded room, hoping to catch a familiar doe-eyed stare. But she was nowhere to be found.

‘Who are you looking for?’

Kuina had appeared beside me, balancing a bowl of cereal in one hand.

‘Nobody,’ I told her.

She wagged her finger, and through a mouthful of cereal, insisted, ‘don’t even think about lying to me. I can read you pretty well by now.’

I tried to ignore her noisy chewing. ‘I met a girl in a game.’

Kuina had wiggled her eyebrows at this, and something inside me instantly turned cold. If she thought I was involved in a petty romance then she could think again. I had no interest, and besides, this was hardly the place.

‘I believe we can use her in the plan. Niragi brought her in after a game yesterday.’

‘And there I was thinking you actually had a heart, hm?’ Kuina paused, her spoon dangling between her fingers. ‘I did hear there was a new girl, but nobody’s spoken to her yet. Do you want me to try and talk to her?’

I had mulled it over, but there was no point in rushing things. There was every chance she would emerge in her own time. It was like tempting a frightened animal out of its den and straight into a snare.

‘Not just yet,’ I said. ‘Let her feel hungry.’

‘You think she’ll come down for lunch?’

I smiled. ‘Probably not. But she’ll be hungry enough that when you do pay her a visit, she’ll want to trust you.’ Surveying the busy room, I added. ‘Keep an eye on the rumours. If she doesn’t come down in a few hours, bring her some food.’

‘Why me?’ Kuina scowled. ‘Why can’t you do it?’

Surely the reason was obvious. ‘She’s here because of me. I’m the last person she wants to speak to.’

Kuina had looked uncertain. But she couldn’t argue against it; we both knew I was right.

Now, several hours later, the sun was sinking and Kuina was probably about to pay (name) a visit. But I would leave that up to her. If Kuina befriended her, she would be much more willing to join our plan. Stretching my legs, I focused on the page in front of me.

‘It’s about life and finding meaning and purpose in everything.’

Her words from the pharmacy. Even now, they still rang clearly, haunting every recess of my mind. I didn’t care about finding meaning in life. I didn’t care at all. But I was curious about her obsession with fiction and poetry. What was it that drew her to books?

What meaning does she see that I can’t?

My eyes landed on the words before me.

“My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.”

How could love be necessary? It wasn’t food or water. It couldn’t be quantified, had little value in life, and if anything, it was a weakness in the games. I had never once needed it myself, and here I was, still alive and breathing. The whole story was trivial, melodramatic and utterly pointless. And yet, my gaze was drawn to the next line and the next.

I suppose I could read it, even if only to ease this perpetual boredom.

“He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being—”

A bang rattled the windows as the door to my room flew open. Kuina was standing breathlessly in the doorway, that fake cigarette of hers clenched between her teeth.

‘You,’ she said, inviting herself in and moving towards the chest of drawers. ‘I need to borrow one of your hoodies.’

I flipped over to the next page. ‘Why?’

She yanked open each drawer one by one, plundering through the contents before slamming them shut. ‘I need a spare hoodie for (name). Or, you know, anything that’s not a string bikini.’

‘I see, so that’s why she was hiding.’ I smiled, eyes drifting over the page of my book. ‘What a stupid reason.’

Kuina glowered and jabbed a finger at me. ‘Oi, just because you’re too confident for your own good it doesn’t mean everyone else is. Tell me where your hoodies are now.’

I nodded at the cupboard. ‘The grey one on the left-hand side.’

She opened it up and pulled out the grey hoodie. Out of the three I owned this was the smallest. It was also the newest, having never been soiled by blood in a game before. ‘Are you sure?’

I shrugged and turned back to my book. ‘She can keep it.’

It may be useful to create a debt.

I expected Kuina to simply take the hoodie and leave me to read in peace. But she didn’t. She clenched the fabric in her fists, staring at it. Her jaw tightened around her plastic cigarette.

‘Chishiya, she’s nice. She’s really nice.’

‘Everyone’s nice until you pit them against each other.’

She grimaced, fingers gripping the hoodie. ‘I don’t think... she’s not like that. What did you have planned with her anyway?’

‘We need someone to find the safe where the cards are kept. A guinea pig, so to speak. I’m going to set her up and we’ll take advantage of the distraction.’

Kuina looked uncomfortable with the idea. ‘I’m just not sure about this.’

Sighing, I gave up trying to read and snapped the book shut. ‘If you’re not sure, then drop out. I’ll leave with the cards and you can stay right here.’

Of course, Kuina was smart enough to know what the Beach would descend into once it became apparent that the cards were missing. And if I went missing along with them, she would be the first person they’d turn to. Judging by the look on her face, she seemed to be thinking the same thing.

‘Fine,’ she agreed at last. ‘But of all the people to choose, she really doesn’t deserve this.’

I smiled, thinking back to Niragi’s overdramatic retelling of their game. Apparently, it was a game of laser tag with handguns. She had shot a teenage girl in the chest and emerged without a scratch.

‘Perhaps you’ll think differently if you see her in a Hearts game,’ I said. ‘It’s human nature to be selfish.’

It’s human nature to kill in order to survive.

With a small hiss of disapproval, Kuina trailed out of the room and left me alone, taking the grey hoodie with her.

Finally.

Picking up the book once more, I scanned over the words on the page. The entire plot made no sense. Cathy’s choice was obvious right from the beginning – Linton offered protection and financial security. It was everything she needed to live comfortably, so what was the issue? Why would a person be so caught up just because of a childhood sweetheart? Heathcliff was equally as ridiculous, running away like a brat just because she said a few words behind his back. This was a book for naïve idiots.

No wonder she likes it.

And yet, I read and read until the sun slunk behind the skyline, the darkness creeping in slowly through the curtains until it became too dark to read. I could have easily turned on the bedside lamp and continued, but perhaps it was time to see how things were going with Kuina and (name).

The sooner they were friends, the easier this would become.

Getting up, I left my room and headed downstairs. It was right before the games began – the time when the Beach was at its most lively, and everyone was busy living in the moment just in case these turned out to be their final moments.

I passed by a couple furiously groping one another behind a pillar.

People are all the same.

Stepping outside onto the patio, I scanned the throngs of drunken idiots stumbling around in a haze of skin, sex and drugs. And then I caught a glimpse of that familiar face, standing by the bar and dressed in my hoodie. A man was beside her.

And you are just like them.

For a moment, I simply watched on as the man – one of Niragi’s troupe – tried to make conversation with her. Considering the sheer volume of the music and her self-taught Japanese, I wondered if she understood him. Taking her drink from the bartender, she smiled and said something undecipherable before taking a step away.

Bad move. A gun glinted, pressing into her side.

Oh?

The look on her face told me everything. She wasn’t flirting with him after all. And now it was all too clear what this man wanted from her.

Such an unpleasant welcome.

Perhaps I should have just left her to it, since this was the true face of the Beach, the drop of cold hard reality hidden behind the façade of a utopia. Perhaps I should have her deal with the situation on her own, for better or worse. But how could I? This was a perfect opportunity to regain her trust.

I sidled up to the bar, glancing between the half-drunken idiot and (name), who was standing there wavering like a ghost. Her expression was detached yet poised, like a rabbit on the verge of fleeing. But she couldn’t – not with the hand wrapped around her wrist and the pistol set just below her ribs.

‘What’s this?’ I leaned against the countertop. ‘I see you’ve met our newest member.’

(Name) blinked, only just noticing my presence. I glanced down at the pistol, the barrel half-hidden in the fabric of her hoodie. My hoodie.

‘You should probably put that thing away. Hatter won’t be too happy if you start messing with her. He’s got high expectations of her.’

The militant only pushed the gun further into her torso, standing up straighter in a useless attempt at intimidating me. ‘You know, Chishiya, I’m pretty sick of you interfering all the time. You should stay out of militant business.’

I almost smiled. This man wasn’t even an executive member. ‘Militant business,’ I said slowly. ‘It’s fascinating what you guys do. You take out the trash and dish out the sentence, but you never check the evidence.’

He bristled, his finger tightening over the trigger. ‘What the hell are you talking about? Just shut up and stay out of this.’

Typical. Do I have to spell things out to everyone?

‘What I’m saying,’ I replied, ‘is that you never bother checking to see if the ‘traitors’ are actually traitors. It’s surprisingly easy to slip a few cards into someone else’s room.’

I met his gaze pointedly, watching as he finally started to come to an understanding. He squeezed (name’s) wrist until her fingers blotched white and purple, before finally letting go.

Pushing his face close to mine, he whispered a slurred mess that sounded a lot like ‘threaten me again and I’ll end you’, before striding off into the crowd. It wasn’t much of a threat, coming from someone who couldn’t quite walk in a straight line. But no matter, I wasn’t here for him.

I was vaguely aware of (name) watching me as I turned back to the bar. The bartender was wiping glasses, unbothered by what had just happened. He saw worse every day.

‘お水をください,’ I said. Water, please.

A glass was placed in front of me, and I calmly sipped my water, waiting patiently for the inevitable. About now, she was probably itching to thank me, but wondering how best to do it. An over-thinker, that’s what she was.

When she finally spoke, it was so quiet I could have easily missed it, if only I hadn’t been expecting it. ‘Thanks... I’m guessing stuff like that’s pretty common around here.’

You catch on fast.

‘Well, there are only three rules,’ I said, assessing the grey hoodie. It had been slightly too small on me but was oversized on her. ‘Right now, you’re not allowed to go roaming the city alone because you’re still new, and that makes you a liability. But the next time you’re in a game, you’ll be paired with one of the executives, or someone else with a high rank. If you ask, they’ll go with you to find new clothes.’

She looked mildly surprised. Had Kuina not mentioned that it was mine? If so, I wonder how she would react once she found out. Perhaps this was a tidbit of information I should keep to myself for now.

Speaking of Kuina, I could see her now, watching me nervously through the crowds from a recliner on the other side of the patio.

‘Of all the people to choose, she really doesn’t deserve this.’

Perhaps not. But that’s what made her perfect for the job.

#alice in borderland #aib #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

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shinyatiny · 3 years

Text

Flower Crown - yungi

Chapter five: Exchange glances

_____________________________

The entire village was busy as the townsfolk prepared for the festival. People had decorated the numerous streetlights with glorious-looking red lanterns, and as it was already noon, the lanterns illuminated a noble path all the way to the arena. It was like a personal red carpet for anyone who was headed there. The children were throwing flower petals on the streets to welcome the honorable guests to the village, making both Jongho and Mingi smile with adoration.

Some of the villagers greeted Mingi as the pair waltzed through the crowd of people. He tried giving them a polite nod back but failed miserably, awkwardly smiling as he gave up being polished. Jongho laughed at Mingi's stiffness, gaining a grumpy huff from him as a response. "The town's very lively today." He muttered, subconsciously gripping Mingi's hand tighter as he lead him through the thick crowds of people. It usually didn't take much time to reach the huge fighting arena but considering the streets were filled with people from all over the continent, it was harder to get there. "I've never seen so many people in one place. Where I come from, houses are scattered everywhere on the mountains."

Mingi stared at Jongho's (rather muscular) back for a hot second before answering. "Oh yeah! I forgot the whole berserker clan lives on the mountains." He pondered as the corners of his mouth quirked up a little. "Isn't it cold up there?" He cocked his head to the side, eyes shining in fascination towards the other's race.

The berserker hummed, thinking of a fitting answer, his other hand in his pocket. "No, not really. I guess we're built to withstand cold weather. But hot weather, that's something I dislike quite a bit." He admitted, a sweet smile on his lips. "It makes my skin dry."

"Oh? I've never read about that." Mingi mumbled, kicking a small rock on the ground. "As I said, I've never seen a berserker before so this is a big deal for me. I've only read about your kind from my books." He mentioned with an adorable pout as if he was embarrassed he didn't have much knowledge about Jongho's people.

"You've read about berserkers?" The other quirked up an eyebrow as if Mingi could see it. He slowed down because of their heated conversation, figuring out talking with Mingi wasn't bad. "I'm intrigued now. What have you learned?" He grinned, looking over his shoulder.

The elf let out a breathy chuckle, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand like a fine lady of sorts. "Well for starters, berserkers have horns on their head and it's their most distinctive feature after their huge size. Although it seems you aren't really the model berserker out there. Even my father didn't realize." He added. Jongho nodded nonchalantly, anticipation written on his features as if he was waiting for something to happen. And when Mingi finally asked the burning question, Jongho got silent immediately.

"Why don't you have horns, by the way?"

Like a deer caught in headlights, Jongho froze in his steps, staring right ahead at the huge shadow of an arena. Mingi's eyes widened as he realized he had asked a question he never should have. His eyes found the gravel path under his feet and he gently took his hand out of the tight grip Jongho had it in. "I — I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked! I-"

"It's fine, Mingi. Don't worry about it." Jongho assured, turning around to look at the taller elf behind him. He noticed how uncomfortable Mingi looked at the moment, guilt filling his stomach, making him feel worse. His eyes found the hand he had been holding onto just a minute ago. Mingi was keeping his fist close to his chest as if he was afraid to move. "I'd rather not talk about it here. It's a lengthy and saddening story and I believe it'd be better if I were to leave it for next time." He lowered his gaze towards the ground. "Sorry."

"It's fine! I'm okay with that..." Mingi bit his lower lip, guilt washing over him like an enormous wave, getting rid of the happy thoughts in his mind instantly. "I apologize for making you feel uneasy, Jongho. That was never my intention." He mumbled, taking in a sharp breath. "I can see this topic brings you bad memories, so let's change it, shall we?" He faked a smile, rubbing his markings through the silky shirt. "I believe I was talking about what I had learned about berserkers from my books."

"Y — yeah."

"I know berserkers are known for not expressing their emotions too often. They rely on their own strength more than their emotions and I guess that's understandable in some aspects." He explained as if Jongho wasn't a berserker himself, a small but excited smile on his features. "Although I must admit, you seem quite different from what the books have described." He muttered to himself quietly, wishing Jongho didn't hear him, but he did. "Anyway, those are some of the things I've read about your kind. I don't want to keep the other contestants waiting, so maybe we should resume our walk there."

"You aren't wrong about the whole 'known for not using their emotions' thing. I guess we use our brains less than others and use our heads instead." Jongho added, slowly turning around and taking his first step towards the arena, again. "It's harder for some. For example, I don't have a hard time with it most of the time, but there have been days when I have shut down entirely and haven't talked to anyone. No one really knows what causes this but I guess it's the class. Berserkers are like that, and no one really questions it."

Mingi lingered behind Jongho as he took some more steps, lips pursed into a thin line as he carefully listened to every single word. Some of the townspeople made way for them when they realized it was the prince and waved at him. Mingi looked down in embarrassment, almost halting in his steps when a hand grabbed his. He looked up to see Jongho holding his hand once again in a tight grip, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can we hurry up?" Mingi said shyly, accepting the warm hand. "I dislike crowds."

"Of course," Jongho said, gently showing his gummy smile to the taller elf. He decided to ignore the bad memories and focus on Mingi's mood which had decreased tremendously when he had mentioned Jongho's missing horns. Of course, he felt bad for making Mingi feel that way, but how could he have known Mingi was going to ask something like that. "I'll take a detour so we can get there faster, okay?" He glanced at the other over his shoulder, his smile wavering as he saw Mingi's crestfallen expression.

"You don't need to do that. Just get me out of here, please." Mingi pleaded with a whimper, begged which made Jongho's heart drop instantly. Even if they've known each other for less than a day, the berserker didn't like seeing someone get uncomfortable because of him.

"I know, but I figured you'd want to see the other fighters. You'd see what you're going against in a few hours." Jongho explained while cocking his head to the side a little. "It would be the perfect opportunity to gain some information about the contestants in my opinion." He said nonchalantly, giving Mingi a stiff nod before grabbing his hand again. "Come on, we gotta hurry."

"Okay, fine."

°❀°

And there it was, the fighting arena, big and majestic in size. People were lined up by the huge metal gate, two guards with sharp, long spears standing on both sides, preventing the people from barging in. Mingi and Jongho wandered closer to the gates but kept their distance from the group of people since they weren't attending as spectators. The berserker glanced at Mingi and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's grander than I remembered." He hummed, gazing up at the huge arena up ahead. "I wish there was something like this on the mountains. The only entertaining thing I can recollect regarding my childhood was a playground I visited as a kid." He laughed, a warm smile plastered on his lips.

Mingi cocked his head to the side, a frown engulfing his peaceful expression. Every time Jongho has talked about his time on the mountains, there's been this melancholic feeling in the air, like something was completely missing. Although the way the guard talked about it didn't seem too concerning, it rang some bells in Mingi's head. "Oh please, I'm sure there's something you cherish about that place." He smiled, trying not to show his inner thoughts to the other. He didn't want to worry Jongho, after all. "I mean, this village isn't interesting either. There's only this large arena in the heart of the town and that's about it. Some petite workshops here and there and the rest are residences."

As if something triggered a memory in Jongho's mind, he went quiet for a minute. Mingi noticed the way he almost withdrew from the conversation, looking for an answer on his expression. The berserker seemed to be in a completely different world for a second. After a couple more minutes Jongho had seemed to gather his thoughts and smiled which resembled a fake smile to Mingi. "I wish I could tell you." He finally stated, turning his gaze away from Mingi and glancing at their surroundings in thought. "Could you stay here while I question the guards?"

"O- of course," Mingi said, stuttering as he was still processing Jongho's answer in his mind. That just proved he had no idea what kind of person he was. He was completely in the dark about the other's past and if he was being completely honest, it made him slightly afraid. The fact that he had been so comfortable around Jongho frightened him quite a bit, it felt like they had known each other for a long time, like he had known Seonghwa. But in reality, they've known for less than a day. "I'll wait here until you return, go ahead, yeah." He smiled awkwardly, still held by his thoughts.

Mingi watched as Jongho made a beeline to the guards, his fluffy red hair bouncing as he walked. The people in the line yelled at him, furious that Jongho had casually walked past them and was now the first in line. Mingi could only watch and observe from the distance as the guard and Jongho conversed.

"Mingi!" An awfully familiar voice boomed from behind him. Seonghwa had come to see him.

Mingi beamed when he realized it had been his dear friend who had approached him. The pressure in his chest calmed down even if it was temporary, Seonghwa's presence affected him and he couldn't deny it. Even if it was for a few minutes, the world around him seemed to calm down and all he could focus on was his friend who was warmly smiling and patiently waiting for an answer. "You came!" Mingi grinned, waiting for Seonghwa to initiate something, a reaction, something. And when Seonghwa simply smiled brighter at his tall friend and he wrapped his arms around Mingi's torso, he grew worried. "Seonghwa?"

The older elf hummed next to Mingi's ear, causing goosebumps all over his skin. "I'm sorry you have to do this, Mingi." He mumbled, arms tightening around Mingi's waist. The said elf sighed and leaned into the hug, giving Seonghwa time to collect his thoughts in peace. The topic sure wasn't anything cheerful. "Your father's in the wrong here, for making you go through this. Fuck, I should've prevented this from occurring." He hissed, fists gripping onto Mingi's silky shirt.

"Hey, you're not the cause of this, Hwa," Mingi mumbled, running his hand up and down Seonghwa's back in a calming manner. The other only sighed in contentment as he relaxed more into the hug. They didn't care about the stares they got anymore, the situation was too intimate for anyone to stop it. "Please, don't condemn yourself because of my shitty life. It's not your fault, not in a million years."

A dry chuckle left Seonghwa's lips at Mingi's remark. He pulled away, hands still on Mingi's hips, just for good measure. "I know, dear. I know." He sighed, closing his eyes with a pout. "I just — I don't want you to get injured. I'm aware there are healers there when the competition starts but what if something happens and even they cannot heal you? What if you lose an arm o-or a leg or something? I could never forgive myself..."

And when Seonghwa was done with his rant, Mingi giggled, he fucking giggled. When Seonghwa was worrying his ass off, his friend brushed all of the thoughts away as if he was some kind of a god. "I'm not going to get hurt, Hwa-"

"Promise me. Promise me you won't get hurt, please." Seonghwa whimpered, looking straight into Mingi's brown eyes. "I'd rather not dwell in guilt... Mingi, I've known you for years and years, you getting hurt would — it would break me. I don't know if I'd survive with the guilt, knowing I could've prevented this all from happening. So please, tell me it's going to be alright and promise me you won't get hurt out there."

Seonghwa was desperate, that was clear. To be honest, Mingi was a little moved because Seonghwa clearly cared dearly for him and treasured him as a friend. It made him happy. But this was something he couldn't promise even if he wanted to, the opponent is always unpredictable whether he liked it or not. There's no way he could know their next move, he wasn't a mind-reader. "Seonghwa... you know I can't promise you that..." He murmured, looking down at the gravel path under his feet. "The opponent is unpredictable, I don't know what they're capable of doing. And you know I'm not an expert in combat, I suck, to be honest. I don't even know what I have to do out there! How the hell am I supposed to fight in front of everyone; in front of my father when I have no idea what I'm doing?"

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," Seonghwa pursed his lips together, taking Mingi's hand and pressing his lips on the soft skin. Mingi widened his eyes in surprise but didn't comment on it. Seonghwa must be distressed about the whole competition. "Just know I'll be watching you in the audience among the others. I'll stop the fight if I see you getting hurt, with force if I have to." He smiled sadly, letting go of Mingi's hand. A thousand words were said without speaking with that simple gesture and Mingi understood every single one. "Were you waiting for someone?" Seonghwa asked, letting the heavy topic finally go.

"I — yeah. I was waiting for my guard to come back." Mingi smiled awkwardly, glancing at Jongho who was still chatting with the other guard. "He went to talk with the other guards. I guess he had something to ask from them." He hummed, keeping his eyes fixed on Jongho's figure. "You know, he's an interesting guy, I must say."

Seonghwa tilted his head to the side, waiting for Mingi to continue. "How so?"

"He's not from our village; he's not an elf, Hwa," Mingi stated nonchalantly, a sigh leaving his lips. He didn't expect the awestruck expression in Seonghwa's features when he turned to look at him. "What? As if there aren't any other species walking around town right now. He's just someone I never thought could join my father's forces, that's all."

As if he had just heard a huge secret, the silver-haired widened his eyes in disbelief, eyeing Mingi as if he was asking if what he had said was true or not. "You're kidding." He murmured. "How the hell is he a guard if he's not an elf? You know very well your father doesn't allow anybody to join his ranks, don't you?"

"I'm aware of that, yeah." Mingi sighed. "But I know what he is; he's a berserker-"

"He's a what now?!" Seonghwa interrupted with a restrained yell, eyes wide as plates. A member of the berserker clan living among elves wasn't what he was expecting at all. It was unheard of. "Mingi, that's extremely dangerous, you know that right? And how do you even know he's one of them? He doesn't even have horns and he's shorter than you." He questioned, a confused expression on his features as he observed Mingi's look.

"He told me," Mingi answered quietly, glancing away from his friend. "And how do you even know of this stuff? Have you met him before?" He countered, a similar expression to Seonghwa's on his features now. "You seem to know a lot about berserkers, Hwa." Seonghwa was about to reply but Mingi beat him to it, ignoring the irritated look on his friend's face as he continued to speak louder. "In any case, I don't think Jongho's dangerous. He's proved himself to be calm and collected, so in my opinion, there's nothing to be worried about."

"Mingi, a berserker in an elf village is unheard of! It's a long way to this village from the mountains, you know that. He would've had to walk for months to reach this village. Do you think he'd be that desperate to join your father's forces? Because I don't, there's no way that's the only motivation behind his leave." Seonghwa said with his jaw clenched. "I don't think you understand how grave this situation is, Mingi."

"I-"

"What're you guys talking about?" A familiar voice called out. Mingi sighed and turned to look at Jongho who was running toward his with a wide grin, waving his hand like a child. "Mingi, I know where we have to go now! The guard said the waiting room is there, in that big building next to the arena." He stated, pointing at a semi-worn-out building in the distance. The building's grey, moss-covered walls created a haunting picture in Mingi's mind and he sure wished the building would look better on the inside. The furniture better be nice. "And who's this? Is he your friend?" Jongho cocked his head to the side, an innocent pout on his lips.

Seonghwa huffed and looked away from the red-haired, sticking close to the taller elf. "I'm Seonghwa, Park Seonghwa." He said sternly, gripping onto Mingi's left arm. "I own a local jewelry shop here." He added, ending the conversation right there. Jongho blinked in confusion, slowly nodding with pursed lips. It seems Jongho hadn't realized Seonghwa's annoyed mood yet, and that's what Mingi was fearing.

"Oh! I don't think we've met yet." Jongho smiled brightly, his gums showing. Seonghwa hummed, looking at the hand in front of him, contemplating whether to shake it or not, but he didn't necessarily fancy being impolite. "Uh, Choi Jongho. That's my name if you didn't know it already. I don't know if Mingi mentioned me when I was talking with the other guards." He explained, a blush dancing on his cheeks out of pure embarrassment.

"No, he mentioned you, just not your name," Seonghwa said calmly, nibbling with his dangling earring. The piece of jewelry was one of his own creations; a silver crow with a blue jewel as its eye. A few years back, Mingi had mentioned it looked pretty on him and since then he's been wearing it almost every day, hoping to get some kind of a reaction out of the younger elf. "I heard you're not from around here, Jongho," Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, eyeing the berserker up and down.

Jongho's lip twitched, a look of horror replacing his features for a split second before it was replaced with a worried look. "I-" He started, worriedly glancing at Mingi's direction as if asking for help. "Yeah you — you could say that." He stuttered, scratching his nape out of awkwardness. "Did — have you heard anything else about me?"

Seonghwa snickered, finally letting go of Mingi's arm, a serious expression replacing his previous one. "Just the fact that you aren't an elf." He said. Mingi opened his mouth to say something but decided against it, grabbing Seonghwa's hand, feeling the several rings around his fingers. Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder at Mingi, his full attention on him and him only. "Mingi?" He asked, voice turning soft as if a switch was flicked just now. "Is something wrong?"

"Please, don't force the topic on him..." Mingi mumbled, some extra incoherent words leaving his lips in a rush. Seonghwa nodded gently, shifting his glare to Jongho. "Hwa, the festival should be beginning shortly, I have to go."

"I understand," Seonghwa mumbled, wrapping his arms around Mingi's waist one more time to hug him. The hug was swift, but it warmed his heart and calmed him down. Mingi smiled at the older's touchiness, accepting every little hug and kiss that was presented to him. "Be careful, Gigi. I'll be watching you." Seonghwa said, a smile decorating his lips wonderfully.

" I will," Mingi giggled at the cute nickname, unwrapping his arms around Seonghwa's torso. He looked at Jongho who was awkwardly watching the two interact with pursed lips. "Come on Jongho, let's go. You said you know the way to the waiting room, didn't you?" Mingi chuckled.

"Of course," Jongho said hastily, sprinting to his side immediately. "This way."

"Alright," Mingi smiled. "Bye, Hwa. We'll be seeing each other after the festival."

"Yeah, see you."

°❀°

Jongho pushed the heavy door open, a creak following it. It lead them to a hallway that was lit by the same red lanterns which were hanging from the streetlights. It wasn't anything special, just an ordinary hallway, a long one. But compared to the moss-ridden walls, the inside was much nicer. "Well then, shall we go?" Jongho raised an eyebrow, nudging the other playfully on his shoulder. A small yelp left Mingi's lips at the nudge but he brushed the thought away with a roll of his eyes.

As Jongho closed the wooden door behind him, Mingi observed the hallway, seeing a few people talking up ahead. The closer they got to them, the more Mingi began to realize they weren't from his village, the more he began to realize they weren't elves, to begin with. He halted in his steps, frozen in place as he watched the group interact with each other. What gained his attention was the unusual color of their hair; bright, royal blue. He had never seen anyone with blue hair before, at least not in his village and it intrigued him. It also made him fearful.

"What's he staring at us?"

"I don't know, ignore him. He's a weirdo."

Mingi hadn't even noticed that he had been staring at the group. What made him realize was the sudden silence in the hallway and the countless whispers sent his way. With a blink, he looked away from the group and turned to Jongho who was watching with narrowed eyes, observing the unknown people. He glanced at Mingi who seemed to be unsure of the situation himself and pushed the said elf behind him. "Are you guys going to compete in the festival?" He called for them, gaining their attention. Mingi widened his eyes and was ready to silence him but Jongho kept going. "If not, I have to kindly ask you to leave, this place is for competitors only."

This was one of the moments Mingi would like to bury himself in a hole and disappear from sight. He didn't want to cause any problems and Jongho had seemed to notice his distress as well, placing a hand on his shoulder for reassurance. "Maybe it's not a good idea to pick a fight with those guys, Jongho..." Mingi whispered behind the berserker, gripping onto his shirt for comfort even though he was towering over him because of the height difference. "Jongho-"

"Who are you to tell us that? Are you a competitor yourself Mr. muscle man?" One of the men laughed slyly, leaning against the wooden wall. "You look lost yourselves. Do you need help finding your way out? Out of this village perhaps?" He said with a lazy smirk. This made Jongho's lip twitch in annoyance and he sure hoped it wasn't visible because he was boiling with anger inside.

"Oh, I'm not the one who's fighting, prince Mingi is," Jongho said with a smooth grin, pointing at Mingi who was standing behind him, nervously biting his lip, almost drawing blood from it. If he could've, he would've loved to show them their reaction when he had mentioned Mingi's title, but oh well. "It's his first time being here, so obviously, seeing new people makes him nervous."

The man who had laughed shut up quickly, pursing his lips together and spewing something that seemed to be countless curse words. "Sure." He rolled his eyes in irritation, glaring at Mingi before ignoring the pair completely. Jongho laughed silently, taking Mingi's hand and leading him to the right room on the left. The elf followed put behind him and looked around the building in awe.

When they reached the main building Mingi was breath-taken by the interior of the waiting room. For starters, it was gloriously decorated with wine-red wallpapers with golden flowers embedded into it. Two huge pillars that were at least 4 meters tall stood before him, looking grand as ever. The room was bustling with life, people everywhere. It didn't tone down his anxiety at all and even Jongho seemed to pick up on this, leading him towards a less-crowded corner. Although the festival was only beginning, everyone was already seated at the long tables, glasses full of what looked (and smelled) like their finest grape wine.

Their attires were something Mingi was blown by, majestic and noble-like. He felt rather small in everyone's presence but ignored the gut-twisting feeling in his stomach and focused on the scent of wine and food in the air. Some of the guests had noticed the elf prince and his guard, eyeing the pair from afar like they were something unknown to them. The hall got fairly quiet when they settled down on some benches next to the wall, everyone's attention thoroughly on Mingi and his companion.

The elf gulped down the lump in his throat, looking down at his shiny black shoes for comfort (of course this didn't really help). Cocking his head to the side, he whispered something to Jongho so quietly even the berserker didn't hear him. With a silent curse, he spoke a little louder. "Why's everyone staring at us?" He whisper-yelled, a bead of sweat forming on his neck. "This definitely isn't what I had expected. I hope it won't be like this when we get to the main arena."

"Ever considered they might be staring because of how you look, Mingi?" Jongho countered, whispering back. Mingi widened his eyes looking down at his outfit in confusion as if there was something wrong with his attire. "You look excellent, don't worry. I think everyone's staring at you because you look too fancy for this event. They're jealous." He grinned lazily.

"Me? Too fancy?" Mingi said, a crease forming between his brows. He switched his gaze from his pants to Jongho only to see him smiling widely at him, small crescents forming in his eyes. It almost, almost melted the iceberg of nervousness in his heart, but not entirely. Despite the warm aura Jongho radiated, Mingi couldn't help but feel a little on edge about the whole situation. He never wanted this in the first place as he was forced to compete by his father's orders. Seonghwa's words made him even more nervous. "They can stare all they want, I don't care. It's not like I look terrible." He grinned back, trying to contain the disappointment in his heart.

"Right, of course-"

"I will not let you fight with that outfit! You look hideous, disgusting!" A sudden, loud voice resounded in the hall. Everyone turned their heads towards the abrupt noise at the door, Mingi and Jongho included. "Your piercings are a disgrace here, I won't tolerate something this sickening here, get out of here before I'll throw you out myself!"

"Come on, this?" Another voice, a deeper one responded, a hint of playfulness in it. "You're saying this is hideous? Do you not have an eye for good clothing?"

"I'm saying this outfit of yours isn't pleasing to look at. As I said, it looks terrible on you." The previous man yelled impatiently. Mingi had spotted the yelling man at the doorway, shouting at someone tall, very tall. "Yunho, please go change your outfit into something more traditional, I beg of you." He pleaded, stiff shoulders slumping down in defeat when the other only shook his head. "You're going to compete in that?"

"Why of course I will. Why wouldn't I? I want to fight with style, Mr. Daesung. I'm sure you understand." The man named Yunho declared, quirking up an eyebrow as the corners of his lips lifted upwards. "Also, who are you to boss me around? I don't live in our village anymore so why would I need to follow those silly rules?" He said, leaning against the doorway. "I'm here to have a little fun since the chief sent me an invitation letter, that's all. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go sit somewhere more peaceful." He added with a wide, warm grin.

Everyone's eyes were glued on Yunho's figure as he stepped into the awkwardly silent hall, looking around for an empty seat someplace quiet. Mingi, too, was watching the unknown man, but something more interesting piqued interest in him; his outfit.

This man named Yunho was drop-dead gorgeous. Mingi could've sworn he saw something shimmering under the see-through shirt he was wearing. Yunho's outfit seemed to gain attention from the other guests as well considering what he was wearing was nothing like the traditional outfits everyone else had on. It was closer to Mingi's outfit which made him glad he wasn't the only one with taste. Jongho seemed to ignore the commotion as he was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

And when Yunho seated himself on a wooden chair situated on the opposite wall, his silky shirt shifted with his movements. Mingi's eyes went wide when he saw the other. Yunho's gorgeous markings reached from his back all the way to his toned stomach. The dark tattoos gracefully complimented the golden piercing on his belly which made Mingi's heart race for some reason or another.

Then it happened. A smirk, a simple smirk from him was able to set Mingi's cheeks aflame and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. It probably wasn't since the stares he got from Yunho were more intense than the ones his father gave him this morning.

For the first time in a while, Mingi was completely flustered because of someone, and that someone was Yunho whom he didn't even know.

#ateez #yunho #mingi #yungi #ao3 #ateez yungi #jongho #ao3 writer #writer #fanfiction #ao3 author #elves #fluff #cute

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machi-kun · 4 years

Note

Hi! If you’re still writing for the fic requests, 45 for stony? Btw I soooo love the high school reunion fic ❤️❤️

we love two scheming geniuses scheming against bastards, in a world where everything went better

****

“Me and Rogers are not on speaking terms anymore.”

"I am very sorry to hear that.” Thunderbolt Ross - Secretary of State Ross, the son of a bitch - says, without a single speck of remorse. “I suppose now is when you tell me you won’t help me find him?”

“You know me so well.” Tony replies through-gritted teeth. “You know I’d love to, but I can’t.”

“And you want me to believe you have no way of tracking Rogers? Through his shield, or his suit?” Ross raises his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“I did, before Rogers removed them.” Tony clarifies. “You think he didn’t know where the trackers were?”

“And I suppose everyone else did too? Romanoff, Wilson?” Ross smirks cruelly. “Maximoff? You’d really let her walk around unsupervised?”

Tony’s jaw clenches so tightly his cheeks hurt. “Why not? She’s a big girl. And if I’m not making my way to a cell right now, why should she be? Some would argue I need more supervision than she does.”

Ross barks out a weak laugh, nodding curtly to himself, as if terribly amused. “If you had told me that just a few years ago I would have definitely agreed with you. Lucky for you, you are not the biggest fish I have to catch anymore, Stark.”

“I’m sure I can live with that. Although, to be clear, I want you to know my feelings are very hurt.”

“I’ll make sure to write that down on my report.” Ross sneers.

“Report to what?”

“The UN.” Ross reminds him firmly. “Or did you forget this is what this whole mess is about? To put the Avengers under the supervision of a council that’s prepared to deal with the messes you leave behind?”

Tony clicks his tongue. “Right. And their escape is gonna be part of that report?”

“How else would I explain why they are not here?” Ross asks him with distaste, as if Tony’s being purposefully annoying.

Which he is.

“Their escape from a very secret, very illegal maximum security facility?”

Ross pauses, his silence dangerous. “You have something to say to me, Stark?”

“I’m just wondering how that little project of yours is gonna fly. Keeping superheroes trapped in the Raft - did anyone in the UN approve that, or did you just make that decision for yourself?”

“Wouldn��t you like to know.” Ross smiles, a vile, ugly thing. “You don’t worry about it, Stark. It’s none of your concern.”

“What if I make it my concern?” Tony presses.

Ross looks at him for a long, very uncomfortable second. “Why? You worried for Rogers, is that it?”

Tony’s hand clenches into a fist beneath the table.

“Do I have to repeat myself - I don’t care about Rogers. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t want to know. I tried to work with him, I tried to reason, obviously it didn’t work. And I don’t work with people like that - bad for team morale.”

“You, complaining about not listening to reason?” Ross laughs. “I guess old dogs do learn tricks.”

“You would know.” Tony jabs, through a false smirk - if he dares to stretch his lips too wide, there will be too many bared teeth to disguise it as a smile.

Ross looks him up and down, as if considering if he should press the issue further, and Tony sits ramrod straight in his chair, spine stiff as metal, refusing to cower under the bastard’s calculating gaze. He has no reason to. Stress, pressure, and guilt - they are Tony’s old friends, and Thaddeus Ross’ judgment is not stinging enough to wound his thick skin, not punishing enough to bruise.

People are so used to see him in the suit that they often forget Tony has been wearing armor long before Afghanistan. They forget Tony has been playing this game for a very, very long time.

Ross shouldn’t forget. He’s seen Tony fight like this before. He should be more careful.

But it seems he has forgotten too.

Well.

His mistake.

“I guess I should say I’m sorry about you and Rogers, but I don’t think you would appreciate that.” Ross mocks, as he gathers his papers and folders and tucks them under his arm, slow and dragging, as if he’s savoring the motion - savoring his victory over Tony, over the Avengers, standing there as Tony is forced to sit down and look up at him, as if the mere difference in the level of their gazes is akin to defeat. “I doubt you would have invited me to your wedding, anyway.”

“We were not engaged.” Tony hisses. “We weren’t like that.”

“Not for lack of trying, right?” Ross stares him down, provoking. “Rogers might have other priorities, but you sure would do anything to protect him, even lie. It’s a shame he doesn’t feel the same.”

“Are you done?” Tony snaps, angrily.

Ross huffs out a weak laugh, and turns to leave, not sparing a single glance back. “Don’t forget we have a meeting tomorrow at noon. You better bring me some good news, Stark.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Tony replies, but Ross is already closing the door on him, and suddenly, Tony is blessedly, completely alone in the conference room, and only then he can sag and relax in his seat, taking in a breath so deep is lungs hurt.

“Christ.” He mumbles to himself, tiredly. He runs his hand over his face, pressing his fingers into his eyes as if that could chase away the sleepiness, and says, “Please tell me you got it.”

“I got it.” Steve says - his voice low and a little distorted over the speakers in Tony’s watch, a little worse for wear, but still a better comfort than anything else he could have asked for. “Nat is getting the files to the UN as we speak.”

“That’s going to be some news tomorrow.” Tony mumbles to himself, leaning back in the chair. “The press is going to put us through hell.”

“Good news, I hope?” Steve asks, and Tony can hear that he’s smiling.

“Yeah, well, Ross did ask. He just didn’t specify who the news should be good for.”

“I don’t think he’s going to be very happy to hear he’s going to jail.” Steve muses.

“Then he should have been more specific.” Tony quips back, and Steve laughs breathily on the other side of the call.

It’s been only a couple of days, and Tony already misses him something awful. He groans, and somehow Steve, with his stupid Tony-sense (something he surely learned from Rhodey), knows Tony is being whiny and mopey (Rhodey’s words, not his). He would go to Rhodey but he can’t right now - it would raise Ross’ suspicions, and though Rhodey won’t admit, he’s still a little upset he managed to get a black eye in a fake fight. He’ll definitely make fun of Tony is Tony shows up saying he misses his boyfriend when the whole country is hunting said boyfriend all over the world.

“Just a couple of days more, Tony.” He assures, soft and sweet, and Tony wishes he was here, so this would be over, Ross and Zemo both would be over, and this could all be forgotten as one long, horrible nightmare. “We’ll be fine.”

“I know.” Tony grumbles. “I just - I hate letting him think he’s won. I hate the smug look on his face.”

“Look on the bright side.” Steve tells him. “Tomorrow, you can be the smug one.”

“Oh, I will. And I will be even worse once you’re back. No more of this... secret dating schtick.”

“I thought you were having fun sneaking around?” Steve teases, and Tony wants to kiss him silly.

“I was, but you know what’s gonna be even more fun? Having Ross behind bars so I can take you out on a real date.”

“I can’t wait.” Steve says, almost in a sigh - and there’s something dreamy about it, hearing his voice through a call; Maybe it’s just because Tony misses him, or maybe because he’s just too old and too soft and too... too goddamned in love, but there’s something about this, about this Steve Rogers that’s mellow and shy, that's vulnerable only when they’re alone, when they trade whispers and secrets and kisses in the dark--

Tony just... misses him. He hates this being apart thing.

He wants this to be over.

“I’ll sleep in your room tonight.” Tony tells him, sultry, because he knows the effect it’ll have, and he’s not above using it to get what he wants. “If you get here fast enough, you might still find me there when you arrive.”

Steve makes a tight pause. “I’ll be there in five hours.”

Tony laughs, for real, a genuine laugh, for what feels like the first time in months - and he misses the sound of the call disconnecting, but that’s alright.

“See you soon, honey.” He mutters, and though his body is still tired and his bed - Steve’s bed - will be empty when he goes to sleep, he knows he’ll wake up with strong and warm arms around him, no matter what.

Soon, Ross won’t be a problem anymore. Better yet - Soon, Steve will be home.

That alone is enough to make his life just a little bit better.

#ask #machi writes #rogers-stark45 #yes hello cw is completely fake in this au #stevetony #stony #superhusbands #steve rogers #tony stark

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theawkwardterrier · 4 years

Text

Fake It, Make It

A tropey Steggy Secret Santa gift for the excellent @sagesiren/@theeleganteuropeanwoman! Wishing you as good an end to 2020 as you can get, and an amazing 2021!! ✨✨✨

Summary: When Steve tells his mother that he is now dating a woman named Peggy Carter, his mother immediately wants to meet her. Which Steve would, of course, be perfectly happy to arrange, except that he is not in fact dating Peggy Carter (as much as he might want to be).

Read on AO3

Steve’s mother has been a nurse for thirty-three years. She’s familiar with the medical system and its limitations, and she’s a straight shooter even when it comes to her own mortality.

So when her doctor sends her for more tests after her annual physical, she mentions it to Steve during their weekly phone call.

“Dr. Nakhwa is worried,” she admits. “It’s bloodwork and scans now, but it might become something very quickly.”

“What can I do?” Steve asks, immediate and stricken. He had been trying to work on dinner as they talked, and his pot of water roils and hisses without answer.

“I’ll let you know if there’s anything,” she assures him practically, then sighs, quick and heartfelt and without drama. “But if it is something, I’ll just be so sorry for all the things in your life I’ll miss out on. Your first gallery show—”

“Ma,” Steve protests. No one knows his art better than she does - she signed him up for all the free afterschool art classes and every summer camp they could afford, and there are still paintings of his stored in her apartment a decade after he moved out - but he got his practicality from her, started training in carpentry on the recommendation of George Barnes back when he was a teenager and knew that there wouldn’t be money for college. He’s been able to do more custom woodworking lately and word has been getting around about his skill, but he’s accepted that he won’t be making his living off of the fine arts.

Undeterred, his mother says, “Oh, hush, even hobbyists can have dreams. But if you don’t like that, I’d be happy to see you in a relationship instead. It would ease my heart to know that you’ve found someone who can be beside you.”

And because easing his mother’s heart has always been at the top of his priority list, Steve finds himself blurting, “I’ve actually been dating someone. Now. I’m dating someone now.”

“Oh?” she says keenly. “Well, I hope to meet them someday soon.”

Steve coughs. “I’m sure you will.” He hopes that he’s somehow magically become a better liar in the past thirty seconds than he was for the first thirty years of his life.

Seemingly forgetting her earlier seriousness entirely, his mother adds, “What can you tell me about them? Can I have a name at least?”

“Peggy Carter,” Steve says without pause.

Later, he will ask himself why he didn’t just lie. It’s too soon, I don’t want to jinx anything. We made a bet and I’m not allowed to say her name out loud for a week. She’s a spy and I can only tell you her alias. He will berate himself for not just diving for some sort of distracting conversational offramp: the still-boiling pot, the cat yowling down in the alley, “that’s not important now, what else did your doctor say?” But he will never wonder why this was the name which came out of his mouth. He never has to search for it. She’s always on his mind these days.

“Peggy Carter,” his mother repeats. “Well, I’ll be happy to meet her. I’m off two Saturdays from now, if the two of you would like to drop by for a visit.”

His mother is the only blood family he has, that he’s ever even known. He’ll do anything for her. Even, apparently, say yes to this.

His mother’s follow-up scans come back clear. She tells him that in one breath, and tells him in the next that she’s so looking forward to meeting Peggy this upcoming Saturday.

“I don’t want to put this off until the next time I have a health scare,” she says. “And I could tell she’s important to you just by the way you said her name.”

So in his relief at her news, and to his later horror, instead of saying that he and Peggy have broken up, instead of saying that she has an emergency, instead of saying that she’s gone back to England indefinitely and they’ll just have to do it some other time, he says, “We’re looking forward to it to.”

When Steve confesses his predicament, Bucky laughs so hard that he slips off of his stool at Finnegan’s and almost knocks himself out on the bar.

“Could you at least help while you’re doing that?” Steve asks, torn between impatience and desperation, but his best friend just collapses into laughter again.

His mother already knows most of his friends. He supposes he could hire someone, but that seems like it might be taking it a step too far. And anyway, he’s overwhelmingly thankful that his mother is still healthy; it seems ungrateful, a temptation of fate, to give more weight and trickery to the lie.

Which means that there’s really only one thing left to do.

It doesn’t mean he’s relishing the prospect under the circumstances.

(Though he wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it under others.)

He asks Peggy Carter out for what’s probably the strangest date of her life and certainly the strangest of his on Monday, just as they’re finishing their lunch break. The rest of the crew, coolers over their shoulders, is already heading back over to the job site - Morita knocking his knuckles against that hideous brown hard hat of Dugan’s, Jacques explaining something as Gabe leans in - but Steve always does a quick sweep for trash just to make sure they’ve left the area clear. Peggy is heading in the other direction to track down Phillips. The boss is still legendarily prickly, but he doesn’t trust any architect but her these days.

“Peggy,” Steve forces himself to call before she’s disappeared. He wishes that this were just another one of those times that he had called her back for those innocuous, desperate five extra minutes of chatting. “I need to—Would you—Can I ask you a question? A favor, I guess?”

She tilts her head in invitation and he spills the story as quickly as he can, the rip-off-the-bandaid method.

“—and if you aren’t busy on Saturday, I was wondering if you could come over to say hi to her. It wouldn’t have to be for long, but it would make her really happy and I would—I’d really appreciate it. I can’t tell you how much.”

He stuffs his twisting hands into his pockets as he finishes, and pushes back his shoulders, hoping that he’ll still have a bit of dignity even once she’s rejected him. He doesn’t think she’ll be mean about it - he knows who Peggy is, the type of person to hand back hammers to the apprentices who’ve dropped them with a wordless wink, the type who lets someone else pick the takeout place if they’re having a bad day even when it’s her turn - but still, she’s Peggy Carter, and he’s Steve Rogers, the random guy who she knows from job sites and now the time he’d lied to his mother about dating her and then asked her to help him keep up the ruse.

“That certainly is a predicament,” she says instead of any of the gentle letdowns he was imagining. “But I must ask: why did you pick me?” It’s chilly today but bright, and the noon sun glints off her hair. He catches a smile, there and gone again, at the corners of her mouth.

“I said the first name that came into my head,” he tells her honestly, and then, just as honestly, “And I knew that my mother would like you, if you ever happened to meet each other.”

“Hmm,” says Peggy, smile all the way gone now, as if he’s disappointed her somehow. Her eyes are still soft, though. “Well, I suppose it’s quite lucky I am free on Saturday, then.”

“Lucky,” Steve echoes, and tries to figure out whether it’s true.

“You absolutely will not go out in this weather,” his mother admonishes, her arms set in a way that Steve is extremely familiar with.

“I’m certain that the subway—” Peggy starts.

“Of course the subway will be running,” Sarah says with the confidence of a born New Yorker. “Late and jam-packed, announcing that they’re going express any damn time, and there’s no reason for you to be on it.”

Peggy looks over to Steve as if he might step in, but even as he gives her a wide-eyed, helpless shrug, his mother is already leaving the living room and heading down the hall, calling, “I’ll get fresh sheets for you two, Steve, but please find Peggy something to wear.” (Sarah Rogers is surprisingly strong, but she’s also rail thin and an extremely charitable five foot two, and Peggy is...not. Something Steve has absolutely no complaints about, to be frank.)

They’ve told his mother that they’ve been seeing each other for nearly six months - Steve mostly left that part of the storytelling up to Peggy, who managed to spin something that had enough details to seem plausible but wasn’t so elaborate that Steve had felt bad about misleading his mother with a fairy tale. But even if their relationship was real, there’s no reason to assume that they would have spent the night with each other, that they would be comfortable sharing a bedroom.

“I’ll sleep out here,” Steve says immediately and with vehemence.

Peggy casts her eye over the couch, more of a loveseat really; the living room is too small for much else. “Will you be removing your head or your feet to fit, then?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Voice low to avoid his mother’s uncanny hearing, he says, “This whole day has already been more than you agreed to. I don’t want to force you into a situation that would make you uncomfortable.”

“I would say the same as it regards you,” she responds. “And if I was uncomfortable with the situation, I believe I would be the first to know. Now, I think I was promised something to sleep in?”

The collection of clothes he keeps at his mother’s is small, but he manages to dig up a large T-shirt and a pair of flannel pants for Peggy and the same for himself. She smiles at him, leaving to change, and he takes the opportunity to do the same before turning to put the sheets his mother had found on the beds, faced head-on with the reminder of the close quarters of his bedroom.

There isn’t much to see: his bed, the tiny closet, a dresser. He used to do his homework at the kitchen table because there wasn’t room for a desk. His bed frame had been a gift representing several birthdays and a Christmas as well, back in elementary school. Every other weekend, he would slide the trundle bed out, gleeful to finally have a chance to have sleepovers with Bucky somewhere other than in sleeping bags on the living room rug. The pull-out had used up all the extra floor space and he’d had to crawl off the end of the bed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, but when he and Buck were telling each other scary stories quietly enough that his mother wouldn’t hear or reading comics under the covers, taking turns holding the shared flashlight, what had it mattered?

It definitely seems to matter now.

He stares at the two beds, tucked compactly side by side, and realizes that soon he and Peggy are going to be lying in them. Even if he pushes them as far apart as possible, it would be barely two inches before the dresser got in the way. No matter what, their hands could touch across that gap. If she’s a mobile sleeper, they could end up practically curled around one another…

He scrubs a hand vigorously over his face, mussing his hair and probably leaving him red-cheeked, but gathering himself. He makes both beds with care, returning to the linen closet to add top sheets, comforters, and light blankets too; he has no idea how Peggy likes to sleep.

The thought leaves him wide-eyed once again, but it’s too late to force his thoughts elsewhere. Peggy knocks just then, and he tells her to come in, hoping that his voice sounds normal as he does.

“I should have gotten you a toothbrush,” he says immediately upon seeing her, ready to scramble over and take care of it, but she waves a hand.

“Your mother gave me one. She also added my clothing to a basket of laundry she was taking downstairs so I would have ‘something fresh to wear in the morning.’ She wouldn’t hear any protests.”

As if she couldn’t have already figured it out from everything else today, Steve says, “She’s like that.”

“Yes,” Peggy says, thankfully amused. “I assumed.” She turns to the beds and asks, “Now, which would you like?”

Which one he’d like? He can’t think of anything that could matter less. He lists for her the pros and cons of each bed with the care usually reserved for life-changing decisions. She follows along seriously, though he recognizes the touch of humor around her mouth.

Ten minutes later, he is lying on the trundle, and she has her back to him as she examines the spines of the books on the small shelf mounted beside his bed.

She has washed her makeup off and her hair is in a single, simple braid. He’s heard the guys on the crew refer to certain women as “unbelievably beautiful.” Peggy isn’t that. She looks exactly as pretty right now as he had imagined she would, exactly as pretty as she does in her jeans and sensible blouse and Day-Glo vest on the construction site, or the time he had seen her dressed up in a gown for some awards gala, or when he had picked her up that morning and saw her wearing that red sweater with a black pencil skirt and felt lucky just to be walking next to her.

Still, he does find looking at her just now a bit hard. Difficult, he amends quickly, shoving the word hard away. She’s somewhat difficult to look at like this, unraveled and lovely.

“How fantastically minded you were,” she comments, smiling over her shoulder before flipping over to face him. “Is this still the sort of thing you like to read?”

“I usually end up with a bit of everything,” he admits. “But yeah, there’s some great sci-fi and fantasy being written these days.”

“It can be nice,” she says, “visiting other worlds.”

“It can be,” he agrees, not telling her that that’s what today has felt like: however awkwardly, unconventionally attained, it’s been like a brief, wonderful visit to another world.

They were only meant to stay for brunch.

“Don’t cook anything,” he had begged his mother. She was always covering shifts for other people, running errands for neighbors when she wasn’t working, on her feet all day regardless. Having a day off where she hadn’t already scheduled sixteen things was something of a miracle, and he was going to force her to take advantage of it. “I’ll cook.”

Voice somewhat insultingly skeptical down the phone, she’d said, “So, do you already know that this woman has a cast-iron stomach, or are you looking to poison a guest in my home, Steven Rogers?”

In the end, they’d agreed that he would take care of picking up fresh bagels from their favorite place. Of course, when Steve and Peggy arrived, his mother had already set out lox, cut fruit and vegetables, hard boiled eggs, and about six different types of cream cheese.

“You promised not to make anything,” Steve said irritably, giving his mother a hug.

“I promised not to cook,” she corrected. “Boiling a few eggs isn’t cooking. Even you can do that, after all.” And Peggy laughed from beside Steve and stepped forward to introduce herself.

Steve had promised Peggy that they wouldn’t stay longer than a couple of hours, and so at exactly 1:30 he glanced noticeably at his watch and asked if she needed to go to “that other thing you had scheduled.”

“Thankfully not,” she smiled, finishing her piece of crumb cake (his mother swore she just happened to have it left over). “I postponed it, and I’m certainly happy that I did.”

And despite the situation, Steve was happy too - happy that she’d come, happy that she stayed. She and his mother traded stories about their respective jobs, lamenting that even though they were of different generations and worked in completely different fields, one with women as the majority and one with them in the minority, they had so many of the same experiences: dealing with stressed or snappish or condescending people, having their knowledge and authority questioned, and managing to get enormous, important work done skillfully anyway.

“I still love it,” Peggy had said as they moved from the kitchen table to the living room. (Steve barely thought about taking the seat beside Peggy, and then started overthinking why he hadn’t considered more.) “Despite everything, I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Sarah, voice already fond, as if she’s known Peggy more than a few hours. “I wouldn’t either.”

They’d talked about how Steve had taken shop class in high school - a few knickknacks he’d made were even still scattered around the apartment for his mother to show off; when she’d passed one over to him, even though he recognized its amateurishness, he felt a tenderness fill him, as if he was holding the hand of a younger version of himself. When he passed it to Peggy, he felt the gentleness of her hand on it too.

Later, he would realize that it was a bit suspicious for him to talk about how he’d gone from an A- in Shop to a carpentry apprenticeship to starting to work with Phillips’s general contracting company: surely if they had truly been dating, they would have talked about it all at some point before. But in the moment all he saw was the flicker in her eye as she told him that, oh, she certainly remembered his first day working with the crew.

It wasn’t that they didn’t notice the weather turning - the first flakes fell as the light began dimming low and gray toward evening - it was only that they were a bit busy making hot drinks and setting up the Trivial Pursuit board. This was probably how Steve would have been spending his afternoon regardless, but he watched Peggy carefully for signs that she was eager for an escape and simply too polite to say so. He even leaned over when his mother excused herself briefly and asked whether she was sure she still wanted to stay, to which she had responded, “I’ll almost certainly have my sports and leisure wedge after my next turn. Why in the world would I leave?”

When Steve went downstairs to retrieve the Thai takeout they had ordered, he did see that it was getting pretty messy outside. The wind had a bite to it, too, so he gave his order of miso soup to the man who’d delivered the food alongside the tip, and decided to see if there was an extra pair of boots around for Peggy to use later.

But after they’d finished with their dinner and watching The Sound of Music, which had been just starting as they’d flipped through TV channels, his mother had turned to the nine o’clock news, saw how hard the snow was coming down, and refused to be persuaded that a change in footwear would be enough. Truthfully, Steve would probably have stayed without question if he had been by himself, but the fact is that he came with Peggy. Peggy, who had stayed long past the anticipated two hours. Peggy, who he was not actually dating. Peggy, who he was now meant to sleep beside.

“I’m sorry for the early night,” he apologizes again as they lie together in the darkness with the radiator hissing slightly. Not realizing how things would turn out today, he had scheduled a 9 A.M. consult with a couple who were looking to have some built-in bookshelves added and he has be up early enough to bring Peggy home and get back to his apartment to change before heading into Manhattan.

“It’s no trouble,” she assures him again. “There’s nothing at all the matter with getting a good night’s rest.”

“And I’m sorry again about everything. About how today turned out, and for getting you into it into the first place.”

“Oh Steve,” she sighs. “Will you shut up about that, please?” and even though her tone lacks sharpness, the words are enough for him to flip over toward her in surprise. “I truly enjoyed myself today. And I would have come even if you had simply asked me without any sort of exceptional circumstances.”

“What do you—?”

“I liked meeting your mother. She’s nothing at all like mine, which perhaps is why I appreciate her so much. I liked sitting around and talking, playing games and eating good food and singing along with Julie Andrews, and I liked spending time with you.” Her voice dips even softer. “I liked it all, and I would have come anyway, if you had only asked.”

With the cloud cover and the snow still coming down, the window lets in little light. He can’t make out her expression, can’t see if she’s just saying things out of tiredness, or reminiscing about a pleasant afternoon, or if she might just be hinting at something which would justify the elevated beating of his heart.

He nearly thanks her for being a good friend, but somehow, the way that she’s turned onto her side to face him as well, an invitation, makes him breathe in and say, “But you’re Peggy Carter. I don’t know why you would have bothered.”

“Is that what you think of me?” she asks. He’s never heard her voice with that twisting edge to it and it takes a moment for him to recognize it: hurt. “That I’m some high and mighty miss, and I would never deign to even look at the likes of you?”

“No!” he says, not frantic, hard and simple and factual, trying to make her see. “It’s just that you’re Peggy Carter,” he repeats. “There are probably a dozen awards on your shelves. I’ve seen you skewer guys with a half dozen words for propositioning you, then get right back to work. Phillips doesn’t like anyone except his dog, but he turns down projects if you aren’t going to be working on them. You wanted to design buildings and you made that happen for yourself. You’ve worked on dozens of projects and they’re all different but I’ve wanted to stay in each one, even the offices.” His voice doesn’t drop as he continues, even as he half hopes that his words will be lost in the pillow beneath his head. “You’re creative and determined and gorgeous and fascinating and funny. Just talking to you should be any thinking person’s favorite thing. And I’m only a guy.”

She inhales deeply through her nose, as if she is trying to keep her temper somehow, but when she speaks, her voice is calm. “When there are novices on a job, you’re the one who helps them through their nerves and shows them the right way to do things. Other women have told me that they like to work on the same site as you because they know you would never make them uncomfortable and you’ve fought anyone who tried. After an evening out, you give your share of the tip and then stay behind and add a bit extra. You do it every time, Steve. I’ve watched you.”

“Anyone could—”

“The first day I met you,” she interrupts, “you introduced yourself to Mr. Jarvis. Most people don’t, you know. They’re too busy noticing Howard to even pay attention. The day after, you brought soup for Ana because you had heard she was ill. I don’t know anyone else who would have done that, bring soup for someone who he’d never met, the wife of the electrician’s admin he’d only known for a day.” Even with the hiss and clank of the heating, he thinks he can make out every dimension of the breath she takes in before she adds, low and direct, “You’re loyal and sharp and kind, you make wonderful art and adore your mother, and you’re so upstandingly moral I half expect you to ride into work one day on a white steed. Had you not kept moving away every time I tried to get near, I would have asked you out long ago. And if you had asked me all the way back then, before I knew anything else, I would have said yes too, just because of the soup.”

It’s been three years since he started working with Phillips, three years of watching from across construction zones as she cut stubborn men down to size with a sharp word (or her fist if necessary), of lingering at lunch for the chance to see her smile or hear her opinion on current affairs or some article that they had both read. All that time of thinking that she would never possibly consider him more than a friend, and she already had.

“Can I—” he starts, his hand moving tentatively into the tiny space between their beds. She catches his fingers with hers and lifts them to her mouth, placing a delicate kiss on the backs of his knuckles. His breath comes sharply into his lungs.

He has, a time or two thousand, pictured some imaginary world where she might kiss him one day. This isn’t at all how he envisioned it in any of those dreams - they were never in side-by-side twin beds at his mother’s house, for one thing.

Nothing in him cares.

When she says goodbye to him the next morning, his mother gives him an innocent smile and a reminder to drop by a Duane Reade for chapstick and...anything else they might need. He almost tells her that they were only kissing, but doesn’t think it will help. Besides, he was trying to avoid embarrassing details by stripping the beds before she woke up so she wouldn’t notice that the sheets had only been truly mussed on one.

(He wouldn’t have been expecting that sleeping in a narrow bed with Peggy half sprawled on top of him would be wonderful, but he’ll be the first to admit that he isn’t right about everything.)

Exactly fifty-one weeks later, his mother asks him how he and Peggy are celebrating their anniversary. He’s halfway through telling her before he realizes that she’s not supposed to know that it’s their anniversary at all, that she’s still meant to think they’ve been together a year and a half already.

“As if you’ve been able to lie to me once in your life, Steven Rogers,” she says with a laugh. “You said her name and I knew that you weren’t telling me the whole truth the same moment I knew that she meant something to you anyway. Now tell me about the ring.”

“How did you—?”

He has the feeling she’s waving a dismissive hand on her end of the phone. “Nothing in the world easier than reading you, sweetheart.” Her tone turns a bit thoughtful. “Peggy, on the other hand, she’s a bit harder. But even that first time you brought her here, I could tell. When the time comes for you to ask, she’ll say yes.”

She’s right.

#steggysecretsanta #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #sagesiren

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection.

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging.

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest.

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors.

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek.

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance.

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00.

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.”

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.”

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso.

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.”

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.”

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house.

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him.

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie.

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed.

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.”

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next.

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked.

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.”

“Messy how?” Pierre asked.

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly.

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.”

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked.

“About what?” Pierre responded.

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.”

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.”

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.”

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her.

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.”

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer.

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.”

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.”

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion” — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special.

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag.

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent.

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

November 28 (sun)

Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews.

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said.

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling.

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?”

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished.

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep.

December 18 (sat)

Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table.

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home.

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard.

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch.

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done.

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

January 26 (wed)

Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted.

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet.

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.”

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor.

“Coming.”

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport.

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked.

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?”

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough.

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge.

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching.

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex.

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.”

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice.

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone.

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured.

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

February 20 (mon)

Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen.

Are you free right now? I need to call you.

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered. I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text.

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head.

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?”

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?”

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense.

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered.

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise.

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully.

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it.

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said.

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

#hockey imagine #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #Pierre-Luc Dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagine #columbus blue jackets

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years

Text

Unfinished Business: Part 2

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of past abuse, Blood, Fighting, Swearing, etc.

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

+ random character/group I made up (Romboldi & The Black Hats)

Word Count: 3,548

Summary: Y/n’s secret gets out and the gang scrambles to put an end to the Black Hats. But one thing is for certain, nothing is more terrifying than when the hunter becomes the hunted.

Requested by: @msbzowy

Part 1 | Part 2

Y/n took a deep breath before walking into the meeting room with Tommy, her hand slightly clamming up in his. Despite their love for her, she couldn’t shake the thoughts from her head about them possibly hating her.

Walking through the mahogany doors, the frenzied conversations stopped, as all eyes landed on Y/n.

Polly gasped and she immediately walked over to her, enveloping her in a huge hug. Ada followed, complimenting her new look as she made her way to her.

“What the fuck y/n you’re supposed to be ruling New York by now!” Arthur said rather loudly, coming over and pulling her into a rough embrace.

“Nice to see you too Arthur.” She said chuckling as she made her rounds around the room.

John handed her a shot and gave her a hug, with Finn and Michael joining in shortly after. She knocked the shot back and made her way over to a pregnant Esme and scowling Linda.

“Nice to see you both! Gosh I’ve missed you!” She said gently hugging Esme and awkwardly hugging Linda. She never did like her too much as Y/n noticed early on in their relationship.

After exchanging pleasantries she waltzed back over to Tommy, taking a seat by him and lacing their hands together. Polly smirked, her eyebrow raised at he interaction.

“So tell me y/n...how is New York?” She asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“Oh it’s...well it’s New York. Crowded, loud, cars everywhere. But there’s sky-high buildings that are being built, it’s amazing to see. She said taking her hand from Tommy’s and placing it in her lap.

“Do you like it more than Small Heath?” She asked.

“God no. I grew up here Poll. This is home.” She said, leaning back in the chair.

“Oi! Y/n, not to be so forward but what the hell are you back in this shit hole for?” He asked, handing her a glass full of whiskey. She smiled and took a sip, looking at Tommy.

“Is it alright if I tell them?” She asked, knowing Tommy usually handled the tough conversations.

“Go ahead love.” He said. Her heart jumped at the nickname, it’s been so long since she’d heard it.

Taking a swig of whiskey, she stood up and walked towards the head of the table slowly.

“So, I know last time we parted ways a bit harshly. But all past feelings aside, I actually came here on business...and it involves everyone here...” She said looking down at her drink in her hand.

“That doesn’t sound good. What kind?” Michael asked.

“Uh, Mafia business. Mr. Romboldi....of the Black Hats.” She said taking another sip of her drink.

“God them fuckers again? How the hell did ya get involved with those rats? He already blew our shit up last time!” Arthur said, his brows furrowing.

She looked nervously at Thomas, and he just quickly nodded for her to continue, all emotion leaving his face.

“Well, you all know how I can’t just sit around, so I went job searching when I got there. Not long after, I noticed how dangerous it was being there on my own. I was almost attacked a couple times...” She said brushing a stray hair out of her face. Gently steering the conversation away from that subject.

“Anyways...I needed protection, and plus, I had skills that other jobs didn’t need so I went to the source of why I left. I decided I’d work for the Black Hats but not to betray anyone, just to get money coming in, get some protection, and maybe some information over time. They don’t know I’m actually Y/n Y/l/n. I’ve been working undercover. I’ve been using an alias, faking an accent, and using fake papers to get my bearings in the gang. And I’m now their contract killer.” She said knocking back the last of the drink. She let the first half of the news sink in, walking towards Tommy, placing a hand on the back of his chair.

“Holy shit. Really?” John asked.

“Yeah. I’ve killed people all over the country to earn that spot. I’m not proud of how I got it, but I had to do what I had to do.” She said looking away, out the window at the people milling about.

“Oi! Bet they gave ya a nickname like one of them spies aye?” Arthur asked jokingly.

Y/n chuckled and nodded her head.

“It’s dumb but I liked it at the time. They called me Quick Shot.” She said chuckling.

“I got it on a mission when I was sniping for his men one night. The people that were on the list came up and I took them out quick, no one really knew where the shots came from but I was gone before they could find out.” She said.

“Damn.” John mumbled.

“But you’re back here though dear...why? Why does this involve us?” She asked concerned. Polly could always steer the conversations back to the problems at hand. Often times she had the most sense of the group.

Y/n walked away from Tommy and over to the whiskey and poured another glass as she spoke.

“As we all know, the last deal went sour to say the least, so he wants something else. He told me he wants Tommy’s gin. He wants to distribute it in America, and to get stocks and shit. So...he sent me here to persuade Tommy to pay full price for them running it back. He won’t be lowballed again. Over my two years there, I’ve unfortunately gotten to know how he works, and if he comes after one person he comes after the rest just the same. If Tommy refuses, he will most likely kill me and him, as well as anyone in relation to the Peaky Blinders.” She said sternly.

“My god...” Polly said, sipping her tea as she looked at Tommy. His face still the same. But y/n could practically see the gears turning in his head again, another plan in the works.

“So they don’t know you have history with us?” Ada asked.

“No. And if they find out, you might as well kiss me goodbye. They may be stupid but they can sense someone who’s faking. I honestly don’t know how I’ve made it this long if I’m honest.” She said sitting back by Tommy, sighing and rubbing her temple. The drinks going to her head slightly.

Tommy shuffled in his seat and got up, standing behind her chair, speaking sternly.

“I’ve made a plan. It must be followed exactly as I say. No exceptions.” He said, Ada rolled her eyes bracing herself for whatever wild plan was about to spew from his mouth.

“Y/n is going to call Mr. Romboldi from a pay phone to tell him I accept the offer. When they get here in a weeks time, we’re going to meet them in Charlie’s yard. I’m going to order crates to be shipped there with my fucking gin, and you all will stand by while I negotiate. To help Y/n stay out of their grasp, we’re going to place her on sniper duty. If they ask about her, don’t tell them anything, act like you’ve never met her.” He said.

“And what if word gets out? You know it travels around here.” Linda said.

“Then you’ll just have to keep your trap shut so it doesn’t. Not until this business is dealt with. I’m sure you can manage.” Y/n said annoyed. Linda glared at her. She was always a chatty one.

Tommy smirked, and looked down at his watch.

“Y/n?” Tommy asked.

“Yes?” She said looking at him, her eyes boring into his.

“You’re going to go to the pay phone tomorrow like we discussed, but try to keep it simple. I don’t want him asking too many questions.” He said.

“Alright. What time?”

“Noon”. He said, walking over and pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“Okay.” She said, before making conversation with Ada and Arthur. Her laugh filling the room as she joked around just like old times.

Meanwhile, Tommy looked out the window, the plans rolling around in his head amongst the scraping of the tunnels that plagued his mind every day. A mix of dread and happiness filling his bones. As much as he was happy to see y/n back, he couldn’t stand people being out to get her and his family. And he couldn’t bear losing her again, especially to those men. He hated that they forced her to do certain things and now that she was back home, he wasn’t going to let that happen again. He knocked back his shot, the liquid streaming down his throat attempting to numb the pain he felt as he processed what happened over the last 2 hours. Just 2 hours ago he was coming back from a meeting with Johnny Dogs. Just 2 hours ago he was out taking care of things around the shops. Just 2 hours ago his life was half empty. The only things in it at the time were his family and the sounds of shovels scraping through the tunnels, consuming his mind. But then as if a prayer was answered by some god he didn’t believe in, there she was at his doorstep. And he was determined this time to not repeat the past.

“You okay?” Y/n asked, walking over to him. Her red heels clicking along the wooden floors. He sighed and turned around to face her, his tired eyes meeting hers as he felt himself relax a bit at her presence.

“How about we get out of here?” Tommy asked, taking her hand in his.

“Are we going to your place?” She asked. He nodded and she smirked, seeing his lips turn up in a slight smile.

“Everyone be ready by noon tomorrow. I’m heading home.” He said, taking y/n’s hand and pulling her out with him. Everyone sat there for a moment and Polly smirked.

“Are they seeing each other again? After what he did?” Ada asked her.

“I’m sure of it. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder and I think that’s true for them. He never wanted her to go Ada. He told me after she left that he regretted it but I told him whats done is done. But you know him....he’s never been one to let things go.” She said taking a drag from her cigarette.

“Who would’ve known Tommy Shelby had a heart.” She said chuckling.

The rest of them laughed as they went about their business. All of them wary about what the next week would hold.

Meanwhile, back at Tommy’s estate, he gave Y/n a quick tour around, before leading her up to his bedroom.

Her eyes widening at the huge room and lavish king bed.

“Wow. You really went all out here aye?” She said smiling, running her hands along the cotton sheets. He caught her hand, and took it, turning her around so she was facing him. He smiled slightly as he brought his lips to hers. She kissed back, dragging both of them onto the plush mattress, feverish kisses being placed on her neck by the one she thought she’d never see again. They continued their escapades, their worries for tomorrow quickly slipping away as the daylight faded around them.

The next morning Y/n awoke to the sound of Tommy’s light snores, feeling his arms wrapped around her in a protective embrace. She wondered how long it had been since he’s slept decently, knowing all too well how his thoughts kept him up at night.

She let him sleep though, quietly getting up to wrap her bare body in one of Tommy’s robes as she made her way to the master bathroom. She went in and cleaned up, slowly coming to as the hot water dropped over her skin. When she got out she dug through her suit case to find a black dress and light sweater and decided that would work for the day’s activities. She quickly tensed though at the thought of conversing with Mr. Romboldi in an hours time.

As she put her last bit of makeup on, she heard Thomas get up and walk to towards the bathroom.

“Good morning love.” He said, kissing her cheek. She smiled and touched it, still in disbelief that she was here with him. She hated that’s she was bitter before, but now she’s grated to be there.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” Y/n asked.

“Better. Better than I have in 2 years.” He said. She smiled and turned to hug his bare form. He had a genuine smile on his face as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Tommy Shelby, I never knew such a smile existed.” She said. He chuckled as he stepped away preparing the bath.

“Are you going to go call him?” He said glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Yes. I’ll go to the shop as soon as it’s done and report what I hear.” She said gathering her things.

“Alright. If you need help call me. I love you.” He said.

“Love you too.” She said before heading into his room and out into the luxurious hallway. She took a deep breath as she got in one of the cars and drove to the payphone in town. She put the coins in the slot, waiting for the operator to answer.

The phone crackled as she held the metal device up to her ear. “Hello how may I help you today?” The operator asked.

“Hi. I’d like to place a call to 5023. New York.” She said. Then waited for the dreaded rough voice of the man who took her in, yet whore’d her out to his enemies.

“I was expecting to hear from you dear. How is that shit hole treating ya?” He asked.

“Fine. Nothing beats New York, sir.” She said in her fake accent.

“Did you accomplish what I sent you there for?” He asked.

“Yes. He will pay the full price for our services. You are to meet him at the place you went last time. I think he called it Charlie’s yard?” She asked, acting like she didn’t know where it was.

“Yes, I’ll never forget that dump. Tell him we’ll be there Monday. I’m boarding the ship in an hour. We’ll meet them at noon. Good job miss Anderson.” He said.

“Alright, I’ll pass that along to him. Thank you Mr. Romboldi.” She said.

“You’ll be back here in no time, don’t worry. We can’t afford to loose our best shooter to a grimy razor gang, plus, I have some new men who’d love to meet you.” He said, an evil tone lacing his voice towards the end as he egged on the conversation.

“Goodbye. See you when I get back.” She said hanging up. Not waiting for a reply. She took a deep breath and shook the thought of giving herself to more random men out of her head and got back in the car, looking out at the busy streets as she neared the shop.

She immediately went in and said hi to Ada and Polly who smirked at her, knowing full well she stayed the night with Tommy.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Polly asked.

“Just reporting to Tommy, is he here?” She asked glancing around.

“Not yet, but you can wait around here. I want all the details.” She said smirking.

Y/n smirked and sat down in a chair near Ada.

“Yes we fucked, what more do you want me to say?” She said taking a cigarette out of her pocket, Polly reaching out to light it.

Ada smirked “Well are you all dating or not? He hasn’t been with anyone since ya left for gods sake!” She said excitedly. Y/n’s eyes widened a bit in shock. Thomas Shelby not fucking around was something she’d never thought she’d hear.

“Well we definitely made up for lost time, but I don’t know if I’d call it dating. Hell, I just came back yesterday but I felt like I’ve never left. What do I make of that?” She asked.

“I think you should ask him. I’m sure he’s already said he loves ya. I can see it between you two.” Polly said. Y/n smiled remembering earlier at his house.

“Alright, I will.” Y/n said, watching the door, waiting for him to burst through.

Not 5 minutes later he did, walking straight into his office, his face expressionless as usual.

“Guess that’s my cue.” Y/n said sighing and reluctantly getting up.

“Good luck my dear.” Polly said before turning back to her work.

Y/n walked to the closed door before her and knocked three times, just as she did all those years ago.

“Come in.” Tommy said, his desk strewn with papers.

Tommy glanced up from his papers and motioned for her to shut the door. He quickly shuffled some of the papers away and sat up, his eyes on her as she took a seat in the leather chair.

“How did it go?” He asked taking a cigarette out of his metal case. Rubbing it on his lips before lighting it.

“Okay...I told him you’d accepted his offer and that you’d meet at Charlie’s yard on Monday at noon.” She said looking away from him.

He studied her movements, the way she fiddled with her hands, her eyes avoiding him, her brow furrowed with worry.

“What else did he say y/n?” He asked quietly.

She looked down as she spoke, tears threatening to fall.

“He said that I’d be back in no time. Meaning he probably wants me back any day now. He doesn’t know I’d be there with you all so I could just stay here as planned, but I don’t want them to find out I’m here. He said he had new men who’d love to meet me.” She said with a disgusted look on her face.

Tommy sighed and took a drag of his cigarette.

“I’m not letting them take you back, y/n. You don’t have to worry about that.” He said looking into her eyes.

“Well once his men find out I’m not back, he’s going to get word of it.” She said quickly wiping a stray tear from her face.

“If they do, we’ll just have to kill them then.” He said.

“What about the men back there? I’m not whoring myself out. I’m not doing that again. He’s a sick man.” She said as more tears fell. She hated doing things for her boss but it was a comply or be killed type of situation back then.

“You won’t have to do that anymore. You’re a blinder do you understand?” He said getting up and walking over to her. She got up and he pulled her into a hug, her cries muffling as she rested her head on his chest.

“I won’t let them hurt you. You’re safe here. Do you hear me? You won’t have to do that, I’m not ever sending you away again.” He said.

Once she calmed down, she looked up at him, his ocean eyes staring back at her.

“I love you...y/n I really do.” He said.

Y/n nodded and smiled. “I love you too.”

Later that night she got home late after joining the gang at the Garrison. Tommy was in the bathroom taking a shower while she was getting undressed and putting on a nightgown. She only had a finite amount of clothes, so luckily she was able to find the time to shop earlier during the day.

“I thought you’d be sleeping y/n.” He said as y/n sat up in bed reading one of Tommy’s books.

“I can’t, I have something on my mind.” She said, turning the pages.

“What is it?” He asked, getting in bed beside her. Kissing her shoulder as he watched her skim the book.

“Polly and Ada asked about us today. And Ada asked if we were together again...” she said, her heart racing as she spoke.

“Do you want to be together?” He asked. She took a moment to think, mad that she was so bitter before, but she decided to let those feelings go to make way for new ones. New beginnings perhaps.

“Yeah, I’d like to. Only if you promise to not boot me out again.” She said looking at him.

“Then we’re together then. And I’ve told you before love, I’m never making that mistake again.” He said kissing her shoulder before lying down. She smiled and closed the book, lying down and cuddling into his side for the night.

Over the next few days, they grew in their trust and in their relationship more. And when they weren’t dealing with the matters at hand, they decided to tell the family, which wasn’t much as they all expected it.

Y/n looked around the room at all of them, finally feeling okay with herself and with who was in her life, and by her side. But she couldn’t shake the nerves of her past, as she still had to deal with them when they got there.

Monday came around rather quickly though, much to everyone’s dismay. Her stomach lurched as she got a phone call at her new desk at the shop.

“Shelby Company Limited.” She said nicely.

“Tell y/n y/l/n we have a surprise for her. Courtesy of Mr. Romboldi.” He said and then hung up.

Her stomach lurched again, but in fear. She got up quickly, her face paling as she steadied herself at her desk, walking with shaking hands to Tommy’s office. It was an hour before noon. An hour before she had to get to her position.

She barged in frantically not caring that Tommy was in the middle of discussing the plans for today with Arthur and the boys.

“Hello y/n. What is it?” He said putting his cigarette out and sitting back in his chair with an annoyed look on his face.

“T-they know. Thomas they know my name. They know I’m here.” She said fear dancing wildly in her eyes.

Within seconds the boys grabbed their weapons and their caps and headed out the door to Charlie’s yard. Thomas on the other hand stayed behind.

“What happened y/n?” He asked gathering his things.

“I um, I got a call a few minutes ago. And he said tell y/n y/l/n we have a surprise for her. Courtesy of Mr. Romboldi.” She said her hands shaking.

Thomas paced around while checking the rounds in his gun. He pulled out a sniper rifle and loaded it as y/n stood there.

He quickly shoved the gun into y/n’s hands and stared at her.

“Y/n. Hey. Listen to me. I’m not letting him get you. I’m taking you to the rooftop overlooking Charlie’s yard ok? They won’t notice you. You’re going to go there and stay there unless we need you on the ground ok? Just take care of the men around us.” He said.

“Okay...” she said and followed him out to the car. He stepped on the gas, booking it there. It was easier for her to keep calm when she was hunting down other people, but it was terrifying knowing she’s become one of the hunted.

As they sped down the dirt covered streets they parked outside of an abandoned 3 story building. He quickly looked around and led her up to the roof to where she could see clearly. The wind nipping at her neck slightly as she adjusted her position and steadied her breathing. She could see John and Arthur standing guard below holding two suitcases and Michael, Finn, and Isiah on the opposite side waiting. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tommy walk out into the middle of the area, checking his watch. As if on cue, a black dingy car pulled up as 5 men climbed out including Mr. Romboldi. They each had either a handgun or machine gun with them, along with a lone black suitcase.

She saw as Mr. Romboldi came near Tommy, sitting the briefcase on an old wooden table and opening it, revealing what looked to be a lot of money inside.

“I’m not here to take your money Mr. Romboldi, I’m here to give you your gin and your payment for your troubles.” He said as Arthur and John brought over the suitcases.

Mr. Romboldi smirked and lit a cigar. The smoke rising into the air.

“It’s not for you Mr. Shelby. It’s for y/n y/l/n.” He said.

“That name doesn’t sound familiar.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette as he stared blankly.

“Are you sure? It sounds an awful lot like someone who we have workin’ for us by the same first name. You thought you could fool us y/n?” He said, loudly yelling the last part and looking around the rooftops.

Y/n quickly ducked down before he could look over towards the building she was perched on. Steadying her breathing as she waited.

Mr. Romboldi continued to ramble on.

“We know she’s here because she hasn’t came back to our headquarters, and my men are very fond of her. They’d know when a pretty girl like that goes missing.” He said. Still loud enough that she could hear.

Tommy blankly stared as he shook his head again, denying he knew her.

“Look, the only way we found out for sure was because one of them, a certain man she was seein’ mentioned her not visiting him. He was ya know...scheduled to see her one night this past week if you know what I mean...” He said chuckling.

“And he brought it up to my men and they contacted me while I was on that shitty boat. Now....I know we have a deal, and I’m accepting your payment this time, but I also have a deal of my own ya hear?” He said.

“I hear you. What’s the deal?” Tommy asked.

“You give me the money and the gin, and I pay you for y/n. She’s the best I’ve got in more ways than one despite her foolin’ us and I know she’s here. We researched into her little background and couldn’t find nothin’ on a fuckin’ Y/n Anderson.” He said taking another puff of his cigar.

“That’s unfortunate.” He said, growing tired of him talking. He motioned for Arthur and John to go as he sat up a bit.

“You ain’t leavin’ not with out giving me my girl.” He said. Her stomach turned over how he talked about her. Like she was some piece of meat ready for the wolves.

Tommy smirked and leaned in closer to him, one of Mr. Romboldis men pointing a gun at Tommy and walking near him until the barrel touched his temple.

He paid the gun little mind and continued.

“If she’s your girl...then why was she in my bed then aye?” He said, as he watched the older mans face grow red with anger.

“You bastard! I knew it. You can come on out y/n we have a ship to fuckin' catch.” He said yelling.

“I know for a fact that she wouldn’t want be with you. You’re just in a filthy razor gang!” He said. Tommy attempted to get up but not before the man clicked the gun a bit causing him to stop.

John and Arthur raised theirs as the other men stood guarding their boss, not getting a chance to reach for their guns. Arthur started beating one of them while John threw some punches and disarmed the other.

Y/n slowly raised her head up a little, just enough that she could get a clear shot.

Mr. Romboldi got up and took all the suitcases and walked to the car as Tommy tried to grab the mans arm to disarm him. He shot the gun, the bullet flying through the air at a random spot, hitting a building nearby.

Y/n aimed for the guys who were getting too rough with John and Arthur and quickly shot two bullets, each of them striking them in the head.

It gradually got more quiet as two of the 5 were dead. But Tommy still struggled with the man who held him at gunpoint taking a slew of punches to the face and chest. Michael, Finn, and Isiah fought the other two, giving her just enough time to find an opening to kill one of the men. She shot striking the man going after Finn, hitting him in the chest. The other guy soon ran over to Tommy, attempting to help the other man attack him. Tommy pinned one down laying punches on his face as blood sprayed up onto his dress shirt.

Y/n didn’t hesitate though, instead she shot the man who was about to attack him from behind.

As she took a moment to get her bearings, she saw Mr. Romboldi grab a machine gun out of his car, aiming right for Tommy who was slowly getting up after beating the guy to death. He unfortunately didn’t notice her boss aiming at him.

Before Tommy could pull out his own gun, he saw a shot hit the guys head. The once ruthless, balding, red-faced mafia leader from New York lying lifeless on the cold pavement as he bled out.

Tommy looked up and saw y/n. The smoke from the rifle still floating off the gun and into the air. He had never been so happy to be staring at the barrel of a gun, or more so the person behind it.

Without thinking, y/n got up and ran down the stairs and into the open area and ran straight to Tommy, not caring about the blood and dirt caking her shoes as she did so. He welcomed her with a warm embrace, as she looked up and examined his face, he was bleeding from his temple and his lip, but other than that he seemed fine. Despite his injured lip, she kissed him for a moment before he stopped her and looked down at her.

“Thank you, y/n.” He said.

She just nodded and embraced him again. Happy that she had the man that she loved back in her arms, and a job she loved to go to everyday. As crazy as it was, she wouldn’t trade this life for the world, no matter the cost.

#msbzowy #asks #peakyrequests #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders oneshots #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #katiesfics

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years

Note

I loved your latest SVU Carisi fic! I would love something with Barba, please! Maybe something where he asks a coworker (either a detective or someone from the ME's office) to an event, either because he's lonely or embarrassed to go alone again.

A/N: Can I just say, I appreciate how general these prompts are for SVU because they really give me the room to go where the whim takes me? Because I do (not that I don’t love prompt lists, but this style just works for me with this fandom). I hope you enjoy the direction that this one ended up. Also, I watched several Barba episodes and a bunch of clips for “research” and that was a hole I was not planning to end up back in, but I still love him, apparently. Not quite as much as the first time around, but enough. Word Count: 2804 Tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster

“Mr. Barba! What brings you to my dark little dungeon corner of the world?” you asked, smiling brightly as the ADA strolled into the morgue like it was Central Park at noon.

“Y/N, please. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Rafael, or at least drop the ‘Mr.’ We’ve seen each other’s worst, there’s no need to be so formal,” he said, returning your smile with a small one of his own and a rueful shake of his head.

It was true that you and Rafael had known each other for years, since your school days when your stubborn and shameless self had wormed your way into the DA’s office, allegedly as part of a research project for school (a story that didn’t hold up when you never left). And he, still a young, brash ADA (not that the brash part had changed or ever would), had largely been stuck dealing with you as you poked through records and cases and pointed out all the places that they could have done better with handling the forensics of things. They never chased you out, because it came in handy over time and you had a charm that made your Nancy Drew nosiness, as he had nicknamed it, more amusing than annoying. By the time you had graduated, you were practically a part of the inner circle at that office, and it was easy to leverage that (along with your shining grades of course) into a prime position as a medical examiner.

Of course, the most valuable thing you had gotten out of all of it was still the friendship of Rafael Barba. He’d encouraged you through exams and romantic breakups and personal stresses without blinking and you’d done as much of the same for him as you could. He’d poured your inebriated ass into more taxies than you could count and sent you just as many hangover-cure breakfast deliveries. You’d laughed together, cried together, held each other up when the world seemed to be trying to crush you.

And still, at work at least, you insisted on calling him “Mr. Barba.”

“We have, but you’re also the one who talks about the need to keep professional lives separate.” You shrugged with a smirk. “Besides, it amuses you how much me calling you ‘Mr. Barba’ makes you squirm.”

He rolled his eyes. “I brought lunch.” He held up a familiar paper bag, no doubt containing sandwiches and raspberry turnovers from your favorite diner.

“Not dignifying me with a proper response I see,” you teased. “And bringing me food. Either I’m in trouble or you’re trying to bribe me for a favor. I hope it’s the first one, it’s always more fun.”

Your smirk widened and you waggled your eyebrows at him, waving him over into the little lounge area outside your office and pouring two paper cups of tepid coffee. He silently passed you your sandwich, hoping that you didn’t notice the light blush creeping up around his ears, or his quick intake of breath as you bit into it and moaned involuntarily. You both chewed in silence for a while, and you tried to just enjoy his company, as you usually did. But there was a strange tension in the air, unsettling the comfort of the silence and putting you on edge as you waited for whatever he came to talk to you about.

“Alex and Yelina’s tenth anniversary is coming up,” he said finally, trying to hide the strain in his voice, even though he knew you knew him well enough to notice it anyway.

You nodded silently, a sympathetic grimace on your face. You knew how much it had stung to him to attend the wedding and watch his childhood best friend marry his first love.

“They’re having a charity gala to celebrate. And personally invited me to go.”

You sucked in a hiss through your teeth. “Ouch.”

He nodded dejectedly. “I can’t say no to them. But I don’t know if I can get through the evening.”

“I could write you a doctor’s note. Fake some sort of illness preventing you from…I don’t know being in that large of a crowd or something?”

He laughed, and you smiled at the sound, knowing that it meant things weren’t quite as bad as they could be, and you didn’t need to break into your secret bourbon stash to fix them.

“Actually,” he said, buttoning his jacket and then immediately unbuttoning it again, as you often saw him do before a particularly difficult argument in court. “I was hoping you’d come with me, as my plus one. It’d really help to have a friendly face that I know can hold their own against the vultures.”

You sat in stunned silence for several minutes, staring at him. Your mind raced. Had he just asked you on a date? And if so, did you want to say yes?

When you didn’t answer, he shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat to get your attention. You jumped, startled out of your thoughts by the noise.

“I don’t want to impose; you were the first person I thought of. I know it’s not really your scene. I shouldn’t have asked,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, as if to tell you to forget the whole thing.

“Oh. Sorry, it took me a minute. I guess I just didn’t expect it. I thought you’d ask Olivia or someone, you know. I’d be happy to go with you though. I’d love to, really,” you started at the same time, leading the two of you to be talking over each other like fools.

You both stopped, you trailing off more than his abrupt end, and then you locked eyes and you giggled. After a few seconds of delay, he joined your laughter and soon, there were tears in your eyes and he seemed to be struggling for breath as you took absolute joy in the ridiculousness of it.

“Honestly Raf, I don’t know why you even questioned it,” you said when you had gotten yourself under control again. “Of course I’ll go with you. What else are best friends for?”

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, relief evident on his face.

“So how fancy are we talking? Am I going to need formal wear, or will a nice cocktail dress that covers all the bits be enough?” your eyebrows wiggled again and he chuckled.

The night of the event, you were just putting the finishing touches on your appearance – making sure everything was perfect down to every hair in the right place, but not like you tried too hard, wanting to seem like this was not as big of a deal as you had slowly worked yourself up into thinking it might be – when a knock on your door alerted you to Rafael’s arrival. When you answered, you were momentarily stunned, a tux shouldn’t seem all that different than his usual three-piece suits, and yet…

Luckily, he seemed just as thrown off by your appearance, and the pair of you just stared at each other.

Finally, you broke the spell, gesturing lamely behind you. “I just have to uh, grab my bag, and then I’ll be good to go.” You tried to smile at him, but you were pretty sure it came off as more of a discomforted grimace.

And why shouldn’t you be discomforted? All this time, there had never been anything between you (though you would be the first to admit that you had found him attractive when the two of you met). And now, suddenly, you couldn’t look at him without feeling that fizzy, almost nauseous twist in your gut, the flutter of your pulse at the sight of his smile, the overwhelming desire to absolutely wreck his perfectly styled hair and pressed lapel as you pulled him close and ran your hands over every inch of him in a sensuous war for dominance. You tried to tell yourself it was just the occasion, the fact that he had asked you to be his guest to an event that clearly meant a lot to him, and that it really meant nothing. If you could maintain the lie for long enough, you pretended to believe, everything would go back to normal.

The car ride over to the event hall was short, the time filled with a primer on the various important people (both politically and to him) that would be at the party. Most of it was information you already knew, but still, you let him talk, knowing that it made him feel calmer. And then you were linking arms with him, hand delicately wrapped around the fold of his elbow and walking through the grand arching doorway.

“Thus, into hell,” you muttered too low for even him to hear, forcing a smile.

Introductions were made, hands were shook, the air next to cheeks were kissed. You had not yet met the couple of the hour, but you felt like you had met the entire rest of their world, dragged into mind-numbing small talk about stocks and board meetings, policies and constituents (where they were numbers and dollar signs and goals rather than people). At some point, you were separated from Rafael by some women who were absolutely determined to drag you into their conversation about some community center building charity and the related press benefits of visiting the construction site. They all flinched and tittered uncomfortably when you pointed out that their manicures would get ruined and they’d just be interrupting the professionals actually doing the work and wouldn’t it be better to just do a ribbon-cutting photo op when the project was over?

Finally, you managed to extricate yourself and found Rafael by the bar, sucking down a bourbon like no one’s business. He turned to the bartender as you approached and already had a vodka soda waiting when you reached him.

“My hero,” you said taking a deep drink. “Don’t ever leave me alone with those people again.”

“That bad?” he asked, eyes dancing as he smiled at you over the rim of his glass.

“I think I felt my soul exit my body. Twice. Why are you drinking so heavily already?”

“Alex and Yelina just arrived. I managed to duck them, but not before I got to bear witness to the whole…loving couple photo op.”

“Oh. I’m sorry Raf. Still, if they’re here, we should go say our hellos. The sooner we do the sooner we can blow this popsicle stand, yeah?”

He grimaced and finished his drink. “I suppose you’re right.”

He turned to walk away and you tugged him back to face you.

“Wait, here,” you said, reaching up to fiddle with his bow tie, fingers skimming his throat in the process and you swore you felt him flinch at the contact. “You were crooked,” you explained.

“Rafael!” Yelina said, smiling brightly and pulling him in for a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know that,” he said, smiling at her in a way that made a soft twinge in your chest that you tried to pretend wasn’t jealousy.

“Congratulations, both of you,” he said, patting Alex on the shoulder.

“And who is this?” another woman in the crowd, who you thought had been introduced as the wife of some other senator but you hadn’t been paying that much attention, said, gesturing to you. “I mean I know this party is doubling as a charity gala, but you didn’t need to bring an example case.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, glaring at her.

“Oh you know what I mean darling. It’s not an insult, just stating facts that you obviously don’t belong. It’s little signs, you really do look…fine. But the hair, the clearance rack clothes, and when is the last time you had your nails done?”

“Y/N is one of the most brilliant medical professionals in New York City,” Rafael cut in before you could respond, curling his arm protectively around your waist. “And not that it’s any measure of character, looks fantastic by the way. But it’s an organic, genuine beauty so it’s no surprise that you don’t see it Mrs. Johnsville. After all, you haven’t seen your own genuine appearance in, I’d guess twenty years? Or maybe it’s jealousy causing you to say such spiteful things to the most incredible person in the room. Either way, I’d suggest you stop, before someone brings up your husband’s scandals and causes a scene.”

You turned your head to stare at him, lost for words. There was a not-so-subtle threat in his words, but that didn’t matter to you in light of the things he was saying about you, or the adoring way he said them.

He turned back to his old friends. “Alex, Yelina, I hate to do this, but I’m not going to stand around and let someone insult my date that way. So we’re leaving, but maybe we can get dinner sometime soon and catch up.”

“Of course, Rafi,” Alejandro said, his polite political host smile edging its way toward a smirk. “The four of us will have to do that.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Rafael said, sighing as you both sat in the car. “She had no right to speak to you that way. I…”

“Stop, Raf. It’s not your fault. And you jumped in like a knight in shining armor, no harm done.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, I’m a little disappointed that I got all dressed up for you and I didn’t even get to dance…” you stuck your lower lip out in an exaggerated pout that made him laugh. “But I’m sure you’ll make it up to me somehow.”

“And for having dinner with Alex and Yelina and I. Assuming you’re willing to. Which I totally understand if you’re not.”

“I was wondering if you were going to bring up that invitation,” you laughed. “And of course I’m willing. I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it as many times as I have to to get it through your skull, I’ll do anything for you, Raf.”

Suddenly you had a brilliant idea and you looked over at him with a grin.

“Uh-oh, I know that look…”

“You know what’s better than dancing and wining and dining when you’re dressed to the nines?” you said, eyes aglow the longer you thought about it.

“What?”

“Being dressed to the nines to eat greasy diner burgers! Let’s go to Hank’s!” You grabbed the hand that rested on the center console in both of yours, pulling it close to you and batting your eyelashes pleadingly at him.

He groaned and shook his head. “Alright.”

“You know,” Rafael said, shifting nervously as he walked you to the door of your building. “There was a bit of a wreck in the middle, but all in all, this wasn’t such a bad first date.”

“Is that what this was?” you asked, heart skipping a beat as your both stopped on the steps.

“Would you be mad if I said yes?”

“A little. I mean, you could have told me sooner. I would have done way cuter shit all night.”

He laughed, looking at you softly. “I don’t need you to do cuter shit. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“See, shit like that,” you waved your hands around in frustration. “I don’t have a good comeback compliment for you because I wasn’t expecting it. You threw me off my game, charming bastard.”

“Y/N…”

“If this was a date, I believe a goodnight kiss is traditional,” you smiled.

He leaned in, close enough for you to smell the cologne he wore and the alcohol he’d had earlier and the spearmint breath mint he’d picked up from beside the diner’s register when he’d insisted on paying. His lips brushed lightly against yours but he quickly pulled away, just enough to look you in the eyes.

“You’d better not be calling that my kiss,” you teased.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?”

Sighing in exasperation, you did as you’d imagined earlier and grabbed him by the lapels to tug him closer and press your lips to his. He sighed against your mouth, bringing one hand up to cup the back of your head gently and hold you closer, the other arm wrapping tightly around your waist. Your lips parted, opening up to him and your tongues danced together like it was what they were designed for.

Gasping for air, you both pulled away, and he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered.

“Night’s not over, yet,” you answered with a shrug.

“What?”

The words felt inevitable, but right, as they worked their way through your throat.

“Do you want to come upstairs, Raf? We can watch a movie or…dance…”

#Law and Order: SVU #Rafael Barba x Reader #reader is a medical examiner #normally I love a fancy ball/dance/etc. trope #but I kind of wanted to go a little differently with this #I don't know...did I get his voice right?#I think I did...

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carolofdanvers · 4 years

Text

𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 - nomad steve rogers x sw! reader

steve rogers is not usually the guy to seek out a stranger for relief, but after going into hiding post-avengers-breakup in amsterdam, the sultry red glow emitting from the neon signs in the red light’s district seem more and more tempting each passing night.

( warnings: nsfw, rough, sex work, descriptive smut, slight dom x sub undertones, dark! nomad steve, angsty, oral sex (male recieving), etc. )

Word Count: approx. 4.9k

this is my first one shot, my apologies for making it so long! i got a little carried away. tbh i’m thinking about turning it into a series if people like it enough, i think theres room to explore things here but for now just enjoy! i’d love some feedback if you have any! happy reading!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

To say that Steve Rogers was exhausted would be an understatement. After the fight that broke out in Germany, where friends became enemies and enemies became friends, the blonde super soldier had lost track of time. Although the memories seared through his mind like a surgeons cautery pen as if they were yesterday, the image of Tony in a rage and taking hit after hit, Bucky going under cryo in Wakanda, it had been almost a year. It was hard to believe it; the burner phone weighed heavily in his pocket with no calls or text from his former friend and wealthy fellow avenger. But, in the time he had been on the run, Amsterdam had been the most recent place to call a temporary home. He had stayed in places not so pleasant, like the little motels all across Russia as he backpacked further west into Europe, never really staying in any place for long. He was overly cautious; the man had lost faith in most forms of authority, which rang with such a strong sense of irony considering he was at one point the epitome of a law abiding citizen. Poor pre-serum Steve wouldn't know what to think of the man he had become; bitter, closed off, easily agitated, irritable, and even a bit cruel. He hated the world that had suddenly hated him, the world he found himself wishing he had never woken up into. Steve had become so unbearable that he and sam had split ways for a while, promising to reconvene in London should it be necessary. But now, Steve was on his own, staring out the window of his hotel room that had the perfect view of the canals that swirled like ink, and the bridge that lead right into the ever so alluring Red Light District.

During the day, the Red Light District was rather inconspicuous, perhaps slightly less attractive than the rest of the city, if anything at all. The bricks aligned in a herringbone pattern practically guided you past window after window of beautiful women, quite literally anyone you imagined. The closer you get to the area, the louder the buzzing of neon gets. The bars are usually pretty empty during the day, a few stray women, presumably escorts, looking to pick up an alcoholic or two having a drink at noon. Steve often found himself in these bars, but only during the day to find a place away from the tourist infested hotel and his sad, tiny hotel room. He never got anything to drink besides water, since alcohol metabolized far too quickly in his body to have any affect on him anyways. It was times like these that he missed Thor’s Asgardian brews, the only alcohol he had ever tried that made him feel something, any kind of buzz. But alas, he stuck to water in the dimly lit, smokey bars with sunlight seeping in through the above-ground windows.

The women of the Red Light District never tempted him, at least during the day. Steve had never found the appeal in casual sex. Yes, he was a man with desires and wants and needs, but part of him was too unbothered to try anything. He had Sharon, at one point in time, early on in his fugitive life, but they had since parted ways for the same reason he and Sam parted ways. The man was far too distant to really feel anything, but there was something about this place at night that drew him in more than he wanted to admit. Was it the otherworldly red glow that caught his eye? Or rather the shadows of women dancing in the windows, that same sensual red caressing their skin, barely dressed and jewels adorning their skin and necklaces resting against collarbones and heels far too tall for day to day wear? Perhaps it was the EDM that pounded from the many clubs, or maybe there was something else he couldn’t explain, a primal nature in him that drove him to near madness when he lay in bed trying to sleep, the soft red glow haunting him through the thin curtains covering the sliding door to a balcony. Sometimes, Steve would sit out there, watching the wonderland from afar, scratching his beard as he contemplated venturing into the maw of the beast. He never gave in, knowing the risk of being caught was serving time for treason at best.

But this particular night, Steve was insatiable. His own hands couldn’t possibly satisfy the craving that couldn’t be satisfied, the itch that just couldn’t be scratched. He was usually relatively satisfied after a few minutes, his hand wrapped around the thick veiny shaft of his cock and leaning against the headboard of his bed as he swiftly sent himself over the edge. But tonight was something else entirely. He had gone at it three or four times, his bare and sculpted chest glistening with sweat and his lower half slick with his cum. It didn’t help that his neighbor in the suite next door must have brought home a girl, because between the pounding of the headboard against the wall and the fake moans the poor girl had to emit was obnoxious, Steve couldn’t possibly take it anymore. He put on a few layers, as it was starting to get a little chilly in the city, as well as a hat to hide his face behind, and ventured out into the belly of the beast. He wandered for a while, keeping his head low for a while, until he realized how the red lights drowned out most features. his hat cast a deep shadow over his face, his hands shoved in his pockets as he finally lift his head to look up at the scantily clad women in the windows, waving at passerby after passerby. A few spotted him and fear coursed through his veins, but they didn’t recognize him, only thought he was handsome enough to warrant their attention. but he wasn’t drawn to any of them, not like he was drawn to you.

You were something else entirely. Although you were tucked away towards the end of the rows of windows, your presence was enthralling. He moved closer to the window as if you were a siren and he was lured to you by your song. You hadn’t spotted him yet, dressed in what was more of a burlesque showgirl kind of costume, almost pinup style. The crystals upon your leather bra reflected the haunting neon lights into fragments of color, bouncing around and catching the eye, although your perky breasts were just another set of eye catchers. Steve felt his cock twitch beneath the denim of his jeans, cursing his quick recovery speed considering he had left his hotel almost immediately after his fourth orgasm of the night. The super soldier took off his hat and ran his hands through his long hair to disturb it, never once taking his eyes off of you. you had finally spotted him at this point, noticing the handsome figure now smirking at you as you made eye contact. His stunning blues still managed to shine underneath the red light and something about that carnal look behind them made you forget any other potential customer besides him. you moved coyly, turning around to play shy and peeking over your shoulder, but turning around exposed your plump bum and swaying your hips only accentuated such a feature. You checked again to see if he was still watching, which he was, though a smirk was ever so present beneath his thick beard. Your mouth began to water at the imaginary feeling of his beard between your legs, the coarse hair tickling your inner thighs. This is what sent you over the edge, lifting your hand and summoning him with a single finger, your long nails accentuating the movement. Steve hesitated for a moment, looking over both shoulders, before moving towards the door.

Steve had never solicited anyone before. He had never really had one night stands, let alone payed anyone for sex. He was that kind of guy who wanted chemistry and a relationship between him and his partner, as cheesy as that sounded. He may still be adjusting to the modern world but it didn’t matter when he woke up from being under ice, he would have always felt that way. But he sure as hell felt chemistry between you and him. He entered the room just as you were closing the curtains, standing in the doorway as he took in the layout of the very small room. Where you stood was the giant window that you lured customers through, the lights that once shone through the window were now blocked by thick curtains and that very same red light that haunted his every filthy thought flooded the room. It was tiny, a small bed a little larger than a twin was pressed against the wall, with a sink directly across. It was clean, plainly decorated, but clean. He assumed that every room looked like this. Steve finally got a closer look at you as you stood there staring at him, your painted lips curved into a teasing smile. He noticed that bit of mischief was prevalent in you; he could see it in your eyes, your expressive brows, your hands that wandered your own body to tease him, and god, was it working.

"You're new here." you said, moving in to place your hand's on his broad shoulders beneath his heavy canvas coat, letting them slide down to his chest and slowly unzip. Normally, you'd ask for your payment ahead of time, but this man seemed like he was going to be payment enough. "I've never seen you around, neither have the other girls. Otherwise there would have been plenty of talk. It's not often we get handsome strangers like you in all to ourselves."

Steve was mildly surprised to hear english, tensing up as he felt you unzip his coat, but he couldn't help but let you. Your accent didn't sound like the natives of Amsterdam, making him more and more curious about you. Every new thing he learned about you made him crave you even more, and though he was holding back, he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore.

"Your accent. It isn't Dutch." he was curt, his words getting to the point and it only made you wonder if he would be this harsh and unrefined with your body, something you had been craving from a beautiful man like him.

"It isn't." You pushed his coat off his shoulders to reveal a white t shirt that looked a few sizes too small considering his bulging muscles. The sleeves look like they'd burst any moment. "Would you like it to be?" You purred, arms wrapping around his neck and playing with his long hair, hair that hadn't seen a barber in far too long. "I can be a sweet little girl from London, or perhaps a feisty American woman, or a seductive French Woman fresh from Paris," You mimicked every accent with uncanny precision, leaving the blonde man unsettled and impressed. There was more to you than meets the eye, apparently. Steve was tense as he felt you get even closer, the heat from your bare body enough to make him feel that desire come back full force, blood rushing to his lower abdomen and feeling himself get warm as his large hands finally found their place at your waist, that mischievous smirk growing upon your red lips. "I can be anyone you want me to be." you tugged at his hair playfully.

"To be frank, I don't care. Just be you." he pulled you in roughly, body to body, face only inches from each other. A silent agreement was made between the two of you; this was really going to happen. Your lips collided into a heated kiss. Steve had never felt so sexually attracted to someone in his life without really knowing them. Perhaps that was the appeal, the idea that he had no idea who you were, only that you were willing to do almost anything and be anyone he asked for some euros. He pulled away from the kiss, the two of you now panting as you tugged at the hem of his shirt and helped him lift it up over his head, revealing one hell of a body. What was a man like him doing in Amsterdam alone? Was he single or was he filling the void of a lacking lover with prostitutes in the window brothels? You did not have time to dwell upon those thoughts any longer as his lips found your neck, his arms wrapped around you from behind as you let out little mewls of pleasure. His scratchy beard sent shivers down your spine, lips leaving little red splotches that would surely darken over time. His grip was strong, commanding, a little harsh, but you liked that.

"What can I call you?" you purred, pushing your hips back into his and finding that he had a large bulge that was only getting bigger by the moment. "How does that feel, Sir?" you tested, your hand reaching behind to touch his face while the other rest on top of one of his hands and guided it to your breast. "Do you like it, Master?" Still not a satisfactory reaction from the man you wished to seduce, although he continued to work at your neck and let out a soft groan as his large hand cupped at your breast still covered by the costume you wore. "If you want it, come and get it, Daddy." This was the name, you decided, noticing him freeze at the name before his grip got rougher and he was a little more reckless with you. Steve caught that mischievous look in your eyes again in the mirror and finally the man let go of all his inhibitions. He spun you around to face him before he kissed you again, sloppily and full of need as if you were his life force. His hands wandered your back, pulling you towards him and pressing your body against his chiseled one. the kiss was suffocating in the best way possible, one of his hands sliding up to your face, leaving a trail of goosebumps upon your skin. It settled at your neck, momentarily wrapping around it as if he threatened to tighten his grip, before pressing at the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. He grabbed fistfuls of your freshly done curls that reminded him of the show girls he toured with back in the forties. Everything about you screamed home to him, despite you being completely unaware of what home even was to him, despite him not even having a home anymore. You pulled away only to look him in those beautiful light eyes, the two of you basking in the deep red light that perfectly reflected the heavy heat of the room. Your hands swiftly moved to undo his belt and slide down his jeans that pooled down at his knees, leaving him in his briefs. The imprint of his bulge clearly showed how he yearned for you, his shaft wanting nothing more to escape its confine. you guided him to the little bed and had him lean against it while you wedged yourself between his legs. The way you looked up at him had him going wild, innocent eyes looking up at him through thick lashes as you palmed his cock through the thin fabric. You loved the way he looked down at you, the way his knuckles had turned white from gripping the edge of the bed too rough. He looked down at you with an intensity you rarely saw in a man as you hooked your thumbs into the elastic waistband and tugged down, his member springing out and standing at attention as his boxers joined his other clothing on the floor. Steve watched in awe as you left open mouth kisses on the veiny shaft, groaning upon the feeling of your soft lips where he craved you the most. You were shocked at how large he was, although you shouldn’t have been just by looking at him. You lifted the mattress to grab a condom wrapper, tearing it open and rolling it over his hard member. You, like all the other sex workers in the Red Light District, refused to not use a condom. It was common knowledge and Steve silently agreed to it. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable. His hands found their place in your hair again as your tongue dragged from the base to tip, flicking over the slit that leaked clear precum into the latex. Steve’s body reacted more than he would have liked, involuntarily tensing. A low growl rumbled in his chest as you finally began to take him into your mouth, little by little as your hands with manicured nails wrapped around the shaft. He watched you as you began to bob your head, groans of pleasure escaping him. You looked so beautiful to him, unearthly and sinful with drool dribbling down your chin and watery eyes from taking his thick length into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. He hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in too long, unaware of how much he had been craving physical intimacy. Watching you move was enough to make him explode right then and there, but he held it back, the coil in his lower abdomen tightening up as he threatened to orgasm.

"Yeah, that's right, doll, take it." he moaned, really getting into things now. You looked up to see his eyes shut and head tossed back. His neck was tense and jaw clenched. He was already close to an orgasm, which was unsurprising to a woman in your field, however you didn't want the fun to end so soon. Your hands moved away from his cock and you braced yourself on either of his thighs as you began to deepthroat him, taking all seven inches down. Suppressing your gag reflex was easy enough, although your jaw ached from his girth. He let out a guttural moan, one he couldn't hold back like the others as your lips closed around him and bottomed out down your throat. He pulled on your hair, the pleasure too overwhelming, but you refused to let him give in. You pulled away with a gasp, strings of saliva connected from his cock to your lips as you breathed heavily and your hands moved at the pace your head had bobbed.

"Does Daddy like it? Does it make him wanna bust? Come on, Daddy-" Steve had enough of the taunting. He lift your chin up so he could look at you, a proper mess with smeared lip stick and drool, wiping it away with his thumb.

"You drive me insane." was all he said before he scooped you up and placed you on the bed. He kicked off his clothes that pooled around his ankles and swiftly undid your own bra, your nipples hardening to the cool air as Steve hovered over you. Once again, his lips found their place at your neck, admiring his marks that had now deepened and went over them again, but unsuspecting you had been so consumed with the feeling of his lips on your neck and trailing down that you hadn't noticed his hand slip away from your waist and slipped beneath the fabric of your lacy promiscuous bottoms. Your eyes, which had previously been shut as you enjoyed his lips on your neck, flew open as you gasped, back arching up towards his hovering body upon feeling his fingers slide between your slick folds. Steve wanted nothing more than to slide into you right then and there upon hearing that beautiful sigh escape you. His cock twitched in need as his lips trailed further down, nibbling on your collarbones and leaving breathy, open mouth kisses until taking the delicate rosebud of your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently while a finger skillfully slid inside you. Your moans were symphonic, like beautiful song, although he knew they weren't faked like the neighbor's girl, her sing-songy moans that annoyed him to no end. He was genuinely pleasing her, and he loved it. You grew wetter by the second, the feeling of his finger, and then fingers inside of you, his lips leaving marks all over your breasts, you weren't sure how much longer you could last. And there was another moment of silent communication, as Steve pulled away, sliding his middle and ring finger out of her and placing them to her lips. "Be a good girl and clean them up." he demanded, groaning as you parted your lips and sucked his fingers clean, tongue swirling around them sensually. His cock twitched at the feeling before pouncing, pinning you down and kissing you feverishly and you reciprocating once more. His hands slid down your body to remove what little clothing was still on you, leaving the two of you bare. Your taste on your tongue was intoxicating, and if he had more time and more patience he would have savored it and perhaps gone down on you, but he was impatient and needed you. Steve's eyes met yours as he lined himself up with you and slid in, the two of you erupting into moans neither of you could hold back. It had been almost a year since the last time Steve had had sex, but you didn't have that excuse. Your moans shocked you. Steve shocked you. You had sex all into the night, every single night, several men leaving this very room and yet none of them felt the way Steve did inside of you. You were unsure of whether or not it was because of how attracted to each other you both were or if he was simply that large (or perhaps it was both), but as he bottomed out inside of you, your nails dug into his broad shoulders and he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You shut your eyes tight, seeing stars from the sheer pleasure of it all, but slowly it began to fade, to which Steve took as a sign to begin to move. He pinned your arms over your head as he pulled almost all the way out, smirking as he slammed back into you. It felt intense as he reached spots few other men had over reached, proving himself superior with every roll of his hips. Steve found satisfaction in the way your face morphed, eyes squeezing shut and nose scrunching before lips parted and formed a perfect "o" shape, letting out another moan that was like music to his ears. It spurred him on, encouraging him to keep going. "You like that, baby?" he asked, although you were so consumed by the pleasure that only incoherent mumbles could escape your lips. Steve wasn't satisfied by this. "Use your words, dollface or else Daddy won't let you cum. Tell me how much you love how I fuck you." He demanded, really getting into it as he picked up the pace, grunting softly as your tight walls gripped him like no other. You were a desperate mess at this point, eyes wild and filled with arousal and fear as the sounds of sex filled the air, skin to skin contact and the faint thumping of EDM from a nearby club. The unmistakable smell of it consumed your mind, unable to form a single proper thought and fully enveloped in this electrifying sense of primal desire. Your body felt hot, a thin sheen of sweat glistening upon your skin like diamonds, your baby hair starting to stick to your forehead from the pleasure of it all. You could feel yourself reaching your climax but you knew he'd deny you of that thing you chased if you didn't talk, if you didn't beg for it. "God, I love how you fuck me, Daddy. You're so big inside of me, you fill me up so good-" You were interrupted by a moan that escaped you involuntarily as he purposely rolled his hips deep into you. You were dangerously close and Steve could feel it too, the way you clenched around him, the way your body rolled like the tides beneath him. He needed to orgasm, but he refused until he heard you beg. "Beg for me, baby girl." He demanded, now thrusting at an ungodly speed. You weren't sure how any human could move like this, but you had no idea who he was, really. You had no idea that he wasn't some average human, you could only assume he was just some guy with extraordinary skills. Steve let go of your hands to get better leverage over you, and your hands flew to his back. "Please Daddy, let me cum," you begged, nails digging into his skin and leaving claw marks upon his flesh to serve as a reminder later when he showered that this was not a dream. "I love how good you fuck me, no other man can possibly compare to you. I love your big cock inside of me, it makes me feel so good. Please daddy, I'm begging you, let your baby girl cum-" You were interrupted by his hand reaching down to find your clit and begin circling it with his fingers, nearly sending you over the edge. But it wasn't his skillful fingers or his thrusting that got you to your peak, but his words, his command that brought you to your orgasm. "Cum for me, doll." Four simple words made you cum, an explosive orgasm that reminded you of the birth of a star. Pleasure ripped through you like white hot lightning and rippled out to your fingers and toes and left you feeling like you were made of stardust and nothing more. You hadn't even realized how loud you were moaning because you were so consumed with the immense pleasure he brought you. Your toes curled and eyes shut tight, head tossed back, shaking violently as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in and deeper inside of you. Steve was close, himself, but you pulling him in deeper and deeper with your strong legs around his waist sent him over the edge. He wanted to admire the beauty that was you as you orgasmed, but he could hardly focused as you had tightened around him and an orgasm was imminent. He thrust into you once, twice, and three more times before he came as well, spilling into the condom wrapped around his shaft. He let out a guttural moan in your ear, his own eyes shut tight. The two of you slowly fell from your highs together, panting heavily. Steve's warm breath tickled your neck as he peppered kisses upon your skin again, softening inside of you. It took a moment for you to recover, as it did for Steve, but he seemed eager to leave. You were a bit disappointed as he got up so soon and threw away the used condom, sighing as he was finally satisfied. for now. "How much do I owe you?" he asked as he started to get dressed again, the jingling of his belt filling the heavy silence in the room. You looked at him, languidly propped up on the bed, staring at him like he was a god. "Nothing." you said after a moment of silence. he paused and looked at you, pushing back his long hair and suppressing a smile. "I've never had sex like that before, you must've been angry for a very long time." You teased, grabbing your robe and wrapping yourself up. You grabbed your cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke out between your smudged lips. He scoffed and shook his head, putting his t shirt back on. "Yeah. I guess you could say that." His voice was low, gravelly and quiet, as if that were a loaded statement. If only he could tell you of his troubles, the tales of glory and triumphs...and losses. He had walked in with slumped shoulders and his guard up, but now you noticed his posture had straightened and he seemed a little lighter on his feet. That alone was enough payment. It amused you. You stared at the wallpaper for a moment as he slipped on his hat and began to push the door open. "Can I be expecting you again?" you asked, trying not to let the hopefulness seep into your words. He looked down at his shoes before looking up at you, your curls all distressed, smeared lipstick, blowing smoke out into the air as you leaned against the bed they had fucked on only moments ago. You were otherworldly, and though sometimes it was hard for you to see yourself as even human, he thought the world of you. Brave enough to let strange men fuck you, enter the most vulnerable state a human can be. He admired that about you. "I don't know," was all he could say. You looked at him and nodded, taking a drag from your cigarette and sighing, smoke exiting your body through your nose. Looking down at your bare feet, you pursed your lips. "Well, you know where to find me." You told him. He took one last look at you before he nodded respectfully, leaving without another word. And with that, he disappeared like a ghost.

#steve rogers x reader #marvel #mcu fanfiction #mcu #steve rogers #smut #steve rogers smut #self insert #steve rogers x self insert #marvel smut #marvel imagine #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x fem #nomad steve #nomad steve rogers #nomad steve x reader

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marvelhead17 · 3 years

Text

The Tale of Eossimar (Original Female Character x Bofur Fic)

Chapter 4

Word Count: 7k

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Fake relationships, half-blood children, mild violence, fight scenes, male/male relationships, Dwarf gender concepts, battle of five armies fix-it, pre-battle of five armies, near death incidents, talking to dead people, mentions of paradise/heaven.

Callon’s clothing was piled in a corner of the room, long forgotten during Bombur’s rescue. He had already asked Fíli to remove Kíli’s clothing along with the bind, so that it wouldn’t need to be removed in the water, and they complied. He jumped into the spring below, raising his hands above his head, as Fíli lowered his brother down slowly to him, he held the dwarf under his arms and kept a firm hold on him.

“Now grab his legs so we don’t strain them, I’ll step back and he can be lowered in on his own terms,” Callon instructed, Fíli followed his orders without argument, “Easy now, good.” Kíli huffed and puffed anxiously during the process, “Relax,”

“You expect me to relax when a strange man holds me from behind while I’m naked, and he’s almost naked as well?” Kíli quipped.

“Kee, he’s trying to help,” Fíli looked at his brother with a serious face.

Kíli relaxed a bit and gradually went from floating on his backside to standing upright, the water taking any pressure on his leg off of him and providing some relief.

“Besides, we’re all the same here, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Callon added.

“Right,” Fíli nodded, resting his hands on his hips.

“So come on Fee, the water’s lovely,” Kíli smirked.

A young lady villager made her way to the group with a determined step, catching the eyes of the company, one of the dwarves reckoned she had passed by earlier worriedly compared to the relief she seemed to express now.

“Lady Nari!” she exhaled, “I’ve been looking for you all over-”

“Please Elva, I’ve told ye not to call me by that,” Nari rested her hands on her shoulders and leaned in, speaking quietly, “What is it?”

Both Thorin and Bofur were intrigued to hear the conversation, especially in the way that Nari had been addressed, and tried to listen in without appearing to be, which was proving difficult given the distance between them and the softness in which they spoke.

The rest of the group was engaged in conversation with their other members, and some had not even noticed the dwarrow passing through them.

“You may not wish to hear this, but it’s Cáleb,”

“Really? I thought I told him time and time again that I’m not having it-”

“You did,” she glanced at the dwarves and back to Nari, “{But he wishes to see you tomorrow at noon, the usual place},” Elva informed her.

“Alright, tell him I’ll meet him,” Nari said, she glanced over the elf’s shoulder and saw the two watching and quickly averting their gazes, she spoke in Elven to her, “{But tell him that it will be the last time that he can see me, the very last,}”

“Yes Nari,” Elva agreed and quickly ran off, leaving Thorin and Bofur in a complete state of confusion.

“May I ask what that was concerning?” Thorin inquired.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Nari responded with a shrug, “Nothing concerning the company anyway,”

“I see,” Thorin looked at her as if he wanted to say something more, but then dropped the matter.

“Pardon?” Fíli’s eyes widened.

“If you agree that there’s nothing to be ashamed of, then come on in,” Kíli grinned wickedly, not that Callon could see.

“Ye are here to bathe, are ye not?” Callon asked, frowning.

“Join us brother,” Kíli waved his hand.

“I can leave, if that’s what’s bothering ye-” he made to move out the spring.

“No don’t leave, of course it won’t bother us,” Kíli raised his hand and blew the idea away, “Besides Fíli will need help in getting me out again, won’t he?” he gave his brother another devilish grin.

“Alright Kíli, you’ve made your point,” Fíli sighed at his brother.

Fíli removed his boots, followed in succession by the rest of his clothing; Kíli tried and failed to hold back his chuckles as he watched his brother stumble nervously as he did so, all the while Callon decided to have a bath himself and was paying no attention to either of them. He went so far as to dunk his whole head under the water and had popped back to the surface just as Fíli leaped into the water, making an enormous splash that hit the pair as he did so.

They all bathed separately and made no conversation throughout their time, and then they proceeded to help Kíli from the water in the same manner in which they had got him in. The brothers pat themselves dry and changed into fresh clothes they hadn’t seen being placed down, while Callon simply put on his clothes in the corner of the room.

Fíli gave his best attempts to avoid staring at Callon while they waited for him, even going as far as staring at the ceiling for a brief moment, however, something about the dwarf was drawing his attention.

His body appeared lithe, yet muscular, being as tall as the Elf Prince Legolas they had encountered, but his overall appearance was more dwarvish. His ears were large and round and he had much more hair on just his torso than the elves had on their heads he had thought.

Callon looked up and caught Fíli’s warm gaze, but said nothing as he finished the last of the buttons on the coat he pulled on, “Kíli, do ye think ye can walk?”

“Aye, that much I can do, thank you,” he nodded, Callon returned the gesture and walked out of the building, Kíli glanced at his brother who was now pink in his face. “I think the steam from the springs is getting to you brother,”

“Aye, let’s go,” Fíli agreed, a little too quickly much to Kíli’s amusement, and they walked out.

“Took ye long enough in there,” Nari commented, “Right, the last of ye should get going.” She looked to the others who wordlessly made their way into the building, “Did ye take a bath as well?” she looked at her brother in confusion.

“Aye, I was in the water so I took the opportunity,” Callon shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes at the sight of his hair, “Sit,”

“Why?”

“Yer braiding’s come loose, I want to fix it, now sit.” She instructed, and he sat on a nearby rock, she quickly loosened his braids from his head, combing through his wet hair tenderly with her fingers.

Bofur looked on at the unexpected affectionate moment, and found that he was being shoved from behind, he turned in surprise and quickly started walking as his eyes met Thorin’s intense gaze.

“I take it that ye enjoyed the view?” she asked absentmindedly, untangling a small knot that had formed in his hair, and carefully placing any beads that came free next to him on the rock.

“Nari, mind what ye say,” Callon turned to meet her eyes with a scowl, though his cheeks had flushed slightly.

“Fine,” she sighed, “{But I think the golden haired dwarf has eyes for you},”

“{I have my doubts, he stared at me while I put on my clothes; he must think little of me},”

“{Don’t speak to soon brother, here he comes},”

Fíli approached the pair and cleared his throat nervously, “I just wanted to thank you for your help with my brother,”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” Callon gave him a smile, “I’d help ye out anytime,”

“Right,” he rocked on his heels and nodded, “Well, I’ll be getting back to my brother then,” Fíli bit his lip and quickly turned on his heel, walking back to his brother hurriedly.

“{I may not have known him long, but he doesn’t seem one to get shy fast, I do believe he’s smitten with you brother},” she grinned as she finished forming one of the braids. “This is looking better already,” she grabbed another part of his hair and started plaiting it together.

“Are ye braiding my hair up?” he asked in alarm.

“Aye, ye have such a handsome face; ye need to stop hiding it with this wild hair,” she hummed happily as she managed to quickly finish off the braid, “And don’t dare argue with me, {any man of any creed, or race, would be lucky to have you as a husband},”

“Alright,” he sighed, “I do appreciate ye braiding my hair in the meanwhile,”

She finished off the braids and clipped in all the beads, “Perfect.” She patted his face, “Smile brother.” He gave her a small smile as he stood up, “We’ll work on that,” she grinned and gave him a quick hug which he returned.

The last of them returned from their bath and Nari and Callon led the group on towards the mess hall, not far off from where they were.

“Where are you taking us now?” Thorin queried, he glanced back at the company to make sure everyone was accounted for, and found that Bofur had jogged up behind them, and he shook his head at the dwarf receiving a sheepish rub of the neck in return.

“To the mess hall, for supper,” Nari answered.

“I think it’ll be a feast tonight, {among other things that is},” Callon looked to his sister, “I heard Elanor shot down a large stag today,”

“A mess hall, I’m surprised you have a guard here,” Dwalin sounded surprised.

“I fail to see why, even the most peaceful of creatures have enemies that they must defend themselves from,” she said, “Why else would a rabbit have such large ears and feet, if not to hear and run from the fox?” she quipped with a cheeky smile.

“We only patrol twice a day, just to ensure no enemies are settling nearby, and a lot of the guards tend to eat at home with their families if they prefer to,” Callon added.

They walked up to the hall, with the siblings opening the doors and stepping in without another word, expecting the company to follow them inside. They didn’t know where to look first, the hall was decorated along some of the walls with taxidermied animal heads and was well lit with chandeliers and candles. A fireplace and piano located to the right gave the place a homier feel like a tavern.

To their left was a set up much like a bar, with a long table and stools to sit, while large barrels with taps sat on the other side. Further along was what appeared to be a buffet with meats, vegetables and fresh breads were set up in trays of two each and were piled high, underneath a metal pipe connected from underneath the tray to the fireplace, presumably this is how the food was retaining its heat; next to them lay crockery and cutlery, just itching to be used.

They spotted Nari talking to some of the guards, a mix of men and women by the looks of it, and they all seemed to be in agreement of sorts before she returned to the group.

“I’m sure the lot of ye are starving, so help yerselves to whatever ye fancy, we can take the table nearest to the fireplace,” she gestured, and they glanced at the long empty table and then to the buffet that awaited them. “Callon and I will bring drinks,” they signalled their agreements and made no hesitation in making their way to the food.

“Mind if I give ye a hand?” Nari turned, smiling when she saw the familiar hat on Bofur’s head, and saw the dwarf standing behind her eagerly.

“Aye if ye wish, although yer meant to be the guests here,” she looked at him and he shrugged. “Alright, come along,” the three of them walked together and she walked behind the counter to the barrels.

She bent down and collected the glass mugs together on the table, her brother and Bofur waiting as she filled them up carefully, not wanting them to spill over. She set them on the table and her brother took four in his hands, before making his way over to the table that was slowly being filled up by the company with their plates heaped with food.

“Bofur?” Nari asked to get the dwarf’s attention that had drifted off; he quickly turned to her apologetically. “Won’t ye ask Bilbo if he’d prefer something else? I’m not sure if hobbits like the same drink as dwarves,”

“Aye will do,” he nodded, taking the four mugs in front of him and heading towards the table, he set them down by his companions who were already scoffing down their meals hungrily. He walked over to where Bilbo had settled himself, “Bilbo, lad,”

“Yes Bofur?” he looked up with a warm smile.

“Nari would like to know if ye’d want something other than the ale,”

“Oh,” he sat up in surprise, “Oh, my. Well I wouldn’t mind a red wine if they have,” he said, “And pass on my thanks!” he added as Bofur began walking back.

He leaned against the table with crossed arms and spoke to her, “Nari, Bilbo said he’d like a red wine if ye have?”

“That I can do indeed,” she poured the deep red liquid into a fancier glass from a different barrel, and passed the glass over to Bofur, he took the glass along with two more ales and turned around.

“Oh, wait,” Bofur caught himself and turned around, “I mustn’t forget he extends his thanks!” Bofur raised the red wine in a salute making her smile.

“Alright, thank ye Bofur, now go on, my brother is already beating ye to dinner!” she encouraged him to move on and he did so quickly.

The spaces available were limited now as Bofur and Nari dished up some food before heading to the group, Nari chose her seat by Thorin, the young dwarf princes, Dwalin and Balin, along with her brother; leaving Bofur with no choice but to find seating opposite his little companion Bilbo on the other end of the table.

The company, with Nari and Callon, simply ate their meals and drank for some time, letting the discussion flow, and allowing them to settle in without fear of being attacked by a pack of Orcs. The guard gave no heed to the ruckus caused by them; in fact there were moments that the guard were louder than the group, which made it easier for the dwarves to feel at home.

The dwarf next to Dwalin looked to Nari, “So those children are they related to you?”

“Aye,” Nari said after swallowing another bite of food, “The little rascal that accidentally ambushed Bilbo is my niece Maethríen, the taller lad was my oldest nephew Lumlin and the smaller is my other nephew Lorin, they’re our sister’s bairns,”

Kíli whispered to his brother, “So he is unmarried,” and Fíli quickly stomped on his brother’s foot, making him hold back a yelp.

Dwalin growled, “Behave yourselves you two,”

Fíli immediately lowered his head, “Sorry Dwalin,”

“You better be,” he scolded. “We are guests, so don’t play your childish games here,”

“Yes, Dwalin,” they said rather deflated.

“What do ye think they’re talking about over there?” Bofur asked Bilbo, the hobbit peered over as best as he could at the other side and shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not sure, could be anything really,” he looked to Bofur and frowned, “Did you fix your braids?”

“Aye I did, do they look alright?”

“Yes, they look fine,” he assured him, “But I’m curious as to why, we’ve travelled for months and I haven’t seen you groom yourself so carefully before,”

“No reason.” Bofur shrugged the subject off, he banged his fist lightly on the table as he watched the group continue their discussions, alarming Bilbo; but he didn’t press the subject further.

“So Nari, you said you’d tell us about your ear?” Kíli asked, taking another swig of his ale while waiting for her answer, the dwarves suddenly quietened down and looked to her.

“Oh that’s right, I’d promised to tell ye,” she sat up a little, “I was practically a pebble when it happened… I lived with my father at the time, in Erebor. A lot of the dwarflings used to stare at me because I was clearly different to them,” she flicked her ears as an example.

“I wish I could’ve been there to stop them,” Callon muttered.

“Well ye couldn’t Cal, ye weren’t even conceived yet.” She shook her head, “Anyway, there were two older dwarves that decided that they had had enough of seeing me around, I was walking by myself just outside in the fields when they came up from nowhere,” she glanced at the eyes all watching her as she spoke and swallowed slightly.

“I hadn’t seen them at first, but then one of them grabbed me by my hair, it was a lot longer at the time, and he threw me on the ground. They started cursing at me in Khuzdul, and then one of them kneeled on my shoulder to pin me down, and I wasn’t strong enough to fight back then. His friend brought out a small dagger and started cutting my left ear,”

There was a moment of silence before Dwalin’s companion spoke up, “That’s truly awful, I’m very sorry to hear our kin had treated you so poorly,”

“Thank ye,” she nodded, “Thankfully my father had been searching for me, he heard my screams, and he chased them away before they could do away with my whole ear,” she took a gulp from her ale and set the drink down. “Ever since then, I’ve been keeping my hair short, and that’s when my father decided to train me to defend myself,”

“That explains how ye know yer way around a weapon,” Dwalin inclined his head in agreement, she nodded as well.

“But I know where that hatred was coming from; King Thrór wasn’t particularly trusting of the elves when they had come to seek gems from the mountain, almost as if he thought the Elves would have stooped to thievery,”

Thorin tensed up next to Nari and glared at her, “What say you of my grandfather?”

“I met him not long after I was attacked, and he was different from what I’d been told about him, he was incredibly tense, and quite terrifying if I’m honest,”

“Of course he was, he was strained from his duties as King,” Thorin defended.

“Ye don’t understand… the moment he laid eyes on me, it was as if dragon-fire erupted from him. He knew my blood wasn’t pure, wasn’t all dwarf,” she glanced at her brother briefly, “He lashed out at my father while I stood next to him, called me an abomination in front of hundreds of dwarves and he banished my father and me. And then, he threatened to behead us, and anyone like us, if we ever dared to enter Erebor again.” The company remained silent.

“That was the first time I truly understood fear. It was the kind that makes yer heart thump out of yer chest and a lump form in yer throat, leaving ye unable to breathe, that deadly look he gave was enough to shake my soul from my body.” She stared into the distance at nothing in particular.

Thorin almost whispered as he spoke, “I had no idea that such things were happening under his rule.”

“Ye couldn’t know everything that goes on,” Nari cocked her head to the side.

“As the new King I apologise on behalf of the heirs of Erebor for what he said to you, you have been nothing but kind and welcoming to us thus far,”

She shrugged, “After a few years I learned not to take his words to heart, I came to realise that gold-sickness was slowing consuming him, and was likely the reason for his anger,”

“There was no gold sickness-”

“Everyone knows of it, even the Elves and Men,” she gave him a look that made him hold back his tongue. “Look, I know ye bear yer own hatred to Elves because of Thranduil’s decision not to aid Erebor during Smaug’s Desolation, but ye don’t even know of those who did-”

“There were none.” Thorin stated.

Nari laughed, “Really? Because we have plenty of Elves living here that will tell ye otherwise, they’ve never returned to their woodland realm because of their ever so wonderful King Thranduil.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking at his advisor, but the dwarf shrugged and shook his head.

“King Thranduil warned the Elves that if they dared to help the Dwarves that they’d be banished from Mirkwood,” she looked at them and they all seemed confused, “Believe me or don’t, but ye can ask anyone here, most of the villagers are half-dwarf and half-elf. The elves who were banished settled here and, well they fell in love,” she took another sip of ale.

“A few years passed by and they had children of their own, more outcasts came from far to settle with us, and the village went from a handful to hundreds, and now we have generations growing and learning mixed cultures together. That’s why Thranduil was so displeased seeing me, knowing that we are real must’ve sickened him,”

“Ye were face to face with Thranduil?” Callon asked in astonishment. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to smite ye on the spot,”

“I do believe he was tempted,” Thorin spoke up, “Though, Nari did not aid her chances by speaking back to him,” Nari chuckled at that.

Kíli piped in, “So what’s it like, growing up with both Dwarven and Elvish cultures?”

“Oh, it’s interesting to say the least. At first I lived mostly with my father in Erebor, so I knew Khuzdul and picked up his thick accent before I learned Sindarin from my mother. Though when I had to learn how to fight I was better with Elven weapons, mostly because they were lighter than the Dwarven for my age,”

“I’ve been curious,” Fíli looked between her and Callon with a slight frown, “Why does your sister seem completely different from both of you?”

They looked between each other and Callon decided to answer, “Our sister took a greater liking to Elven culture-”

“In other words she decided she was somehow better than us,” Nari scoffed and Callon looked at her, “It’s true Callon, ye saw how she acted today,”

“And how does it work with your names?” Fíli asked, still clearly confused.

“It’s actually quite simple,” Nari raised her finger, “Daughters tend to be given Elven names, while sons are given Dwarven names, but I’m not sure when that started happening... I suppose it makes it easier to distinguish between the sexes?” she shrugged. “And before ye ask, my full name makes me sound like a fairy so I prefer not to use it,”

“Even though its meaning is perfectly suited,” Callon smirked, making Nari stick out her tongue. “Translated, it means ‘a narrator of stories’, mine means ‘a hero’,”

“And ironically, Lúthrien’s means ‘to enchant’,” Nari rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Ye shouldn’t talk so little of yer older siblings; sometimes they mean the best for ye,” Dwalin’s companion spoke up and looked to his left, “Right, Dwalin?”

“Aye, Balin, this is true,” Dwalin agreed.

“Older?” Nari’s brows furrowed, “I’m the eldest.”

“Oh, well, uh…” they both faltered.

“Whatever, I won’t argue, everyone always thinks she’s the oldest anyways,” she shook her head, “She likes to appear level-headed when she knows people are watching, but she can have a temper worse than me when she’s angry. And she just happens to have my mother’s height on her side,”

“Don’t worry about it,” Callon assured her with a small smile.

“Ye know, talking of families… I’d like to tell you what I want in return for this favour of ours,” she turned to Thorin.

“Go on,” he said, readying himself for the worst.

“Most of the dwarves who reside here came from Erebor and a lot of their children, such as myself, grew up on tales of the Kingdom. Only, I was lucky enough to have experienced life there for a short while, and well… since yer on yer way to reclaim the Kingdom as a descendant of the line of Durin, and they are also children of Durin, they were hoping to return to their home.” She paused to let the information sink in, he opened his mouth to speak but she continued.

“There’s great heartache among some of the villagers, to a lot of them this doesn’t feel like home, it was meant to serve as a temporary settlement until they could be welcomed back. The worst part of it being that Erebor is so close, but yet it feels worlds away, but I’m sure ye understand what that feels like, that’s why ye’re on this journey. To return home.”

“It is,” Thorin said slowly. “Though I’d perhaps need some time to process how it would all work,”

“It is a lot, but I’d like ye to at least consider it,” she looked up at him and searched his gaze, but could not make anything of it.

“I will,” he nodded shortly.

At the other end of the table Bofur and Bilbo noticed a guard had taken to the piano and was beginning to play the keys in a melancholic tune; Bilbo looked at Bofur, he shrugged and looked at the other end of the table, the group was still talking and had not noticed anything, the guard was then joined by another who stood and began to sing in a low deep voice.

“I saw the sun begin to dim, and felt that winter wind blow cold. A dwarf learns who is there for him, when the glitter fades and the walls won’t hold.”

The pianist began to sing with him, “’Cause from then, rubble one remains, can only be what’s true. If all was lost, there’s more I gained. ‘Cause it led me back… to you.”

At this point Nari and the group near the head of the table had stopped conversing; her brother moved from his seat and approached the men, leaning against the fireplace to watch them.

“From now on, these eyes will not be hidden from the lights, from now on. What’s waited ‘til tomorrow starts tonight, tonight.” The tune slowly picked up, “Let this promise in me start, like an anthem in my heart, from now on, from now on.” The piano started playing more light-heartedly.

Suddenly Callon joined in, his voice was warm in comparison to the others, “We drank champagne as King and Queen, the village people praised our name!” he looked up to the guard and company, “But those were someone else’s dreams, the pitfalls of the dwarf I became… For years and years, I chased their cheers, the crazy speed of always needing more-”

Nari joined her brother’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder and faced the guard that was now gathering around them. “But when I stop, and see you here- I remember who all this was for!”

She wrapped an arm around Callon’s shoulder and he did the same to her waist, they leaned into each other and continued with their song. “And from now on, these eyes will not be hidden from the lights.”

Some of the guards had gathered by the bar, filling mugs with ale, some had gone as far as climbing and sitting on each other’s shoulders, passing the drinks along to the rest. “From now on, what’s waited ‘til tomorrow starts tonight, it starts tonight!”

“Hey!” The guard cheered loudly, clinking their ales together, while the company stepped back to give them room.

Bilbo pressed himself firmly against the wall in alarm, having already experienced the wildness upon meeting the company and not wanting it again. The company was not familiar with the song, but they watched on; Bofur’s gaze was fixed to Nari, and Fíli’s fell onto her brother.

“And let this promise in me start, like an anthem in my heart; from now on… from now on!”

“Hey!” The guard cheers once more.

Callon belted out, “From now on…!”

Suddenly the guard joined in, “And we will come back home, and we will come back home… home, again!” they stomped their feet, some linked arms and swung each other around enthusiastically, others simply enjoyed jumping around and stepped onto the tables.

“And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home, again! And we will come back home, and we will come back home… home, again!

Callon sang out, “From now on…!”

“And we will come back home and we will come back home, home, again! And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home, again! And we will come back home, and we will come back home-”

“Yes!” Nari cheered happily.

“- Home, again! And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home, again! From now on…”

The siblings sang together, “These eyes will not be hidden from the lights!” The crowd started stomping on the wooden floors and tables together.

“From now on!”

“What’s waited ‘til tomorrow starts tonight! It starts tonight! Let this promise in me start, like an anthem in my heart. From now on… from now on… from now on…!”

Everyone sang out together, “And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home, again! And we will come back home and we will come back home, home, again! And we will come back home, and we will come back home, home again!”

The song began to slow down now, with some of the softer voices singing the final chorus, “From now on… from now on… home, again! Ooooh. From now on… From now on… home, again.”

The dwarves remained where they stood as the guard disbanded from their sudden outburst of song, most leaving the mess hall with their companions and hanging onto each other, chattering away eagerly while making their way back to their homes. The company felt a sudden emptiness in their chest that could only be described as longing and homesickness; it was weighing heavy on them now that soon they would set foot once again in the place that they could call home.

Thorin watched on but was in deep thought, assessing his options in the situation; his men needed to get whatever supplies they could get hold of to reach the mountain and reclaim it, however, there was still an uncertainty pressing in the back of his mind. His father and grandfather would certainly not have wanted half-elves living in Erebor, no matter if they were half-dwarf; though… Nari’s efforts in helping them were not something he could ignore.

He had not noticed Nari standing next to him until she spoke up and waved her hand in front of his face, “Thorin?”

He cleared his throat, “Apologies,”

“I was just saying that ye can settle in one of the old bunkers for the night, it might be slightly cramped but I reckon it’s a lot better than sleeping on the ground.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at Balin and gave him a sure nod, “And I’d like to offer our home to your people, however many there may be, it’s about time we start filling the halls of Erebor with life once again.”

The company was stunned by the sudden revelation, even Nari and Callon were surprised, and she caught sight of Bofur who was grinning cheerfully.

“If that’s yer final decision, I can certainly live with it,” Nari smiled, as if the news had given her the sudden relief she had needed, she extended her hand to Thorin and they shook in agreement; the company cheered.

“Now let’s end the night on an even better note, sleep,” Callon said, “It’ll be dawn before ye know it,” he cocked his head and Nari nodded, leading the way out, followed by the company.

Callon kept his eye on the group as they walked on and he noticed that Fíli and Kíli had started falling behind, he turned around and made his way to them, while Nari continued to lead the way to the bunkers.

“Is he alright?” he nodded to Fíli.

“I’m fine; I can still walk by myself!” Kíli argued irritably, “I wish everyone would stop making a fuss- Ah!” he stumbled slightly and grabbed for his injured leg, Fíli immediately tucked himself under his arm to support him.

“He told me his leg had been feeling a bit numb during supper,” Fíli admitted, making Kíli glare at him. “Brother, you need help. Don’t look at me with those eyes.”

Bofur had finally caught up with Nari, her eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled at him, and she looked him over once more. “Ye clean up nicely Bofur, yer braiding is very nice,” she noted.

“I try,” he shrugged with a cheeky grin, “I have to tone it down otherwise I’ll outshine the others ye know,”

“Oh I bet the ladies can’t keep their hands from ye.” She laughed, just ahead there were several bunker buildings. “We’re almost there now,”

Kíli grimaced and stopped in his tracks, the pain was becoming unbearable, “Okay, I’ll admit- I’m not in peak condition,”

“Is there something we can do for him?” Fíli looked up to Callon worriedly, the dwarf nodded.

“Nari!” he yelled out, making her stop and turn her attention to the call, “We need help,” he informed, gesturing to Kíli.

“Alright, I’ll be right there!” she looked to the rest of the company, “It’s just this building here,” she pointed in front of her, “Rest well, all of ye, the days to come will surely be a lot more challenging than the rest has been.”

They walked on without complaint to the bunkers, some waited for the others to enter first as Nari began walking to Callon, Fíli and Kíli who had remained behind.

“Nari, thank ye lass,” Bofur called out with a wave, she turned to look at him. “Ye have a good night.”

“Aye, ye too Bofur, thank ye,” she waved and gave him a smile, and continued walking with Thorin striding up to her side.

“Will he be alright?” he asked with a straight face.

“I’ll try my best to make sure he’ll heal. He will be safe.” She assured him; she placed a hand on his shoulder, “Thorin, rest. Tomorrow ye’ll be travelling again and ye need all the strength ye can get,”

“Take care of him,” he gave her a serious look. “Lads, take care of each other,” he instructed the brothers.

“Of course Uncle,” Fíli nodded, as did Kíli, he inclined his head and turned back around, heading into the bunker.

“Right, let’s have a look at ye,” Nari said as she approached them, she bent down to examine the wound quickly, “Let’s get him into the bunker next door,” she suggested, the boys didn’t hesitate in carrying Kíli in as he had begun to pale slightly.

They rested him onto one of the beds and Nari rested her palm on his forehead, she frowned and shook her head, “Cal, get my healer’s kit from my house, quickly,” she didn’t even look up at him as she spoke; her attention was focused on Kíli’s leg, her fingers tracing the outer areas where the skin had blackened terribly.

“How is it looking?” Fíli asked nervously, he paced for a bit before sitting at the end of the bed, holding Kíli’s lower leg gently.

“Well he’s got a fever, which means he’s battling the poison, but he’s also paling which isn’t good,” she looked over his face, checking his eyes, “Kíli, how clearly can ye see me?”

“Very clearly,” he swallowed almost nervously, “Did you know you have turquoise and honeycomb eyes?” he asked, looking dreamily at her.

She stared at him for a moment with raised brows, before looking down at his leg, “Wait, what happened to his bindings?” she asked, forgetting his delirious question.

“We took it off so he could bathe,” Fíli explained.

“Why didn’t ye replace it?” she asked with a frown, her brother returned with a small bag in hand and handed it to her, she didn’t wait for Fíli’s response. “Callon, why didn’t ye replace the bind on him?”

“It wasn’t a bleeding wound, I assumed it wasn’t necessary,” he shrugged, “Why?”

“He was shot with an orc arrow, that’s why,” she huffed, digging into her bag for something; she pulled out a small box and set it down on the table. “Hold him down, he’s not going to like this,” she ordered, opening it and scooping a vibrant pink ointment with her fingers, they did as she told, with Callon holding his legs and Fíli moving up to hold his shoulders as he sat next to him.

She rubbed the ointment into the wound and Kíli hissed in pain, she ignored his complaints and scooped more of the ointment and rubbed it all in, Kíli started writhing and wriggling trying to loosen their grasp.

“It burns!” he yelled out, balling his hands into fists, his eyes closing as he struggled to take on the pain.

“Aye, it’s an open wound, and that’s the worst of it done with, so stop whining,” she packed the box away and looked at Callon, “I need hot water,” he nodded and left quickly.

“What did you put on him?” Fíli asked, rubbing his brother’s shoulder to soothe him, Kíli settled back down again.

“It’s for wounds that don’t heal well; it should stop the numbness and encourage the skin to regrow… if it can that is,” she sat on the bed and touched Kíli’s forehead again, “The fever is settling slightly, but I have a feeling that he won’t be able to rest comfortably tonight,”

Callon returned with a bucket steaming with hot water, and a small bowl, he set them down next to Nari. “Are ye planning to brew tea?” he asked her.

“Aye, one that will help him sleep,”

“I’ll get to work on brewing it,” he said without second thought, opening another box and plucking out dried leaves, placing them into a small clothed bag. Fíli watched as he then put the small clothed bag into the bowl and poured the hot water over it.

Nari leaned over and placed her right ear against Kíli’s chest and listened carefully to the thumping heart, for a few moments it sounded very slow, but eventually it started picking up a steady rhythm again and she moved back.

“His heart sounds better than I thought it would,” she told Fíli, “Now I’m no expert, so I do suggest that in the morning we have a healer examine him properly-”

“I’m fine,” Kíli spoke up, “There’s no need,” he waved her suggestion off. Callon handed Nari the brewed tea and she leaned over to Kíli to let him drink, but he shook his head. “I said I’m fine, really,”

“Give it to me,” Fíli lifted his hands, she placed the small bowl in his hand and stood up and he held it to his brother’s mouth. “Drink Kíli, it’s for your own health,”

“But Fee-”

“Please,” he pleaded, staring at his younger brother.

“Alright, alright, but I can do it myself,” Kíli resolved and took the bowl from his hands, he took a sip and scrunched his nose up, “This tastes awful,”

“It’s medicine, and it’s said that the worst tasting medicine will heal ye the best, so drink up,” Nari suggested, “Besides, it’ll take away yer fever and pain, and help ye sleep better tonight,”

“Fine,” Kíli looked at the bowl uncertainly, but then he decided to take it down in one big gulp, and another, until it was empty. “Retched stuff,” he coughed and sniffled.

Fíli stood up and walked around to the other two and whispered, “Thank you, both of you.” He glanced at Kíli and spoke quietly, “Kee can be a bit of a stubborn dwarf sometimes, I think he learned that from Uncle,” he admitted in embarrassment.

“It’s no trouble, I’ve dealt with far worse,” Nari glanced at her brother with a cheeky grin and he rolled his eyes but returned the smile. “I couldn’t stand seeing another dwarf die because of an orc arrow,” she looked at Kíli.

“Another dwarf?” he asked, he glanced at his brother who was beginning to dose off and frowned at her.

“I suggest ye keep an eye on him, if he’s as stubborn as ye say he’s going to play down his pain. But the most important thing for him is plenty of rest, keep his leg elevated as much as ye can,” she informed him.

“I will keep an eye on him,” he agreed.

“We should get some rest,” she looked to her brother, “It’ll be easier if we stay here for the night; once they wake we can make further arrangements,”

“Aye, sounds good,” Callon agreed.

They spread out onto some of the other beds not too far away, Fíli decidedly taking the bed nearest to his brother, while the other siblings settled a little further away. Nari stared at the ceiling, her eyes moving around to look at nothing in particular as if she was going through her thoughts, and Callon frowned softly at her, wondering what was troubling her.

He whispered, “Nari?”

“Mm?”

“What’s on yer mind?”

She spoke quietly, “{Tomorrow I duel with Cáleb},”

“{That’s nothing new},”

“{I informed him that this is the last fight, for good},” she turned her head slightly to look at him, “{I’ll go mad if I lose tomorrow of all days},”

“{But you will not, we both know this},” he assured her, “{Tomorrow, you will finally be rid of him. And we will be able make a start to our resettlement into Erebor, once we send the company on their way},”

“{I hope so},” she breathed out and stared up at the ceiling once more.

He chuckled lightly, “A million dreams are keeping me awake,”

“A million dreams is all it’s gonna take,” she gave him a soft smile before turning over in her bed, “Goodnight Callon.”

“Goodnight Nari,” he closed his eyes with a grin still on his face.

____________________________________________________________

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jj-lives · 4 years

Text

Ornament Inktober - Bmblb

“They’re on their way!” Yang heard a crash coming from Ruby’s room.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” She screamed, skidding into the bathroom already half undressed.

“It’s noon, and you’re a big girl.” Yang admonished. “At least I didn’t wait until they were at the door to wake you.”

“Haha, you’re hilarious.”

Ruby threw her shirt in Yang’s direction before disappearing into the bathroom completely. The garment only made it halfway down the hall, nowhere near Yang, who was in the living room, piecing together the tree they’d purchased the day before.

A familiar chime sounded from her phone. She grabbed it off the table where she’d left it after receiving Blake’s last text saying her and Weiss were on the way over.

‘Is Ruby awake yet?’

Smiling at how well Blake seemed to know Ruby’s habits she typed a quick reply back.

‘Just woke her. Should be out of the shower soon.’

‘How close are you?’

Yang sent the second message as her impatience was only growing with the knowledge she’d soon see Blake again. Even though it had only been a few days. It always seemed like too much time passed in between her Blake fixes.

‘Close’ was her simple reply.

‘Blaaaake’

‘Yes?’

‘You’re being mean :(‘

Yang stood to put the top section on the fake tree. She didn’t bother unfolding the branches, something told her Weiss would insist on redoing her work anyway.

‘I’ll have to make it up to you then. Open the door.’

In her haste to get to the door she kicked the leg of the coffee table. Limping the rest of the way she threw the door open to find absolutely no one.

“She is so gonna get it.” Yang mumbled as she bent to rub her injured toe.

“Get what?”

She stepped into the hall to find Blake leaning against the wall beside her door. She glared, knowing she’d hidden on purpose.

“Do I have two things to make up for now?” She asked innocently.

Yang closed the distance between them, pinning Blake’s body to the wall with her own.

“Where’s Weiss?” She asked, lips ghosting the skin of her jaw. Blake’s body quivered against hers at the contact.

“Parking the car. We have a few minutes.” Blake’s fingers dug into her hips with enough force Yang was sure she’d have a few bruises the next morning. It was an injury she wouldn’t mind wearing.

“Good.”

The kiss wasn’t soft or gentle. It was none of Yang’s usual sweetness. It was rough, full of tongue and teeth. Blake moaned deep in her throat which spurred Yang further. One hand bypassing Blake’s many layers to feel the warm bare skin beneath. Her thumb pressed circles into the soft skin below Blake’s ribs. It pulled a sharp gasp from the girl in her arms and their lips parted.

It wasn’t enough.

Her lips found a new target as Blake continued to gasp lungfuls of air. Yang growled, irritated that Blake's scarf barred her from full access to her neck. Not having the patience to remove it Yang's mouth drew a jagged line along Blake's jaw stopping only to tug at her earlobe gently with her teeth.

"Yang," Blake groaned, tugging the hair at the back of Yang's neck.

When had she moved her hands from her hips? Blake forced their lips back together as she arched her back, moulding into Yang's touch.

"Would you two please not do that in public?"

Weiss's voice sobered them instantly. With more strength than Yang had yet seen her use Blake pushed their bodies apart. Yang's back collided with the wall opposite as Weiss strolled between them.

"Please try to restrain yourselves." It came off as an order, but Yang was realizing most things she said did. "It's my first Christmas Eve with my girlfriend and I don't want you two ruining it."

A mumbled "it's our first Christmas too," drifted across the hall and Yang laughed, blushing a deep red.

She held her hand out to Blake, who accepted readily.

“Weiss.”

Ruby’s excited voice rang out as they re-entered the apartment. She came running down the hall so fast Yang thought she was going to collide with her girlfriend full force. She skidded to a stop inches from bumping noses and Yang had to give Weiss credit for the fact she stood her ground. Girl must be brave, or perhaps she just trusted Ruby more than Yang would have.

A snicker filled the space as Ruby lifted her hand and held plastic mistletoe above their heads. Weiss scoffed but leaned in to fulfil the age old tradition.

“So they can kiss, but we can’t?” Blake pouted.

“I’d call her out on it,” Yang smiled, pulling Blake to sit with her on the couch. “But Weiss has the unfortunate ability to make Ruby unbearably happy.” They both watched the beaming smile that Ruby pulled away from the kiss with.

“To bring down the monster you would have to sacrifice the maiden.” Blake whispered into her ear as she moved to rest her head on Yang’s shoulder.

“Something like that.”

“You know,” Yang spoke after a moment. “You and Weiss aren’t so different.”

“Take that back right now.”

Blake pulled away, glaring daggers, and it took all Yang’s strength to pull her back into her arms.

“I will not.” She said resolutely. “Because as much as Weiss makes Ruby happy, you make me at least twice as.”

Blake laughed.

“You are so cheesy.”

“Should I stop?” Yang questioned pulling her in for a soft kiss.

“Never.” Blake whispered against her lips.

“Yang,” Ruby called. “It’s time to decorate the tree.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.”

Blake and Yang untangled themselves. Weiss and Blake started placing the branches on the tree while Yang and Ruby started unpacking the ornaments. Yang excused herself to make them all some hot chocolate and returned to a full on argument. She half expected Blake and Weiss to be going at it but for Ruby and Weiss to be arguing, it surprised her.

“What’s happening?” She asked as Blake took a mug from her hands.

“They are in a disagreement on when to put the top star on the tree.”

“It’s the last thing you put on… obviously.”

“You have to start at the top and build everything around it.” Weiss spun on her. “How else can you get it perfect?”

Blake turned and walked away, sipping her hot chocolate she sat on the end of the couch to watch the show.

“Hold up princess.” Yang replied coolly. She swatted at Weiss’ hand that came up to point an indignant finger at her. “I realize you may have grown up with everything just so and pristine, perfect trees, decorated immaculately. But there comes a time you have to learn things can be better, a little unperfect, a little crooked or off center.”

Weiss rolled her eyes as she scoffed.

“How could anything be better than perfect?” She asked.

“Life. Love. Family.” Yang replied slowly. “Ruby, and Blake… none of those things and neither of these two are perfect. But” Yang removed her eyes from Weiss and locked them with Blake’s amber ones. “I wouldn’t want to change either of them for anyone’s definition of perfect.”

“That’s sweet,” Blake cooed. Standing to kiss Yang on the cheek. “Such a charmer.”

“Fine, the star can go on last.” Ruby squealed happily. “But the garland goes on first!”

“Okay, I’ll allow that.” Ruby agreed.

Yang and Blake took a backseat, looping hooks to ornaments, as Weiss and Ruby twirled around the tree placing them. Yang caught Weiss adjusting a few of Ruby’s whenever her back was turned but she didn’t want to start another argument between them so she kept quiet. Ruby picked up the star as Weiss placed the last bauble on the tree.

“Hey Ruby,” Yang jumped up, Blake slipping from her lap. “Let Blake place the star.”

Ruby’s bottom lip stuck out and where normally it would have Yang giving in, today was another matter. She couldn’t get the way Blake said that it was their first Christmas together earlier. She was right, and Yang wanted it to be special.

“You and Weiss decorated the entire tree. Blake’s a part of this family too now.”

Ruby handed the star over dejectedly.

“It’s okay, Yang. Ruby can put it on if she wants.” Blake spoke up.

Shaking her head she held a hand out for her. “No, no. You aren’t getting out of this that easily. Come here.”

Ruby dragged Weiss into the kitchen promising to return with snacks and more hot chocolate, already forgetting her disappointment regarding the star.

“Alright, give me it if you’re going to make me do this.” Blake’s voice was steady, uninterested, aloof even. But she was smiling, a soft, grateful smile. It made living through Ruby’s pout worth it to have Blake feel a little like she belonged.

As she rose to her tip-toes, Yang stepped up behind her. “Let me help.” Her arms wrapped around Blake coming to rest on the now exposed skin of her midriff. Blake placed the star before sinking into Yang’s arms.

“This is how you help?” She purred her approval, resting her hands on top of Yang's.

Yang still couldn't believe the incredible girl in her arms chose to be there. She buried her face into Blake's neck and held her tighter.

"Stay."

"What was that?" Blake asked through derisive snort. "Couldn't hear you cuz I dont have ears on my neck."

"Stay." She breathed directly into the shell of Blake's ear. She shivered in her arms. "Stay here tonight."

Yang was well aware she was begging and all her pep talks about how taking things slow being a good thing, how she was waiting for Blake to be ready, or for the timing to be right; all washed away. She didn't care. There was no shame in not wanting to say goodbye to Blake tonight.

Yang steeled her nerves for the possibility Blake might refuse. She might not be ready for that step, and Yang would be okay with that.

She'd already waited twenty three years for her. She would wait an eternity more if that's what Blake wanted.

"Alright."

"Yes?" She needed to hear it again because she couldn't trust her brain not to warp Blake's words into what she wanted to hear.

"Yes." Blake responded again.

One word shouldn't be able to elicited so much happiness. She couldn't contain her excitement at Blake's answer. Not knowing what to do she grabbed Blake and twirled.

Blake squealed through her laughter. And it was the girliest thing Yang had ever heard come from her she nearly dropped her.

"Yang!" She called gripping her arms tight for support. "Let me go."

She stopped spinning, letting Blake's feet find the floor.

"Never." She said with resolve, placing a kiss on Blake's shoulder before releasing her. She took hold of her hand and pulled her into the kitchen to see what was taking the other two so long.

"If you two are making out you better stop. Blake and I are coming in."

This was going to be the best Christmas.

Ever.

#bumbleby #yanx xiao long #blake belladonna #whiterose #my writing #inktober #ornament #fanfic

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

Text

Remoras Full Chapter XXXV: Lion-Drawn Chariot

When I woke up in the morning, I wasn’t planning on saving anyone’s lives. Then again, did anyone ever plan those sorta things? Like, “so at noon I plan to go out and save someone’s life.” Nope. That sorta thing just didn’t happen. Maybe it was a Superman thing, I imagine Superman didn’t wake up every morning and go, “I think I’m going to save some lives today.”

But lo and behold, when I woke up, I checked my phone right away (‘cause I’m always on that phone) and noticed a very concerning text.

Now, you may ask yourself, “Cybele, aren’t you exaggerating?” And lemme tell you, hypothetical ‘you’, no. No I was not exaggerating one iota:

Unknown Number: Could you please come get me? No pressure if you’re busy or asleep or anything. Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway.

My eyes widened and I jolted up.

“Who?” Was my first question. Some unknown number just told me they’d be dead, and they listed the address to a hotel. Flags didn’t get much redder than that.

“Okay, think, think: Sunny might have gotten a new number,” I paced about and brainstormed as to who it could have been.

Yeah. That checks out. It’s just like Sunny to go off and get herself hurt. Of course she’d want me to bail her out.

It’s been a while since I’ve heard from Sunny. Probably a good six months. It was only a couple weeks ago that Ray finally gave me a call and explained the situation back at the diner. No wonder they went silent. I always figured Sunny stayed inside the diner with Ray due to the circumstances they faced, but it was true that she had trouble keeping still.

Yes, that’s true, but she’d stay at the diner with Ray if the circumstances are as dire as he said. I don’t doubt for a second that Sunny would help keep things together with Ray.

So if it wasn’t Sunny, then who? Frantic, I looked back at the phone.

What if I overslept and someone seriously was dying and now I’m too late?

Well, I could put that thought to rest: the text was only sent a few minutes ago.

“Still doesn’t give me time to shower...ugh...well, I’ll just slap on some deodorant, spray some rose water, and call it good. Whoever it is should consider themselves lucky that I’m showing up at all.”

No, that wasn’t the right attitude to have. Someone might have been dying for real.

“I’ll definitely save you,” I declared, still not totally convinced it wasn’t a scam.

To be honest, I was somewhat relieved to have an excuse to get back in my plane and fly around. Even if it turned out to have been a waste of time...no, it wouldn’t have been, because I’d be doing something I loved: flying.

Way back when Ray delivered that horrible news, I didn’t know what I’d do or where I’d go, but he had no problem with me taking the plane with me. It may have been the case that he figured if I took it with me, others wouldn’t have a means of getting to the diner, but whatever the reason, I just liked having it around. Things just didn’t feel right without it.

Oh, and it sure was a super fast aircraft, too! I arrived at the hotel parking lot within the hour. Now, as one could imagine, it was hard to find parking, so I had to park way in the back, and I was positive that there would be many a car furious with me for taking up so much space. But screw them, I wouldn’t be around that long, anyway!

When I stepped out of the plane, I looked around to find the parking lot near empty. Just a few cars here and there, kind of scattered like a tic-tac-toe board. Guess there was nothing to worry about (when it came to taking up space)!

“This is the place, right?” I was perplexed when I walked forward. Really, what did I expect to find? I had no idea and from the look of things, there was nothing to expect. It was just some normal looking hotel. OK. Layout: some tall, gold, fancy hotel, an awning, a few marble stairs. Some of the windows on the upper floors looked a bit busted, but aside from that, it had a sheen about it. Like, pristine sheen.

I continued to walk forward, in somewhat of a daze. It was rather early in the morning and I hadn’t had a coffee or anything like that. Closer, my foggy eyes not really clearing up, then my heart thumped on high alert in a single instant: blaring sirens of ambulances filled the air.

I shifted all around and tried to figure out what the commotion was. My head turned in a rapid manner, much more than a simple shake. Then, I spotted the culprit: a small body, collapsed and lying on the ground.

Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway, those words echoed in my mind with an accelerating intensity as I sprinted toward the collapsed figure. Once I caught a better look, I filled with dread.

I recognize this person.

She was sprawled out, on her back, a fresh, dark wound on her right shoulder. Her hair was no longer green, it was blonde, and she wasn’t wearing any glasses, either. What she wore instead was a dark purple hoodie, jeans, and a pair of fingerless gloves. Fabric from her hoodie had been torn on the bottom and a fresh, gaping cut was visible and the blood which ran down from it obscured the skin of her stomach. It didn’t look deep enough to have penetrated any organs, but it was still a concern, nonetheless.

Just witnessing it put me in a sort of shudder, a repulsion which I had to fight back against. Nerves against my eyelids tightened and I felt a strain on my eyes along with a reservoir of tears ready to form from beneath the surface. It was as if a gust of wind had struck them.

I knelt down, my heart still on high alert. The rush of endorphins, not to mention the stress and adrenaline, was all the energy I needed to wake me up for the morning.

Please still be alive. Please.

I placed two fingers up to the nape of her neck, sucked up a small amount of saliva, and drew heavy breaths. Two seconds. I swear, the longest two seconds I ever felt. Rapid fire thoughts pounded against the edges of my skull. It was enough to make me wonder if my head was about to split open, or if my heart would give out, unable to handle the anticipation. My breaths were heavy to the point that I sounded like I was in some sort of frenzied state.

At last, I felt a pulse.

What a relief. What a relief. What a rel –

“Ma’am! Get away from the body!” I heard someone shout behind me.

I turned my head to see an ambulance parked (well, ‘parked’ was a little generous, as it had been swerved to its side and burnt skid marks could be seen just behind the vehicle’s tires) and two paramedics who looked ready to push me aside.

Of course. It just has to come to this.

“I think not,” I defied them, “I’m this young lady’s primary care physician and I’m going to take her to my clinic with me. She’s requested if in an emergency, then I am to come get her directly.”

They both looked at each other, confused.

“Can we see proof?” One of them asked.

I fished out a fake doctor’s license as well as a forged note. Such (illegal) methods weren’t used often, and it was never something I enjoyed doing, but it’s come in handy at times when I’ve had to bail Sunny out. Her idea, of course.

“Oh, well, uh, okay,” their confusion still showed through their voice, but nevertheless, they fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“May I borrow one of your gurneys so I can get her onto my plane?” I asked them.

“Plane?”

I nodded.

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

Acting was never one of my strong suits, but it turned out when you had just the right things to appear official, people tended to believe you. Needless to say, I got Demetria onto my plane and got right to work with the gauze.

Man, I’m really not a doctor. If only Cole-Slaw was here. She’d know what to do. Or she’d chew me out for not knowing what to do. Either way, I’m sure she’d be of more help.

In any case, she’d live. That much I knew for sure.

When I got home, I was too on edge to really do anything. I just sat on the couch and waited for her to wake up. Long stretches of time passed, and I would check in on the room I placed her in, with no such luck. It was concerning, to say the least, but I held out hope.

She needs rest. I’ll let her be.

Despite how serious it was, eventually the worry stepped aside and I got out my journal to write a couple of quick poems. Neither of them were all that good, but they didn’t need to be; their main purpose was to get my mind off of things. One of them started out like this:

Slumbers are a fickle thing.

So I go to the cupboard and pull out a box of cookies.

One by one, shoveled into my mouth.

Then I go back to bed, unable to sleep

due to the pain in my stomach.

But it was worth it.

What does it have to do with anything?

What is the meaning of sweetness?

An array of crumbs fall out of my pockets

and I’m visited by the sandman, who tells me

that he’s about to pour more crumbs in.

That bastard always gets the better of me.

Like I said, it left a bit to be desired, but I wasn’t done with it. Maybe in the third stanza, it would start to shine. But before I could get to that, I was interrupted by a rustling in another room, followed by a low groan.

I got up from the couch and followed the sound into the other room. Demetria stood hunched over in front of the bed I had laid her in. She propped herself up by holding onto the front-facing corner of the bedpost, but it was clear by the way she wobbled and her poor balance that she would fall back down onto the bed.

“Ow...ow...ooh,” she hissed and groaned, alternating between the two.

So she fell back down. Onto the bed.

“Owww...god damn it…” she moaned, adding, “I can hardly move. Ugh...I can’t believe I’m not dead.”

I shook my head and placed my hands on my hips.

“I swear, you’re just as bad as Sunny,” I scolded.

“Right, ‘cause if I’m going to have a role model, it may as well be Sunny,” she replied, deadpan in her delivery. She then turned her head and looked my way.

“So...you got my message?” She asked, her voice low and hoarse.

“Yeah. Mind telling me what happened?” I tapped my foot.

She looked away from me.

“I’d...rather not.”

That wasn’t what I expected to hear, nor really what I wanted to hear, but I respected her decision.

With her good arm (the one that wasn’t all covered up in layers of gauze), she covered her eyes.

“Can I...can I stay here a while?” She wheezed, then coughed.

“Judging from your injuries, I’m going to say you don’t have a choice. Now try not to move around so much, and please, get some rest.”

What she said next kept me from leaving the room.

“You shouldn’t have picked me up. I didn’t want to be saved,” I heard her say through her low mutter.

“I don’t believe that,” emotions welled up in me. Yes, she was in a great deal of pain, but there were quite a few mixed feelings I had. Feelings I should have held back or saved for later, when she was recovered, but I couldn’t help myself. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t have sent that text.”

“I’m not worth it,” she replied, though it didn’t feel like a reply at all. It felt like she ignored everything I said, and was just continuing off of the last thing she said.

Don’t say that, I thought. I almost growled it out, but I stopped myself.

“Get some rest. Please,” I told her instead, my voice not low, but instead weepy.

She gave a short nod and I noticed tears run down her cheeks. My head hung low and I had to force myself to turn away and step out of the room. Her clear pain and anguish had me at a chokehold and I felt a tinge of regret leaving her alone like that. But if she was going to rest, she would need her space, so I pulled up the curtain and ducked my head, then left the room.

This house I bought was rather large, much more space than I needed. But I was rich and since I could afford to, I wanted to get something nice. Not to mention the fact that I was so used to living in a large airport, even though I didn’t own the airport, it was still a home to me, and I just didn’t feel at home without the wide, empty spaces.

So I lived in a tall house, all to myself. Most of my stuff was relegated to one bedroom (of which there were a few rooms; they all sat empty, save for the one Demetria was now in). If I wasn’t there, I slept on the couch. My kitchen, though wide enough to have its own “island” (I never quite understood why they called that thing in the middle of kitchens in big houses an island), but that too sat mostly empty. There were a few things in the fridge, but that was about it. I didn’t cook. I could have, but I was rich, and I wasn’t used to cooking, so I always just ordered takeout.

The room Demetria was in was kind of a little architectural experiment, as it was originally a walk-in closet tied to a separate (empty) room, but I took down the closet doors and replaced it with a butterfly pattern tapestry that hung from the wall instead. No, I never planned such a thing, but I had a bed in that little room. It wasn’t an especially large bed, as it could only fit a twin-sized mattress, but it was the perfect fit for Demetria.

As I said, I never planned for her to stay here, but I always thought it would be nice to have guests over. I mean, I had a couple friends here and there, and they lived thousands of miles away, but that was nothing for me since I had my own plane. That said, no one ever expressed wanting to stay over, all telling me the same thing, that they “didn’t want to impose” (really, guys? It wouldn’t be an imposition if I was the one offering).

One questionable decision I made was removing the ceiling light and putting a lava lamp in the room instead. Yeah, it looked cool, but the way it lit up the room and reflected off of the curtain gave the room a distinct red tint. Like the room was on fire. Considering how bloodied up Demetria was, it seemed rather inappropriate now. Hindsight, am I right?

So I sat on the couch once again and flipped on the TV. Usually it just sat there and gathered dust, something which it was rather good at, but I decided to turn it on just to have some background noise. Channel after channel I skipped through until I stopped at a local channel and noticed it was a recording of an opera titled Atys.

No, I had no idea what it was about. It was an opera, did anybody ever know what was going on? Yeah, didn’t think so. But it was nice to see all the pretty outfits, and it sure sounded pretty, too. So it was settled, I’d watch a bit of that. Then, I too began to doze off.

My rest didn’t last long.

Shrill screams forced me awake and in a panic, I rushed to the room.

I found her, sat up against the edge of the bed, a look of shock, anger, terror, or a mix of all three filled her face as well as beads of either sweat, tears, or both. Her breaths were loud and heavy and she shook in place, as if paralyzed in fear. I looked to where Demetria stared ahead, but saw nothing, only the shadow of the lava lamp which sat on a table next to the bottom end of the bed.

“Is everything all right?!” I shouted, unable to hold back the concern in my voice. I rushed over and sat at the edge of the bed.

“Demetria...Demetria…” I tried to get her attention but my soft voice betrayed me. In a conscious manner, I sharpened my voice and shouted:

“Demetria!”

She blinked and then her eyes darted around and although she still heaved, her breath began to slow down and her eyes relaxed.

“Sorry. I had a nightmare,” she stated, as if it wasn’t such a big deal.

Not knowing what else to do, I leaned in and pulled her into my chest and held her tight.

“Ow, ow. My shoulder,” she complained and I let her go just as fast as I held her.

She sat there and rubbed her left eye, then her forehead.

“It just happens sometimes. Those same images haunt me,” she continued. I didn’t know what she could have meant, but that initial bout of screaming was enough of a concern as it was.

“Was it about something that happened to you?”

She gave a short nod, then buried her head in her hands. I heard no sniffles or weeps, but the silence itself was enough of a worry.

“Do you want me to give you some space?” I offered a rather foolish gesture, but the best I could offer without knowing what else I could do at the moment. As she gave no response, I waited a few seconds, then got up, figuring the answer was “yes”.

As soon as I started to get up, though, she tugged at my arm.

“Can you stay here? I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” she begged. For added measure, she lifted her head up and gave me puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah,” I gave in. As much as I hated to admit, those puppy dog eyes were adorable. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be in the morning. Making sure you’re well is my main priority right now.”

She let go of my arm, reeled it back to her side. Again, there was a lull, a standstill. Neither of us must have known what to do or say next. At least that was the case for me.

“You’re probably wondering how I got like this, huh?” She spoke up at last. Her face was still obscured, her voice muffled, but it was a voice nonetheless.

“Yes. I would like to know, but I’m not going to force it out of you.”

She lifted her head up and leaned it against the wall.

“To be honest, I’d like to know, too,” she replied with a dry, hollow reply. Even though she forced a slight smile, it was clear from her tone that she was anything but pleased.

“You don’t know how you got your injuries?” I was perplexed.

“I killed someone,” she answered. “Correction: I killed quite a few people, but the one who gave me my injuries was just one man.”

“My God…” the words escaped me. It wasn’t that I was all that shocked; Ray definitely gave off “former yakuza turned househusband” vibes and Sunny was a chaotic bundle of joy who I’ve had to pull out of messy situations several times. It might have just been that Demetria didn’t strike me as the violent type, but then again, my frame of reference was rather narrow, so it wasn’t like I had a complete impression of her. Maybe that would all change once I spent more time around her.

“I know, right? Not very heroic of me. For the record, I never considered myself a hero, but at the same time, I never thought I would be capable of doing such things. Let alone willing. But here I am, I went from someone who wanted to prevent the deaths of others to causing them. So much for protecting people.”

“I’m sure you had a good reason, though,” I argued. After all, rude as she may be, I refused to believe she was a bad person. She turned to me, her lips folded into a frown.

“Do you think that makes a difference?” Her eyelids were half-shut and she looked ready to nod off. “In my mind, I did it to protect others. But there could have been a better way to go about it. Maybe I just wanted to satisfy a bloodlust. I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either,” I echoed her sentiment.

“Even now, I see the horror in their eyes. How they were torn to shreds.”

“Are you talking about the people you killed?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

I wasn’t sure what she was referring to, then. There was still so much she wouldn’t tell me, and maybe I didn’t want to hear the details, but I still wanted to help in any way I could.

“Have you ever seen someone being eaten alive?” She asked. It struck me as odd, just as random, if not more than her previous statement.

“No, I can’t say I have…”

“It’s not a pretty sight. That shit sticks with you.”

Just what kind of things have you experienced? I was a little baffled, to say the least. Just the idea made me shudder. She rolled her eyes, then turned her head away.

“I wanted to be badass so I could impress someone I had a crush on. Then...I was exposed to things I never should have witnessed. So my motivation changed. I wanted to be stronger so I could protect others. But I admit, I still wanted to impress her, too. I’ll think about back then and think of how if I were stronger, they would have survived. Or if it was someone else who went there, someone better. Someone who wasn’t me.”

“We all have things we regret,” I tried to tell her, which wasn’t really all that helpful, I know.

“You don’t understand,” she sharpened her voice. It wasn’t quite a shout, but it still had a bite behind it. “The reality is that if I hadn’t gone there, they would have met the same end. It’s easy to play the ‘what-if’ game, but there’s no way to know if there was anything that could have been done, and somehow that’s even worse.”

She paused again, closed her eyes. Part of me hoped that she hadn’t gone to sleep just because I didn’t want her to wake up screaming again.

“I’m stronger now. I’m badass. I got what I wanted, but at this point, I’d rather go back to being how I was before: meek, timid, someone who minded her own business. Hell, I tried to go back to being her, but I can’t. She’s gone now. Every attempt to return to my old self just felt like fighting back against a current.”

“I may not know what it’s like to go through all the things you have, but I do believe that even if you can’t return to how you were before, you can still be who you want to be. Even if that person is different from how you envisioned yourself to be. Hell, I know it’s hard. I know, but you can still find comfort in who you are right now.”

It seemed like the most poignant thing I’ve said all day, and yet everything I said in that statement was something that I continued to struggle with, myself.

Rather than reply, she drew a heavy breath. Her head slumped over to her side, and I realized that she had gone back to sleep.

I felt a faint spell overtake me as well and there must have been a couple of microscopic versions of me who struggled to hold my eyelids open, but to no avail. Soon, I faded away, into the sea of unconsciousness.

When I awoke, it must have been early in the morning as a bright light shone through the room. I struggled up and found myself in much of a haze. Then, a pounding came. Well, there wasn’t one. At first I thought there was, but it turned out to be more of a notion in my head or my heart telling me that someone was at my front door. There was no basis for such a feeling, but I was compelled to follow it, nonetheless.

Through the sluggish movements, I reached for the handle on the door, then pulled it open. Upon doing so, a blinding flash of light burst into the house and I couldn’t see anything in front of me. No front yard, no dirt, no grass, no neighborhood. Nothing but the flash of light.

Soon, that dissipated, and the shapes of the environment right outside my house took hold. It was a slow process, though, and it seemed to be sapped away, or drawn in to a particular spot in the middle of my peripheral vision. Right in front of me, a little below me, until I saw who, or what was at my door: a little girl with ashen hair, soot and dust. Her large, beady eyes, like what a stuffed animal would have. Corduroy, was what she reminded me of. That little bear from a picture book way back when I was about her age. She wore a thick cloak, hood off. Actually, it might have been a short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. It was hard to tell which, as if whatever it truly was, my mind couldn’t decide what to see.

“May I help you?” I asked her.

She stared ahead rather than look up at me. Like there was something she was focused on, maybe something that she wished to steal from my home.

Oh, relax. She’s probably just a girl scout and trying to sell me cookies, I scolded myself. It was all I could do to feel at ease. Not that I felt dread around her, or that she held any malicious intent, but I still felt a little uneasy.

“Can I come in?” She looked up and asked at last, her voice soft and ethereal. She also didn’t look up at all. I didn’t see her head move, but I could tell I was the one being addressed.

Careful, Cybele. She might be a vampire. You know how those little girls who ask to come in are. First you say yes, next thing you know you’re strung up on the ceiling and a flattened husk of who you were, with a pile of your blood dripping down and staining your carpet.

...I really needed to get more sleep.

“Uh...Sure?” It must have been the tiredness in me, but if I was going to get eaten up by a vampire, it may as well have been early in the morning.

“Thank you,” she chirped, or blew forth the words, like a Magpie or a wind chime. But it was also gentle, and breathy as well. Neither a whisper nor a shout. Closer to the former than latter, but not really reaching the quietness of the former, either.

Another oddity was that after that, she didn’t move. I invited her in, but she didn’t walk in. I figured that was that when I closed the door and just chalked it up to a weird occurrence.

“Interesting home you have,” that same soothing and unnerving voice returned, and I turned to see her walking through my living room. Well, I could have said that, but she didn’t wander. She was close to the door. Right behind me, in fact. Despite her not having walked in, not even floated in (like a ghost would have at least been courteous to do), she was there.

For whatever reason, I walked over near where the room was where Demetria slept, but stayed outside the door frame and remained in the living room. Whatever that child wanted, she was already in my house now and probably wouldn’t leave until I figured what it was that she was here for. More than that, I needed to know who or what she was, if she was anything at all.

“So, what should I call you?” I blurted out the question. She didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

“I wonder…” She looked around as she replied, “what do you think you should call me?”

“Anything?” I blinked.

“You would call me ‘Anything’?” She asked, as if entertaining the idea.

“Well, I mean, if I can call you anything I want to call you...what’s to stop me from calling you ‘Lampshade’?”

“What’s to stop you indeed.”

That still didn’t seem right. Everything reminded me of ‘be not afraid’, that kind of angel vibe.

“Are you an angel?” I wasn’t satisfied with calling her a lampshade. It was just the first thing I could think of that was next to me (there was a lamp next to the television set).

“Is that how you wish to see me?”

Another odd question. It seemed neither meant to mock, be an admittance, nor denial. Just a genuine sense of wonder.

“I…I don’t know,” I was at a loss. “At least tell me your name.”

“My name?”

“You know, like my name is Cybele.”

She smiled, even if it didn’t look like her lips made any such creases.

“Ah, Cybele, the Anatolian mother goddess. If that be your name, you may be most wonderful, indeed.” “Gee, I don’t know about that. I certainly don’t want to be anyone’s mom. No offense, but I’m not interested in raising any kids.”

“Why would that bring me offense?”

“I don’t...uh, anyway. What brings you here?” I felt like I was getting nowhere, and worst of all, I didn’t even know what she wanted.

She walked forward in a way that felt more like a glide. Despite it being one foot over the other, it was fast, but also light, and didn’t look the least bit like a run. As she approached me, for whatever reason, I fell back to the floor, and she passed right by me, into the room where Demetria resided.

I got up and followed her in. There was no reason to suspect as such, but I still didn’t want any harm to come to Demetria. Especially when she still had her injuries.

But when I saw the mysterious little girl, all she did was stare at the bed where Demetria lay.

“She’s seeing disturbing visions right now,” the girl stated. Lampshade or whatever else there was to call her.

“How do you know that?” I asked. It was probably true, though, that she was having bad dreams, but I still wanted to know the basis of how she knew. Hell, how she knew Demetria at all.

“We met once before, under less comforting circumstances,” the girl replied.

“She told me she’s been having nightmares.”

“Nightmares...little imps who ride on horses?”

“No, like, bad dreams. Like, we humans get tired, and when we get tired enough, our body starts to shut down and we let our consciousness fade for a little while. We call it sleeping, and when we sleep, we often have dreams. They can be weird and unusual, sometimes mundane, though. Sometimes pleasant and sometimes terrifying. It depends less on the content of the dream, but more on the vibes the dream gives off.”

That was weird, too. I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain what sleep was. Not to mention, it wasn’t just people who slept, most animals did.

I saw a smile curve up from the side of her face.

“Thank you. I’ve been wondering what sleep was for a while.”

“What? You don’t know what sleep is?”

She turned her head from side to side.

“I’ve yet to experience it, but now that I understand the general concept, I am interested in finding out what it’s like for myself.”

“That’s odd. By the way, it’s not just humans that sleep. It’s most animals. Err...living creatures.”

She gave a single nod.

“I have met other organisms. Salamanders are one of my favorite, but I am partial to humans. They’re who I wish to study the most.”

“Are you...not human?” It seemed so obvious, but I had to ask anyway.

“I could be.”

I suppose simple questions warranted simple answers. Not that it answered anything, at least not in my mind.

“Tell me, Cybele, do you believe in reincarnation?” She asked at last and I jumped from where I stood, startled to be addressed by name.

So you know of such concepts like reincarnation, but not sleep?

“I’m not sure. I suppose it’s possible. Haven’t given it much thought.”

“What about resurrection?”

“Even less sure about that one. I’ve heard about people coming back from near-death experiences, but that’s it.”

“Recreation? Reconstruction?”

“Well, there’s facial reconstruction surgery. Why do you ask? Do you think it’s possible?”

She let out a soft laugh, like a giggle. It really took me aback that she was capable of such things.

“I don’t know, either, Cybele. I was just interested in what you believed in.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I guess I’m not all that interesting.”

“Quite the opposite; your perspective interests me as much as any human’s does.”

That sounded like a compliment. It might not have been, but I couldn’t help but blush and smile.

“So what do you want with her? Are you here just to watch?”

That time, as if I asked the magic question, caused her to give a definitive answer.

“I’m going to transfer some memories into her. They’ll be in an unused space in her mind, so she may not even notice.”

“Will it hurt?”

“It won’t hurt. She may have dreams pertaining to those memories, but it shouldn’t affect her personality. Not any more than her personality’s already been affected by her experiences.”

“Will it help with her nightmares?”

“Mm...it might. It might also give her new nightmares. I can’t say, as this is the first time I’ve done this.”

“Still...to think you’re capable of such a thing. Are you all-powerful?”

“I could be. However, there are things I’m much more interested in than that.”

She didn’t do anything with her hands, no magical beams of light shot out. There was nothing to indicate that she did anything to ‘transfer memories’, but after a few seconds of silence, she spoke up.

“It is done,” she stated.

“What was the purpose behind that?” I was a little awestruck at what little awe I had to be struck by.

“I’m just interested in seeing what might happen,” she stated, somehow both a definitive and non-definitive answer.

She shuffled out of the room, still the same gliding motion. Once again, I followed her. She hadn’t quite gotten out the door yet, so I decided I had more I wanted to ask her.

“Wait,” I tried to stop her before she could leave. “Before you go, I just want to know: am I dreaming right now?”

“Mm...You’re not sleeping, so by the definition you gave me, I don’t believe so. Unless it’s possible to dream without sleeping.”

“I don’t know...if it’s possible,” I yawned. That wave of tiredness I felt after Demetria fell asleep was starting to hit me again. I dropped down to the floor in response to my body’s demands. It wasn’t a pained collapse, I fell on my own volition.

“I’m starting to get sleepy,” I declared. Once again a yawn escaped me.

“How interesting. Would you like to sleep?”

I nodded my head. Now I felt like the kid in the situation.

“Can you sing me a lullaby?” I requested.

“Lullaby? What’s that?”

“You know, like a simple little song to get me to sleep.”

She lowered her head, as if deep in thought.

“Ah. I know one. Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are…”

With that, I drifted back off into sleep and the mysterious girl departed.

True morning was something far different.

For starters, the room was still dark. Well, I noticed light from outside the room. Of course, being that the ‘room’ Demetria and I were in was once just a big closet with no windows...yeah, it would make sense that it was still dark, even in daylight.

Oh yeah, that was the other thing: I woke up in the same place I fell asleep at in the first place, which was on the floor next to the bed Demetria slept in.

To my right was the bed. As I forced my way to a shabby half-awake state, I heard a shuffle from the bed and looked up to see Demetria sat up. She let out a low groan, her eyes squinted, then looked down where I was.

“Ugh...I just had the weirdest dream,” she rubbed her eyes with her palm and grumbled.

“Yeah?” I yawned. “What was it?”

“Well, I was in a fight with my cousin’s wife. We were both on a rooftop and she didn’t really seem like she wanted to fight, but I kept egging her on, and, well, she slashed me in the stomach, and I fell back. Last thing I remember was a stick being put in my mouth, then I woke up just now.”

That’s...disturbing?

“Huh. That is weird, indeed,” I commented.

“I know. We may not have gotten along much, but I wouldn’t want to harm my cousin’s wife. But I’m guessing it’s not so much because it was her, and it was more because of the fight I had at the hotel, and the guy who I didn’t want to fight slashed me in the stomach. Plus, my cousin’s wife did yell at me just the other night. But the context was a little different. She was upset, and I couldn’t blame her for that. Those people had no right to show up. I don’t know all the things she had to deal with, but I could only imagine how painful that was for her just to witness. As for rooftops…”

She scoffed, then gave a slight smile.

“Only thing I can recall is when I went to a place called Olympia and hid out on a rooftop to avoid guys shooting at me. Man, that place was a trip. Weird enough to have been a dream, but no, the actual dream I had felt real somehow. Like I lived it. Even if it may have just been a mishmash of various events over the past couple days...no, it didn’t feel like that at all.”

I was at a loss. From all the flakes of information she let slip, I could tell she’s gone through a lot. Much more than I would have expected from her.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I had a weird dream too,” I related.

“Yeah?” She sounded curious. “What was yours?”

I thought it over. I tried to think of what was weird about it. Actually, I tried to think about it at all, but couldn’t.

“Um...sorry. I thought I was gonna have something to tell, but I forgot,” I pouted.

“Eh. It happens.”

“So,” I hopped to my feet, “how about some breakfast in bed?”

“What are you, my housewife?” She groaned.

“No,” I frowned. “But it’ll be harder to recover on an empty stomach, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to get up much at the moment.”

“Are you gonna feed it to me, too?” She really wanted to make things difficult. Here I thought she’d have been more pleasant after a restful sleep.

“I...I haven’t thought that far. But if I have to, I will. Now, I’ve got yogurt and toast. That should be light on the stomach.”

She shrugged, then winced. For a moment, she must have forgotten how much pain her shoulder was in.

“Fine. I guess I can go for yogurt and toast. It’s something.”

It was settled: I made my way into the kitchen and pulled out a cup of Greek yogurt from my near-barren fridge.

“Greek yogurt, because...oh, never mind. Bad joke,” I scolded myself under my breath. Next was the toast. Whole grain, because that seemed like something she’d like.

After the bread popped out of the toaster and I had a spoon for the yogurt, I headed back into the room and handed them to her.

“Thanks,” she told me, then held up one of the slices of toast and bit into it.

“Ah!” I just remembered something very basic. Something which should never have been forgotten. “You’re going to need water. Lots of water. I’m also sure you’ll need to use the bathroom from time to time. Hmm...I don’t have one of those pee bags like doctors and nurses have…”

“Ew. I wouldn’t want to use one of those, anyway,” she spat. Ugh. Add that to the growing list of concerns: crumbs all over the bed.

“OK. Well, if you need help getting up, let me know and I’ll help you. I still don’t think you should walk all that much until you’re more healed, but at the same time you’re going to need to sooner or later.”

She nodded.

“Got it. You don’t have to act like my mom. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

That kinda ticked me off, not gonna lie. Maybe it wasn’t the best time, but I just had to say something.

“I’m aware of that and from the way you say you didn’t want to be saved, you know what? Maybe I really should have left you there,” I hated every word I spewed out and I felt on the verge of tears.

“I’m sor…” She began, but didn’t finish the word.

“No. Even if I’m upset, you still need help. I don’t want to boss you around, I just want to help you. It seems like most of the times we’ve met up, I’ve done things for you and helped you, and in some cases, I just wanted to be nice. But even so, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been used.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Hearing her said that just about broke me. I didn’t want to hear such a thing. Yet she continued:

“You gave me a chance, you offered to be my friend, and I never once considered taking you up on your offer. For my part, I didn’t even want a friend, be it you or anyone else. It’s not that I don’t appreciate all that you’ve done for me, but at the same time, I used you. You were convenient and I took advantage of you.”

I was speechless, unsure whether to be angry or heartbroken. But all in all, what did I expect? We didn’t know each other very well, haven’t interacted much, and yet I chose to help her out time and time again.

“I...I know I shouldn’t when we don’t really know each other very well, but I still care about you,” I brought myself to tell her.

“Why? I don’t understand,” she objected. To that, I let out a hollow laugh.

“Neither do I. I just do.”

She took a couple bites out of her yogurt, then spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t,” she argued again.

“I never said that I should, just that I do,” I countered.

She scoffed, took a few more big bites of the cup of yogurt, then set the empty cup off to the side, on the nightstand.

“I’m such a hypocrite, aren’t I? Here I am, admitting how inconsiderate I’ve been, and yet I’ve been the same way as you.”

“You have?”

“I grew to care about others who never gave a shit about me. Some of them should’ve been expected, though, but I at least thought when I left that I meant something to Sunny and Ray. But no. Instead, he texts me saying he never wants me back and blocks me. Just goes to show how little I was valued. He’d probably still welcome Remora with open arms, but me? Not a chance. It’s like –”

“That’s not true!” I interrupted her. As much as I felt for her, I couldn’t let her keep going on about that. Maybe Ray didn’t want her to know, but I believed that she needed to know. “He probably told you that to keep you safe.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“He came clean with me about it recently, and it’s hard to believe, but if it’s bad enough that he wants to keep everyone away, then I have to believe it.”

“Believe what?” She leaned forward.

“He told me about a fog. Apparently people have gone through that fog and gotten all beat up. It’s not a blizzard, either. It’s like the air is still, and the air is warmer near the diner than the rest of the arctic. He said it’s like there’s these invisible enemies that bring harm to others. Many injured people have shown up at the diner and he’s been trying to take care of every single one, but the airport is closed off because he wants to try to keep the damage to a minimum.”

“Why would he tell me that, then?” She grew angrier, and the explanation had the opposite effect of what I was hoping for.

“I don’t know. Maybe he figured if you knew, you’d try to go back.”

“He’s goddamn right, too! What? He thinks he can take all that on his own?”

“I don’t think that’s the case, but even if it was, you aren’t the only one he had stay away. Where do you think we are right now?”

She looked around the room.

“I don’t know. I just woke up here,” she replied. Which, fair point.

“We’re at my house, over in Alaska. I bought it after Ray ordered me to leave. He gave me enough money to pay for a hotel, and I had enough saved up to buy my own home from all the funds he’s given me.”

“Damn, Alaska, huh?”

That’s what you focus on? What about the fact that I’m loaded? I’m totally not strapped for cash at all, it’s awesome!

“He didn’t even want Sunny to come back, but she was stubborn and came back anyway. So while I’m not quite sure who this Remora person is, I doubt he’s making any exceptions.”

She thought over what I told her, then asked:

“How long has it been like that?”

“Not long after I took you back home.”

“So months, huh? Are they still alive?”

I nodded. Thank goodness they were, too.

“Apparently it eases up sometimes, and he’s able to escort some people out, but he still wants to prevent others from entering.”

“Sounds like they’re doing fine on their own, then,” she concluded. I was rather surprised to hear her say that, considering how she said she cared about them and all. But at the same time, I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to try to enter, anyway. At least not while she had injuries of her own that she needed to heal from. She didn’t need any more.

“I wouldn’t go that far. But my point in telling you all that is this: you have more people who care about you than you think. Hell, I’m willing to bet you care about more people than you think, too.”

“Heh,” she managed a smile. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Now, I offered it to you before, and you don’t have to take it, but would you like to be friends?”

She looked down.

“I don’t know...I’m not really someone you’d want to be friends with. In case you forgot, I’ve killed people. I’m not a very good person.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She pursed her lip. It looked like she was ready to pout.

“Yes. I’d really like a friend,” she said at last. Elation welled up in me and I felt like I could hug her, but I resisted, not wanting to exacerbate her pain. Still, I wanted to show her how happy I was to hear that, but it would have to wait as a vibration sounded off in Demetria’s pants pocket.

“Oh, my phone!” She sounded startled. She reached in and pulled it out, then answered.

“Hello?” She answered. “Oh, hey, Ves. Can I set it to speaker? It’s kinda hard to talk right now. Yeah, everything’s fine, it’s just kind of hard to hold my phone right now.”

I gulped. Like, do what you gotta do, but I felt like I’d be eavesdropping. Knowing that, I should’ve left the room. But to be honest, I kinda wanted to hear what was talked about.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for yelling at you the other night,” the woman at the other end’s voice came through. She sounded a little weepy and mournful, but maybe it was just the reception.

“Don’t be. You have every right to react the way that you did. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Still, I don’t think you deserved that, either. Juniper helped me calm down and she suggested that you’re probably going through some difficult things, yourself. I want to be there for you, the way that Juniper was there for me when I dealt with difficult things. I don’t think you need to deal with it alone.”

“Thank you,” croaked Demetria in a near whisper. “Yeah, I was in a bad place. Both physically and mentally,” she looked over at me and smiled. “Now I’m only in a bad place mentally. I’ve got someone with me who’s helping me through some stuff.”

I couldn’t help but smile back at that.

“Are they like Juniper?” Ves asked.

“Sorta. Not really. It’s not romantic or anything. But I’m glad to have her around.”

“I’m glad too.”

“Thanks.”

“I just want you to know that you’re always welcome back here.”

“Thanks, Ves. I just think it’s best if I don’t right now.”

“I understand. Won’t you at least come back to get your stuff? You left it here.”

Demetria jolted upward.

“Oh shit, I did?! I’ll head on out right now!”

“No way you’re going out with those injuries,” I stopped Demetria. She was sat up and blankets pulled out, ready to hop on up out of bed. Once I told her that, she sulked.

“Injuries? Also, who was that?” Ves sounded like a smoothie blend of confusion and worry.

“Hi, I’m Cybele. She got pretty badly hurt, but she’ll survive. I cleaned up her wounds a bit and she’s all bandaged up right now, but I don’t think she’s in any state to be running around.”

“I see. That’s really concerning.”

“Yeah, well, if you want, I can get her stuff for her,” I offered.

“I don’t know...I don’t really like the idea of people I don’t know coming over…”

Fair, I thought. I bet I wouldn’t like that either.

“...But if you’re a friend of Demetria’s, I think I can trust you.”

“Great. I’ll be on my way.”

“Will do. Thank you, Cybele, and thanks for looking after my cousin-in-law.”

Ah, so she’s the one who Demetria had a dream about getting into a fight with. I wonder if I should ask her about that.

But I didn’t. She hung up and I stretched my arms.

“Looks like I’m heading out. Mind texting me the address?” I turned to Demetria and asked.

“Not at all. Thanks for doing this,” she began typing away at her phone.

“No problem. I’m sure at least some of those things are important to you. Now, before I go, feel free to wander around the house, but please try not to push yourself too hard.”

“Got it. See you in a little bit?” She asked.

I nodded, then waved.

“In a little bit.”

I flew out at once and I think the whole trip there took me maybe two hours at most? I wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. Even if her stuff was way off in Indonesia, I’m sure I would’ve flown out to get it.

As soon as I found a nice empty patch of dirt to land in, I hopped out of the plane and approached their door. They lived in some remote place, far off from any cities or towns. Little bits of grass, some tilled farmland, a greenhouse, a shed, and a little chicken coop. Really, it looked like a nice place to hang. That said, I wasn’t sure if I could live there. As much as I was used to living in remote places, myself, I needed a certain...aesthetic that the country life they seemed to live lacked.

In any case, I walked up to the steps of their house, the wooden stairs creaked, and I knocked on their door. When the door opened, I was stunned at the beauty on display: a tall woman with glasses and near-white hair opened, and she was dressed in some kind of white robe.

“Whoa, you’re hot,” I blurted out. She raised an eyebrow.

“Do you always speak without thinking?” She asked.

“No, I swear I don’t. I’m sorry. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. You’re cute, yourself, with that ponytail and cap of yours. You remind me a bit of Juniper.”

I wasn’t sure who that was, but soon I did, as out stepped another beauty: a woman with blonde pigtails and muscular arms wearing a small tie-dye shirt and skinny jeans.

“And you’re cute,” I remarked.

Juniper, at least I presumed, beamed a bright smile.

“Thanks!”

“Isn’t she?” Ves gestured her arms as if to present her.

“Indeed! Anyway, I think I’m getting sidetracked.”

“Ahem,” Ves coughed into her fist, then changed into a more serious expression. “Yes. I as well. Tell me, is Demetria okay?”

“Well, like I said, she’s badly hurt, but she should recover. Her wounds don’t seem to be infected, and I don’t think she broke any bones. So at least there’s that.”

“Just what did she go through?” Ves mouthed out the words.

“I’m not sure if she wants me telling you, but I’m sure you can ask her.”

“Of course. I don’t want to pry.”

“I’ll go get her stuff!” Juniper declared, then walked off. As she did, I turned to Ves.

“Did you two get into a fight?” I questioned her.

“No,” she lowered her head, and turned to the side. “The other night I yelled at her. I had a mental breakdown. But it was nothing physical.”

“I’m glad to hear that. She just told me about a weird dream she had, so I got worried.”

“A dream?”

“Yeah, she said in the dream you guys fought on a rooftop, and then you slashed her stomach, and she fell.”

Ves took a step back and looked horrified.

“That’s...that’s…” She began, and it looked like I brought something out that she didn’t want to think about. “That’s strange. I don’t know what to make of that,” she said at last.

“Yeah, it was a dream, after all. Sorry, it was probably silly to bring up.”

“It’s all right. I appreciate your concern.”

I took a bow, then when I stood back up, I rubbed the back of my head.

“Oh, you know, it’s nothing special.”

Juniper came back out with a backpack and a couple pairs of shirts.

“Here ya go,” she handed them to me.

“This all?” I was a little surprised to see so little.

“Yeah, I guess she was a light traveler,” she shrugged.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll still appreciate it. Thank you guys,” I waved goodbye to them both, then hurried on my way back home.

Thoughts ran through my head as I approached the house.

Will Demetria still be there? She better, just so she doesn’t get herself hurt further. But at the same time, she does strike me as the type of person to run off.

It was a worry which turned out to be unfounded, as when I entered the house, Demetria was there in plain view: not in the room, but on the couch.

“Hey, I’m home,” I announced.

“How’d it go?” She turned and looked over to me.

“Eh, they seemed like nice people. Not really much happened. I just got your stuff, then left. How about you? How are you doing?”

“It’s been hard to get around. Had to prop myself up against the walls and stuff, but I managed. Found the bathroom and everything.”

“I’m glad to hear. I’m also glad to see you’re still here.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got a destination in mind for where I want to go next, but I’m going to wait until I’m all healed up.”

“That’s good to hear.”

She seemed to be in brighter spirits than earlier in the morning. I went ahead and plopped down on the couch beside her.

“So, wanna order take-out?” I offered.

“Oh, hell yeah! I’m starving!” She roared.

“What do you like?”

“I’m cool with whatever...but also I’m vegetarian. So there’s that.”

“Fine by me. How about Chinese?”

“Totally! I bet there’s noodles and shit.”

I snorted.

“Yeah, there sure is.”

I went ahead and ordered online, then when I looked up, I gasped upon seeing what Demetria held up.

“By the way, I found this while you were away. Neat stuff,” she had a devilish grin on her face and I wanted to yank my journal away from her.

“Please don’t tell me you read it!”

“A bit. Here and there. Neat stuff. Though I’m sure I could write better.”

“Oh yeah?” I huffed.

“Yeah. Poetry’s easy. Anyone could do it. Here: ‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. Uhh...Fuck. I can’t think of anything else. How are you?’ See? Easy.”

I burst into laughter.

“Well, I had a good laugh, at least.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed. “I get it. I’m a comedic genius. No need to rub it in.”

The rest of our night went fairly well. We seemed to bond a bit here and there, something I never imagined.

Soon days passed and she walked around more and more as the days went by. On one occasion, I found her with her laptop open and sat up on the bed.

“I’m actually thinking of taking online classes to finish up my Master’s program,” she mentioned.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a big deal for me. I dropped out for kinda stupid reasons, but truth be told I was losing interest in my studies, anyway. Still, I don’t like to leave things unfinished, so even if I’m no longer interested in marine biology, I’d still like to complete my program so I have something to show for it. For my own sake, anyway.”

“Well, I think it’s a good idea. I support your decision,” I gave a thumbs up. “Still, sounds difficult. I don’t think I could do online classes.”

“Eh. I don’t see myself liking them, either, but I don’t want to show up in person. I feel like I’d be a disgrace to whatever campus I ended up on.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”

“I know...it’s just regrets and stuff.”

“I know how that can be, too,” I admitted. “Still, if you need any help with tuition, let me know. I’m pretty rich, after all.”

Gee, I really tried to brag about that whenever I could, huh?

“Thanks, but I got my own money,” she pulled out an envelope. “It was a birthday gift from...err...someone. It’s not important who.”

“If you got enough to pay for tuition for your birthday, sounds pretty important to me.”

“Trust me, it’s not. I feel bad even using it, but a gift’s a gift.”

I wasn’t going to press any more about the subject, but I was glad to hear that she was considering doing something meaningful.

All in all, it probably lasted about a month in total before she (at least said that she) was all healed up. I didn’t expect her to leave so soon, and her bag wasn’t packed, but by coincidence, I happened to be the one who sparked her departure.

“I’ve gotta say, this is a pretty cool place you got,” she wandered around the house while I sat at the couch and tried to think of another poem to write up.

“Yeah! I’m loaded! Ray paid me well!” I shouted. All I knew was that she was somewhere upstairs. “I didn’t even check my bank account before or after I bought this house, because I was pretty confident that I could already afford it!”

Yeah, it was shallow, but I had to take pride in something, I suppose.

“Whoa, really?” She called back. “How much you got?”

Out of curiosity, I decided to go on my phone and check. I figured I must’ve had like, a couple million or something? Seemed about right. However, once I checked my bank’s app and saw how much I had, my jaw dropped and I had to hold back a scream.

“No!” I wailed and kicked my legs against the base of my couch. “I’ve got less than a thousand! I’m running low on money!”

Demetria ran down the stairs and slid down the railing. I looked at her and was about ready to break into tears.

“I don’t wanna get a job!” I whined. “People might misgender me, and I might have to deal with customers. It would be horrible!”

“Why would they do that?” She tilted her head. “Oh wait, never mind. People are dumb, especially customers.”

“Argh. I should’ve checked my bank account sooner! This house cost me most of my money! Now I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

“Relax. I’m sure I can get you some money to get by.”

I looked at her, my eyes widened.

“Really? How?”

“Eh. I’m resourceful. You’ve helped me out, and it seems simple enough for me. I just need your help to get around a bit.”

Of course. I mean, I didn’t know how I could trust her, but I just had to. Between taking the word of a violent friend and having to find a job...well, the answer was pretty obvious to me. That, and, I didn’t mind so much helping her out, as long as I didn’t feel like I was just being taken advantage of.

“Great. I’m going to pack up. I was about ready to leave anyway, so this is a perfect opportunity for me.”

“So soon?”

“You know me. Always running around. I’ll try not to get myself killed before you get your money, at least.”

“All right,” I laughed a little. “So where to?”

“Chicago,” she declared.

Really? Chicago? What could’ve been so good about there? Well, if she was so confident she’d find what she needed there, then so be it.

#remoras full #writing #stories #fiction #drama #cybele #demetria #nightmares #dreams #memories

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