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sukirichi · 3 years

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scarlet

“How long has it been? Five hundred years – a thousand?”

“Forever. It’s been forever.”

CONTENT/WARNINGS. vampire! megumi, reincarnation au, somnophilia, blood drinking, smut, murder, suicidal thoughts, angst, war, violence, all the dark themes you can expect from vampire!au such as biting, scratching, slight blood play, character death + UNEDITED. I’ll edit this tomorrow because I really want this to be of good quality but for now yeah, sorry for typos and awkward grammar

NOTE. thank you so much to vampire nonnie for requesting this, I absolutely LOVED writing this, I think this is my favorite ever work. It’s totally different and a lot more serious than what I usually write too, so thank you!

WC. 13k+

PLAYLIST: I Don’t Wanna Live Forever (Zayn, Taylor Swift) ; Fire on Fire (Sam Smith) ; Dusk Til Dawn (Zayn, Sia) ; My Nocturnal Serenade (Yohio)

“How long has it been? Five hundred years – a thousand?”

“Forever. It’s been forever.”

“Was it worth it? Was I worth the wait?”

“Of course you are. You always will be.”

BLUSH [001.]

The morning market bustled with people, the villagers bumping your shoulders left and right. You tried your best to squeeze through the crowd as you followed your mother. You’d recently come of age, and now you had to come with your mother to retrieve food and supplies while your father hunted and chopped wood for the upcoming winter.

Your mother pinched the apples of your cheeks whilst she smiled, reminding you that you could meet a nice young man at any moment and you had to look as presentable as ever.

The idea of living out the same fairytale your parents happily created for themselves had you gazing up at your mother in wonder.

You came from a happy family, with a doting mother and a supportive father who never stopped smiling through the hardships. While your mother was the fire that warmed the hearth of your humble home, your father was the sturdy wood that kept each and everyone steady and strong, and you? You were the light of their lives.

To be able to find a soulmate like that and have a family of your own, you wanted nothing more.

But your mind easily changed when people pushed past you, sending you scowls and profanities when you bunched your skirt up, your tattered boots hitting against the wet mud of the market. Your humble village wasn’t blessed with the warmest weather, but it was fine, since your family brought enough sunshine to your life that you never minded. Until now, that was.

Your boots were soiled and you were panting as you ran after your mother, her eyes crinkled as she chit-chatted with the vendors. Inside her basket were two fishes, five apples, and a few pinches of herbs that wouldn’t have really satisfied any of you.

In this side of the town, your village received the poorer suffrage of lack of food. Nevertheless, your mother’s smile and glee upon having her basket half-full reminded you that there would be better times. Not wanting to lose her again, you clutched your arm around her bicep, panting for air while she gazed back up at you worriedly.

“Child,” she cooed, cupping your face. “What ever is the matter? What could’ve had you gasping for air this way? Is there something you are running away from?”

“Mother, you are the one I am running after,” you informed her with a laugh, and your mother gasped in surprise.

“My, I am so sorry! I completely forgot that you were still new here! Oh, and your boots—”

“It is fine, mother,” you reassured, your hands coming up besides her cheek this time around to stop her from fretting over your shoes. It was beyond worn out, tattered and mouth almost opening. They had promised to get you a new one for your birthday, but a single pair cost more than a week’s worth of food that you didn’t have the heart to let them do that.

Both your parents were disheartened; they wanted to give you the best, of course, but it didn’t matter to you.

You understood the notion of wanting to look your absolute best in hopes of catching the eye of a future lover, but the idea didn’t sit entirely well with you if they had to base their attraction on mere physical appearance. Besides, it was called soulmate, was it not? There had to be a connection – a pull, of sorts – between two souls, and not from the perspective of the naked eye.

If you really were to meet your soulmate, they would see right through your skin and deeper than the depth into of your bones, their eyes looking directly onto where everything mattered most – the heart, the soul, the core.

Your mother’s gaze softened at the sight of you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear as she cooed at how beautiful you were.

Endlessly, she reminded you that you were the most precious blessing of her life in par with your father, and when your mother doted on you like that, how could you not flush with appreciation, eyes bashful and chest swelling with love?

You were a firm believer people were their most beautiful when they radiated kindness and are capable of unconditional love. After all, what could be more beautiful than a compassionate soul? Undoubtedly, you wanted to love someone like that, a person capable of kindness and strength even in the darkest situations; one who could see beyond the weary boots and dirt-stained old clothing you wore.

It seemed that someone had the same idea in mind for you felt a burning sensation at your face. Eyes flitting over your mother’s head, your breath hitched when you were met with soft, blue eyes that put your village’s stormy sky a shame.

Midnight blue swirling with warmth like hot milk on a rainy day, the feeling of having your lover’s arms wrapped around you and their gentle breaths whispering against your ear – that’s what you felt like when you saw him for the first time.

He stood outside his father’s shop frozen, eyes wide and locked with yours, the amount of scrapped metal suddenly weighing a ton despite his growing muscles.

Unsure of what to do but appreciative of the wondered boy, you shyly ducked your head down, peering up at him under your lashes with the smallest of smiles visible on your face. You raised your hand to wave at him when your mother tugged you away, chattering about getting you a cheesecake despite not having much to afford it, only because she felt something good would happen today.

And your mother was right – she rarely wasn’t, in the first place.

Nearly stumbling over your steps, you turned back to the young man, no longer hesitating before you beamed at him, fingers flickering into a small, delicate wave perfected by young women your age.

His reaction was immediate – a mad blush to his cheeks, and his body growing rigid at being caught staring at you.

You didn’t mind though. If anything, you felt giddy, and there was an unmistakeable bounce in your steps all the way back home.

BLUSH [002.]

His name was Fushiguro Megumi. He was the son of your village’s infamous blacksmith, who everyone dubbed as ‘Scarface Toji.’

All kinds of rumours about his father spread around the village, ranging from how he used to be a bloody merchant who worked for the King and lived a life without regards for others. As long as he was given enough coins, Scarface Toji would do anything.

Your parents had pinched your waist the moment you mentioned it to them. Your father shook his head disapprovingly over a cup of fresh milk, reminding you again and again that you shouldn’t believe rumors. Apparently, Scarface Toji was just a widowed man left with a baby son before he could even say goodbye to his wife, and he migrated from another town to here in order to start all over again in hopes of giving a better life for his son than the one he previously lived.

It was hard to believe it at first. Toji was a huge man who always carried multiple weapons, but after learning that he just made them and never wielded them, you eventually believed that the man was harmless.

Your respect for him only increased when his son came mere days later, his hands trembling in his chest as he requested to have a presence with you, flowers clutched in his chest.

You were at your room that one dewy morning, fluffing and fixing your bed when your mother squealed from the doorway, followed by your father’s light hearted voice telling her to calm down. Not moments later, your mother had clipped ribbons in your hair and flattened down your housedress, the grin on her face unexplainable and slightly terrifying.

The burning question at the back of your head was soon answered when you were met by the same young man you’d smiled at the other day. Fushiguro Megumi, he introduced, and until now, you could still remember the way your heart skipped a beat as he said, May I court you?

Only that time around, your father answered for you.

You were actually flummoxed he didn’t take out his hunting gun – like how he always did when other males requested a presence with you – and patted Megumi’s shoulder instead, asking to accompany him at the back to go chop some wood.

It was unspoken tradition that suitors had to impress the lady’s father first. You were more surprised when Megumi happily agreed, rolling his shoulders back to prepare for the task.

The smile he sent your way was boyish, shy even, but determination and anticipation shone through them, somehow leaving you wanting more than before. You and your mother, too curious as ever, wouldn’t stop giggling as you watched both men chop wood in the back, talking about the most mundane things ever like how Megumi’s father was faring, or how his studies was doing.

Megumi felt at ease enough with your father, the sleeves of his shirt pushed all the way to his elbows while he raised the axe. He was effortless in splitting the wood in two, not a break of sweat evident on his translucent skin.

“My, he’s a strong one!” your mother praised, her body practically thrown all over your body as she watched Megumi do more work while your father chatted his ear off. “Handsome too!”

“Mother!” you scolded, though the embarrassed giggles let her know you weren’t really complaining. She was right, Megumi was strong and definitely handsome; with a chiselled jaw, a pointed nose, striking eyes and arm littered with veins and cuts that he got from early ages of hard work.

Once your mother noticed that they were finishing up, she hastily yanked you back into the kitchen. She fretted more than you did about teaching you how to make the perfect meal; that the best way to reward them for their hard work was through a nice, warm meal.

You were too shy to ever vocalize that you wanted to impress Megumi with your cooking skills. Thankfully, your mother pried no further when you quietly asked her to leave the meal to yourself, already preparing out the ingredients while she picked the best flowers from the front yard to decorate the table with.

When Megumi arrived, his eyes roamed around the humble walls of your home almost as if looking for something.

You stood there at the corner, teeth sunken into your lip while your toes curled inside your slippers. Soon, his gaze landed on yours, his lips breaking out into one of the sweetest smiles – one that was far sweeter than the nectar you sipped from the flowers in your youth.

There was no proper explanation to why you stepped forward, a dip in your brow as you wiped at the beads of sweat that had now accumulated beneath his eyes.

His hair stood up in spikes pointed in different directions. You chuckled when it wouldn’t tame down at each stroke of your finger, and Megumi mimicked the melodious sound pouring from your lips. Too lost in the sensation of having his soft strands running through your hands, you forgot that Megumi was technically still a stranger, and you froze when his touch wrapped around your wrist.

You looked up at him then, an apology right there at the tip of your tongue for invading his privacy when he murmured, “Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

If the sound of his laughter was harmonious before, then his voice could only be compared to honeydew and pastel splatters of the skies clashing in the horizon. Warm, gentle, soothing – you were right, he felt like the embrace of a kind soul in a stormy, cold day.

So you melted, unable to fight back your smile as you leaned closer into his touch.

“Hi.”

BLUSH [003.]

It was one of those rare days that the sun shone down brightly onto your village. The sun had stopped hiding behind the clouds, extending its fingertips down to graze at the greenery of your home, the light filtered through the thick branches of trees that you were currently hiding at.

You had to muffle your giggle with the back of your hand, eyes darting around to inspect if Megumi was anywhere close to you.

Half a year had passed ever since he courted you, winning not only your heart, but the approval and warm welcome of your parents into your home at the same time. It made sense that he had easily placated himself beside you at all times that Megumi eventually earned a seat at your dining table. Not only was he the loving, gentle soul you had always yearned for, but Megumi understood you in more ways than one.

In fact, it almost felt like you had lived your life with a missing piece of yourself.

Now that you had found him, the both of you showed no signs of wanting to pull away. Shy hand holding had transitioned into sneaky kisses, strong arms pulling you into a corner to kiss you goodbye before he retreated back home, your mind hotwiring as you reminisced his lips over your cheeks over and over again. Funnily enough, it became harder to sleep.

Why would you want to sleep and dream when every waking moment was magical enough?

Just as you tip-toed behind another tree to hide from your lover who hadn’t stopped attacking you with tickles, you stepped on a dry leaf, the crunching sound resonating onto the wide forest.

“Blast,” you muttered to yourself, eyes closed as you awaited the impact.

Just as you’d expected, Megumi came running behind you. Graceful in his movements as ever, you both laughed as Megumi flipped you both over before you could fall, your weight falling on top of his while his back hit the flowery fields.

“Found you, lover,” he teased, his hands curious as they ran up and down your sides. “It’s going to take a lot more than that if you want to run away from me, you know. No matter where you are, no matter how long it takes, I’ll do what it takes to find you and have you in my arms all over again.”

“Silly,” you teased as you leaned close to him, rubbing your noses together that pulled out a boyish laughter from him. “I would never run nor hide from you, my love. Where you are is where I wish to be?”

“Is that so?”

“No doubt it.”

“Then,” he interlaced his fingers with yours, gaze solemn as the sun shifted. The looming trees overhead provided you both privacy and shelter, nothing but small streaks of light caressing both your skins as Megumi’s lips padded over your knuckles, thumbs grazing at your wrists. Nothing could prepare you for what was to come next. You couldn’t tell what would happen, but he’d grown serious, voice low as he announced, “Marry me. I’ll take care and love you for the rest of my life. What else do we have to wait for?”

Your heart drummed in your chest loudly that you could no longer hear his next words.

Whether he said something or not, none of it mattered. For spending those six months with him already felt like a lifetime and you were greedy – you wanted to be with him more, to hold him tighter, and kiss him a little longer. He was right – there was no need to wait.

And you certainly didn’t wait as you yanked him by the collar, your lips meeting in a heated kiss. You could feel each other smile as your arms wrapped around his neck.

The kiss told him everything you couldn’t put into words. A hundred yes, a thousand I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and a million I love you’s. Megumi released all the love and passion he held for you when he pushed his lips against yours just as intensely, his scent blanketing over you like a veil of comfort.

There was no need to wait.

You and Megumi ran hand-in-hand all the way back to your home, the joyous laughter of the memories of youth and innocent summer romance the only music that era would ever know. Slamming the door open, both chests heaving with air and pinkies looped together, your smile fell off your face when an unfamiliar gentleman faced your way at the sudden intrusion.

He was tall, taller than Megumi and a lot broader. His long, dark hair was pulled back in a slick knot, ears pierced with black earrings that added to the darkness of his aura. His smile was nothing but eerie as his unwelcomed gaze travelled all the way down your form before his eyes darkened to the hand yours was connected with.

Sat behind him were your parents; even with their heads turned away from you, the grim looks painting their faces was evident.

“Mother? Father?” you stepped closer to Megumi, not missing the way the gentleman’s frown deepened. “May I ask what is the meaning of this? Had I heard we’d be having a visitor, I’d have stayed to welcome him,” turning to the gentleman, your back arched into a deep bow. “Forgive me, Sir, I was direly uninformed of your presence. I do not mean any rudeness. Please forgive me.”

“She is perfect, just as I’ve heard.”

Before any of you could react, the man had stood up. If he was tall before, his stance was terrifyingly imposing now as he looked down at both of you and Megumi. Your lover stiffened beside you before his arms encircled your waist, pressing you flush against him while your palms flattened on his chest.

His accelerated heartbeat matched yours, lips turning dry at the situation.

The man scoffed for a moment upon seeing your comfort for your lover, then he smirked, head lolled to the side as he announced the words that would soon end the ruin of your life.

“Ah, yes, young love. What a magical thing to experience,” In the blink of an eye, he pushed Megumi to the side, your body crashing into this man’s broad chest while he possessively placed a palm over your head. You couldn’t move, eyes wide and mouth dry as your mother began to cry, while your father simply kept his gaze to his feet. Megumi mirrored your stance, hands clenched into fists though he too, made no move.

There was no telling what would happen next.

“But that is all in the past now. Fortunately for you, my dear, you’ve wonderfully fulfilled your duty as a child to be your parents’ future. Now come with me, you’ve got some dolling up to do.”

BLUSH [004.]

They lied to you.

When your parents told you that poverty didn’t mean anything and a family was still a family no matter what happened, they didn’t mean it. It was all a lie.

Memories of being dragged outside your house and thrown into a carriage fancier and more expensive than anything your parents could ever afford even after a lifetime’s work remained burned in your head like a searing memory. You couldn’t remember how your parents reacted at your disposal; you couldn’t even look at them, the betrayal sitting hard and square right at your face.

But he remained at the back of your mind.

You had only been so young then, hopelessly in love, and you still are, you very much are. You closed your eyes as you fought back the tears that threatened to spill when you replayed the image of Megumi running after the carriage while you cried out for him, begging for him to save you. Your new husband had only snickered to himself then, well-aware your lover could never catch up.

Soon, Megumi grew tired, the dark patches of mud so familiar to you from your village transforming into wide greenery that led to bridges crossed to another town that would eventually lead you into the castle.

Suguro Geto, a man twice your age, barely had to lift a finger when he decided to buy you as his wife.

He was a higher ranking official under the King’s command himself. Wealth, power, luxury – he had them all, and he could and did provide everything you needed with just a simple request.

You supposed you should feel thankful. Days of sleeping with an empty stomach and a parched throat was nothing but a distant memory now, your skin soothed with only the finest silk and people bowing the moment you walked through the door. Gone was the poor girl from the countryside who wrestled with pigs once in her life when you’d accidentally dropped a slice of bread in the pig pen – only a refined, intelligent, and extremely obedient wife of Sir Geto was in place.

Or at least, that was how it was supposed to be.

Geto, despite his tyrannical personality and no hesitance when it came to abusing what he was capable of, was extremely disinterested in you. It was no secret – to both you and the servants – that he brought women around all the time. Even after years of marriage, not once had he laid a finger on you, opting to buy a bigger bed instead to keep the space between you both.

You were perfect for him; you were everything he wanted.

A woman who did everything he asked, a lady who smiled and chatted exuberantly when needed, both beauty, brain, and elegance combined into one, but most of all, you did not want him. And that was why Suguru treasured you above all, for you were the one who prevented him from being tied down to even worse women who were obsessive with him. In payment to your silence and submission, he provided you with all the comfort and luxury you could ever ask for.

Though you never did ask for anything.

Your only wish was to return home – but you dared not utter these desires for you knew it was as far away as a distant galaxy. Nothing but emptiness and dread accompanied you with each passing day, the image of Megumi soon faltering into your memories.

You’d lost count of the times you cried yourself to sleep while Geto laid beside you, his palms pressed into his ears while your sobs coated his velvet walls until the sun rose. If it were not for the cream spread all over your skin, people could easily see that you were a restless, broken wife instead of a happy one like you pretended to be; that your soul withered with each second.

There was no more hope, no light, no love present in the large, empty hallways of your manor.

Suguru was out for the night, probably lurking underground casinos fucking whoever whore was desperate enough to warm his cock for the night. Your servants had long retired to their quarters, and with nothing much else left to do, you left your room, the nightgown barely wrapped around your shoulders as you padded to the garden barefoot.

The grass was a lot softer here in his manor than it ever was back at home. Home – wherever that was. You couldn’t find your way back to it.

Everything here seemed tens of thousand times better than anything, and yet it felt so empty. Hollow. Dark. Meaningless. Even as you perched yourself upon the swing, feet kicking into the ground until you soared high enough that the moonlight caressed your skin, you found no beauty in everything.

Everything you once treasured faded into the night.

A rustling sound made you plant your heels flat on the ground, eyes narrowed at the source of the sound. The bushes behind you stilled, and you sat up from your seat, hands coming up to tug your gown back to your body as if it would protect you. “Who’s there?” you demanded, “You are not allowed to trespass the Geto Manor or else—”

Your words were swallowed right back when the figure appeared from behind the bushes. Even after years, you would still be able to recognize that face anywhere. The untamed hair, the flat lips, those eyes that had always reminded you of the skies you’ve grown tired staring at – your feet moved faster before your mind could comprehend it.

Megumi barely staggered as he caught you in his arms, your cries muffled by the collar of his shirt. Your heart tore into pieces and healed right back when Megumi buried his face into the crook of your neck, muttering I’m sorry over your skin over and over again.

“I’m sorry,” Megumi’s voice cracked, “I’m so sorry it took me so long to get here. I am sorry I couldn’t run after you. I am sorry I didn’t—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your hands trembling as you cupped his cheeks. Too long, it had been too long, and your hands were everywhere. On his hair, at the nape of his neck, grabbing at his shirt to pull him closer – you ravaged him with your lips and hands that a string of saliva threaded between your mouths when you gasped for air, only to kiss him harder the second time around.

Megumi’s hand came up to clutch at your bottoms, his body now firmer and bigger than the last time you remembered. He smelled like home, felt like heaven, tasted like bliss and the saltiness of your tears mixed in with his delectable self.

“I love you,” you declared, the sobs wracking through your chest before your head fell on his shoulder. Megumi doesn’t stop you when you fisted his shirt, his hands only patting your back as you hiccupped, the tears now drenching his shirt. “I love you, I love you, please, my love, run away with me, let’s live somewhere else, okay?” You cupped his cheeks, your thumbs swiping away at the tears that had also stained his pretty face.

Megumi nodded, not wasting another second when the both of you treaded through a very thin line by kissing you all over again, his lips flushed with yours.

There was no need for air. The only thing you needed at this moment was to have him beside you, and just as Megumi pulled away to tell you he’d do anything for you, blood spilled past his lips. You watched as the red liquid splattered from his lips and dripped down your chest, and that’s when you felt the piercing pain through your chest.

Megumi dropped you, your body colliding on the ground with a loud thud. Your chest bled from a shallow cut, though that was the last thing you paid attention to when Geto stood behind your lover, red eyes shining through the brilliant night and long fangs sinking down his chest.

Your screams were muffled with Geto’s palm as he showed up right in front of you in a flash, his cold touch sending shivers down your spine.

He forced you to watch as your lover fell in front of you, a sword poking through his chest. You struggled against your husband’s hold, but he was far stronger and bigger than you that you fell limp into his chest. Geto barely blinked an eye as your nails sank down to his skin hard enough to draw blood from his pale skin.

“Watch, darling,” he purred into your ear, “You wanted to be with your lover forever, right? Then let me grant you wish – I’ll give you the forever you always wanted.”

“Why are you doing this?!” you bit back through the palm covering your mouth, vision blurred as tears coated your face. “I did everything for you! I did everything you asked me too – you didn’t have to kill him, he was the only one that mattered to me, how dare you?!”

“No reason, darling,” Geto pushed you off his lap before tugging Megumi’s shirt, revealing his lifeless and bloodied face staring right at you. “I was simply…drunk, you could say. I was not pleased to find my wife locking lips with another man.”

“I was never yours,” you spat out, hands dug deep to the earth underneath you.

“No, you’re not. Your heart was always owned by another, was it not?” Geto tipped his head as he watched Megumi’s lifeless form crumble back to life, a guttural groan echoing through his throat. Your eyes widened when his head snapped upwards, striking blood red eyes that resembled Geto’s glowing under the moonlight. You crawled backwards until your back hit the three, unable to recognize the man in front of you. Geto stands to the side, his long and sharp tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “Young ones are always the most dangerous. I cannot wait to see how this one goes.”

“Megumi!”

“Thirsty, are you not?” Geto taunted. At the sound of his voice, Megumi leapt to him with dark claws extended. A scream ripped from your lips, one that was immediately silenced when Geto effortlessly wrapped a hand around Megumi’s neck, choking him until his limbs flailed helpessly in the air.

“Ah, ah, ah, I won’t suggest drinking my blood. You would find it repulsive,” A sickening snap resonated in your ears as Geto broke Megumi’s arm to turn him your way, fangs bared and animalistic growls making your lover seem unrecognizable. You sat there, frozen and panting. Why couldn’t you move? “Your human lover is right there, though. Go on, take a look,” he whispered in the younger man’s ear, his red eyes glinting with amusement. “See her luscious skin? Hear the rapid heartbeat pulsing at the juncture of her neck, begging you to ravish her? That is what you’ve always wanted, right? To claim your woman as yours?”

Megumi’s fierce growl was enough to make you bury yourself harder in the tree trunk, the tears streaming freely down your face before Geto released his hold on him. “If it makes you feel better, I never touched her. She is all yours for the taking. Now, drink.”

At his command, something snapped in Megumi.

All hell broke loose. The last thing you saw was a beam of crimson eyes paired with a red flush to his face maniacal with thirst. His name came out in a broken cry, Megumi’s claws ripping away at your clothes until his fangs sank down into your skin.

Your legs kicked out beneath you as you gasped for air. From behind Megumi, Geto crossed his arms to himself, soon disappearing into the night.

Megumi kept gasping and growling as he drank from you harder. The grip on his hair eventually faltered until your hand fell on the ground, his eager tongue lapping at what else dripped from the holes he’d punctured at your neck. He doesn’t let up once, hands coming up to crush your windpipe until your bones cracked at one clench of his muscles, merely a reminder of what he could now be capable of.

Was this death? you wondered before black completely clouded your vision, you were not ready for it.

ROSE [005.]

Megumi hunched over his seat, his hands making quick work of jotting down tiny details of the modern life in his notebook. It had been two hundred years since he last saw you, and the world had drastically changed ever since.

It wasn’t easy getting over your death – especially not when he snapped back into consciousness, the painful reminder that you had died from his hands haunting him in his sleep.

Not that he ever had much sleep to begin with since he was always tired and restless, his skin hollow and pale, with dark circles finding home under his metallic blue eyes that had lost their previous warmth. After years of trying to learn how to control himself through isolation in the mountains, Megumi eventually wandered back down to the city, surprised that time had flew by so fast and your old village was now unrecognizable.

People wore lavish clothing and had parasols made out of lace, making his throat dry up at the thought that lace back then cost way too much than he could ever afford.

Too much had changed indeed. So much time had passed that Megumi’s previous anger and hatred to himself had now been filled with nothing but a lingering, empty feeling that gnawed at him. No matter how much he tried to blend in with society and keep his true form a secret, nothing ever really took away the fact that he was a monster that could hurt anyone if he even lost the slightest best of control.

He didn’t even know the name of the man – no, the creature – who made him this way.

Megumi sighed as he snapped his notebook shut, conversing freely with this human friend he made. They were ‘of the same age’ as Megumi introduced. Itadori Yuuji wasn’t top of the food chain, per se, which is exactly just what Megumi wanted since the last thing he wanted was unnecessary attention. Right now, he accompanied his friend – the only person he could care about – as he got his suit fitted. Yuuji stared at his reflection endlessly, tapping at his bottoms with a thoughtful hum.

Just then, something familiar wafted into Megumi’s senses. At first, he thought it was the scent of the soap he used, but this was too…different – he was sure he’d caught whiff of it before, but he was beyond a hundred years old that it was impossible to pinpoint what it was.

His eyes fluttered outside the shop as he looked for the source of the smell. It was soft, leaving behind a lingering flutter of his chest, and before Megumi could realize it, he’d already shot up from his seat, captivated by the sound of laughter and giggles across the street. Then, he saw you. You were right there, head thrown back in laughter as you chatted with your friends, lips painted a flushed red that only broadened at something your friend had said.

“Fushiguro – where are you going?”

“My apologies, friend. I’m afraid there is somewhere I have to be,” Quickly, he stashed his notebook inside the front of his coat jacket, pushing past against the crowd and crossing the street. The closer he got, the more he recognized your laughter, your features sharpening into a crystal resemblance of the person he’d lost years ago.

He couldn’t believe it, could barely stop himself when you walked away, his hand naturally falling to grasp at your wrist.

“Excuse me, Miss. I—” Megumi was stunned when you turned to him, your smile polite and bright as ever, not the least bothered that he pulled you out of nowhere.

“Yes? Is there something I can help you with?”

“I…I just thought I’ve seen you somewhere before. I’m sorry if that came out weird,” not wanting to be rude (your friends were glaring suspiciously at him), Megumi retracted his hands by his sides, gaze planted to his feet as it was considered impolite to hold such eye contact with the opposite sex – especially to a stranger. He could feel himself grow warmer despite his lack of body heat inside his heat, your mere presence prompting his undead hear to beat once more. It made Megumi step backwards, throat falling dry. “Uhm, I suppose I should turn back—”

“Would it be odd if I said I felt the same way?”

His head whipped up to yours so fast that it looked comical, and he was blessed by your amused smile. “What?”

“You feel familiar, and I wish to understand why,” At this point, the sound of his heartbeat that had long been forgotten drummed loudly in his ears, so much so that he could barely hear your words anymore. He had to stare at the way your lips moved, hypnotized at the same time as he tried to fathom what you said. “Would you like to have lunch this Friday? Perhaps we could…familiarize ourselves with one another more.”

It had been a long and painful two hundred years – but you were here – that Megumi would be insane to say no.

ROSE [006.]

Megumi made sure to be silent as he slammed the door shut, not wanting to wake his lovely wife who’d long retired to bed after a long day of work. The eminent darkness in your home told stories of how late it was this time of the night, nothing but silence and the faint cricketing of insects heard in the dead night.

Upon seeing you on the bed, soft breaths spilling from those lips he could never get enough of ravishing, his shirt doing a terrible job at keeping you modest, Megumi’s jaw clenched.

Tugging his tie off and discarding his jacket to the ground, Megumi made quick work of spreading your legs open, his breath caught in his throat because his naught wife decided not to wear anything. His fangs bared on instinct, the tent in his pants growing.

You were always tempting him – and despite being a fearsome creature, Megumi was always weak to resist your teasing.

Glancing at your peaceful face, Megumi bunched your shirt up above your breasts, your nipples hardening at his cold touch. Megumi sighed, not wasting another minute before his tongue dove into your awaiting lips that had already bloomed open, always so ready to welcome your husband’s eager tongue even in your sleep. He groaned at your arousal mixing with the tangy taste of tonight’s dinner.

Soft sighs could be heard above from you when Megumi licked a flat line from your hole all the way up to your clit, his hands kneading at the soft flesh of your thighs before he sucked generously at the pearl hidden by your hood.

You quivered in response as Megumi’s tongue finally entered your drenched core, his tongue teasing and expertly licking at the bumpy ridges of your walls. It gave him great pleasure to see his not-so-innocent wife trembling upon his hold, that even in your sleep, you were so responsive to him. Your reactions stirred him to plunge his tongue deeper into your hole that would normally be so filled to the brim with his cock, not stopping until you fisted at the sheets, cumming on his tongue.

Megumi drank at your juices like it was a thirsty man, making him chuckle a bit because he was always thirsty – both for you and the life that throbbed in your veins.

Kissing the inside of your thighs, your head fell to the side, unaware that the sheets were now stained with your arousal. Megumi hoisted himself up to press a kiss on your lips, his other hand gripping at his hardness before he slid himself in, low groans emitting from his lips when your warmth finally engulfed him.

He was at home.

He had both arms planted beside your head as he kept panting at your ear, his thrusts slow and passionate in order not to rouse you from your sleep. He knows how tired you are and he wanted his pretty wife to get all the rest she needed, but it was getting harder with each passing moment when you clenched around him, pupils blown wide the moment his nails dug into your hips.

“I am sorry to wake you, my wife,” Megumi apologized while littering kisses all over your skin, your moans now uncontrolled and breathy now that you were completely aware to receive the pleasure he was eagerly giving you. “I couldn’t help it – not when you are so heavenly laid out for me like this.”

“Mmh, take me as you wish, my love,” you groaned around him, your arms finding home around his neck as you pulled him closer. One of your legs was placed around his waist, the other knee pinned flat on the ground so Megumi could fuck into you deeper, turning you into nothing but a whining mess. “You know you can always have me whenever and however you want. If it’s you, I would never mind,” Megumi pulled his head away from your neck to gaze into your eyes instead, glowing red orbs meeting yours while his hips snapped harder. You would’ve smiled had it not been for his dark circles turning at least two shades darker, his skin gray and a little flake.

“You are pale. Have you not been feeding properly again?” Megumi intentionally ignored you, and you knew he was trying to distract you by thrusting harder into you, having never liked you to remind him of what he was. It worked for a moment, nails scratching down his back, but you cupped his cheeks you’re your warm palms, holding him tense enough that he was forced to look at you. “Megumi. Megumi, look at me – have you not been drinking well?”

“You know I refuse to.”

“You need it. At this pace you’re going at, you’re going to – ah – you might get sick and weaken, my love.”

Megumi shook his head indignantly, “I would never sink my fangs down a breathing human’s body. I refuse to give in to the demon they have made out of me.”

Your eyes softened at how those blood red eyes faltered, his fears showing through the moment his thrusts grew slower, his touch gentle against your hip. It almost felt like he was making love to you, and you gasped when his cock hit your most sensitive spot, your walls clenching and gripping around him like a vice. “You are no monster,” you told him, “Your heart is warmer and kinder than any other beating hearts I’ve come across with. You are a good person, Megumi, giving into to your hunger does not make you a demon,” when hesitance still crossed his face, you pulled him in to see the sincerity in your gaze, passionate enough to make him stutter his hips inside you. “It would be a lie if you call yourself such an atrocity when you are nothing but tender and loving when it comes to someone as fragile as I am compared to your grace.”

“I do not want to hurt you.”

“You could never, my love,” you assured him, baring your neck to him. Megumi’s eyes zeroed in on the rapid pulse visible at your tender skin, the sight enough to make his cock twitch. “Now, drink.” At your words, Megumi froze. He’d heard that same phrase before – right before he killed you by drinking you dry, and Megumi scrambled away from your hold with fear written all over his face.

Not again, not again, no, he wouldn’t hurt you – Megumi never got the chance to leave when you shushed him with a kiss, ankle buried in his back to keep him inside you. “Please, my love, let me make you feel good. I no longer wish to see you this way. Drink my blood – do it for me.”

That was enough to push him over the edge. Sending one last questioning look your way, to which you responded with a nod, eyes hazy with desire, Megumi punctured your skin.

You cried out from the pain that added to the pleasure, and with Megumi rutting his hips fast and hard into your abused cunt that was still sensitive from your previous orgasm, your husband brought you over the edge. He came not long afterwards, spilling his seed deep inside you – one you were both not worried about since he could never impregnate you.

Megumi doesn’t stop from lapping at your wound, pulling his cock out before his lips swooped down to your breasts, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

You were both breathing hard, Megumi trying to calm down the tremors of your body from the orgasm while sucking your tits, his hand caressing the other one to not leave it unattended. Hands coming up to card through his fingers, you kissed the shell of his ear, your sweat bodies desperately clinging around one another. “Megumi,” you mumbled sleepily, “Turn me.”

Megumi stilled above you. In a split second, your husband was off you, standing at the edge of the bed with all his muscles rigid and tense, eyes blaringly red as he hissed, “What did you say?”

“Have you not thought about it?” you winced as you sat up, the discomfort apparent upon feeling both your cum drip down your ass to your cheeks. “How you will remain the same after all these years, and I will die and wither like a wilted flower? I do not wish to part from you, Megumi. That was the vow we took in our wedding – that you’d be with me my whole life.”

“Until death do us part,” he reminded you, pointing at the wedding band that adorned both your fingers. “That was the vow.”

“So you won’t turn me?” you scoffed in disbelief.

“No. You only say this because you are blinded with love, but you will soon come to regret it once you become like me. A creature of the night, fearful of the light, taking life from others to preserve yours and unable to provide warmth to my beloved – why would you ever want to be like me?”

“Because it’s the only way I can be with you.”

“Are we not enough the way we are now?” Megumi ran his hands through his hair as he sat back down, his extended claws hastily pointing at the both of you. Even through the dim lights, you could see how his face had darkened. “I am happy, you are happy. We both love each other – what else could you want?”

You gritted your teeth at his words, picking up the pillow beside you before throwing it at him. “Stop being selfish!” you exclaimed, your husband’s eyes flushing a deep shade of rose when he glared at you. “Think about me! A few years from now, my body and face will sag to the point I am unrecognizable. I will no longer be beautiful in your eyes and soon I’ll even lose the strength to cross from our chambers to the washroom. Soon, I’ll be nothing but a drained human because we are weak, and what do you do? You’re just going to watch it all. You will let me get sick and die just because you refuse to live longer with me?” you repeated his words with a scoff, tears stinging your eyes when your voice dropped a tone lower, your arms wrapped around your chest as you rocked side to side. “Do you even love me?”

“Do not dare assume I do not. I waited for you for two hundred years.”

“That is exactly my point, you no longer need to wait for me if you’d just turn me!” you bit back, full on crying at this point with little to no regard that you would wake the whole neighborhood with your discord. “I want to be with you, Megumi, forever. I’ve lost you once and you lost me too, why would you want to put us both through that pain again?”

“Because the pain of losing you will never amount to the misery you would feel once you see that this is not a glorified life,” his gaze softened, his claws retracting until his hands reverted back into its normal ones. From where you sat, you could see your husband falter little by little, his tone turning tender. “I would rather see you die and lose you again than hate yourself because of what I’ve done, even if it was to fulfill your wishes.”

Silence coated the room. Only your heartbeat and his raspy breaths were the only things audible, and when you spoke, the sound of your heart shattering followed. “You would rather see me die? You would rather watch me slip away from your grasp?”

“Yes.”

The fact that he held no hesitance in them just told you everything you needed to know. You turned away from your husband, laughing bitterly. “That makes everything clear then,” you stood up and walked past him, not bothering to cover yourself up as you trudged to the washroom. “I guess I will just continue to please you until my human days are over. Not that it would bother you though, am I correct? You could always satisfy yourself with another body while I slumber for a few more years.”

“You will hate yourself if I turn you.”

“You not need worry about that, husband,” you told him, coming out of the room with a fresh towel and cleaned legs. Megumi still hadn’t moved a muscle from where he stood, his eyes now a longing shade of blue when you burrowed under the covers, back turned away from him. “I already hate you a lot more than I could ever feel for myself.”

ROSE [007.]

Your human body was weak. You get sick and Megumi refuses to heal you, and you died in despair that he didn’t even care about you. A plague had hit your city, and you fell victim to it. After months of being isolated in your quarters until you could no longer taste food or have enough energy to even drink a sip of water, you knew you had to accept your fate.

Megumi stood beside your bed, your hand almost as cold as his when he held it tenderly, regret pooling in his eyes at his refusal to heal you. You were still so young, so fragile – yet he could never bring himself to do it, even if it was your dying wish.

“Will you really not let me live a few more years with you, my love?”

“I am sorry,” he cried out, finally breaking down despite his insistence to stay strong and stoic for the both of you. If you had enough strength, you would’ve cried too; it was the first time you’ve seen Megumi lose himself this way, and he kept sobbing into the crooks of your palm, breaths stuttered and words broken. “I truly am. I cannot do it. Forgive me – forgive me.”

“Don’t cry,” you soothed weakly, thumbs brushing his tears away. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to heal, my love. I’m sorry I can’t stay any longer.”

“I’m going to miss you,” he shook his head desperately, lips pressed against the weak heartbeat from your wrists as if that would magically heal you back to life. His words broke you a lot further because you both knew that maybe this is where you would end, and you couldn’t even spend that much time with him. A few months of marriage in comparison to the years he waited for you was simply unfair. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I will miss you too,” you rasped out, “I hope in the next life we meet, I’ll get to stay with you a little longer,” Your breath wracked as your chest tightened, the virus making its way all voer your body and depleting you of everything you once had.

Though young still, your cheeks had hollowed, the light leaving your eyes as your lips flattened into a thin line.

You were inherently frail next to Megumi’s unwavering health and strength, and your smile was weak – forlorn – as you gazed up at him for the last time, trying to print his features deep into your soul.

“It feels like the world is always against us, don’t you think? If so, then maybe you and I are not meant to be as we thought.”

Megumi kept kissing your hands, kissing your tears away until you said your final goodbyes, your hand falling from his onto his lap. You couldn’t stay long enough to hear him pour his love out for you the same way he stood under the pouring rain, watching as the rose placed upon your tomb he likened you with wilt and wither.

Why was it that he could never be good to you?

First, he had caused your death, and now, he couldn’t even give you a proper one. You lived an unfulfilled life. There were still so many things you wanted to do, a multitude of places you wanted to go, and you wanted nothing more than to spend a little longer with him. Even as he walked away from your grave with his dying for what seemed like the hundredth time, Megumi still couldn’t find an answer when he asked himself, should he have fulfilled your wish?

CRIMSON [008.]

Along with arising modern human civilization and technological advancements, war was bound to come. People clashed with one another until humanity was abandoned, moral beliefs thrown to the side in replacement of exerting dominance over one another.

In a way, it soothed Megumi to know maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d completely lost touch to everything he once cared about; a little comforting that people had turned to monsters as well. But this thought vanished into thin air the moment gun powder and explosions covered the once blue sky, smoke choking the fresh air people once breathed and the battlefield painted red.

Megumi watched his comrades die one by one. He’d grown tired of hearing their last wishes and he cursed at his nature, because why couldn’t he just die?

He’d taken a hundred bullets and a thousand more beatings, yet he remained his stance, pushing through the enemy’s front line like a beast. At least here, he could unleash the monster he’d tried so hard to conceal. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure what exactly he was fighting for, Megumi had enough anger to overwhelm the opponent with his presence alone.

Blood splattered to his mouth, fuelling him to keep fighting and running, slashing at everyone’s throats with a flick of his sword, the growl leaving his chest entirely animalistic.

He should’ve focused more on his task instead of being blinded by rage.

Too lost in wanting to avenge his comrades, Megumi’s sharp senses failed to hear the oncoming grenade thrown his way. His eyes widened a fraction before he was thrown away, his ribs breaking and his skin splitting apart from the impact. Megumi choked out blood; he should’ve fed properly before he got drafted in the military, but he refused, denied his needs and drank animal blood to tame himself instead.

His self-righteous need to rebuff his true nature backfired, biting him on the ass this time around. He was half unconscious when he was lifted by the rest of his commanders who’d thrown him in the medical tents before taking off to war once more.

Megumi’s vision blurred. Everyone around him paced back and forth to tend to the other soldiers lucky enough to have been brought here for a second chance at life, their voices muffled and turning into nonsense. Megumi chuckled bitterly, which he shouldn’t have done because it made him cough up a lot more blood, but could he help it? He didn’t want a second chance at life. He had never seen you again, not even a whiff of your scent, and his heart and soul had reached a point beyond decomposition that he wished to have died on the battlefield instead.

His attention was diverted when warm hands that smelled like rubbing alchohol patted his face, a harsh beam of light shone down his eyes. He winced at the light before the object was taken away, worried eyes peering down at him instead.

Megumi’s gasp was frail, too weak to manage a proper greeting because the sounds of gunshots, explosions, and final screams surrounded both of you and it was the worst setting to find you in but he was relieved – beyond relieved to see that you were there, fixing him up and muttering something he couldn’t understand. You were adorned in the healer’s uniform, your touch nothing but gentle despite the sting of ointments on his wound.

He couldn’t believe it.

“Y-you,” he managed through splatters of coughed out blood, “I found you again.”

“Soldier, focus on me! You cannot die us on now, we are relying on you to save the world, do you understand?” you snapped at him, moving back and forth at such speed that put his supernatural abilities to shame. “Do not forget your duty. Think of your family, your friends, everyone you cared about waiting for you back at home while you fight honorably in this war,” you declared, the cold scissors cutting through his uniform somewhat distracting him from the sound of your voice. “You must think of them.”

“I don’t have anyone else,” Slowly, his consciousness slipped away from his fingers no matter how hard he tried, and he sighed when your furrowed brows became a lot blurrier and unfocussed. At least you were here, he reminded himself, a small smile on his face as he did so. “Everyone I’ve ever cared about is in here in this room with me right now.”

“Live, soldier,” you commanded, teeth snapping the thread as you hastily sewed him back up. He didn’t need it, but you didn’t know that, and he actually quite liked you fretting over him like this. “Live for the future, fight to live – live for me.”

Megumi had fallen unconscious, but your words planted itself deep at the back of his head. Your words were enough to revive him back to life hours later, and he scrambled at the edge of his seat, calling for your name and searching for you with frantic eyes. Living for you was something he could fulfill, so where were you?

Before he could glance at you one more time, you had already disappeared, and Megumi was shoved back into the battlefield.

SCARLET [009.]

The forest was dark and eerie as you ran through it, the pads of your feet chafed from tireless running and hands still sore from the burn. Countless women were forcefully ripped away from homes in your village at the assumptions anyone who didn’t dare bow down to the aristocrats were devil worshippers, and you were only lucky enough to get away, though barely.

At the back of your mind, you were still screaming as you fought against the binds while they burned you, the ends of your dress tattered and burnt.

The woman that saved you, you didn’t know your name, much less get the opportunity to thank you before she’d freed you, pushing you in the direction of the mountain you were taught to fear. Although that fear vanished as you kept pushing tree by tree, completely unaware that the higher you trudged onto the fearsome land, the atmosphere grew suffocating and too dark.

It didn’t matter now, this was your only place and chance of escaping.

Too dazed in your need to survive, you failed to notice the strong stench of blood, the rotting flesh and bones scattered everywhere upon the steps that led up the abandoned castle. It had been forever since the war that led to the fall of mankind’s chance of modernization, resulting in the world falling back into the ruins that you all had suffered before.

You were panting for air just as you’d reached a few feet before the eerie, looming gate. You had to clutch on a nearby tree to catch your breath, completely aware that you were insane for going to this place as a last resort for a safe haven even if you knew that people had told countless stories to children that a blood drinking monster resided within; whether it was a story told to prevent children from roaming around at night or it was actually true, you would just have to find out soon.

But you’d grown weak, body battered and bruised, stomach deprived of its nutrients and lips cracked from dehydration.

Your legs gave out before you until your body crashed onto the ground, no longer hearing the slight creaking of the gate.

SCARLET [010.]

There was something…wet and warm grazing over your skin, the sensation tickling enough that it stirred you from your slumber. With a groan, you cracked an eye open, all the muscles in your body chilled when the man sat before you kept wiping at your wounds tenderly, his cold blue eyes sending shivers down your spine once he’d noticed you’ve woken up.

“You are free to stay here until you heal,” he announced, his voice deep yet gentle – nothing like the stories made him out to be. You opened your mouth to thank him – for the clothes that adorned you, the glass of water beside your bed, and for nursing you despite your apparent confusion – but the legendary vampire King himself had stood up, a bowl of water and a bloody towel clutched in his hand before he retreated to the door.

Then, he paused at the doorframe, head barely tilted your way as he warned, “Do not leave the grounds unless you wish to die. I cannot guarantee I can save you one more time.”

SCARLET [011.]

Megumi was a mysterious person. He never stayed around much, and the castle was far too big for you to ever run into him. No matter how hard you tried to meet him out of want to thank him for his unnecessary kindness, you couldn’t find him.

He mostly left you to your devices. Every morning, you’d find fresh meat, a glass of water – sometimes warm milk – and a pair of his clothes that you’d have to make do with.

You’ve lost count of time of how long you’d stayed under the castle, still terribly confused as to why he hadn’t killed you yet, much less help you. One thing was for sure, however: the infamous King who painted the skies red for years out of bloodlust was not the monster people made you believe he was. After all, what predator cared for his prey this way?

You were beyond determined to show him your gratitude, not having anyone care for you this much your whole life. Growing up in the slums and taken as a child into pleasure houses, this type of privacy and freedom was more than welcomed – a freedom you wouldn’t have ever had had it not been for him. So you stood at the edge of your window every night, a slight bounce in your steps as you waited for him to show up. You rarely ever saw him, but there was no harm in trying, right?

The clouds shifted away, giving way to the moonlight that illuminated the tall figure speeding through the gates. He’d come from hunting his dinner.

With an excited squeal, you rushed past your room with a small towel, running all the way to the lobby to greet him. Your speed put his to shame when you sprinted his way, your excited form rendering the vampire shock still under the dusty chandeliers for a moment, his muscles tensing harder when you smiled up at him.

Your gaze fell down on the blood stains at the edges of his lips. His eyebrows were pinched together, about to ask what you needed when you stood at the tips of your toes, wiping away the blood with a towel.

As he spoke, his voice was gruff and hoarse, almost as if he hadn’t made a squeak of noise for centuries. “Human,” he began, a slight irritation underlying his words, though he made no move to push you away. “Are you not afraid of me?”

“Why would I be?” you queried with a lilting tone, “You saved me, after all. The vicious monster they painted you out to be is far kinder than anyone has ever treated me.”

His eyes darkened at your implications, preventing you from completely wiping the blood away from his face as he gripped your wrists. His claws were long and dark, undoubtedly able to kill you should he wished, but you didn’t fear him, not when he still held you like you were a fragile being. “So just because a devil saved your life, suddenly they are an angel in your eyes?”

“I do not care what you are,” you told him honestly, staring him straight in his eyes swimming with emotions you couldn’t fathom. “I care not for what you’ve done or who you are supposed to be. All I know is that you are good to me – and why else should I care about anything else other than the fact I have never felt safer my whole life? Should this comfort be in the hands of a monster, I would not question it. I would only be grateful I met you.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, his grip only tightening a bit before one of his arms wound at the curve of your waist.

There was no telling who leaned in first. You were beyond lost in pleasure when he tugged you into his arms, his lips aggressively kissing yours. You groaned at tasting the animal blood still coated in his lips and tongue, but you didn’t care.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, mattered in this world anymore as you jumped into his frame, his arms strong and effortless as he carried you into his room.

The night faded with you tangled underneath him, your clothes ripped and torn, thrown at the other side of the room while he situated himself between you. His hands were no less than zealous as he cupped and touched every curve and dip of your body, his lips never leaving yours.

You moaned when he cupped your drenched core, legs opening further as his thumb grazed over your clit. Whining at his slow teasing that contrasted with his previous needs, you sat up to kiss him harder, pushing his back with your feet to press him closer to you. Both of you groaned when his cock teased along your wet slit, just enough to give a promise of what was to come, but he held onto your hips, his kisses faltering as he panted. “Human,” he growled, “Human, stop. If we go any further, I cannot guarantee I can control myself.”

“Do I make you lose control, Your Majesty?”

“It’s been a long time,” he pulled away from you, all traces of his darkened lust replaced with nothing but softness in his gaze now. He held you there underneath him, his gaze nothing but appreciative as he drunk in your bare features.

It made your chest swell with pride to see him with fussed up hair and bruised lips like that, knowing that you were the only one who had triggered his undoing. “I am only getting back in touch with the restraint I’ve abandoned centuries ago.”

You kissed him once more, this time a lot more gentle and sensual. “Then we shall stop, Your Majesty,” he fell beside you, pulling you closer until your cheek rested above his cold chest. He had worn you out with just simple touches, and sleepiness washed over you like a blanket, mindlessly murmuring things as you traced patterns on his skin. “I wish you would stop avoiding me from now on,” you mumbled, “Sometimes…sometimes I see you in my dreams, and they feel so real,” he stiffened at your words, knowing full well what they meant. “I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”

Before he could speak, you’d already fallen asleep, leaving him with no other choice but to sigh and pull a blanket over your naked bodies. Pressing a kiss at the crown of your head, he made a silent promise to show you another time.

SCARLET [012.]

You and the King have grown more comfortable after the not-so-subtle declaration of each of your affections to one another. In your eyes, he was your savior and the man you adored most. In his eyes, you were his precious human, his long-awaited lover, and he’d run to hell and back just to be with you all over again.

But…things were different now.

He found it hard to be explicitly pinning you down his bed to let him ravage you. Memories of your past lives, his mistakes, and all his regrets never left him once in his hellish lifetime. Funny, he found it, that the moment you were gone, the moon refused to show itself, but every time you came after a moment of forever, he feels alive all over again.

“Join me? The water is quite warm tonight.”

He merely raised his brow, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you paddle into the water. There was no proper water supply in his castle, resorting to both of you retreating to the lake deep into the forest every night. This night was no different, but as always, he refused to bathe the same time you did in fear he might not be able to hold himself back. “I have no concept of what is warm and cold, human.”

“Would you like a demonstration then?”

He scoffed, smirking at the way you wiggled your brows. He would say he missed the vulnerable, frail human that always submitted to him, but that would be a lie, since he thoroughly enjoyed how you never shy in expressing your desire for him. “If this is your plan of getting me to touch you,” the King began to discard his clothes, his cock swelling at the way your eyes darkened as he unbuttoned each button of his shirt. “I cannot say I have complaints about it.”

You smiled, triumphant in your goals.

It doesn’t take him long to dive into the water with you, his tongue slipping past your lips while he hoisted your body up, cold hands cupping your ass. Bare like this, your nipples brushed across his chest in a mind-numbing sensation, and he doesn’t stop kissing you until his cock is nestled between your ass cheeks, allowing you to feel that he could be warm in just one place only.

“Mhm – Your Majesty,” you tugged at his hair, neck naturally falling to the side as you let him suck at your skin, his fangs coming out to graze at the sensitive flesh every now and then.

“Megumi,” he squeezed the flesh of your ass, “My name is Megumi. Call me nothing but my name,” you nodded absentmindedly, unable to focus on anything else other than his hands roaming each and every skin of your body despite him having already memorized it after loving for thousands of years. He only stops when you shudder in his arms, pulling away from you with a string of saliva attached to your lips. “You are shivering. And you said the water is warm.”

“You are cold, my love,” the nickname slips effortlessly from your lips that Megumi doesn’t even get the chance to be surprised, “I cannot help it.”

Megumi groaned into your mouth, testing the waters by fingering you under the water for a moment. You clamp around his fingers, begging him to finally touch you, and when you were so good and needy for him like that, how could he resist?

He carried you both and ran back to the castle, wasting no moment as he slipped inside you, both uncaring that his bed had been soaked wet. After living an impossibly life, Megumi learned it the hard way that being immortal didn’t mean he could do whatever he pleased. Time was still precious and gold even after an abundant amount of it, and forgive him for being impatient with the way he snapped his hips to yours for it had been forever.

Watching you fall apart under him, lips parted to let out pretty moans and your cunt still taking him in so well even after so many lifetimes, Megumi only falls for you harder than the last.

He interlaced his hands with yours once he saw you desperately grabbing for something, breasts bouncing at the inhumane speed he started. Megumi’s hips were brutal as it snapped to yours, your hips bruised and blue from his strong grip, fangs bare and eyes a blood red while he fucked deep into your cunt. You gasped as you clutched onto his bicep, toes curled at the sensation he was drowning you with.

“Megumi,” you cried out, eyes shut tight from the overwhelming pleasure. “Please – mark me. I wish to be no one else’s but yours.”

Megumi growled at your words, taking both of your legs and locking them to your side. The sudden stretch exerted on your muscles made you whimper as Megumi sat back on his thighs, watching the way his cock was sucked in by your slippery walls. “I will make you mine. You have always been mine long before you were aware of it,” he stated, forcing louder moans from you when he leaned forwards, bending your legs harder before he bit your shoulder.

Your nails scratched down his back, eyes blown wide open when you saw it, saw him. Megumi kept fucking until you were crying, face flushed and damp with tears.

The ceiling of his castle disappeared as the marking he gave you brought you back to a thousand years ago, playing in your head from your first kiss, to how he had drank you dry, all the way until your marriage and from accidentally leaving him during the war.

You were crying – both from the pleasure and pain that beat down on your heart – and Megumi lapped at the blood flowing from the wound, his tongue searing against the open flesh.

“Do you remember me now?”

“Megumi. Megumi, I’m sorry. You’d been alone all this time and I was not there with you. I am so sorry.”

“You are here with me now. It is fine, my love.”

This timed, you pulled him close enough that space and distance became nothing but a myth, lips desperately moving against one another. Megumi groaned into your mouth when you clamped down on him, prompting him to fuck you harder to reach both your highs. His thrusts soon grew sloppy and your cunt was past spent by the time he came inside, painting your walls white with thick ropes of cum.

Megumi remained inside you even as his cock softened, too comfortable inside your heat to want to be anywhere else. You sighed and kissed his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, then his lips, almost worshipping his beauty and soul you’d fallen in love with over and over again.

“How long has it been? Five hundred years – a thousand?”

“Forever. It’s been forever.”

“Was it worth it? Was I worth the wait?”

“Of course you are. You always will be.”

You closed your eyes, the tears still salty on your cheeks when he kissed them away. The arms wrapped around him tightened for a moment, heart pounding in your chest as you relived your past life in that moment. “Megumi,” you whispered, “Grant me the wish you could never fulfill for me before. Please, I no longer want to live another lifetime without you.”

This time, Megumi no longer frowned upon your words, kissing you once more before he cradled your neck and jaw, those blue eyes softening like the cloudy skies you both danced under in your first lives.

“Forever, my love,” he promised, “I’ll be with you forever. Whatever it is you want, I would give it all to you.”

SCARLET [013.]

Your head rested on Megumi’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around you protectively. The halls of his castle were dark and the soft music was drowned by the screams of the angry mobs outside, their fists banging and guns blaring to tear the place down.

Time had passed and you came to understand why Megumi never wanted you to be like him. He was right – there was nothing to be glorified in becoming a monster despite the gift of immortality. This much you knew after slaughtering villages with him, feeding on parents and snatching away futures from children all to feed your thirst.

Both of you were painfully aware and burdened by the bane that was your existence, which is why you two kept dancing, not minding the fact that castle was slowly crumbling down.

You had accepted your fate. You had gotten your wish.

Megumi had lived millennia of forever’s with you that you were both satiated, happy, fulfilled. When the song hit a high note that the record broke and the chandelier fell, crashing a few feet away from you with its glass shards cutting both of your skins, you kissed Megumi one last time, his grip on your hips as gentle as ever.

The doors had opened.

Gasoline spilled from every corner of the castle, torches thrown and fire licking up everywhere. Gunshots were fired. Anger was vexed and thrown your way as you clutched onto your lover with salty tears on your cheeks, the roof falling completely open until the sun shone through. Both of you hissed through the kiss when it burned at your skin, hot and scorching enough that you just wanted to die in that moment. And you would, in just a few moments, you knew you would.

Megumi pulled away from you, his smile lopsided and sad as he pressed his forehead into yours, etching your features in his soul once more just in case he’d never see you again. “See you in the next forever, my love?”

“Only if you’ll keep waiting for me,” you grinned, and Megumi reached down to plant one last kiss onto your throne, reminding you that you were his lover, his soul mate, his Queen – his world and his everything else. Of course he’d wait for you. There was no need to ask him this – he would always wait for you.

“Of course I will,” he promised, “I will always wait for you.”

This time, you were wholeheartedly prepared for your death.

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #fushiguro megumi x reader imagines #fushiguro megumi x reader romance #megumi x reader romance #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen romance #megumi x reader angst #fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi #jjk fushiguro megumi #jjk smut #fushiguro megumi smut #suki: 500 milestone event

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westcoastrry · 3 years

Text

Can’t Help If This Is Us

Hello friends. I’ve worked super hard on this fic. I’m not a fast writer so this took my while and I’m super happy with the way it turned out! Special thank to my bestie @harryforvogue . I wouldn’t know how to spell or about even write if it wasn’t for her so thanks you ugly fart face.

Also I wrote this entirely for free so all I ask is for feedback. I would really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts!

literally mate please let me know your thoughts. PLEASE. I beg.

WARNING: there is smut in this and mentions of the mafia.

I hope you enjoy reading Kiara and Harry’s story as much an I enjoyed writing it. 11.5k words

A fic about Kiara, a normal girl who works at a coffee shop in the upper east side of New York, where she meets Harry. A man who is caught up in a job he doesn’t want but is working hard to craft a better life for himself.

Fuck me like you wanna make love

Call me when you wanna stay in touch

Lie together just to gain trust

Say what you wanna say, can't help if this is us

Moving to New York was a fresh start for Kiara.

It’s only been a couple of months, but she has grown accustomed to the city.

She has an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, but it is close to her University, and the view from her balcony isn’t too bad. She is a coffee connoisseur, so when her pregnant friend and neighbor, Trina, helped her get a job at a cafe on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, how could Kiara truly not make the best of her newfound city life?

“An Americano please?” a deep British voice asserts.

Kiara’s cleaning off the steamer about an hour into her morning shift when the man with long chocolate curls speaks to her. Kiara has been working here for a month, and some very high profile people have come to the shop, but Kiara has never seen this man, but he sure looks important. He is in a suit, all black, and the only accessories are the multitude of rings he has on his fingers. The rose one catches her eye first, then the big gold H.S letter rings. Those are his initials? What is the point of that? Is this man obsessed with himself?

“Americano?” he says more lightly, snapping Kiara out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I- Americano,” Kiara stutters.

Kiara isn’t one to get easily flustered, but how can she not be when this six-foot sexy man was towering over her in a suit, asking for black coffee.

Only real men drink black coffee.

She works around the machine expertly until the man’s voice interrupts her. “You’re new here?”

“Yeah,” she responds, swiping a curl off her forehead. Managing her naturally curly type four hair in the bipolar New York weather has been a challenge. Most days, she wears her thick hair in a bun, or when she can afford to get it done, box braids. “Started working here a month ago.” Kiara hands him the coffee in a brown to-go cup.

“Hmmm. I’m here all the time. I’m sure I would have noticed a new pretty employee.”

“Guess I’m not all that pretty then,” Kiara fires back, handing him a receipt with a pen to sign.

Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that because he actually does find Kiara pretty. He likes that her face is an even brown color with a few beauty marks. He likes the color of her light brown hair, and he really likes the sound of her voice. It’s sort of angelic, even when she is snapping at him.

Harry smugly hands Kiara his hefty card (the first indicator that this man has money) and signs the receipt. He drops some cash on the bill.

“That’s your tip. By the way, I do think you’re pretty.” His eyes flick down to her name tag. “Kiara.”

Kiara rolls her eyes at the man. He probably walks around life getting everything handed to him because he’s rich, white, and hot.

Screw him and his stupid cute dimple, Kiara thinks to herself. She goes to grab the receipt he signed and see’s two fifty-dollar bills stacked on each other.

Her mouth forms into an “o” shape. A hundred dollars on a three-dollar coffee? What sense does that even make? This had to be a mistake.

“Hey Kiara, are you okay?” Trina, who’s waiting tables today, asks. She has her brown apron tied over her baby bump with a few crumpled receipts and pens tucked in the pockets.

“I just got tipped a hundred dollars,” Kiara says, still shocked.

“You go, girl!” Trina enthusiastically shouts. “Who was it? A regular?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him before. Brown curly hair, dressed in a nice black suit-”

“Oh, that’s Harry,” Trina smiles. “Everyone loves Harry. He is a cutie. Been getting coffee here for a long time. He owns the strip club down the street.”

“I’m sorry. The dude owns a what?”

“A strip club bar type thing,” Trina shrugs. “Very fancy. It’s pretty much only for the elite. He is super nice. Everyone loves him here! He bought me a crib and this fancy high-tech stroller when he found out I was pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, he is kinda a dick if you ask me,” Kiara mutters under her breath.

“He tipped you a hundred dollars, and you’re calling him a dick?” Trina curiously questions.

“He called me pretty! And he had this arrogant ambiance to his voice. And what is with all the rings? It’s tacky.”

Trina places her hands on her hips.“Oh, just say you find the man hot! It’s okay to admit you find Manhattan’s most eligible and rich bachelor hot. I don’t blame you. I would get on it if I wasn’t thirty and pregnant.”

“I’m not admitting anything. Besides, I don’t have time for men. Men just cause problems.”

“Oh, you're telling me?” Trina points to her bulging belly. Kiara snorts at her friend and starts to walk away to grab more coffee beans from the storage, and Trina follows closely behind her. “You need to have some fun! Loosen up. Get your head out of that textbook. You have been living next to me for three months, and I haven’t seen you invite not one boy over! I know that vibrator you use is tired.”

Kiara grabs the box of coffee beans and turns back around to face Trina. “My vibrator is doing me just fine.”

Kiara’s whole life has been centered around academics. She was a really smart kid growing up. She had a good start to life too. However, Kiara’s wholesome childhood took a turn at twelve when her Dad died in a car accident. The accident was horrific for her entire family, but it hit her mom the worst. Her mom went from being a well respected physician's assistant, to being a drug addict, and Kiara had to grow up at the tender age of twelve just to take care of her mother. Around the age of fourteen Kiara’s mom got shipped off to rehab, and she ended up weaving in and out of foster homes until she was eighteen. Kiara realized that she never wants that to happen to her future family. She has been working hard on her academics because she hopes to have a stable income, so she can give her future kid the life that she never had.

It’s not like Kiara didn’t want to go and mingle around. Meet a new guy, have a one-nightstand, maybe even possibly fall in love. However, the dating scene as a brown skin woman in a whitewashed part of the city isn’t as easy as it sounds. Kiara doesn’t teeter the line of looking ethnically ambiguous. She is clearly a Black girl. Caramel skin, tight curls, full lips, and wide hips. Kiara likes these traits that she carries. In fact, she loves them, but men don’t. Specifically, men that aren’t her race. Not to mention that Black men are hard to come by in this particular part of city.

The simple fact is most white men don’t like Black women.

It’s even arguable that Black men don't even like Black women.

And Kiara is okay with that. She doesn’t need to be approved by a bunch of white people, nonetheless ones with penises. She just wishes she had more options to date within her race, or at least find someone who genuinely liked her.

Maybe that’s the reason why Kiara doesn’t want to go out and find a man to have some fun with. She knows he’s going to be white, and she will have to endure hundreds of questions about her race and her hair or meet racist parents, and she has done that all before.

So, for now, instead of explaining this to Trina, her very white friend, she will just blow off her questions about why she isn’t sleeping around or why she doesn’t entertain the idea of going to bars to find cute boys.

+++

The next day Kiara is off work. She spends her day sitting in her bed, in red pajama shorts and her university sweater, studying for her midterm. She got through quite a bit but is still a little worried about not getting an A. About an hour into her studying, she hears bickering from Trina’s apartment.

“I don’t know what you are being so shy about. Just ask her! You are great with girls.”

“No, I’m great at fucking girls. Trying to establish a genuine connection, I haven’t done that in a while.”

“I believe in you! Now go!”

Knock

It’s another guy that Trina has been trying to set Kiara up with. Trina does this about every other month. Very rarely does Kiara entertain the idea and sleeps with them, because she is bored, but it usually doesn’t go further than that.

Kiara opens the door to her apartment and there stands Harry. He is holding a boutique of red roses in one hand, and his other is behind his back. The suit he is wearing today is slightly different. Same silhouette, but this time the suit is brown. Kiara finally gets a good look at this man, and fuck.

Green eyes, full bright pink lips. Wide shoulders and defined biceps that show he does work out but isn’t a gym rat.

Gucci loafers. Now, this is an interesting man.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry nervously gestures to the flowers in his hand. “I brought you this.”

“You just came here to bring me flowers?”

“I also brought you this,” Harry pulls his hand from behind his back and shows a bottle of wine he got when he went on a business trip in Napa. He was saving the wine for a special occasion, like the next time he would go visit his mom, but this is more than a special occasion in Harry’s eyes. He is trying to swoon this girl.

Kiara smiles at him and grabs the wine bottle. If it’s one thing Kiara has learned in her adult life is that she loves wine. She usually only gets the cheap stuff from the liquor store down the street, but Kiara has never seen this bottle before.

She walked to her kitchen, leaving Harry staring at her dumbfoundedly. She pulled out two wine glasses from her kitchen cabinet.

Normally Kiara wouldn’t entertain this. Especially since she has a test to study for. However, she can’t lie and say she hasn’t been worked up...sexually.

“Alright, you brought me wine. You are welcomed in.”

Harry follows her inside the apartment, feeling a bit awkward. Usually, Harry never found himself at a girl’s place. He always took his one-night stands back to his house and had his assistant, Trevor escort them out in the morning.

Harry was nervous because this wasn’t a one-night stand. This was him bringing wine and flowers to a girls’ apartment, which he barely knows.

Just like Kiara, Harry also hasn’t been in the dating scene in a while. He has been busy with work, and it’s not easy what he does.

“So why did you come all this way to bring me wine?” Kiara asks Harry, pouring some wine into a glass and handing it to him. “I know you don’t live in this part of the city.”

“I don’t.” Harry sits on the barstool by the kitchen countertop. “I told you I thought you were pretty. Nice place, by the way.”

Kiara looks for the sarcasm on Harry’s face when he compliments her one-bedroom apartment but doesn’t find any. Kiara’s apartment isn’t ugly. But it probably is nothing compared to what Harry lives in.

Kiara takes a gulp of her wine. “It’s kinda trash actually. This is the ghetto.”

“You go to Columbia?” Harry asked, noticing her university sweater.

Kiara takes one more gulp of her wine, finishing off what is left in her glass. She was going to answer Harry’s question. She really was. But she got a good look at his bone structure. The way his jaw is a perfectly angled line. The way his Adam apple moves when he takes a sip of his wine. Even the way his fingers glide against the glass.

She begins to wonder how his fingers would feel against her.

“Kiara?”

That was it for Kiara because she doesn’t think she can keep herself composed in front of this beautiful rich man.

Instead of pouring her wine, Kiara grabs the bottle and starts to chug the wine like she is a trucker drinking a Samuel Adams.

Her lips remove from the bottle with a pop sound. Harry is now staring at Kiara completely taken aback by her actions. “What are you really here for, Harry? Sex? Because we can cut the small talk part.”

“Maybe I actually like you, Kiara.”

“You don’t like me.”

“Who told you that,” Harry counters.

Harry watches closely as Kiara struts towards him.

“I thought you were into blonde models?”

“Where are you finding this information from?” he questions.

“Google.”

Harry smirks. “So you’re googling me?”

“You know, if you wanted to know more about me, you could have just asked.”

Kiara cut him off with her lips attached to his. She wanted him to shut up, but she also wanted to kiss him.

Killing two birds with one stone.

Harry’s lips move in sync with hers, and he places his ringed hands on her back, pulling her closer to him.

If Kiara is being honest with herself, Harry’s lips feel like magic. It’s been a while since Kiara has kissed a guy, and she feels butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“Kiara, what are we doing?” Harry mumbles into her mouth.

“We are gonna go back to my bedroom, and you are going to fuck me. Hard.”

“A-are are you sure about that?” Harry stutters on his words.

“We both know you didn’t come here to take me out on some date. So let’s just do this.”

Harry should have confidently responded and said, “No, Kiara, that is not why I’m here. I’m here because I actually find you attractive, and I know you have been working at the shop for about two weeks now but I have been very nervous to ask you on a date.”

However, his mouth went dry because Kiara threw off her sweater and her perky boobs sat fully on her chest.

“Kiara-”

“You know,” Kiara rests the palm of her hands on his muscular chest. Kiara has the upper hand and she sees it in the way Harry was staring at her, gaping at her actions. She loves being this bold. Upper chest bare for a man who is practically drooling over her boobs. Kiara likes to be in charge, but only for a little bit. After a while she wants to be taken care of. In bed that is. “For a man of such little words, you are talking so much right now.”

Harry grabs both of her wrist, but keeps her hands placed upon his chest. He knows his heart is racing a mile per minute. Kiara feels it and for a second she thinks to herself that there is no way she is causing this man's heart to skip beats.

Kiara stands up on her tippy toes and lets her tongue dart out to touch right below Harry’s ear suckling on the spot until it turns a nice red shade. She detaches her lips with a pop.

“You want this,” Harry whispers.

“I need this,” Kiara responds back.

“Tell me what you need Kiara.”

Harry’s right hand brushes over her bare breast, causing her to buckle a bit and stumble onto Harry’s chest.

“Hold yourself up, love, and tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Kiara whines.

With that, Harry holds Kiara's hips and roughly turns her away from him. Her hands went out and to grab at the granite countertop, holding herself up as much as she possibly could.

“How do you want it, hmm?” Harry whispers, quickly shrugging off his blazer and undoing a few buttons from his shirt. He begins to place wet kisses along the back of her shoulder. “I can fuck you right here, bent over the counter top. Or I can take you to the bed.”

“Here,” Kiara choked out through a moan.

“Can you handle it?” Harry teasingly asked her.

“I can handle it.”

“Can I take off your shorts?” Harry asks in a more serious tone.

“Mhmm, yes please.”

Harry shimmies down Kiara’s shorts. He takes the time to run his hands over her ass. The contact of her hot skin and Harry’s ice cold rings feels good to Kiara. She wants him to spank her, but she isn’t exactly sure what Harry is into and now she wishes she was sober enough to vocalize what she likes in bed so her needs can be met.

“Let's get a good orgasam out of you. Can I eat you?”

“Yes. God Harry, you're teasing me.”

“Not teasing,” he reassures her. “Just wanna know what you like.”

Harry gets down on his knees and opts for pushing her gray panties to the side instead of taking them off. Her core is glistening in her arousal and the smell alone makes Harry’s dick twitch in his boxers.

“Stop staring at it and-” Kiara cuts her sentence off with a yelp because Harry has attached his plump lips to her clit, giving her small kitten licks.

Kiara doesn’t really prefer to be eaten out. Most men's mouths don’t really do it for her. However, Harry is doing a very good job at keeping her legs shaking. She wants to turn around and look at him, but everytime she tries he delves deeper and deeper in her core, until she can barely hold herself up.

“M’mmm. A little higher please?”

Harry smirks against Kiara’s core because the little please she added to the end of her request tells him that she is slowly letting go of the tough exterior she puts up.

“Here? Is this good?”

“Yeah. Fuck right there please.” Kiara grips at the counter harder until her fingertips turned white.

“Been eating your veggies, huh?” Harry talks against Kiara’s core, the vibrations making her shudder. “You taste good love.”

Kiara is unable to respond because Harry is really going at it. His hands tightly grip Kiara's hips. His face is completely buried in her cunt, and he feels a slight ache in his jaw from the motions he makes with his mouth.

He continues to lick over her swollen folds, and then wraps his lips around her clit, which makes Kiara arch her back and push onto him. She is a panting mess, mouth wide open, eyes pinched together. She begins to thrash around but Harry grips even tighter at her hips.

“Stay still love.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Why don’t you ask to cum?”

Kiara chokes on her spit slightly when Harry pulls his mouth from her pussy, and dips a finger inside of her. “Am I not entitled to an orgasm?”

“You are if you wanna be good for me.”

“Well if you're looking for a good girl I think you have come to the wrong place-”

Harry adds a second finger to her, which shuts Kiara up. “Ask nicely and you can cum.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be so-”

“So what?” Harry asks her.

“Dominant.”

“You're lucky I’m not spanking you.”

“What's holding you back?” Kiara challenged.

Harry gets up from off his knees, and his free hand reigns down a heavy smack on her ass.

“Ask me nicely,” Harry demands, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“No.”

Smack.

“Ask nicely Kiara. I can do this all night.”

Kiara snaps her head back to look at Harry. “No.”

Smack.

The three spanks that Harry had given to Kiara were much harder than the first. So hard that Harry started to see an outline of his hand print.

It's when Harry gives her one more smack and pushes his fingers deeper into her, hitting a sensitive spot that Kiara gives in.

“Fuck, Harry please just let me come,” Kiara struggles to say with a couple tears falling from her eyes from being so wrapped up in pleasure.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry. So damn sorry. Please, I'm so close.”

Harry laughed at how her personality has done a complete one eighty. She went from being a complete brat to now begging him for an orgasm. “You are?”

“Yes please.”

Once Harry feels her pussy tighten around his fingers he pulls them from inside of her. “I don’t think you are that sorry.”

Kiara let out a whimper at the loss of connection. Her legs are still shaking and she almost slipped off the counter but Harry was quick to catch her.

Harry's strong arms snaked around to the front of Kiara’s stomach, letting her stumble back into her arms. She felt Harry’s hard cock press up against her raw ass.“Easy now.”

Usually, Kiara would give Harry some witty comments, but right now she is too worked up from being so close to her orgamsm. She feels a bit fuzzy, not sure what to do next. Her core aches and all she can think about is getting off.

Her hands go down to rub at her clit, but Harry quickly smacks it away.

“That's my job tonight alright? You gonna let me fuck you? You're gonna be good so I can get you off properly.”

Kiara nods her head.

“Verbal consent Kiara.”

“Yes please.”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s smug voice echoes in her ear as he places wet open mouth kisses along her neck. Harry is really enjoying himself. She felt him smile against his neck when he started to coax soft moans out of her.

Kiara weakly pushes Harry's head away from her neck.

“Doll, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm good. Can we just take this to my bedroom?” Kiara politely asks. “I think I will be more comfortable there.”

When Harry gets a good look at Kiara, he can tell he has pushed past the first layer of her tough exterior. He knows there is probably much more fight and sass in her, but right now she looks vulnerable.

“Yes of course we can,” Harry held his hand out and Kiara willingly took it as he led both of them to the bedroom.

When they arrive, Kiara sits at the edge of her queen sized bed, and Harry lets go of her hand. She whines a little at the feeling of Harry’s hands slipping away from her.

Harry chuckles at the girl. “Let me just take my shirt off darling.”

Kiara watches closely as Harry’s fingers undo the buttons one by one. His silk shirt gilded easily off his toned shoulders. He made his way to sit at the top of Kiara’s bed leaning against the headboard, and Kiara crawled on her hands and knees toward him.

“Christ,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

Harry spreads his legs wider, which allows Kiara to sit comfortably in his lap. She let her hands roam up and down his tattoos starting with the birds on his collar bone. She then notices the butterfly right above his tummy. When she places her left hand on it, tracing the wings, Harry sighs contently at her touch. It’s a comforting touch, one that he has never experienced with his one-night stands.

Harry breaks a sweat on his forehead when Kiara continues to trace his tattoos. His broad chest stops moving up and down because he begins to hold his breath. He isn’t really sure what she is doing, but it feels good. Good enough for Harry to exhale and relax into the bed.

For Harry, sex with girls usually got directly to the point. Of course, there was foreplay, but not to any extent like this.

Having someone else’s hands on your body is a part of sex. However, this feels much more intimate than that. He’s got that feeling of butterflies in his stomach when Kiara begins to run her hands all over his body. It felt like he was in high school again, having sex for the first time and being so nervous because you don’t know what to do. But in this case, the nerves and butterflies don’t come from a lack of knowledge of the female anatomy. It comes from being completely enamored by the beauty this one girl holds.

And for just a second, Harry questions if he deserves this to feel the way he feels right now. Warm and a little drunk on the feeling of love. He doesn’t love Kiara, at least not yet anyway. But he feels like at this moment, Kiara cares for him. And even if she doesn’t care for him, he wouldn’t mind existing in this false reality he has created in his head for a really long time.

Something about having his body touched in such a vulnerable way is making him feel things he has never felt in his life.

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Kiara points out, fingers still tracing his butterfly tattoo.

“Yeah, I have been collecting them over the years.”

“Which one was your first one?” Kiara asks curiously.

Harry brought Kiara’s delicate hands up to the swallows on his chest.

“These ones,” Harry’s voice shakily said. Kiara takes her index finger and begins to trace the birds.

“How old were you?” Kiara asks, keeping her eyes looking at the birds.

“Sixteen,” is all Harry says, trying to keep his past where it belongs. In the past.

“That’s young. You don’t regret any of them?”

“No, actually. I think they all tell a story. Sure, some of them are stupid, but they all got some meaning behind them.

Kiara innocently brings her hand up to his cheek, cradling his face. “You gotta tell me about them one day. You have so many.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed in response.

“Let’s kiss some more,” Kiara suggested, wiggling her hips in Harry’s lap to find a comfortable position.

Harry nodded his head in response letting his lips touch Kiara’s, but not yet giving in to her request. His hands find their way to her lower back, and Kiara’s hands now have made their way up to his shoulders.

“You look good. You know that?” Harry says against her lips.

Kiara now has a grin on her face and blushes at Harry as if she has never received a compliment in her life.

Kiara brushes a brown curl off of Harry’s face with her index finger, “You can’t give me compliments while I’m buzzed off of wine because you might make me fall in love with you.”

Harry smiles. “Why don’t I just fuck you like I love you?”

Harry realizes what he said and awkwardly takes his hands off of Kiara’s body, nervously running his hands through his hair.

Kiara see’s the worried look on Harry’s face, but she is just a tad bit too intoxicated to process the weight of Harry’s words.

“Or you could let me fuck you,” Kiara bodly suggests. “I just haven’t done it in a while, so you might need to take over when my legs get sore.”

Harry nods, his forehead pushed upon Kiara’s. He kisses her again, and is taken by surprise when she lightly bites on his lip. She then gives a quick kiss to the corner of the month, and then his throat. She leans over to kiss his collar bones, and Harry takes the opportunity to grab a handful of her ass.

He then slowly peels her underwear off of her. He drags it slowly past her thighs looking down at her soaking wet core.

“You’re wet,” Harry mummers into her ear.

Kiara cups Harry’s dick through his boxers, and slides them off of his hips.

Harry groans in pleasure when he feels her hand touch his hard dick that is leaking pre cum.

“Don’t get too cocky now,” her hand lazily pumps at Harry's length, which she finds to be quite impressive in size.

“Kiara, don’t forget who is in charge here,” Harry grits through his teeth.

Kiara dips her head down to lick at Harry's heavy balls, she then continues her way up to his shaft until she makes her way to his tip and suctions her lips around the pink swollen flesh.

Harry looks down at the Kiara, who is giving him those innocent eyes, as if she doesn’t have his entire dick in her mouth

“Oh fuck me,” Harrys rolls his eyes, and lets his head fall onto the headboard.

“I will. But let me suck you off first.”

Kiara passes her thumb over his dick, and kisses all around the tip. She licks him up and down before taking him into her mouth entirely, making sure to make eye contact with him.

Harry places his hand gently over Kiara’s head, asking permission to touch her. She blinks at him signaling to him that it's okay.

He took a rough grip to Kiara’s brown curls, moving her head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“That's it,” he encourages as Kiara suckles on his tip. “Fucking hell.”

She pulls her mouth from Harry's length and gives him a few sharp tugs.

“Slow down,” Harry pants. “Want to be inside of you when I come. Can you handle it?”

Kiara swings one leg around Harry’s lap, her core just inches away from Harry’s throbbing dick.

“Yeah I can.”

“Well what are you waiting for?”

Kiara slowly slides down on Harry’s dick, and his hands cling to the sides of hips, coaxing her on her way down. Harry groans at how tight and snug she feels around him.

Kiara is about halfway down when the blissful feeling starts to hit her. She tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders biting her bottom lip.

“What's wrong? Thought you said you could handle it.”

Bravely, in one push Kiara glides right down Harry’s dick.

Harry groans with pleasure as soon as she makes it all the way down. His hands go out to grip her ass, and help her bounce up and down.

“That's it. Good girl. You like it when I call you that?”

“Yes,” Kiara responds, picking up her speed so that her tits move up and down with her.

“What do you want me to call you? I can call you my good girl, a slut, or whore. Which one do you prefer?”

“A whore,” Kiara is slightly embarrassed at what this man is doing to her, but she is so wrapped up in the lust of the moment that she really couldn’t care less.

“You're my dirty little whore, hmmm?”

Harry cranes his neck down to place a kiss on her tongue, lapping his tongue over her soft skin that smells like a floral scented perfume. He moans softly into her neck and squeezes at her fleshy hips.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your dirty little whore,” Out of nowhere Harry thrust his hips up to meet hers. “Fuck, Harry!”

Harry placed a wet kiss behind her hair before speaking, “How about you get on your hands and knees for me. I can fuck you like that.”

“Okay,” Kiara withdraws herself from him with ease due to how wet she was. She props herself on her hands and knees and arches her back for Harry.

Harry places a hand on her lower back. He rubs the tip of his dick over her wet folds before pushing in.

Harry moves slowly at first, testing out the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting her. Her sweet moans are only egging Harry on, and he is sure he isn’t gonna last another five minutes inside of her.

“Please Harry. Fuck me faster please.”

Harry hands grips on Kiara's fleshy love handles. It is a little tight for her liking however the pain is quickly drowned out by the intense pleasure she begins to feel.

This is a dirty shag. Harry is pounding into her at such an extreme pace that Kiara can’t even get a full moan out. Her little “uhhhh’s” and “nggggs” only encourage Harry on.

Kiara’s orgasm hits her first and it's just as blissful as she thought it would be. Legs trembling, her arms are no longer propping herself up, instead her right cheek is pushed up on the bed, and a bit of salvia is foaming out of her mouth.

“I’m gonna, oh god Kiara. Just give me a sec- fuck!”

Harry’s orgasm shortly follows and it's just as euphoric for him as it was for Kiara. This was one of the most satisfying sexual encounters Harry has had in a while and he wants to enjoy every second of being buried in Kiara’s warmth.

Harry was about to pull out from her but when he looked down at where they were connecting he realized how fucked he was.

Not only did he not wear a condom, but he most definitely came inside of her.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles under his breath.

How could he be so careless? This has never happened to him. Harry has had quite the extent of sexual partners and he makes sure to always use a condom.

He wants to blame it on the wine but he didn’t even finish his glass.

“I need a second,” Kiara tiredly whispers, panting.

“I didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiara says still coming down from her high.

Harry runs his hand through his tangled hair nervously, “I didn’t use a condom. I haven’t had sex in almost a year though. I get tested regularly too. I’m sorry it just slipped my mind. I can run out and get you some plan B.”

“It's okay,” Kiara responds. She turns her head around to look at Harry. “Do you mind pulling out now though?”

Harry looks down at his dick, and then looks up at Kiara. “Oh yeah shit uhh.” He grabs on to Kiara’s hips and slowly pulls out of her.

“I haven’t had sex in like six months by the way,” Kiara slowly turns herself around to face Harry who has now tucked himself back in his boxers. “It could be longer honestly… it's been pretty dry here until now.”

“Yeah, same. Busy with work and what not.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence. Kiara has the sheets up to her bare breast, and Harry is not only taking in the raw beauty of the girl in front of him, and still beyond shocked he forgot to put on a damn condom.

“Well, I can get you some plan B. I think there is like a Target down the block from your apartment.”

“No, it's fine!” Kiara responds way too quickly. “I mean like, Trina has a stash in her car. I can steal from her in the morning. You don't have to rush out if you don’t want to. It’s not safe to drive at night, and you probably have such a long way to go.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No...errr it's not. I would really like to stay.”

“Okay well I’m gonna pee. And clean myself up. I can bring you some water?”

“Water would be great.”

Kiara nods at him, standing up so that her white sheet is wrapped tightly around her body. She knows that there is no reason to hide from Harry. He just took her from behind and called her a whore, but Harry isn’t just any man. He is a man who looks like a greek god, and fucks like one too. So Kiara couldn’t help but be a little self conscious.

Kiara quickly comes back with two glasses of water. She has even changed into an old ratty T-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear.

Kiara hands Harry a glass and he takes a sip, “You know,” she starts, crawling into bed next to him. “If you told me you fuck like that maybe I wouldn’t have put up a fight at the cafe.”

Harry blushes, setting the glass on the nightstand next to him. “Didn’t plan this, you know. Not that I mind. Trust me, I like this.”

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought you were cute.”

“Oh,” Harry playfulls wiggles his eyebrows, scooting himself closer to Kiara on the bed. “Please do tell me more.”

Kiara pouts at Harry until he places a kiss on her bottom lip, another sloppy wet one on her cheek. He grabs at her sides, tickling her.

“Har- Harry! Stop, please!” Kiara begins to laugh uncontrollably. She even attempts to pull Harry’s enormous hands from her body but has no luck.

“Okay, okay,” she gives up, Harry pulling his hands off of her. “It was the whole curly hair, suit thing. I love a man in a suit, and you know you got an Americano. You have good taste in coffee.”

Harry smiles. “You make good coffee.”

Kiara hums awkwardly, not making eye contact with Harry, instead opting to stare at his mermaid tattoo with abnormally large tits.

“I like your hair too,” Harry speaks up. “It frames your face nicely. It was the first thing I noticed about you.” Harry’s ringed hands make their way to the top of Kiara’s thigh, rubbing her soft skin. “Then it was all the pins you had on your apron. You have a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah I’ve been collecting them over the years.”

“You had one that said, ‘Don’t be a damn.’ What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Kiara shrugs, breathing out a relaxed sigh. “It was like my third year of undergrad. I studied abroad at the University Of Edinburgh, in Scotland and this guy who had a jewelry shop said it to me. The next day I came back he just gave me the pin and told me to always keep it with me.”

Harry smiles at Kiara with adornment, “I have family in Scotland. I’m from London though. Grew up there with my mum most of my life.”

“What brought you to New York then?”

“School then work. I went to Columbia,” Harry says, giving her the shortest answer possible. “I noticed you had it on your sweater earlier…. You know before you tore it off.”

“Shut up!” Kiara groans, striking Harry’s chest. “But yes I do go to Colombia. Just for my teaching credentials. I want to teach history.”

There is a beast of silence. “Are you sure if I stay the night? I don't want to intrude-”

“I want you to stay the night.”

Harry’s heart warms because no girl has ever said that to him. The feeling of butterflies swarming around in his tummy has come back, and he knows his cheeks are heating up in embarrassment.

“Alright.” Harry pulls Kiara’s body closer to him which makes her squeal in surprise. “Only if you keep me warm for the night.

+++

Harry is awake before Kiara.

Harry is used to waking up early for his job, and usually, he would be on his way to get his morning coffee and then head on down to the club.

However, he just can't leave the girl he just fucked last night.

Her breaths are short, and he can feel her heart thumping against his chest. She was properly attached to him, and Harry really liked it. Having her this close to him.

He takes the time while Kiara was asleep to not only watch her sleep peacefully but look at all the artwork she has displayed on her walls. There are no family pictures that Harry can spot, just a picture of her and Trina on her desk. It looks like they are at some club. Trina has a drink in her hand that looks like she is about to spill and Kiara is downing a shot.

Kiara stirs a bit in her sleep and Harry watches as she slowly blinks her eyes open.

“You're warm.” She blinks. “Do you want breakfast?” Kiara offers, nuzzling herself in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I make a really good omelet.”

Harry laughs. “Kiara I really can’t keep up with you.”

Kiara begins to innocently pepper kisses all over Harry’s neck. “What do you mean?” she pouts.

Harry groans once Kiara sucks on a sensitive right beneath his jawline. “For starters, you didn’t like me at all when we first met. Then we fucked because you claimed I was here just for sex. And now you are offering to make me an omelet.”

“What are you here for then?” Kiara presses.

Harry sighs, looking down at the pretty girl all tangled up in his arms. Harry knows exactly what he wants. He is twenty-seven and he is really looking for love. A life-long partner who he can come home to after a hard day at work. A partner who makes getting up in the morning all worth it. Someone who he can take out on dates, maybe even take to meet his brother.

He wants to take a leap of faith with Kiara. He wants to ask her on a date, however, he can’t bring himself to do that. He doesn’t want to put this girl in harm’s way because he likes her.

And it's not even about Kiara getting hurt. He would never let anything physically happen to the people he cares about in his life. It’s honestly about the hurt she would experience if something happened to him.

“I-”

Harry is interrupted by Trina barging into the bedroom.

“We will be late for the train if you don't get your ass up! You always sleep in--” Trina pauses once she realizes her best friend is wrapped up in her other best friend’s arms. “Oh fuck.” Trina points back to the door. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

“Shit,” Kiara grumbles to herself. “I forgot I had work.”

Harry watches as Kiara frantically pulls her underwear up her body. When she realizes Harry is staring at her, she turns around to slide on her black lace bra.

Harry isn’t trying to be that much of a dick, staring at Kiara while she is getting changed. It's just that her ass is littered with marks from his heavy handy, and a light bruise on her loved handles from holding her securely on his lap, while he pounded into her.

The bruises were tainted with the memory of last night, and Harry notices how every little mark told the story of their rough and passionate sex. Looking back on it Harry doesn’t know if he was too rough with the young girl. He doesn’t like that it was possible that he may have hurt her.

“You need to go,” Kiara demands, pulling her jeans on, and then her white shirt.

Harry picked up his white button-up shirt off the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “Kiara, was I too rough? Maybe you should put something on the bruises--”

“I’m going to be late for work Harry,” she snaps.

“Are you mad?”

Tears well up in Kiara’s eyes and this is very unusual for her. She never cries. She is not even sure why she is crying. She pauses for a moment not answering his questions.

“I’m fine,” Kiara answers with her back still facing away from Harry.

“You’re crying, Kiara.”

“I’m not!” Kiara yelled, throwing her hands up in the air turning around. “I- I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Kiara’s breath gets caught in the back of her throat. “I have school, and I work full time, and I’m interning at this elementary school...and that…” Kiara points to the bed. “That was the best sex I have ever had, and now I look like a complete freak.” She wipes a tear with the back of her hand. “I look like a complete freak because all we did was have sex and now I’m crying. It doesn’t have much to do with you I think. I’m just a little stressed.”

That was a complete lie and Kiara knows it. At this moment, she could care less about school or the stress of work. Its that empty feeling you have after sex knowing that this isn’t a forever thing. Harry will go back to being Harry, and she will go back to being Kiara. It is simply just sex...nothing more.

Harry gets off the bed in just his unbuttoned shirt and boxers. He tests the waters by placing a comforting hand on her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just show yourself out please.” Kiara walks away from Harry’s hold, grabbing a scrunchie off her desk, and her purse. “I have to go.”

Harry doesn’t stop her. He knows that if he stops her he is gonna want to kiss her. Then he is gonna convince her to come back to bed with him, and he can’t do that. For her sake.

+++

“Are we not gonna talk about it?” Trina asks while she is driving her SUV.

Trina and Kiara usually take the subway together. It works out much cheaper for the both of them, but they can’t be late for work. Not during the Monday rush. Kiara is in the passenger seat pulling up her hair and frantically covering up a few hickies on her neck from last night. Trina is driving just a little bit above the speed limit, trying to make sure they both get there on time, and also worrying about her best friend who isn’t her usual bubbly self.

“There is nothing to talk about, other than I need some plan B,” Kiara replies dryly.

“You're joking.”

“Nope. Pass me your purse.”

Trina keeps one hand on the wheel and hands Kiara her purple purse from the back seat.

“Kiara you had sex with my best friend. Unprotected sex.”

“Exactly just sex,” Kiara shruged, digging up the pill from the bottom of Trina’s bag. “And I’m your best friend!”

“You are both my best friends!” Trina argued. “You know the poor boy actually likes you right?”

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes! Actually, he did! More than once!”

“He is lying. I’m just a normal broke student. And him? He is a fucking rich man but he looks like a literal greek god! Trina you know I googled him. His past girlfriends are models! White, skinny blonde models. I’m not white, skinny, or blonde!”

“He was a party boy in the past!” Trina retorts. “He likes you, okay? He just has trouble communicating his feelings. I know you like him too. You just have this strange idea in your head that you are not good enough for him! Which is ridiculous.”

“It's whatever,” Kiara huffs, pooping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it, “It was a hook-up. A simple one night stand.”

“It’s okay to want something more Kiara.”

“He doesn’t want something more! It's so painfully obvious,” Kiara throws her hands up in the air.

Trina knows how stubborn her best friend is. It's why they get along so well. They both have this hot headed temperament. However, Kiara never really likes to give herself time to relax. She likes to be busy but it is clearly taking a toll on her mental health.

“Let me take you out drinking after work.”

Kiara turned her head towards her friend and smiled. “Thank you. Now we are speaking my language.”

+++

While Kiara’s working, a part of her secretly wishes that Harry would show up for his americano. She is trying her hardest to convince herself that he is not worth her energy or time, but the sex is still fresh in her mind and it doesn’t help that her body is showing evidence of what took place last night.

There is still that dull satisfying ache between her legs, the sound of Harry calling her a dirty whore plays on rewind all day. She is practically daydreaming about having sex with Harry again while making coffee.

Harry was the first man to meet her needs in that manner. Sure she has cum during sex a couple times, but it wasn’t anything mindblowing. In fact her orgasms were usually underwhelming, but with Harry he knew what he was doing. His dominance was a complete turn on.

And sure Kiara could be fuck buddies with Harry. But she thinks she deserves a little more than just casual hookups. She wants a relationship because at the end of the day, she wants to build a family. A family that makes up for her broken one.

Kiara has sat down and contemplated this before. Is it inherently selfish to want to fix her childhood trauma with a family of her own, but fuck. Can you really blame her?

+++

When Kiara gets home she quickly changes into a simple black dress. It hugs her curves nicely and it's the dress she usually pulls out when she used to go clubbing with Trina (which has come to a halt because of her pregnancy).

The subway ride to the club is filled with laughter and Trina having to help Kiara actually get on and off the train (because she pregamed at the apartment).

Once they got to the club, Trina walks up to the front of the line with Kiara.

The bouncer's eyes lit up as soon as he saw Trina, “Hi Trina. Umm, should I tell Harry you are here? James is also here too. I can let him know as well.”

“Harry is here?” Kiara questions.

Trina whispers in her ear, “Yes, this is his club.”

“I’m gonna need more drinks if I have to look at his stupid face again.”

Trina playfully rolls her eyes, “Yes, you can let James and Harry know we are both here.”

The bouncer pulls out his walkie talkie and opens the door for Trina and Kiara.

Kiara supports herself on Trina’s arm as they walk into the club, “You didn’t tell me we were going to Harry’s club?”

“I know, I thought you might put up a fight about it.”

She probably would have put up a fight about it, however she wouldn’t actually mind seeing Harry's stupid, beautiful looking face again.

The club itself is beautiful. The ceilings are covered with mirrors, and hanging down from them were stunning crystal chandeliers. The chairs are red, and glass tables are placed strategically in each booth. There is also a bar with some red stools, and a huge red door near it.

“What’s back there?” Kiara asks.

“The strip club. But we don't need to go over there. C’mon you wanted some wine, didn’t you?”

Trina and Kiara made their way to the bar and a heavily tattooed girl with a name tag that says Drew is working on the opposite side of the counter mixing drinks.

“Hey, Trina! What are you doing here? You can’t drink.”

“It’s for my friend, Kiara.” Trina gestures to her Kiara, who drunkenly waves back at Drew “She will take some wine, something sweet. I’ll just have some sprite”

Drew grabs a wine glass and puts it on the table before walking away. “Coming right up”

“James is that new guy you are seeing, right?”

“Yes. He works for Harry.”

Kiara has heard Trina mention James on multiple occasions. She even thinks he has come to the cafe a couple of times for lunch, but Kiara can’t put a name to the face. She is unsure if Trina and James are dating, but she is not sure how far she should pry. She does briefly remember Trina telling her that James does not care about Trina being pregnant. In fact Trina told her one day during their thirty minute break at work that James is just happy to be a part of Trina’s family.

“Mhmm. So Harry owns this club?” Kiara asks, taking a sip from her wine that Drew provided for her.

“Yeah. He owns a few more too. I believe it's a family business or something?”

Kiara sighs before downing the rest of her wine. “Just eat the fucking rich already.”

“Kiara? Trina?”

Kiara spins around on her chair, holding up her second glass of wine that Drew had given her and made eye contact with Harry.

He looks breathtaking. Hair neatly combed out of his face, tailored suit, ring decorated fingers that Kiara thought was repulsive, but now she can't stop thinking about how they feel against her heat.

“Trina, it's Wednesday,” Harry sternly told her, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, slowly breathing in and out, trying not to lose his temper at his best friend.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Kiara says, standing up. She almost trips on her heels but Harry grabs her arm.

Kiara places her hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you have to be happy to see me. You don’t fuck someone like that unless you hate them or love them. And who could hate me?”

“Okay!” Trina chippers up, grabbing her friend and bringing her back to the barstool. “Maybe we should get some water in you, okay?”

Harry is flustered because way too much is happening at once. Harry has told Trina multiple times that Wednesdays are not a good time to show up at the club. He has his meetings on Wednesday, and dangerous people are always floating in and out of the club talking business with Harry. He just wants to keep Trina and Kiara safe.

“Drew put all their drinks on my tab,” he tells the dark-haired bartender. “Trina, did you drive here?”

“No, we took the subway,” Trina answered.

Harry sighed frustratingly. “Okay. I'll take you two home. Just don’t leave here until I come get you.”

“Harry,” Trina starts. “I'm sure we will be fine. It’s not that big of a deal. James is here anyways--”

“Trina please.”

It's the crack in Harry's voice that caused Kiara to stop drinking her wine and look up at him.

Trina shoots Harry a look of sympathy. “Okay fine. We will stay here until you're done.”

Harry exhales the air he was holding in, a nervous habit he is still trying to break. “Okay. I will be done soon.”

“What's got his panties in a twist?” Kiara snorts as Harry walks away.

“I’m not sure actually,” Trina responds. “He is always stressed at work. I’ve been trying to get him to take a break for ages, but pulling that man away from his job is an impossible task.”

“He always seems so tense.”

Trina laughs, “Yeah maybe you can help him with that.”

“Well I see you have been helping his fellow associate...James.” Kiara wiggles her eyebrows at Trina.

Trina dramatically sighs. “Don’t even get me started on him.”

“What? I thought things were going great!”

“They are!” Trina assures Kiara. “But I’m still not sure what he wants. I’m pregnant and thirty. I really don’t want to fool around anymore. I want to settle down. The baby is coming soon and I won't have time for hookups and flings. He says he doesn’t mind that I’m pregnant, but he hasn’t said he wants a relationship with me.”

“Why don’t you just be upfront with him and ask?”

“Because I don’t want to scare him off!”

“You deserve someone who is upfront with their feelings, Trina. You are never gonna know until you ask.”

Trina sticks her index finger in Kiara’s face. “I’m not doing shit until you figure out what's going on with you and Harry.”

“Fine I’ll admit. The dick is good.”

Trina squealed. “I knew it, you filthy whore!”

“I'm just a little nervous. What if he is just hooking up with me for some weird black girl fetish? What if he is a racist?”

“I can tell you that's not Harry.”

“Am I ready for this?”

Trina takes a sip of her sprite. “I dunno. You know the answer to that question, not me.”

“Well I don’t know, and you don’t know. So that's my cue to keep drinking.”

Trina rolls her eyes and is about to tell Drew that this will be Kiara’s last glass of red wine until she makes eye contact with a man walking towards them.

“Fuck,” Trina grabs her purse then grabbed Kiara’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him okay? Just don’t look at him and maybe he will go away--”

“Trina... Haven’t seen you in a while.” The man's voice is heavy and dark. When Kiara looked up at him the first thing she noticed is that he is extremely well dressed, with a bling out watch on his wrist. “Who is the lovely lady you brought with you?”

“Leave her alone Dorian.” Trina says.

“What's your name?” The man reaches out to touch Kiara’s lower back but she flinches away.

“Don't touch me! Who do you think you are?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Feisty. Pretty too. You are one of Harry’s girls?”

“Excuse me? One of whose girls?”

“Are you not a dancer for the club?” the man asks in a condescending town that sets Kiara off.

“Oh hell no. You know damn well I’m clearly not stripping so what is it that you want from me?”

Trina leans into Kiara’s ear. “Kiara please leave it alone,” She grabs her wrist but Kiara quickly pulls it out of her grasp. “Let's just go.”

“No, let the girl talk Trina. She has quite a mouth on her anyway. Maybe she can put it to a much better use.”

Slap

Kiara’s hand connects with Dorian’s face before Trina could stop her. Trina knows her friend has a temper but so does Dorian. The slap slightly echoes over the music and gains a few people's attention including Drew, who stops mixing her drink and keeps her eyes on Dorian, who clenches his jaw and fixes his suit on his shoulders, trying to regain his composure.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters quietly.

“And what the fuck are you gonna… Ow!” Dorian roughly grabs Kiara wrist and drags her towards him.

He holds her hand above her head. “You don’t know who you are messing with. Do I need to show you?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kiara begins to squirm. “Let go of me before I kick you in the crotch--”

“Hmmmm. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. Don’t think Harry would mind if I borrowed one of his girls.”

“Refer to me as one of Harry’s girls one more time and I will do more than just slap you.”

“Dorian. Let her go.” Kiara’s eyes float from the man holding her wrist to Harry who is stalking up to her with a man right next to him. His voice was deep and assertive. Something Kiara never thought Harry to be other than when he was in bed.

Dorian lets Kiara’s wrist go and she stumbles back a bit towards Trina.

“Harry!” Dorian loudly greets. “I was just telling one of your whores she needs to watch that mouth of hers.”

“She is not a dancer, Dorian.”

“Oh, is she not? Such a shame,” Dorians eyes shamelessly rake Kiara up and down. “With a body like that I’m sure she could attract some clients for you.”

Kiara launches at Dornian but Harry is quick to grab her this time pulling her into his chest.

“Behave. Please,” he whispers in her ear.

“Dorian, you need to go.”

“Harry, you know better than that. Came here for my money. Come here every Wednesday to get my payment.”

“Well, you're not getting it today. Come by tomorrow.”

“Funny you say that since you know the history between me and your father--”

“I don't give a fuck about the history between you and my father!” Harry seethes stepping closer to Dorian. “You don’t see him here do you? I made you a deal. You will get your money, just not tonight. You don’t get to threaten my friends and then just demand money.”

“You don’t want to test me boy--”

“No, you don't want to test me. Not tonight. Leave.”

Dorian smirks at Harry before raising his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be here tomorrow. If you don’t have my money there will be problems.”

Harry watches Dorian walk fully out the door before turning to Trina and Kiara. “Both of you. My car now.”

“What just happened?” Kiara questions.

“Trina just take her to the car.”

+++

The car ride back to Kiara’s apartment is silent. Kiara sits in the back confused as to why Trina and Harry kept whispering to each other. A whole conversation is happening and Kiara’s trying to keep up, but she can only get bits and pieces of what the two are saying.

“I might be still drunk but I can hear you know.” That is a lie.

Harry’s eyes glance up to the rear view mirror. “Are you okay Kiara? He didn’t hurt you right?”

“No but I did hurt him. Slapped him. And if you didn’t come and interrupt I was about to kick him in the balls.” Kiara hiccups at the end of her sentence.

“She is right,” Trina agrees. “She is more of a fighter than she leads on to be.”

“Exactly!” Kiara yells. “So if you would have given me the chance I would have fucked him up.”

Harry, who was clenching his hand at the wheel during the whole drive, lets go and smiles. “I believe you Kiara.”

+++

Harry makes sure to walk Trina into her apartment safely, before helping Kiara to hers which was a challenge in itself because she can’t even walk in a straight line.

“Woah,” Harry says, wrapping his strong arms around Kiara’s waist trying to keep her balance. “How about you sit down on the bed?”

Harry helps Kiara walk into her bedroom and he slowly sits her down on her bed. Her hair is completely ruined, her dress slightly bunched up at her hips and her lips gloss slightly smudged. Harry thinks she looks beautiful. He is staring a little too long before he realizes he should help her take off her heels.

He gets down on one knee and his fingers begin to work on the claps of Kiara’s heels until she wraps her leg around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer to her thigh.

“Wine makes me horny.”

“I know,” Harry pushes himself away from her, no matter how tempting she looks, and goes back to undoing her heels. “But I think it would be smart if I get you to bed.”

“Why was that guy asking you for money?”

“Asking me anything but that.”

“Okay. Did you mean it?”

Harry slides one heel off her foot and looks up at her. “Mean what?”

“When we met.” He grabs Kiara’s other foot. “You said I was pretty. You meant it?”

Harry is silent for a couple seconds, his voice low. “Of course. Why would I be lying about that?”

Kiara shrugs as Harry glides her shoe off. “Guys are assholes. Well most guys are.”

“Mhmm. Where can I find some clothes for you?”

“Top drawer.” Kiara points at her dresser right in front of her bed. Harry walks over to get some clothes and places them on the side of her bed. “When I moved here I hooked up with this one guy from my class. I thought there was something going on between us ya know? He was nice at first. So I was gonna ask him if he wanted to go on a date because well, at that point we were hooking up. Turns out he had a girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a dick. Can I unzip your dress?”

Kiara nods her head and stands up hastily, turning around so her back is facing Harry. “I feel like I’m never good enough to be the girlfriend.” Harry listens closely as he zips Kiara’s dress slowly. Her delicate skin has goosebumps on it. When he gets all the way down to the top of her butt he pushes the dress off her shoulders, and allows her to step out of it.

“I’m good enough to hook up with. But never good enough to meet the parents or keep around longer than a couple weeks.” She turns around to face Harry, and grabs the shirt he picked out for her, throwing it over her head, and ignoring the pair of sweats he brought her, opting to stay in her underwear.

“So do you find me pretty in a fuckable way? Or do you find me pretty enough to keep me around longer than a few weeks?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because you are really drunk, and my goal isn’t to scare you off.”

“Yes please,” she hiccups. “If you want to fuck around lets just be up front about it. Think I’ve gotten my hopes up about too many guys and I just wanna know.”

“Well I always think it's time for me to settle down,” Harry explains to her. “I’m twenty seven and my mum will not stop bugging me about it.” He laughs but Kiara stays silent. “I guess dating is just a bit confusing for me.”

“Confusing?” Kiara questions, tugging at the bottom of her shirt to make sure it is covering her butt.

“I really didn’t expect to be around this long. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff Kiara, stuff that I really shouldn’t have done because it put my life at jeopardy. I think I never settled down because I didn’t think I was able to.”

“And what about now? Do you think you can settle down.”

Harry inhales and exhales quickly. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Kiara turns her back to Harry and walks to her bed. She is definitely disappointed in his answer, but she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep seeing you Kiara,” Harry quickly responds, breathlessly. “I want to take you to dinner.”

“You don’t have to pity me Harry-”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry cuts her off. “I like you Kiara. You're a nice girl, beautiful too, and I mean that. My life can be… menacing to say the least. I like you enough not to drag you into my bullshit.”

Kiara tiredly rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “What exactly is the bullshit?”

“It's my family business and my family… Well, they are interesting people.” That is all Harry could tell her without explicitly saying, “Instead of going into finance with my business degree from Columbia, I had to join my dad’s mafia and fix all his mistakes while he lives in a mansion, even though all I have ever wanted was to have absolutely nothing to do with the “‘family business.’”

“You seem like you don’t want to talk about it.” Kiara is now sitting with her knees up to her chest on her bed and Harry is towering over her small frame.

“No. I’m not a big fan of my past. But I want to get to know you, and you can get to know me. I’m busy with work, and sometimes it's hard for me to open up, but I’d really appreciate it if we took this slow.”

Kiara pouts. “So that means I can’t convince you to stay the night? Even if I suck you off?”

Harry smiles at her. “No.” He places a kiss on her forehead. “But I will come get you tomorrow at seven for dinner. Does that work?”

“Yes it does. Thanks for bringing me home tonight.”

“Anytime. I mean that.”

Kiara flips over to her side, hands resting underneath her head. “Drive safe.”

Harry is unsure about his life. In fact he is unsure about leaping into this with Kiara. He knows they aren’t dating, and that's good for him. He needs time to figure out his life. He knows if he wants to be in Kiara’s life, he has to pay off his fathers debt’s and get out of the mafia, or else he will never truly have the life he wants.

Right now, he can see a future with Kiara. He can see himself waking up next to her, making breakfast. He can see himself enjoying a domestic life with her.

He knows he can’t have that right now. But he sure is gonna work like hell for it. For her.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #haryr styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles angst #mafia!harry #harry styles mafia #harry styles x oc #harry styles x woc #harrystyles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #ha

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secretshinigami · 3 years

Text

marlboro nights.

Author: @fruitynear

For: @karl-the-stingray

Pairings/Characters: Matt/Mello

Rating/Warnings: T. Warnings: Minors smoking?

Prompt: Mello, who has been in Wammy’s house for like 6 months, gets a roommate named Matt

Author’s notes: I took the prompt very liberally but I do hope you like it <3

----------

Six months after moving into Wammy’s House, Mello gets his first (and last) roommate; Matt. At first, it’s awkward. It’s a known fact of life that the adjustment time for a new roommate is always a bit awkward, and that is no less true for Mello and Matt. At first, they get into fights on a near-daily basis. Usually over dumb things like the volume of whatever game Matt is playing at the moment. These fights would very rarely escalating past a bit of wrestling, and even when itheyt did end with worse things like bloody noses, Matt and Mello never stayed mad at each other too long.

In fact, Mello found it very hard to stay mad at Matt for any serious amount of time. Sure, he was annoying as hell, but he was also nearly as smart as Mello himself. Despite being deeply uninterested in the student ranking system, Matt was still only barely below him. Thankfully, Matt wasn’t fond of applying himself. Along with being smart as hell, Matt had a confidence about him that Mello could appreciate. On the other hand, that meant he took none of Mello’s shit.

Naturally, they’d fallen into a friendship. After all, they did everything together, whether it be class, studying, eating, or staying up far past their designated bedtime to keep playing whatever game Matt had talked Mello into playing. Sometimes, if Matt were feeling especially kind towards Mello, he’d let the other boy win the game, just because he knew how much Mello enjoyed the simple act of winning. He’d considered the fact that perhaps he shouldn’t encourage these habits, but what Mello didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

One night, about two years after they’d been assigned roommates, Matt waltzes back into their room with a pack of cigarettes.

“Look at what I got, Mels.” Matt grins, tossing the pack towards Mello after firmly shutting and locking their room.

“How the hell did you even get these?” Mello asks as he stares at the pack for a moment. They were barely teenagers at thirteen years old, so it didn’t make sense that Matt had a pack of cigarettes. Plus, those things were gonna kill him if he started them up, and their life expectancies already weren’t great.

“I’ll never reveal my secrets.”

Mello shurgs, figuring Matt will end up telling him later on. Matt wasn’t very good at keeping secrets, not from Mello anyways, “Where are you even going to smoke these? Wammy has cameras everywhere.”

Matt smirks, “I hacked the cameras.”

Mello’s almost drops. Matt knew what kind of trouble he would get in if Wammy or Roger found out what he’d done, “You did what?”

“I figured out how to hack the cameras last night,” Matt explains, puzzling Mello as to how he can so casually talk about this like he’s talking about the weather knowing the consequences, “But don’t worry, I’ve left them alone for the most part. I just adjusted the angle of the one that overlooks that ledge on the roof.”

“You’re so dead when they find out.”

“I’m only dead if they find out. They’re not gonna find out, Mels.” Matt says, opening the window “Wanna come?”

“Of course I’m coming,” Mello grumbles, walking towards the window, “Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Matt grins, “Grab your coat, it’s a bit cold.”

Mello rolls his eyes but grabs his coat anyways. It was sweet how Matt, a guy who could barely take care of himself, was always so concerned about Mello’s wellbeing. Someone hadn’t cared about him this much in a very long time. Not since his parents, anyways. It was nice. Really nice, actually.

The aforementioned ledge is conveniently located outside their window and it only takes them a few moments to climb out of it, Mello first and then Matt. They sit beside the chimney, shoulders touching as Matt reaches into his pack and pulls out a cigarette at random. He places it between his lips, using a little green lighter he also definitely didn’t buy to light it.

A silence falls between them and Matt leans back, laying flat on the roof as he casually smoked his cigarette. Mello was amazed he wasn’t coughing, but perhaps this wasn’t his first cigarette after all. He’d have to ask about that later. That thought bothers Mello for reasons he can’t quite explain, but when would Matt have even found the time to go smoke when he and Mello spend almost all their free time together?

“Do you you think we still would’ve been friends?” Matt asks after a few moments, tearing Mello away from his thoughts, “Ya know, if we hadn’t ended up here.”

“I don’t know,” Mello answers honestly because at this point he can’t imagine a life that isn’t like theirs. A normal life is a privilege they weren’t afforded, “Do you think we would?”

“I like to think so.” Matt muttered before taking another long drag, “You’re a really good person, Mels.”

Mello feels his chest warm and he looks at Matt, and he can’t help but smile. Matt is laying in his back, face towards the sky but eyes closed as he takes the cigarette from his mouth, holding it out as an offering it to Mello.

“Want some?” Matt asks, opening his eyes as his lips curl into a soft smile.

“That shit’s gonna kill you, Matty.”

He takes the cigarettes anyways and Matt grins, “Guess we’ll die together then, huh?”

“Wouldn’t be so bad,” Mello says, taking a short drag of the cigarette and only managing to cough a little, “Not if it’s with you.”

Thankfully, Matt doesn’t say anything about Mello’s smoking. He does, however, absolutely light up at the admission from Mello, “You really think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Mello offers him a soft smile, fingers brushing against Matt’s as he hands back the cigarette. Matt pauses, looking at Mello for a moment with an unreadable expression before seemingly coming to a conclusion and grabbing the cigarette with his other hand, intertwining his fingers with Mello’s.

“This alright?” Matt asks, voice barely above a whisper as he gives Mello’s hand a squeeze

Mello stares at their intertwined fingers for a moment. Back when his parents were alive, he’s always been taught that this kind of thing was wrong. Boys can’t love other boys, that’s the rule. But as he watches Matt smoke his nasty ass cigarette he realizes that maybe he does love him. He’s not sure, mostly because he’s not sure what love is supposed to feel like, but this? Holding hands with Matt on the rooftop.

It feels right if nothing else, so he reaches out with his other hand, tracing some of the constellations the freckles on Matt’s face form until he’s cupping the other boy’s cheek. Matt smiles, closing his eyes again as Mello rubs his thumb over the smooth skin of his face.

I want to kiss him.

The realization hits him like a fright train and Mello moves his hand up, running his hand through Matt’s slightly greasy hair. Still, it’s lovely in its own way because it’s Matt, and Mello loves Matt.

“Hey, Matty?” Mello asks.

Matt hums, not bothering to open his eyes, “Yeah, Mels?”

Mello takes a deep breath. It’s now or never, “Can I kiss you?”

Matt’s eyes shoot open, seemingly searching Mello’s for any sign that he’s not being completely serious for ages. Though it is only seconds before Matt nods, offering Mello a smile and another squeeze to the hand he’s holding.

Mello leans in, both boys’ eyes closing as Mello inches closer to Matt. The fact that Matt’s lips are soft is the first thing he notices. Surprisingly soft, in fact, as Mello expected them to be at least partially chapped. But no, they’re lovely, and Mello finds it hard to pull away after a moment, even if his lips do taste entirely like cigarette.

“Wow,” Matt mutters when Mello pulls away, eyes fluttering open once more, “I’ve been waning to do that for ages you know.”

Matt nods and Mello laughs, “Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t think you liked me! Plus, you’ve got the whole catholic thing going on and I didn’t know how you’d react to finding out I’m gay.”

“For what it’s worth, I really like you.” Mello says, not quite ready to say the big three words and for now that’s okay.

Matt smiles, leaning up and giving Mello a quick kiss, barely even a peck, “I really like you too.”

“Does this make us boyfriends?”

“I think so,“ Matt grins, before hesitantly adding, "Only if you want to be, though.”

“I do.” Mello says quickly, "I really do.”

“Good, then it’s settled,” Matt grins with a wide smile, eyes shining as bright as the sun as he looks at Mello, “Then does my boyfriend wanna go in and play Mario Kart?”

Mello smirks, “Only if you’re prepared to get your ass kicked.”

“Anything for you, Mels.”

#fanfiction #submission #matt #mello #melloxmatt #mellodramattic #ratings: teen #fruitynear #karl-the-stingray #Near's Bday Finale 2k21

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coldshrugs · 3 years

Note

I WANT TO ASK THEM ALL FOR ALL OF THEM AAAAA but i shall restrain myself; 10, 14, 21 for ulysse bc I neglect her in these memes. [optional bonus round] divvy up these between any other characters you wanna talk about; 1, 5, 19, 27. Yes, this is restraint.

OKAY I’M FINALLY GETTING TO THESE! Thank you and you know I would never ask you to restrain yourself 😂

10. What energizes and drains them most?

Ulysse is energized most by solitude. As a ranger, she enjoys the time spent alone in the wilderness; it’s where she feels most at ease. She’s one of those people that’s never bored with their own company and often prefers it over the mediocre company of others.

Ulysse is drained most by Astarion.

14. What do they care deeply about? What kind of loyalties, commitments, moral codes, life philosophies, passions, callings, or spirituality and faith do they have? How do these tend to be expressed?

This is tough because Ulysse is like... incredibly neutral. She cares about her own health and safety, and that of her friends and loved ones (she has few of those). Her morals change depending on the situation but she tries to go with whatever feels right or interesting at the time.

Still, when she does feel a streak of loyalty to someone, she’s all in. It’s expressed with 100% trust. She’ll always have their back.

21. What kind of relationships do they tend to intentionally seek out versus actually cultivate? What kind of social contact do they prefer, and why?

In case it’s been left to doubt, she doesn’t intentionally seek out relationships 😂

That doesn’t mean she hasn’t had to cultivate any. She’s on good terms with many hunters and druids. She speaks with animals and enjoys the bonds she forms with them. As for preferred social contact, she prefers it to be good-natured and temporary.

She has family back in Baldur’s Gate that she sees on her occasional stops into the city. She loves them but they’re not enough to keep her from her solitary lifestyle, and they’ve never tried to stop her.

And of course, lately, she has had to cultivate bonds with her ragtag group of companions. She finds things to respect in all of them, even if she can’t find things to like about some of them.

I’ll answer the rest briefly for my four current head tenants!

1. How do they move and carry themselves? Pace, rhythm, gestures, energy?

Effie: Walks with a steady, confident gait; not quite a swagger but she’s not afraid to really take up the small space she occupies. Her energy varies wildly between a bit gloomy or bright and chipper and depends entirely on the company. She doesn’t really gesture with her hands, but her face often betrays her true emotions unless she’s in Swindle Mode.

Cleo: Bouncy, bubbly quick steps. Light on her feet. Emotive and quick to smile, and gestures with her hands when speaking. She’s touchy as well, so she’ll reach out to her conversational partners or even grab an object for a prop.

Io: She’s so lanky but moves with THE MOST grace you’ve ever seen. There are no wasted actions with Io. There’s a certain restraint there, too, because she’s almost never totally comfortable around others. Her hands are often still, arms usually crossed.

Ulysse: She’s got a VERY quiet footfall and a sort of danger about her presence. There’s a cat-like element to her movements. She’s not very emotive, but her eyes are always busy, always taking in her surroundings. Often, her hands are on her hips, ready to grab a dagger or an axe.

5. How do they dress? What styles, colors, accessories, and other possessions do they favor? Why?

Effie: A blousy top and dark corset-y jerkin, fitted but stretchy pants, and black lace-up boots that hit just above the ankle and probably have a small heel. Or at least, that’s what she’ll wear once she’s in Velantis and can afford to dress in clothes for the aesthetic. Think like, slightly more femme Renfri from the Netflix version of The Witcher and you’ve got Effie’s look. She likes muted, dark colors; burgundy, navy, plum, and black. As for accessories: she has a few ear piercings on both ears and she prefers silver jewelry in those; sometimes she’ll wear a scarf (in case she needs to wipe away blood), and then she’d consider her dagger and sword accessories too.

Cleo: Cleo's style is all about breezy fabrics, simple silhouettes, and rich colors and patterns. She's not afraid to show skin and the weather usually permits it. To accessorize, she adds layered necklaces and a staple pair of earrings, sometimes pulling sheer patterned tights into a less busy look. When the weather cools, her usual wardrobe just gets a sweater or cardigan thrown on top and she might consider adding thick solid black tights under her skirt and boots. Cleo doesn’t own pants tbh.

Io: Oh man, Io’s gone through a few style changes in her time. I like to think the more comfortable she becomes with her place in Eorzea, the more comfortable she dresses? She’s not trying to impress anyone at this point in her journey, so she’s in drapey fabrics, practical boots, and her legs are mostly free. It’s a look she can fight in if she needs to, but it’s also something she can wear around the Rising Stones with her friends and show off her personality. She’s currently decked out in chunky jewelry as well.

Ulysse: Hmm, Ulysse doesn’t really have “style” tbh. Everything she wears must be practical. She’s got no use for anything less. She favors earth tones- greens, yellows, browns. But her clothes are sturdy, warm, and allow her to move quickly and quietly.

19. How do they behave within a group? What role(s) do they take? Does this differ if they know and trust the group, versus finding themselves in a group of strangers? Why?

Effie: She’s going to default to a Follower With Opinions unless forced into a leadership role. She’s might be confident in her abilities, but she isn’t confident about how others will react to her. With Aeran, they’re often on equal footing and will just throw ideas back and forth until something they both agree on sticks. In all groups, she’s a bit of a peacekeeper but likes to share her sense of humor.

Cleo: Oh she’s immediately going to turn into the Mom Friend. Cleo’s extremely nurturing and wants everyone around her to feel cared for. In a group of strangers, she’s probably not going to be as talkative but she’d still find a way to check in on someone feeling even more awkward than she does.

Io: Please don’t make her talk. Please don’t make her lead. Please don’t notice when she quietly slips to the back of the group and then out of the room and into the comfort of the local library.

Ulysse: She does not want to lead, but she will step the fuck up if she has to. She doesn’t really get why people want to follow her when the only thing she’s been in charge of for decades is herself but oh well. Ulysse has a bit of a problem with applying the correct amount of gravity to any given situation and in a group, she’s very “that’s rough, buddy” when someone really needs a deep emotional conversation.

27. What do they strongly like and dislike, in any category? Why?

Okay, I’ll do weather 😩

Effie: HATES rain after that year in Rona. Or hates how she’s just gotten used to feeling soggy. Really likes that sort of cold autumnal sunny weather that’s crisp and comfortable.

Cleo: Doesn’t love snow from the few times she’s experienced it. She doesn’t really feel strongly about the weather otherwise. Likes rain, besides the way it makes her hair frizz.

Io: Coerthas is her favorite place in Eorzea and she loves snow. She’s not a fan of the warmer climates, her ears get too hot and it’s just very uncomfy.

Ulysse: Loves warm balmy weather. She’s another that doesn’t care for rain. It washes away tracks and scents.

#asks #ilmhist #ulysse #ephyra metaxas #io laithe #cleo espree

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kookscrescent · 5 years

Text

When Lightning Strikes (m) │ jjk

➤ pairing│Jungkook x female reader ➤ summary│You are home alone as a storm is going on outside, and a wet Jungkook comes home. ➤ rating│NC-17, mature, 18+ ➤ genre│smut, boyfriend au ➤ warnings│unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), strong language, couch sex, cremepie ➤ word count│2.1k│semi edited ➤ release date│July 30th 2019 ➤ disclaimer│This is all fiction! Nothing mentioned/written are facts and/or real! So please just keep that in mind when reading and enjoy! Thank you ♡

⇥ Masterlist

A bright white light fills up the dark living room as the lightning strikes through the night sky, closely followed by a rippling boom, that feels like it’s shaking the walls.

Outside the city is completely dark, the power of most of it having gone out a few minutes ago, and the only source of light you have is the handful of candles you managed to find, and the occasional lightning that lighting up the room for a short period of time.

You curl yourself further into the thick blanket as yet another lighting strikes and thunder booms. This is crazy! You are normally not the type of person to get startled by little thunder and lighting, but this storm is crazy! It’s been going on for the past few hours, the heavy rain is hitting against the tall windows, splashing against the streets below and the few cars, that despite the horrible weather, still have ventured out in the city.

If wouldn’t be as bad if you hadn’t been home alone and had power, but you are, and you have no idea when Jungkook is coming back from practice, and the fact that your phone died an hour ago isn’t really helping either. The last text you received from him was just moments before it died, saying that practice was being cancelled, but he didn’t know when he would be home due to the weather.

And you understood that! You would rather have him stay at the practice studio, than have him driving home in this horrendous weather and risking him getting hurt somehow. And it’s not like you can just charge you phone with the power being out. So, you tried calming yourself down and making the best of the situation, by sitting down with a blanket and a glass of wine, in the way to expensive - but also very comfortable - couch Jungkook bought a few months back, and watch the storm outside.

Sipping the glass of wine, you glanced down at the watch on your wrist, the small pointers telling you that another hour had passed by and it was almost midnight. Oh, how badly you wished your phone worked right now so you could contact Jungkook!

The storm outside had quiet down a little bit by now, the lightning coming and going with far bigger gaps than before, but the rain was still pouring down, the sound of it echoing throughout the quiet apartment.

You were in your own little world, when the front door opened and wet footsteps could be heard in the hallway. You nearly leaped out of your seat as you saw Jungkook rounding the corner of the living room, completely drenched from the rain. His hair clinging to his face, small droplets trickling down his cheeks, his clothes and jacket sticking to his body as he shivered slightly.

“Hey!” He said, his voice shaking as he kicked off his wet boots and went to you, clearly not caring that he was getting the entire floor wet.

You didn’t waste a second before your arms went around his neck, hugging him to your body. You didn’t care that he was wet, and you would be too, you hadn’t realized just how worried and lonely you had felt until you saw him just now.

“Hey,” you mumbled in the crook of his neck, feeling him shiver as your warm breath hit his cold skin. “I missed you!”

He lets out a short laugh as he pulls away a little to look at your face. “I missed you too babe.” He says kissing the tip of your nose. “Were you scared?” he teases.

“A little,” you admit. “But I was also worried about you!” You smack his arm when he keeps laughing at you. “It’s not funny Jungkook! My phone died and I couldn’t charge it to get in contact with you, and only god knew when you would be able to get home in this weather!”

He brings your body back against his, “God I love you!” he says. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

“I love you too,” you mumble, your hands fisting the back of his wet jacket.

You suddenly realize something, your brows furrow as a confused look crosses your face. Jungkook cant see you but he feels you tense up under his hold.

“What is it?” he asks.

“How did you get up here?” you ask him. “The power is out so the elevators don’t work.”

“I took the stairs. Lit the way with the flashlight on my phone.”

“But we’re on the top floor.”

“So?” he shrugs.

“That’s a hell of a lot of stairs!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he tells you. “Besides I was way too cold to think about anything else, let alone how many stairs I had to climb.”

As a comfortable silence falls around you, another loud boom strikes through the sky, making you jump in his arms. He laughs a little at your uneasiness, knowing your typically not afraid of this type of weather, but he still hugs you tighter trying to give you some sort of comfort.

“You should really get out of these wet clothes before you get sick!” You tell him. He’s got some important months coming up and he can’t afford being sick. And he’s also dripping on the carpet, creating small pools of water, which is driving you nuts, but you keep your mouth shut about that part.

“You’re right.” He replies letting you go and surprisingly you yourself didn't get that wet from hugging him. Your shirt clings a little to your body, but nothing worth changing for.

On his way to the bathroom, Jungkook peels off his jacket and shirt and you get a mouthwatering view of his back muscles. Small drops of water running down his back from his still wet hair. You follow close behind him, not wanting to miss a single piece of clothing leaving his body.

Once he reaches the dark bathroom, only his black boxers remain on his toned body. You stop in the doorway, leaning against the frame as you look at him. It’s almost pitch-black, but the what little light that comes from the moonlight and through the window, hits his body perfectly.

Jungkook can feel your eyes on him, a smirk adoring his lips. He loves the way he can drive you crazy like this, he loves that it isn’t only him that feels like this because you drive him crazy every single time he looks at you.

“Wanna take a shower?” he asks you with a wiggle of his eyebrows but also completely serious, and for a moment you consider it, but you decide against it.

You shake your head, “We can hardly see anything babe, and knowing what we usually end up doing when we shower together, one of us will just end up getting injured.” You laugh as you picture it.

“You’re no fun.” He pouts.

“That’s not what you usually tell me.” You tease as you leave the room with a little more swing to your hips.

You can hear him groan behind you, and you can’t help but feel conflicted. You’ve missed him all day, and you’ve been by yourself throughout most of it and god do you want him as bad as he wants you, but shower sex is just not an option right now in these conditions.

Any other time? Hell yes!!

Jungkook joins you back in the living room. He’s put on a pair of loose joggers but haven’t bothered putting on a shirt. He sits down beside you on the couch, completely still for a moment, before he grabs both of your ankles and pulls you down in a laying position. You shriek at the sudden change, and he hover above you placing kisses across your collarbones and up to your ear, where he lightly nipples your lobe.

A sigh of satisfaction leaves your mouth and your hands lace themselves behind his neck, softly playing with the hairs there.

“What are you doing?” You ask him breathless.

“You said no to shower sex.” Jungkook hums against you, tingles shooting down your back and you chuckle at his respond. He feathers kisses over your jaw until he reaches your lips, hungrily taking possession of them, your tongues brushing against each other.

Jungkook spreads your bare legs further apart to make room for himself between them. You can already feel how hard he is against you and you moan at the thought of him inside you.

You sit yourself up enough to be able to take off your shirt and still keep your lips together, only breaking apart to get it over your head. You lay back down as Jungkook skillfully unhooks your bra, toying with the straps before sliding them down your arms and throwing it on the floor.

He moves his mouth down your chest till he reaches your nipple, sucking and kissing till you’re a moaning mess above him, your hands ranking up and down his back. You’re almost positive he’s going to have a few red marks in the morning.

He runs his index finger under the waistband of your shorts, before he grabs both sides and slides them down your legs along with your underwear. He sits back, a groan coming from deep in his throat sounds, as he admires your naked form before him.

Jungkook makes a move to go down on you, but you stop him before he can get started. “I want your cock. I can’t wait.” You sound desperate, and you are. Just the feel of how hard he already is, is enough to set your insides on fire with lust and desperation for him.

You reach for his joggers, pulling them down as far as you can in your position on the couch. You whine loudly when you realize that he’s discarded his boxers in the bathroom, and the sight of his already erect member meets your lustful eyes. Jungkook wastes no time in removing the joggers the rest of the way and throws them to the floor, as he once again settles between your open legs.

Licking your lips, you get ready for what is about to come, as he grabs a hold of himself and runs the tip of his cock through your soaked folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already!” Jungkook groans, the head of his cock continuously nudging your clit as he guides it back and forth.

“Stop teas-“ the words get stuck in your throat, turning into a pleasurable moan as Jungkook slowly sinks into you and starts thrusting in a steady pace, that has you grabbing the pillows.

Every delicious inch of him moving in and out of you brought you closer and closer to your impending orgasm. You feel tightening around him, making him falter a little in his pace as he has to focus on not cumming to early.

A low laugh escapes him as he tried to focus, slowing down a tad. “You have to not do that baby! You know I love your tight pussy, but I will cum I seconds if you keep doing that.” He warns you.

“Sorry,” you smile, and he begins sliding in and out of you again, this time with more force. His strong hands have a tight hold around your thighs, his fingers digging in to your skin, but you couldn’t care less about the bruises he’s sure to leave behind, you are way to focused on the feeling of him inside you.

Outside the sky is still being lit up with the occasional lightning, and every time it strikes it casts a beautiful white glow through the window, illuminating yours and Jungkook’s bodies in the dark living room.

Jungkook is spurred on by the string of moans leaving your lips, the way your grabbing the pillows for dear life and the way you throw your head back as he hits you just right – brushing your g spot over and over again.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” You chant as he keeps going and you feel your orgasm bubbling.

“You’re so fucking tight!” Jungkook bites out, his thrusts becoming deadly fast, as he too feels his orgasm ready to burst.

The animalistic growl that leaves his chest and rushes past his lips as he cums, is enough to set you off, and as the lightning strikes in the sky, lighting up the room, your orgasm hits your body with full force. Throwing your head back you, you let the feeling of your orgasm and Jungkook cumming inside you, take over your body.

You both out of breath by the time you have ridden out your orgasms, and Jungkook collapses over you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he sucks on the skin there.

“It might not have been shower sex, but I still got you wet.” Jungkook laughs against your neck, and even though your smack him on the back, you can’t help but laugh along with him.

If you liked this, don’t forget to like or reblog ❀ It really means the world, so thank you! ❀

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recurring-polynya · 4 years

Note

oooooo, Renji drabbles! you’ve mentioned before how you suspect that Renji and Shuuhei were a thing once upon a time... is it possible you can write a drabble where they’re on a date together? They’re only two of the hottest guys in the realm

Abarai Renji was on a date.

He’d been on a few dates in his life, disastrous occasions when Momo had stuffed him in a yukata and sent him out with some fresh-scrubbed, extremely nice girl she had dredged up somewhere. The girls would talk and talk and steal glances at his tattoos and guilt would well up in his chest until he wanted to vomit and at the end, they would kiss him on the cheek and he would make it a point to never see them again.

Today, he was wearing yesterday’s uniform and wandering around a flea market in a weird, eclectic Seireitei neighborhood that he’d never been to before, watching Hisagi Shuuhei root through a bin of Living World automotive parts. His boyfriend, Hisagi Shuuhei.

Renji had slept with Shuuhei enough times that he no longer kept count. Shuuhei cooked him dinner at least twice a week and Renji would bring over beers or sake. They usually sat next to each other at the bar, and he’d throw his arm around Shuuhei’s shoulders and Shuuhei would put a hand on his knee and it was very comfortable like that. Renji had started keeping a toothbrush at Shuuhei’s place, and then decided that he didn’t like sharing Shuuhei’s hair gel, and now probably three quarters of the shit Shuuhei’s bathroom was actually his. People would constantly call his phone asking for Shuuhei, because Shuuhei’s phone was perpetually out of battery, not that Renji’s was ever at more than a single digit’s worth of charge.

So last week, when Shuuhei asked him if he wanted to be boyfriends and Renji said “no” and then Shuuhei asked him which part of this he wanted to stop doing, he said “none of it” and then he was forced to concede that maybe he did want to be boyfriends and now they were on a date.

It wasn’t so bad.

The weather was nice, and Renji was eating a taiyaki at 10am, which was, in his opinion, the very acme of gratuitous self-indulgence. Shuuhei had bought it for him because he said “he looked extra cute in the morning” and also, he’d found some money in his pocket that he forgot he had.

“Oi, Renji, do you know what a spark plug actually looks like?” Shuuhei shouted from neck deep in his bucket of parts. It occurred to Renji that Shuuhei usually called him Abarai in public, but maybe first names were part of this new regime they were now operating under.

“I do not,” Renji admitted. “Maybe we could try to find one on the motorbike and take it out and bring it with us next time. You have that book with the diagrams, so we can probably figure out where to find it.”

“Ah, you’re so smart!” Shuuhei exclaimed and Renji blushed because no one ever said that to him, maybe not in his entire afterlife.

The Guilt curled in Renji’s stomach, slow and throbbing, but it wasn’t choking, consuming, like it used to be. He had always thought the Guilt was for Rukia-- that he was betraying her, cheating on her, somehow. But he didn’t owe Rukia anything, to be honest, any more than she owed him. She was living a fantastic life somewhere, probably having pitted cherries placed directly in her mouth while someone else painted her fingernails. She sure wasn’t waiting around for him to show up and shout his undying devotion to her. In fact, he could practically imagine the horrified face she would make at him if she found out he’d been pining over her.

No, the Guilt was for the other girls, Momo’s pretty, doe-eyed friends that he was never, ever going to fall in love with, no matter how much they flipped their hair at him. His heart was burnt down to a cinder-- a black, dusty thing, too hot to touch, and in danger of falling to ash if someone were to try. You could only love for so hard, for so long without getting anything back. Then, you started burning yourself up instead, from the inside out.

That had been a long time ago, though. Even if he still missed Rukia like hell, there were other good parts of life these days. His fights with Ikkaku were getting pretty even these days. He even got to spar with the Kenpachi once in a while, which was both exciting and flattering and then, two minutes later, deeply, deeply painful. He liked being Sixth Seat, not just because it paid well, but because he liked working with the unseated guys, liked teaching them how to be real swordsmen, not just loud goons. After years of Yumichika making him rub flowery smelling stuff on his face and in his hair, there was a pretty good looking guy staring back at him when he looked in the mirror. A guy who felt good about looking good, a guy who now knew how to pick out his own flowery smelling face goops.

“I think,” he had explained to Shuuhei, the only person to whom he had ever explained the burnt-up cinder heart theory, “that there might be a little chunk of it, like the size of my thumb, that’s not all the way toasted, just maybe really tough and chewy, like beef jerky.”

And Shuuhei had looked him in the eyes, real soft-like, and said, “Pal, your tiny little dried up beef jerky heart probably has more love in it than most people have in their entire body. You have been up front with me, which I respect a lot, and I’m willing to take my chances anyway.”

Shuuhei currently was surveying the street like an explorer deciding which path he wanted to take through a jungle. “You wanna go see the leatherwork stall? They had some sweet wrist cuffs last time, really gorgeous tooling.”

“Why do you always want to look at stuff that you can’t afford?” Renji groused. He’d been trying to start saving again, since he got his raise, something he hadn’t done since he was at the Fifth. He couldn’t decide which it was that was making him more grouchy-- having to put limits on his expenses, or how little was actually piling up in the bank account he’d opened. He wasn’t even sure what he was saving for. It just seemed like money was something a functional adult should have. He wasn’t exactly sure he would classify himself as a functional adult, but it was something to aspire to.

Shuuhei stretched, and rested his hands on the back of his head. “Sometimes it’s fun to just browse,” he shrugged. “You’re so practical, Renji, you should let your imagination out a little, once in a while.”

Renji’s face must have done something stupid, because Shuuhei quickly followed up with, “Things don’t always have to pan out to be worth dreaming of. C’mon, I know you’re dead jealous of those flashy goggles Iba’s been wearing lately.”

Renji wrinkled his nose because he was. Iba’s new shades were cool as fuck and expensive as fuck, too. Iba had offered to let him try them on, and Renji had said no because he was almost positive he would look better in them than Iba and he didn’t want to have to go around thinking about that all the time.

“We can go to the used book place instead,” Shuuhei offered. Shuuhei was really good at hopping off subjects that Renji was sensitive about. He’d probably been doing it for a while, but Renji had just gotten around to noticing. “It’s all shitty, falling-apart paperbacks, but they’re pretty cheap, plus I have a bunch of credit, because I trade mine in when I’m done with ‘em.”

“Ah, that sounds nice,” Renji, who had a great love for shitty, falling-apart paperbacks, replied. “But let’s swing by the leather place, too.” He crumpled up the paper from his taiyaki and threw it in a high arc into a nearby wastecan. Then wiped his hand on his hakama, and held out his hand, flexing his fingers obnoxiously. “I bet I would look good in wrist cuffs.”

Shuuhei grinned and immediately lowered his hands from his head so he could grab Renji’s. “You would look so good in wrist cuffs.”

And off they went, together.

#happy birthday renji!#renji abarai #shuuhei hisagi #my writing #drabbles

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cptnsantiago · 4 years

Text

take me home

4/?

~ snow storm

read on ao3

“Jake, the storm is only getting worse.”

Amy can barely see outside, the fog so dense that she’s holding on to any solid part of the car to prepare for the worst. “I’ve only met your mom twice but she’s scary so I’m not getting you home late.”

“I think my mom would appreciate it more if I made it home alive.” Amy retorts, scrolling through her phone slowly “We’ve been carpooling this trip for 2 years and the weather has never been this bad… And look! I just found a B&B half a mile from here!”

“Ugh fine,” Jake huffs, “But I’m indulging in the mini bar and won’t take any judgement!”

“Okay, waste your money. I’m just going to do the wise thing and sleep now that there are no finals to worry about.” Amy tells him, “Turn left.”

“Please, I know you’ve already started your little study calendar thingy on your desk.” Jake follows her directions with ease, laughing.

Amy had been introduced to Jake through their mutual friend Rosa in their first year of college. Amy had known Rosa her entire life, their moms having bonded through night classes years before they were born and they had been inseparable since. This then made Amy and Rosa inseparable. So when Rosa took up criminal psychology in her first year of college, Rosa met Jake and thus Amy made an acquaintance with him.

She was certain if they had met under different circumstances they would either be best friends or Amy would avoid him because he was just a certain type of annoying. The type being unbearably obsessed with Die Hard and not really knowing when to shut up about it. But they hung out on a semi regular occurrence, so they were good acquaintances.

Their arrangement was convenient. They were both at university in Brooklyn and unlike Rosa’s family, their family did not move from New Jersey to be closer to them. So every summer, every Christmas and every spring break they would drive home and back to college together.

And now she was going to be stuck with Jake in a B&B until the storm cleared. It wasn’t the end of the world, no - Amy did like Jake. Most of the time they hung out together they were either drunk or they were drunk with Rosa. The two and a half hour drive usually was spent with light chatter where Jake would eventually fall asleep or Amy would start reading.

Stuck in a snowstorm, together, with no alcohol.

It wouldn’t be bad, she just thought it was going to be interesting. The nervous feeling only builds once they arrive at the B&B and learn that the only room they have available is one with a double bed. One double bed.

Jake acts like it’s no big deal, they were adults and could maturely share a bed without it being a whole thing. Amy’s read fanfiction, it’s always a thing. She doesn’t mention anything though because she knew one thing definitively; Jake would never let it go.

He still remembered (and brought up quite frequently) that she was the Finger Queen at typing camp one year. So there was no bringing up the Star Wars fanfiction she read on occasion; or worse, the one time she wrote one herself. Jake didn’t lie when he said he would raid the mini fridge. Immediately he took out the drinks and snacks and dumped them on the bed, following them by jumping gracefully into the soft bed.

“What exactly is your plan?” Amy snorts, placing her own bag gently by the bedside table and sitting next to him.

“Get drunk, watch Die Hard probably.” Jake shrugs simply as he finds the remote. “Then fall asleep snuggled by your side to keep warm from the horrible storm.”

“Do you like any movie but Die Hard?” Amy shakes her head, disguising her disgust so that he doesn’t straight up die from shock. “We’re absolutely not watching it.”

“Of course I like other movies!” Jake retorts with a light chuckle, “I just love Die Hard.”

“Oh god.” Amy finally rolls properly onto the bed, burying her face into the pillow.

“Okay, another movie I like…” Jake ponders, and he’s quiet for a few minutes which catches Amy’s attention. “OH! Star Wars! My mom wants to see the new one with me when I get home.”

“Are you serious Jake?” Amy groans, her complete attention now on him. “All these years and you’ve been talking about Die Hard non-stop when we could have been talking about Star Wars? You’re actually messing with me.”

“It’s never come up!” Jake starts giggling, tipping his head back as the laughter gets stronger.

“That’s because you never shut up about Die Hard.” Jake only mimics her face in reply, “Why don’t we watch it? I just got Disney plus last week.”

“Oh?” Jake raised an eyebrow at her, “I did the free trial but I have no money. Zero dollars. College sucks.”

“Maybe you’d have money if you didn’t take everything from the minibar.”

“This is my Christmas present to myself!” Jake counters, turning the TV on.

“I’m not even gonna respond to that.” Amy rolls off the bed again to take out her laptop and it’s only a few short minutes before the beginning notes of the movie plays on the mediocre flat screen in front of them.

“Do you have any theories for the next-” Amy quickly shushes him, not so gently covering his mouth with her hand.

“Not surprised you’re a talker but don’t.” Amy whispers, “I like to hear to movie, we can talk after.”

She’s surprised that he stays quiet for the remainder of the movie. Jake was without fail the loudest person she knew, louder than her brothers. There were only a few comments and laughs shared between them - it even got flirty between them. Amy had never spent this much time alone with Jake and she didn’t expect them to get along without them being drunk. But they were both sober (he finally admitted he couldn’t afford the mini bar) and he was telling every dumb Star Wars joke ever said - she was genuinely having a good time.

Things only got weird again when she starts yawning and he’s suggesting they go to bed. It had been a good night so there was no reason that had to change. Amy would be an adult about it, and maybe she was actually wrong about Jake being an immature child obsessed with an action movie. Jake was a smart and capable adult, compassionate and funny and obsessed with an action movie to no end.

Climbing into bed, Jake is already facing her propped up on his arm. “Now that we aren’t watching the movie wanna talk about theories?”

“Okay, hit me.” Amy shifts so she’s in the same position.

With her permission, he launches into a long spiel of theories. Ones he had seen on the internet and some that he thought of himself when he had been putting off his study. “But my favourite part of the sequels are Finn and Poe, and I know Disney sucks so they probably won’t get together but I have this whole idea of how they could.”

Jake continues to ramble on about his idea, and her stomach drops as he continues because she knew this idea all too well. It was one of her favourite fanfictions. But there was no way - no way there was a not awkward way to ask, and no way Jake could write a story so beautiful.

“Jake, I have a strange question.” Amy sits up, twisting her hands.

“What is it?” Jake looks concerned at the change of her behaviour and that only makes her more nervous.

“Did you write blink back to let me know? Th-the story?” Amy avoids his eyes, so she doesn’t see them crinkle up as he begins to laugh.

“Who would’ve guessed? Amy Santiago is a big enough of a nerd to read fanfiction!” Jake prods at her twisted hands to gain her attention. “I did write that. Small world, huh?”

“You’re not embarrassed?”

“No, I love Finn and Poe a lot.” Jake levels himself to Amy. “It’s just a fun hobby.”

“A hobby? That is my favourite fanfic, Jake. You’re amazing!” Amy waves her hands around, obviously flustered. “You’re you and you wrote that and it’s so beautiful but it came from your weirdo brain! I just need a sec.”

“The most important thing is did you give me kudos?” Jake teases.

“Jake it’s literally bookmarked on my phone.” Amy makes a move to prove it and his draw drops when he sees it open on her phone.

“I’m flattered!”

“I’m so confused.”

“Oh come on!” Jake scoffs with another laugh, “Surely it’s not that surprising that I have an adorably romantic side to me!”

“It’s completely surprising!” Amy sucked in a breath when he winked at her, “But I like it.”

Amy isn’t surprised to find herself cuddled to Jake when she wakes up. Stupid tropes that Jake apparently loves to write about.

She couldn’t help that it was freezing and needed the extra body heat to stay alive in the old B&B. Looking outside she finds that the storm had fizzled out and their landscape was completely covered in fluffy white snow. It would be a little while before they would be able to leave; she can hear the snow plow a few streets over so as soon as it cleared the street they were on, they could leave.

Jake is still asleep when she exits the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day. He was almost as cute asleep as he was when he went on about his stories. Even when he didn’t shut up about Die Hard he was cute.

Usually Amy didn’t care for crushes. No guy was ever enticing enough for her to want to get all giggly over. But right now Amy wanted to press kisses on his face until he woke up and smiled the dumb dopey grin he did when he would fall asleep in the car. She remembers thinking he was cute then, but never thought to act on it, he was too immature.

“Morning writer boy.” Amy pokes his cheek a few times, laughing as he attempts to snuggle further into the bed. “Come on, we need to be ready to leave soon.”

Jake makes extremely unintelligible noises and it has Amy rolling her eyes, “Words of a poet.”

He takes a pillow next to him, throwing it at Amy as he rolls out of bed. It takes him only a few minutes to walk to the bathroom, so Amy was hopeful that they would be able to check out by the deadline. Jake takes an extra five minutes over the check out time but the old lady at reception gives them a break, calling them an adorable couple as they arrive at the desk bickering.

“Hey, uh, since the street hasn’t been cleared…” Jake turns to Amy after he closes the trunk of her car. Amy tilts her head at him, and she has to hide her smile because his nervousness was making her nervous. “Do you wanna go see Star Wars?”

Amy lets out a short laugh, “I… What about your mom?”

“I think she’d be fine if I saw it with someone else if she knew it was a date…” Jake shrugs at her, and his blush was most certainly not from the cold. “The movie theatre is a just a couple of blocks away.”

“A date?” Amy tucks the loose strands of hair back behind her ears, and her heart is beating so loud and this is not what she expected from a road trip with Jake.

“I, uh, it’s okay if you don’t wanna!” Jake trips over his words for a moment, “I just think you’re super cool and I’ve thought about it for ages but I thought you didn’t like me or something and last night…”

Amy interrupts him with a step forward and a soft peck to his cheek. It turns out he could go more pink. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

Jake offers his arm and she takes the hint quickly, her arm sliding around his bicep. “Now do you wanna make bets on who they’re gonna kill off?”

#my fics #b99 fanfiction #peraltiago fic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago

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thedeviltohisangel · 5 years

Text

The Way The Story Ends//1//You Should See Me In A Crown

Fight Club AU; Duncan is in love with his best friend’s sister and that it not the only secret he is keeping.

Fight warning

masterlist in bio!

send in thoughts, questions or ideas!

“I told Tala she could host my sister’s welcome back party here tonight.” Duncan looked up quickly from where he had been wiping down the bar top.

“Your sister’s back?” He thinks he was doing a poor job of containing his excitement at the news. Charlotte had spent the past few years at nursing school, only coming back every once in awhile to visit her brother.

“Her graduation is in a couple days but she had time in between and thought she’d spend it here,” Liam said as he finished sweeping under all the tables. Liam was his best friend ever since elementary school. While Duncan had never thought college was right for him, he went to trade school, Liam had gone and gotten his MBA. Together, they had decided to open a bar. It was doing well enough that they both afforded their apartments every month.

“Are you going to her graduation?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like anyone else is around to support her and celebrate her. You wanna come? The three of us could make a weekend out of it. Maybe she could introduce us to some of her hot nursing friends.” Duncan laughed. As if he could ever focus on anyone else if Charlotte was in the room. He had been in love with her for as long as he could remember. But she was his best friend’s little sister. It would be wrong to act on his feelings for her. He couldn’t risk losing his friendship with Liam.

“Sounds fun. I’ll come if you think she won’t mind.” Liam scoffed.

“My sister and I both view you as family. I’m sure she’d be upset if you didn’t come.” Their parents had passed away when they were young and they had supplanted their family with friends. Duncan was their closest friend.

“Hey, hi, hello.” They both looked towards the door to see the woman in question. Charlotte. The object of Duncan’s love and affection ever since she had crashed a weekend beach trip while they were in college. There had been something about her on that trip that had struck a chord in him. She was no longer just his friend’s little sister but had become the most beautiful girl in the world to him. He hadn’t been able to recover since.

“Hey! I thought you weren’t getting in until tonight!” Liam embraced his sister in a big hug, kissing the top of her head. They were each other’s only family and it felt wrong to be apart.

“I was if I took the train. Then Finn offered to drive me so I could bring a bunch of stuff home. Less to move out after graduation.”

“Oh. Who’s Finn?” Charlotte slapped her brother’s arm.

“He’s gay and even if he wasn’t, not every boy I mention is someone I’m dating or fucking.” Duncan gripped the rag tighter at the image.

“Hey, Charlotte.” Duncan figured it was best to interrupt the conversation before if got out of hand and became a fight.

“I was working my way over for a hug, I promise!” She ducked under the side of the bar and wrapped her arms around Duncan’s waist. Charlotte squeezed him tightly, finding just as much comfort in Duncan as she did her brother, before pulling away and kissing him on the cheek. “How have you been? How’s the bar been?”

“I’ve been good. With the weather warming up there’s been a lot of people needing their AC fixed so I’m keeping busy.” She nodded but looked at him confusedly. The past couple times she had seen Duncan, he had kept the conversation very surface level. As if they were just strangers bumping into each other on the sidewalk. She wondered what had changed.

“The bar has been doing great! We’ve been booking some bigger acts for our music nights and the little appetizer menu has been really taking off,” Liam exclaimed.

“I’m happy for the both of you. Glad you’ve kept the place standing since I’ve been gone. I can’t wait to hang out here like every day.”

“We don’t want you here.”

“Is that true, Duncan?” She looked at him with a teasing smirk. He doesn’t think anything sounded better than seeing Charlotte every day.

“I’d love to have you here. You’re much nicer to look at than your brother.”

“He does set the bar so low…”

“Okay enough out of you two. Charlie lets go and unpack all your crap. I’m gonna have an anxiety attack over the mental image of unpacked boxes in my living room.”

“I’m surprised you don’t punch him in the face more often,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Duncan looked at her with momentary alarm. Did she know about his fighting? How did she know? She wasn’t supposed to know. No one was supposed to know.

“Thankfully, my business partner isn’t a violent guy. Just a big teddy bear.” Liam clapped Duncan on the shoulder before picking up the backpack Charlotte had dropped on the floor and walking out to his car.

“You’ll be at my party tonight?” she asked the other man hopefully. Her fingers twisted with themselves in front of her, eager to not let her hope of seeing Duncan again show too much.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he whispered back, keeping his eyes locked onto hers the entire time. It was almost as though the tension and chemistry between them was choking the truth from coming out of their lips. Charlotte had always thought it was cliche and embarrassing to have a crush on her older brother’s best friend. Thought Duncan viewed her as a child and would view her feelings towards him as immature. He deserved a strong, powerful, confident woman. Not a little girl who he probably only viewed as a sister.

“Okay. Then I’ll see you tonight.” She waved over her shoulder as she exited the bar to join her brother who was about to honk the horn of his car. He released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in as soon as she was out of his orbit.

“Fuck me.” He hadn’t anticipated having a reaction to Charlotte being back in his life. Had just thought they’d exist with each other the way they always had. But it seemed fate had an entirely different plan for him. He was monumentally screwed.

----

Duncan felt the blood of the other man splatter against his knuckles as his fist made solid contact with his jaw. He had tried to get out of his fight for tonight so he could make Charlotte’s party but the amount of money people had spent on bets had prevented him from being able to do so. His own eye was swollen and the tape had ripped away from his knuckles a round or two ago. There was no way he could go now looking like this. He was channeling his heartbreak into beating the shit out of the guy. His opponent rebounded slightly from the last punch, Duncan ducking under his arm and nailing him right in the stomach. The cheers of the crowd shook the underground room where the fight club took place. It was hard to get in and even harder to get the chance to fight. With one last kick landing on the side of his opponent’s head, he fell and Duncan was the winner. It hurt his shoulder when his arm was raised above his head but he took the pain and took the cheers because it meant he’d be leaving with a lot more money in his account.

He cleaned up quickly, signing up for a couple more fights that month, before flipping up the hood of his sweatshirt and meandering to the back entrance of the club. People were required to check in their phones and any other type of device before entering so no one could get audio or video of club happenings.

“Hey, Al,” Duncan said as he approached one of the guards that held the keys to the phones.

“Sup, Dunc? You looked really good out there tonight. Like you needed it to be over quick.” He took his phone when Al handed it to him.

“There was a party but I can’t go looking like this so…”

“Well, there are some girls waiting in the back alley for you. Think they were looking for a good time with the winner.” Duncan rolled his eyes. There were always girls that lurked around afterwards hoping one of the fighters would pick them up and show them a good time while his adrenaline was still running high. He had to admit that he had taken up the offer before but it felt odd to do it tonight. Since he had promised Charlotte he’d be with her. He couldn’t be with another girl.

“Maybe next time. You can tell the next guy they’re all his.” Al nodded in understanding, Duncan increasing his speed through the alley so they wouldn’t try to stop him. The route from the warehouse back to his apartment took him past the bar and part of him considered taking a different way so he didn’t have to risk running into anyone or having someone see him and wonder what had happened to his face. But something told him it was worth at least just walking by to check it out.

People were on the roof laughing and dancing and drinking. He saw Liam dancing with the girl he had been trying to go out to dinner with. He recognized some of Charlotte’s friends sitting at the bar. Saw some of his old friends that had gathered to celebrate the accomplishment of someone they loved. And he loved her too. He loved her so much. But he couldn’t tell her about his fighting. Couldn’t tell anyone. It would put them in too much danger.

----

Charlotte was feeling entirely dejected as she sat at the bar. Duncan had told her he wouldn’t miss it for the world. And she had believed him. Thought everything was going to be just as it always had been. That he would be back in her life again. She hadn’t thought that perhaps he had moved onto bigger and better things in her time away. That maybe there was a woman in his life. That maybe he had other friends he wanted to hang out with. She felt stupid for assuming he’d want to hang out with her at all. Everyone around her was having so much fun and they wanted her to have fun as well but she couldn’t find the strength. How do you recover from being heartbroken when the love might have been one sided all along?

Maybe it was a sixth sense but she looked over to the glass wall at the entrance and saw a dark figure looking in. She couldn’t see the details of his face but the way he carried himself looked familiar. At any rate, if someone was being creepy towards her friends at her brother’s bar then she had to take care of it. Charlotte walked towards the door and the man didn’t move and now she was getting annoyed.

“Excuse me, can I help you? This is a private event.” He turned his head and she thinks it was Duncan. She thinks it would be impossible for anyone else to have eyes that blue. But Duncan, at least not the Duncan she knew, would have a black eye like that. One that looked like it was painful and new. “Duncan? What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Just walked into a pole when I was texting earlier.” Her eyes fell to his ripped open knuckles that were clenched around his gym bag.

“Let me look at those for you. Have they been cleaned? You should wrap some bandages around them.” She turned to go back into the bar and look for a first aid kit when he grabbed her arm.

“I’m fine. Really. I just wanted to stop by before I went home. I promised you I would come and I…” he swallowed, “I couldn’t break a promise to you.”

“I’m so happy you came. Now my night feels complete.” Even if she wasn’t in love with Duncan, he was still like family to her. Celebrations like this were meant to be spent with loved ones and family. “Do you want to go sit on the side for a minute? Let me get a first aid kit?” He got the sense that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer so he nodded, waiting for her to join him again before moving to sit on the side of the building where they could have some privacy.

“Are you trained in school to never leave an injured man be?” he teased. She smiled at him but remained serious as she dabbed at the cuts with an alcohol wipe.

“Do they hurt?” she asked delicately. She was cradling his hand in both of hers as if it was the most fragile and precious of items.

“No.” He didn’t want to admit to her that he had gotten used to the feeling. Had gotten used to the pain.

“I think you should maybe put your phone on airplane mode until you’re sitting down from now on.” She pressed a bit of ointment to his knuckles before wrapping them in a bandage.

“Thank you. I feel better already.” And it was true. From the inside out.

“I was starting to wonder if you got a better offer for tonight and weren’t going to come.” She didn’t want to sound whiny or childish but she needed to get the feeling off of her chest. The weight of her feelings was heavy.

“You mean a lot to me, Charlotte. Any chance to let you know that and to celebrate you, I’ll come running.” Oh how good it felt for Duncan to say that. He meant so much more than what the words conveyed but it was a start and it felt glorious. Like bathing in sunlight. She placed her hand gently on his cheek that wasn’t injured and tugged his head to inch closer to hers.

“You mean so much to me, too. More than I may ever be able to show you.” He thinks this was it. The moment he should finally tell her how he felt. Admit that he was in love with her and take on any of the consequences that may come from doing so. It’d be worth it. Worth it to live his life with the freedom of knowing the woman he loved knew he loved her.

“Charlotte, I-” She shushed him gently with a finger to his lips, closing her eyes and giving into the pull of Duncan’s heart and the push of her own.

“Oh my God, Charlotte! There you are!”

“We’ve been looking all over for you!” They jumped apart from each other as the door being flung open startled them.

“I was just-” she turned to look back at Duncan but he was already gone.

“Come back inside. It’s too chilly to sit out here.” Charlotte let them drag her back in but she kept her eyes on the spot where he had been only a few seconds ago. Hoping there would be a sign that it hadn’t been a dream. She didn’t know that he was only a block in front of her. Praying for the same thing.

@ticklish-leafy-plant @aveiangdon @and-shes-not-even-pretty @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @bbyduncan @khaleesimel @langdonslove

#duncan shepherd #cody fern #house of cards #michael langdon #jim mason

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mitchsmarners · 5 years

Text

semi charmed life | chapter nine | 4.8k | teen|

“You guys have kept in contact this whole time?” Bill asked, brow disappearing underneath hair line as he looked like his old friends in amazement. “And you guys are.. what? Room mates?”

Eddie avoided looking at Richie as he answered. “Yeah, uh… room mates. Something like that.”

[or: the adult!losers reunion, done 2000s sit-com style, just like we all deserve.]

PREVIOUSLY ON SEMI CHARMED LIFE: “I’ve always wanted you.” Ben said openly. “and I will always want you.” Beverly cupped the side of his face and brought their lips together.” “Wait, Ben Hanscom?” Eddie squawked, shaking his head as Richie nodded. “That’s not going to end well.” | CUTEST COUPLE. Richie traced his hands over the words, smiling softly as he took in the appearance of himself and Beverly Marsh at fifteen. | “It’s like… sometimes…” Mike exhaled hard. “Sometimes I feel like he’d rather me be in Derry, a place I’ve always hated, with him than out here doing what I love. He’s just… waiting for me to come back. I don’t think he thinks this is real. Permanent. He’s waiting for me to come back.” | “So tell me, good pal,” the man smiled, giving him a golden toothed grin. “You wanna pack or deliver?” | “You almost destroyed me,” Richie snapped, eyes blazing. “I couldn’t go to school, I couldn’t even graduate. I almost had to stay in this absolute hell hole, just so you wouldn’t have to admit failure. So fuck you, Stanley.”

“Look who’s cute!” Richie called happily, coming into the dark light cafe with little Frankie perched on his shoulders. He had promised Beverly that he would come see her at work on her first day, before he dropped Frankie off at home and went in for his own shift. After Beverly had seen her outfit, she’d wished that Richie would’ve forgotten all about that promise. He was here, though, with a toddler on his shoulders and a shit eating grin on his face.

Beverly flushed. Her black shirt buttoned all the way up to her mid-neck, and her pants were yanked up nearly to her breasts. With a belt. It sort of hurt to breathe. She wanted nothing more than to take it all off and walk away, but she knew that she couldn’t afford to do that. Without Tom in her life, Beverly had spent the last month milling around in Eddie and Richie’s apartment, jobless and mooching off of their kindness. It wasn’t a life that she could live forever- nor one she wanted to- but it certainly didn’t seem to help anything with Eddie’s sudden awkwardness around her. After a few days, Beverly had managed to pluck up the courage to ask about it and Richie had dismissed her. Claimed that Eddie had had some sort of weird experience at work, and that it wasn’t anything she had done. Beverly wasn’t entirely sure she believed that, but she was willing to give Richie the benefit of believing him. No doubt he knew what was going on in Eddie’s mind space better than she did.

“The only cute person is here is that little princess on your shoulders,” Beverly said happily. In the month since she’d moved in with Eddie and Richie, she’d really grown to adore their little daughters. She thought they were possibly the best child to ever grace the present of this planet- and made her reconsider her lifelong declaration to never have children. Then she remembered that time that Frankie had taken her baby sister right out of the stroller without her noticing, and resolved to sit with simply baby sitting Richie’s little girls with Ben.

And Ben… things between them were great. She knew the rest of her friends were skeptic about their current relationship- Mike had made it obvious with his expressions, and Eddie had straight out told her as much, but she felt that things were going amazingly. She knew, of course, that she ever wanted to make things any more serious that she needed to get into contact with Tom, at least serve him up with divorce papers, but she couldn’t be bothered to think about that just now. Things were going smoothly in her life right now, outside of the tension between herself and Eddie, and Beverly didn’t think now would be a good time to do any boat rocking.

“Hey!” Richie snapped his fingers under Beverly’s nose and waggled his eyebrows at her. “Stop thinking about Ben when a handsome man is already here visiting you.” Richie shot her that toothy grin that instantly brought her back to looking at braces and beyond freckled cheeks, and her stomach leapt the way it always had.

She shook her head and looked away. “You’re alright. Shouldn’t you be getting that little girl home for bed now?”

Richie made a mocking offended noise. “You invite us down here to see you and you’re immediately rushing us out the door. Here I thought you loved us.”

“Well, I love Frankie.” Beverly said with a smirk. “You still fall under the ex boyfriend category, you’re on probation for love.”

Richie gasped, pressing a hand that wasn’t necessary to hold Frankie up to his chest. “How long until I can be accepted back to love status?”

Beverly hummed, trying not to break into a smile. “How long ago did Bill and I break up? Sixteen years ago? Seventeen? I’m starting to considering letting him back into love status.”

Richie made a wounded noise and shook his head dramatically. “I let you into my home, let you eat my food, and this is how you repay me? I’m hurt, Beverly. I will just take my daughter and my company elsewhe-” The ringing in Richie’s pocket yanked them both away from the conversation. Richie rolled his eyes. He was one of very few people Beverly knew that actually had a cell phone- claiming that he needed it for work related situations- and he seemed to despise the thing. “Hello?” He answered, then quickly frowned. “Billy, what… What? Yeah, I do but I have to work- okay, okay, okay. I have Frankie with me so we can… Oh?” Richie’s face crumbled up and he gave Beverly an odd expression. “Then you need to give me a chance to drop her off a home. Then I’ll come get you, don’t go anywhere.”

Richie snapped the phone shut and tucked into his pocket, giving Beverly a long look before sighing. “I’ve got to go. I need to get Franks home, and cover my shift apparently.”

“That was Bill?” Beverly asked, rubbing at her bare arm a little awkward. She didn’t like the troubled look in Richie’s eyes. He could barely look at her, a sign she remembered well from the youth. It meant that Richie’s thoughts were moving faster than his brain could keep up with it, and it always spelled disaster. It meant Richie punching Patrick Hockstetter in the face for homophobic comments or pulling the fire alarm to keep Henry Bowers at bay during an in-school attack. Bad outcomes from good intentions. “Is he out drunk and needs a ride?”

“No.” Richie replied with a small shake of the head that might have been an unconscious twitch. “He’s… I don’t know. I need to go get him, or… whatever. I have to go…”

Beverly nodded firmly. “Yeah, yeah. Go!”

Richie seemed to bounce in place for a moment, before turning and moving quickly through the empty diner. The bell dinged as he left and Beverly exhaled hard, a sense of doom settling in her stomach. She wasn’t sure what the night held, but she knew that it was only quarter to eleven and it was just starting.

→ → →

Mike tapped his hands against the steering wheel of his rental car as he pulled past the Derry town sign. It had been an incredibly long week, and even though Pearsons had started to pull up on his treatment. Kay had been a godsend but after just the general roughness of his first exhibit, all Mike wanted was the comfort of his boyfriend. It was been a slightly spur of the moment plan, encouraged mostly by Kay after seeing how drained Mike had been all week, and they’d come up with the idea to simply surprise Alexander with his presence than go through the whole process of trying to turn into a plan.

Mike turned down the radio as he started down the back road that lead him to his childhood home. He felt a little bit of sadness in his gut at the FOR SALE sign he knew he was going to see as pulled up in front of it. By the time he’d left for New York it hadn’t gone up yet, and he’d yet to see it. His father wasn’t going to be there, they’d been filtered out the animals for the last few weeks and he knew most of the things he’d always known about Derry would be gone. As soon as Mike could figure out a solution to his spacious problems, Alexander would be packing up and coming to New York and this old place would just be a part of Mike’s past.

It wasn't, however, the sight of the FOR SALE sign that sent Mike’s heart lurching up into his throat as he pulled up towards his driveway. It was the unfamiliar car that was parked beside Alexander’s outside their house. HIS house. Mike placed the car into park and took a second to steady his breathing.

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Stan pulled his sweater tighter around himself as he made his way through the dark streets. The nights were getting progressively warmer as summer came in, but he found that he might have wanted to wear his windbreaker this night. The weather outside hadn’t exactly been the first thing on his mind as he left his apartment at nearly eleven, barely stopping to give an explanation to Patty as he rushed out into the night.

He hadn’t personally heard from Bill Denbrough in almost eleven years. They’d been friendly enough at the reunion, classic adult behaviour he supposed, but Bill had made it pretty clear to everybody whose side he was on once everything went down between Stan and Richie. Stan supposed that everybody had leaned more towards Richie’s side of things, but Bill and Eddie had been the two who openly expressed it the most. Everybody else had the slight decency to pretend not to pick a side- and it was easy enough with them all leaving Derry- but Stan and Bill’s friendship had never bounced back. So, yes, Bill Denbrough calling him in the dead of night for help was out of character and worrisome.

He sped up his steps once he saw Bill standing at the end of the street, pacing in front of the street sign. Stan walked quickly up to him, placing a hand on Bill’s elbow. Bill let out a loud shout, and quickly yanked himself away. He stumbled and Stan had to move quickly to grab hold of his arms and steady his old friend on his feet. “Are you okay?” Stan asked, taking in Bill’s disheveled appearance and wide eyes.

“I…” Bill cleared his throat and looked around, nose twitching. Even in the darkness of the night, Stan recognized that look as Bill getting caught on a word. It was strange, when they’d all met up in Derry Bill had barely stuttered at all. Whatever this was must have been really getting to him. Stan rubbed gently at Bill’s shaking arms and watch as the other boy worked through his own tongue. “I-I’m in t-t-tr-trouble, Stan.”

Stan was seconds away from some sort comment that would be the equivalent of duh, when a car came roaring up to the curb. Richie Tozier leaned towards the passenger seat window, scowling slightly at the sight of Stan standing there as well. He shook his head, closed his eyes and jerked his hand towards the back seat. Bill jumped to action, quickly launching himself into the backseat. Stan let out a half-aborted protest before getting into the passenger seat beside Richie.

Richie gave him an awkward closed-mouthed smile that Stan nervously returned before spinning around in the backseat to glare at Bill. “Care to fucking tell me what was so important that I had to call into work to come get your ass at the side of the road? And why bird boy is here with you?”

Stan wanted to be offended, but he supposed of all the things Richie could’ve called him, that was pretty tame. Bill seemed to be openly trembling in the back seat, eyes jerking around nervously. Stan sighed “He called me at home, said he was in trouble-”

“Didn’t fucking ask you.” Richie snapped, not even bothered to look at him. Richie drummed his fingers against the steering wheel while maintaining direct eye contact with Bill. Stan watched how Bill squirmed under Richie’s gaze, and couldn’t help but think that Richie had never looked more like a father than he did in that moment. Stan had to bit his lip to keep from trying to give Richie a satisfying answer to his well asked question.

“I…” Bill flushed deeply, Stan could see that even in the dark car. Maybe part of Stanley Uris had never forgotten about to read his old friends. Bill scratched at the back of his neck, clearing trying to avoid meeting Richie’s gaze. “I’ve g-g-gotten involved with some guh-guh-guys…”

Stan felt his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach. He felt that maybe some part of him had been afraid of that this whole time. He hadn’t been able to deny the nerves he’d been feeling. He looked away from Bill and towards Richie. Richie was practically burning holes into Bill’s head, silently urging him to continue.

Bill cleared his throat once again, one of his oldest tricks to helping with his stutter that he’d always found didn’t really help at all but he’d always resort to when nothing else was working either. “I-I-I-I k-k-knew it was a b-b-b-bad i-idea but I-I-I nuh-n-needed money. For the b-b-b-b-b-b-baby.” Bill was staring stubbornly at his hands now. Richie was shaking his head slowly, eyes closed and Stan. Well. Stanley felt like he was moments away from opening this car door and throwing up into the street.

“I-I-I-I didn’t fuh-fuh-feel right about i-i-i-it!” Bill declared. “I-I-I was truh-try-trying to get o-o-o-out! They d-d-d-didn’t luh-luh-like that.”

“No, I imagine they fucking didn’t!” Richie let out a frustrated grunt, and smacked his hand a little bit harder against the steering wheel. “God damnit Denbrough. When did you get so stupid?”

“We always did stupid shit!” Bill argued, suddenly stutter-free. Suddenly sounding angry. “The three of us! Getting into trouble, barely getting away with it. Come on, you can’t deny it was always epic.”

Richie and Stan both shot Bill looks of contempt so eerily similar that Bill sunk back in his seat. Stan was truly considering breaking his silence that came from fear of Richie’s anger and giving Bill a piece of his mind when the night was suddenly cut through with the ringing sound of gunshots. Stan let out a startled gasp and Richie’s eyes blew wide behind the lenses of his glasses.

“Is that for you, Denbrough?” Richie screamed as another shot went off.

“RICHIE! FUCKING DRIVE!”

→ → →

Beverly wiped down the counter for what was easily the tenth time that night. It wasn’t dirty, she hadn’t served a customer beside the man she was pretty sure was homeless drinking a cup of iced water in the last two hours. The last people Beverly had interacted with had beyond single word sentences had been Richie and Frankie, and she was trying to push off the lingering feeling of anxiety Richie’s phone call had left her with.

“Hey, sorry, I know it’s late but I-” A terrifying familiar voice called, following in the singing of the bell above the door. Beverly turned slowly, the dread settling in her gut. Tom Rogan the same as he always did, he might have even been wearing the same shirt he’d had on when she’d left him for her Derry reunion.

He looked as self shocked to see her as she was him. “Beverly, you’re… back in New York.”

She cursed herself for never considering that she’d run into her husband in New York. She’d chalked up to it being a large city, and if she stayed away from the places she knew that he frequented, then it wouldn’t happen. Part of her had known that she’d see Tom again one day, but she chosen to believe that it would be more on her own terms. Not nearly this unexpected.

“Uh, yes.” Beverly replied awkwardly, wiping her hands on the blue cloth. She placed it back into the sanitation bucket and took a step around the counter to her husband. There was no avoiding the situation, so she might as well face it head on. “I got back about a month ago. I’ve been staying with some friends. They’ve got cute kids.”

Tom gave her a confused look. “Bev, you hate kids.”

“I don’t hate kids.” Beverly argued immediately, thinking about Frankie’s cute little pigtails and Marty’s tiny little hands. Tom gave her a disapproving look, and she had to admit that she’d turned Tom down on kids many times during their marriage. “Well. I don’t hate their kids.”

“And you’re working here?” Tom looked around the diner with a slight turn up of his lips. It was fair, she knew. This wasn’t any high end type of diner, hence the only late night customers she’s getting being people she believed to simply have no where else to go. But maybe Beverly was one of those people who didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Well, I couldn’t just keep crashing at my friends house without giving any sort of help.” Beverly said with a shrug. She almost wished a customer would come into the store now, ask for something complicated that she probably didn’t even know how to make and Tom wouldn’t have a chance to keep talking to her.

“You never had to stay with your friends,” Tom said, sadly and quietly. He looked down at his feet and Beverly felt a quick pang of sadness for him. Maybe she’d been feeling unhappy in their marriage, but it wasn’t as though she’d ever told him that. She’d simply sat on her feelings, ones that she’d barely even known that she felt, and then she’d taken off at the first chance and never looked back. Never tried to talk to him, didn’t tell him where she was going, what she was planning. “You could have come home.”

Beverly bristled. Home. Was the fancy apartment in the West Side that belonged to her and Tom in their marriage home? No. It didn’t feel like home, had stopped feeling like home long before she’d left. Was home Eddie and Richie’s townhouse? No. Maybe at first she had hoped it do be, but she knew that that was a family of four, she was just living there. She didn’t have a true home living with Eddie and Richie.

Beverly sighed and shook her head. “I haven’t found my home yet,” she told her husband honestly. “I’m still working on that.”

Tom walked up to stand beside Beverly by the counter, resting his elbows onto it. He sighed. “Beverly, I don’t understand what happened. One second you seemed perfectly happy, then next you walking out on me. On us. On everything.”

Beverly tried to give him a sympathetic smile. “I wasn’t happy, Tom. It took me a long time to realize it but I couldn’t… I couldn’t help it after that. I had to get away.”

“Why couldn’t you have talked to me, Bev?” Tom asked quietly. He was fidgeting with the tips of his fingers the same way he had before he’d proposed. “We could have talked about it, I could have tried to be better.”

“It’s not like that,” Beverly said slowly. “I had to question myself and my wants, what I needed. I had to go to my reunion, and I wasn’t ready to talk to you about any of my thoughts yet, I’m still not really ready to. While I’ve been staying with Richie-”

“Wait, Richie?” Tom’s voice cut through her, sounding more angry than sad now. “As in your high school boyfriend that you lost your virginity to? That’s who you’re staying with?”

“Yes.” Beverly said with a frustrated sigh. “Did you miss the part where I said I was also staying with his spouse and kids? It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Oh.” Tom laughed humorlessly. “I’m just supposed to believe that you took off from our marriage, moved in with your ex boyfriend and you haven’t done anything with them?”

“I haven’t done anything with Richie since junior year!” Beverly said sharply. “I’m not going to stand here and argue with you about this bullshit.”

“So you’re telling me that in the two months since we’ve been separated you haven’t hooked up with anybody?” Tom asked her dryly.

Beverly bit her lip, thoughts of Ben’s cramped apartment and his cool sheets against her back burning in her mind. She could practically smell his skin where she’d pressed her face into his neck. Tom was raising his eyebrow at her challenging and she knew that now was that this was the make or break moment of her relationship.

“I haven’t done anything with anyone since we’ve been separated.”

→ → →

Mike walked calmly into his kitchen and poured a glass of cold water from the tap. Alexander came in behind him, wrapped up in the house coat that Mike had given him for his birthday last year. The man who had been in their bed was also by his side, still shirtless and covered in marks. Mike’s stomach was churning but he forced himself to look at Alexander.

“Okay,” Alexander cleared his throat awkwardly, looking around their once shared kitchen. “I know this looks really bad, Mike. I do. And it is, but it’s been hard for me. You left, and I had to stay behind for god knows how long! I could have handled this better, I know-”

“I’ll say.” Mike responded, not sharply, not angrily. His voice was calm and cut off. He was already shutting it out. Disconnecting himself from it completely. He pressed his knuckles into the counter behind him and leaned against it. “I’m not sure you could have handled it worse, frankly.”

“Everything was so up in the air!” Alexander cried, tears settling in his eyes. Mike had to fight not to roll his own, feeling it was nothing more than act now. Alexander didn’t feel bad, he didn’t regret anything. Mike could see it all over the place, and looking back at the way his boyfriend had been acting the last few weeks he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it coming. “Mike, I didn’t know what was going to happen for us-”

“You think I did?” Mike snapped before pinching at the brim of his nose. “But at least I tried! I was looking for a better place for us, I wanted to make it work! I was trying, I wasn’t sleeping with somebody else and pretending that would help! In what world does being afraid of what’s going to happen in our relationship mean that you should cheat on me?”

“Mike, I’m so sorry.” Alexander said, wiping at his running nose. Tears were falling down on his cheeks and Mike simply couldn’t bring it in himself to care about the obvious distress Alexander was feeling in that moment. If he let that guard down, let Alexander’s feelings means something, that Mike would break.

“I’m going back to New York.” Mike said, placing the now empty cup back on the counter. “But you need to be out of this house by morning.”

“What?” Alexander gasped. “Mike! Where am I supposed to live?”

“I was trying to find a place for us both to live,” Mike snapped a little spitefully, but still right. Knowing he was right, because Alexander swallowed loudly and looked away from him. “That’s not my problem anymore, but you’re not staying in my family’s house. I��ll be calling the realtor tomorrow to make sure the house is emptied.”

Alexander was still making half-aborted arguments and pleas while Mike turned and left his home in Derry forever.

→ → →

Richie turned his car angrily into a back alley and parked. He and Stan both slammed back into their seats, breathing heavily. Stan began rubbing his hands over his face as Richie yanked the car door open and rushed out of it. Stan and Bill looked at each other quickly before both fumbling out after him.

“Richie…” Stanley asked softly as Richie whipped around, glaring at them both.

“Bill, what the fuck are you going to do?” Richie cried, running his hands through his hair. He started shaking his head and he gaped at his friends. “Somebody just fucking shot at my car! You could have gotten us killed!”

Bill let out an obviously nervous laugh, starting to ring his hands. “Dude, come on. We u-u-u-used to do st-st-stupid shit all the t-t-t-time.”

Richie walked forward quickly and shoved Bill up against the brick wall behind them. “We’re not fucking teenagers anymore! We’re not just throwing our own lives away!” Richie backed away from Bill, hands shaking. “What? What? You’re just going to go to my house and look my toddler in the eyes and tell her that her dad isn’t going to be coming again? Or would you leave that for Eddie? After you explain to him that he’s now raising two kids on his own because you got yourself in over your head with some fucking druglords?”

Stan wrapped an arm around his stomach and pressed his hand over his mouth. He’d never heard Richie angry like this. Not even after everything that happened between himself and Richie all those years ago, had Richie yelled at him like that.

Richie’s eyes caught Stan’s and he almost gave out a growl. “And what about Stan, William? You just going to go up to Patty and let her know that instead of planning a wedding, she’ll be planning a funeral?”

Stan had to fight back a dry heave as he turned back to Bill. Bill was pressed up against the brick wall just as had been when Richie slammed him up, even though Richie’s hands were no longer holding him there. Richie shook his head. “Grow the fuck up, Bill, and get your fucking shit together.”

Richie turned and started walking back to his car. He stopped with his hand resting on the drivers seat door and looked up. “Uris! Are you coming?”

Stan looked back at Bill one last time before climbing into the car after Richie.

→ → →

Beverly walked slowly to Richie’s car when he finally showed up to picked her up. He was silent and sullen when she opened the passenger seat and sat down. He didn’t start the car, didn’t look at her. “Richie?” She said tentatively.

Richie hummed.

“Tom showed up at my work tonight,” She said quietly.

Richie jerked to look at her, eyes wild. She noticed then that his hands were shaking. “How did he know worked there? Is bastard stalking you? Beverly, I swear to God-”

“No, no,” Beverly started quickly shaking her head. “He seemed just as surprised to see me as I was him but we talked. He thought you and I were hooking up.” Richie let out a startled laugh and Beverly smiled. “I told him I hadn’t been with anybody since I left him but I…”

“Lied?” Richie suggested, raising his brow. There was still something off about him, something that was leaving Beverly confused and on-edge. She wanted to reach out, maybe take hold of him. Make him feel better about whatever was wrong.

“Yeah…” Beverly sighed out. “I lied. I don’t even know why I did, I don’t want to go back to him, I like being with Ben… I’m just so confused, Richie! I don’t know what’s the best thing to do.”

Richie gave her a half smile. “The best thing you could do is be with whoever makes you happy, Bev.”

And Beverly had no idea what took over her in that moment. Her stomach clenched up and she stared at Richie for a moment. She felt as though every possible human emotion that was able to felt was deep in her gut and she didn’t even notice she was moving forward until she was kissing him.

→ → →

Eddie rolled over as the bedroom door shut. It was quiet, but Eddie never failed to wake up when Richie came home. He’d tried to stay up for Richie tonight, knowing that he was going to help Bill rather than work, but he’d fallen asleep. His husband was quiet as he came in, not looking towards the bed, and his heart rushed a little bit.

“Baby?” Eddie called towards him, putting his hand up towards his mouth and nibbling at his cucital. “Are you okay?”

Richie turned to him and Eddie could see that Richie was pale even in their unlight bedroom. Eddie scrolled closer to the edge of the bed and held his arms out. “Baby, what happened?”

Richie let out a shaky breath and Eddie knew he was about to start cry. Richie dropped down onto the mattress beside him, and Eddie wrapped Richie up in his arms. “Eds… fuck. Fuck. So much shit happened tonight, fuck.” Richie mumbled into Eddie’s collarbone. “I know we don’t keep secrets, I know. I promise I will tell you fucking everything in the morning. But there was a point tonight when I thought… fuck… I thought I wouldn’t be making home at all. So, can we just… cuddle? Sleep? Please?”

Eddie’s heart got shut in his throat and he imagined for a short moment walking up and Richie having not come home. Not getting to see Richie again, and he knew nothing could be worse than that.

“Yeah, Rich. We’ll go to sleep.”

Richie hummed as Eddie laid them down, feeling how Richie was trembling. “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you, too. No matter what.”

#reddie #reddie fic #my writing #benverly #benverly fic #semi charmed life #scl tag #god.... dont @ me #im sorry #its also not as bad as it looks.... mostly

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liahswriting · 6 years

Text

Big Brother

Relationship(s): 1900s!Bucky Barnes/Sibling!Original female character

Words: 2,916

Warnings: Not a Bucky x Reader. Bucky’s family is not based on the comics or the movies so he doesn’t have 3 sisters like in the comics nor does he have a little sister named Rebecca like in the movies. Just an OFC so…… take it or leave it?

Summary: Just a drabble of BigBrother!Bucky pre-cap1

Bucky could hear Steve’s voice before he even opened the front door. His tone was playful and flitted through the air as he, presumably, traveled through the apartment. Bucky entered to find Steve attempting to push the couch. He noticed the cupboards in the kitchen were open and all the doors within the immediate vicinity were wide open.

“Watcha doin there, pal?” Bucky asked skeptically, trying to hide his smirk as he watched the smaller man struggle with the furniture.

“I’m lookin for Vivie.” He wheezed. For a split second, Bucky panicked.

“You lost her!?” He yelled. “How do you lose a child, Steve!”

“It’s not whatcha think, Buck. We’re playin hide ‘n seek. I’m findin ‘er.” Steve diffused the situation. Bucky took a deep breath, calming himself down.

“Okay. Okay. Next question: how have you not found her? She’s only so small and this place is only so big.”

“But she is small and she’s good at this game. I’ve checked everywhere. And I know she didn’t leave ‘cause the door was locked when you came in.” Steve stood there, thinking of any place he could’ve missed and Bucky just watched him. He knows of the only place he’d never think to check. Probably because he didn’t know it even existed.

“Come on, pal. I know where she is.” Bucky set down the paper bag of groceries in the kitchen, patted the smaller man on the shoulder and proceeded to walk off to Genevieve’s bedroom.

“Buck, I already checked in-” Bucky cut him off, pressing a silent finger to his own lips.

“I wonder where Vivie could be.” Bucky taunted playfully as he stepped slowly throughout the bedroom. “Is she under the bed?” He asked aloud, pulling up the bedspread to reveal nothing but floorboards underneath. “No. Is she in the closet?” He quickly whipped open the closet door and got a faceful of her dresses. “Maybe she’s behind the clothes.” Bucky waved his hands between the fabrics but found nothing of interest. “I guess she’s not here, Stevie.”

“That’s what I said. I already checked in here.” Steve blinked.

“Or maybe…. she’s in the walls!” He chuckled and pulled back a hidden compartment door just big enough to fit a seven year old girl. Genevieve screeched in amusement as Bucky yanked her out and tickled her.

“How did you get back there? I checked it.” Steve asked flabbergasted.

“You didn’t checked hard enough. Ma and Pap found it one day when it started fallin apart. Musta been there 'fore we moved in. Come on, silly girl. I got you a present.” Her face lightened up significantly and she ran to the kitchen where Bucky had left the grocery bag. The two men followed the seven year old to the kitchen where Bucky proceeded to rummage through the paper bag. At the very bottom underneath the bread and vegetables was a small, handheld musical box. He set it down in front of his little sister, wound it up, opened the lid, and listened to a pattern of chimes eminatibg from it.

“Thanks, Bucky. I love it!” She squealed.

“Go put it in your bedroom.” He kissed her head as she bounded off the kitchen chair and back to her bedroom. He turned to Steve who was just staring at him. “What?”

“How’d you come by that, Buck?” He asked. He didn’t mean to sound accusatory but Bucky almost glared anyway.

“I came by a little extra cash working at the docks. She didn’t get a birthday present this year.” He replied sharply and crossed his arms.

“You have enough food and cash to hold over until next paycheck?”

“We’ll manage. Don’t worry about us. Been managin for the last few years all alright.”

“I know it hasn’t been easy on ya since your parents died. And ya know Ma and I will help any way we can.”

“I know. Thanks, Steve.”

~~~~~

The winter night was unforgiving. Snow pelted at the building, the wind howled against the windows, and the moon cast the entire city of Brooklyn into negative twenty degree weather. And, just their luck, their heater burnt out last week. Bucky didn’t have the money to get a new one. But they were managing. Bucky tried to sleep through the cold -wait for morning- but it kept him up anyway. He bundled himself in pants, a long sleeved shirt, a jacket, and as many blankets as he could. The cold still bit him through all the fabric.

He was already wide awake when his bedroom door opened and his little sister softly tapped into the room. She had her own blanket wrapped tightly around her but he could still see her shiver in the darkness.

“Bucky.” She stuttered out. Her teeth chattered so hard she barely got the words out. “I’m cold.” Bucky felt guilt beyond belief. He could fight off the cold until he got the heater fixed. He was nineteen years old -a grown man. But Genevieve was only nine and, god help him, already so thin. She couldn’t bite the winter nights like him.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He opened his bed sheets, inviting her to curl into the cotton with him. She ran and pressed herself against him, attempting to draw as much heat as she could from him. Bucky wrapped all of the blankets around the both of them and held her close. “It’s gonna be okay sweetheart. Close your eyes and before ya know it the snow will be all gone.”

Morning came around too slowly for Bucky. He was up all night shivering, trying to keep Genevieve warm. She managed to catch some winks and her lips returned to normal color. Bucket quietly got out of bed just as the sun started to rise and dressed. Work didn’t stop for nobody and he desperately needed any scrap of money he could come by. Problem was not many people were looking to hire 'cause they didn’t have the money to pay the men who didn’t have the money to take care of their families. The depression had hit everybody in every facet.

Buckey tucked the blankets tighter around his sister, kissed her forehead, left a note in the kitchen, and locked the door behind him. His cheeks immediately flushed and went numb. Snow stuck to his eyelashes. But he trudged on so he could make it to work on time.

Bucky worked for only a few hours before coming back home with even less cash in his pocket than last time. Bucky bypassed his apartment and kept walking to the Rogers’ residence. He knocked on the door and was greeted by Mrs. Rogers.

“Hi, Sarah. Is Steve home?”

“Yes, he’s inside. Come on in, you must be freezin. Genevieve at home?” She asked, shutting the door behind him. Steve heard the two conversing and made himself known.

“Yeah. I should be gettin home to make her somethin to eat though. I won’t be long here.”

“You two are welcome any time.” She smiled and walked off, leaving the two men alone.

“Can I talk to ya for a minute?” Bucky asked Steve.

“What’s wrong, Buck? Aren’t you suppose to be at work?” Steve watched Bucky take a seat and throw his head in his hands real quick.

“I got laid off, Steve.”

“What.”

“Mattock let me go. Couldn’t afford me no more. What am I gonna do Stevie? The heater’s damn broken in our house and Vivie can’t be in that cold any longer. Got rent to pay. Runnin low on food. How am I gonna take care 'o her?” He rambled, tears stinging his eyes. He sniffled and wiped his face on his jacket sleeve.

“You know we’d help, Buck. Anything you need and we could work it out. You guys can stay here until the heater gets fixed at least.”

“No. No I’m not gonna do that to you. You gotta take care of yourselves too.”

“You two are family. We can take care 'o ya too. Ma?” Steve called out, walking off to find his mother. He found her continuing her knitting. She looked up as the two men approached her. “Can Bucky and Vivie stay here a few nights? Heater’s out at their place.”

“My gosh, you two must be miserable over there. Of course. A few nights won’t hurt nobody. Why didn’t you ask sooner?” She gaped.

“Didn’t wanna trouble you.”

“It’s not troubling. You two are practically my kids anyway. I wish there was more we could do.”

“A warm place is more than enough. At least for Vivie. She might not’ve made it through another night.” He sucked in a breath, trying to keep more tears at bay. “I’m gonna go get 'er. Make her lunch. Thanks, Sarah.”

“Any time, James.”

Bucky and Genevieve slept soundly that night; she slept in Steve’s room and Bucky slept on the couch -he insisted. For a week, they stayed with the Rogers’ and without the money to get a replacement heater, Bucky attempted to get it working himself. He tinkered with it in the mornings and would come back for dinner. Mrs. Rogers got creative with dinner meals for all of them. Last night’s meatloaf got turned into a meat sauce for the next night’s pasta. She thought of nine ways to make potatoes and carrots. Bucky did what he could to help Mrs. Rogers feed all four of them but without a job, money was quickly dwindling. Steve and his ma managed to keep money flowing but there just wasn’t enough.

Bucky managed to get the heater working again but he wasn’t confident it would last much longer. Still, he felt they overstayed their welcome and their own apartment was warming back up. Bucky got them settled back in at home and he immediately went back to finding a job.

~~~~~

Steve’s mother died just a year later. Caught tuberculosis while working at the hospital. Genevieve had gotten sick as well and Bucky feared she had caught it too. It was practically an epidemic. Bucky was a wreck, panicking every waking second of every day. He spent all the money he had on medicine and care for his little sister. There were nights Bucky went to bed on an empty stomach because Genevieve always got first priority. His worst fear was he’d wake up on morning to find her dead in her bed.

As much as Bucky felt for Steve, he couldn’t bring himself to check up on him. If Genevieve was sick, he more than likely was a carrier and he didn’t want Steve to catch it either. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost the both of them. Bucky hadn’t spoken to Steve in a week when Vivie started showing signs of illness. Poor little thing was coughing up a storm and barely held anything down. She was weak and frail and spent most of her time in bed, listening to the radio or her music box.

It was a major relief when Vivie started to get up and walk around again. The pale color to her skin had gave way to a darker tint and Bucky was able to finally breathe. It seemed things were only getting better from there; Vivie was better, Bucky was making bank, and Steve seemed to stay out of trouble -at least for the time being.

Steve spent a lot of time watching over Vivie while Bucky was at work. The Barnes’ and the Rogers’ families were already close but they have only seemed to grow closer due to recent events. It was like three siblings living together in Brooklyn.

~~~~~

Steve and Genevieve were doing some grocery shopping, grabbing some things to throw a small party for Bucky’s twenty fourth birthday next month. The February air was chilly, forcing the two to bundle up tightly. Steve saved a few bucks to buy the ingredients to make a cake and Genevieve made some money from selling flowers she planted to buy Bucky a present.

“Do you think he’d like it?” She asked Steve.

“Absolutely. He’s been tellin me he wanted t’ go for awhile now.” He replied.

“And you’d come with us, yeah?”

“I don’t know, Vivie.” He replied skeptically. “Coney Island doesn’t seem like my kinda place.”

“Come on, Steve! We’ll do stuff you’d like. Don’t have t’ do the big and fast stuff. Prolly make me sick anyway.” She laughed and nudged him. Steve gave the guy at the counter the cash for the groceries. They heard a young man who was probably just breaching twenty making snark comments about the two of them. Particularly calling Genevieve “toots” condescendingly.

“Hey, man. You wanna watch yourself?” Steve replied back angrily.

“You wanna try that again, punk?” the kid spat back.

“How about you just shut your mouth.” Genevieve called back. Steve hushed her and scurried them along to avoid trouble. The kid followed them outside, continuing to spew shit. The two tried to ignore him but then he made a lewd comment about Genevieve, causing Steve to whirl around and throw a punch to the guy. He could only do so much and the guy was quick to fight back. Steve was roughly shoved to the ground, falling on top of the bag of groceries they just brought. Eggs leaked through the paper and Vivie feared the eggs weren’t the only thing ruined.

“Come on, Steve. Just let it go.” She pleaded softly, helping him to his feet.

“No. I’m not just gonna let him go. He needs to watch his mouth.”

“Listen to the little girl, punk.”

“You need to learn to respect women. No one’s gonna want a loser like you.” The guy glared and threw a punch directly to Steve’s face. Genevieve could see the blood dripping from his mouth. She knew this guys was looking for a fight and wouldn’t leave until he got one. She also knew she and Steve wouldn’t be able to fight him off by themselves. He stood almost a foot taller than the both of them.

“I’m gonna go find Bucky!” She exclaimed and ran off towards the apartment a couple blocks away. She found Bucky tinkering with one of the lamps in the corner of the living room. He watched her wheeze out her emergency from the doorway.

“Steve. Grocer. Fight.”

“Calm down. What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He gripped her shoulders softly.

“Steve’s in a fight. Grocery store.” She said again and turned out to lead Bucky to where she left the blond. When they arrived, the guy had thrown Steve to the ground again, knocking the wind out of him.

“Hey, asshole!” Bucky called out, rushing to his friend’s aid and tackling the offender. Bucky threw in a couple of punches and tossed the guy out onto the street. The two had a stare off before the attacker presumably found the fight not worth it and stalked off after spitting at Bucky’s shoes. Genevieve and Bucky helped Steve to his feet.

“Ya shoulda left it, Steve.” She scolded.

“I know, Vivie.”

“Come on, punk. Let’s get your dumbass home.” Bucky threw his arm around Steve’s shoulders, helping him wobble back. Genevieve followed behind them with the ruined groceries in her arms. Eggs leaked onto her dress and hands. Hopefully they can make a cake with what they have at home.

Bucky sat Steve down at the kitchen table and tossed him a wet rag. Steve wiped away the blood streaking down his chin while Bucky grabbed a frozen pork chop and held it to Steve’s swollen eye.

“You’re a bit masochistic.” Bucky commented. “You must love gettin beat up.”

“He was being disgusting to Vivie. He needed a beating.”

“Yeah, well, you gotta be bigger than 'em to give a beating, Steve.”

“I know. I know.”

“Thanks for watching out for her though.” Bucky said sincerely. He gave a one armed hug to his friend and then clapped him on his shoulder. Meanwhile, Genevieve was discreetly surveying the damage to the ingredients. Only one egg from the bakers dozen survived the conflict. Egg yokes leaked over everything in the bag but most of it was salvageable. Maybe she could grab a couple eggs from the neighbors. Surely a few people could spare an egg or two.

~~~~~

Bucky read the papers again. And again. And again. Just to make sure what he was reading was right and not some hallucination. Not some sort of scary nightmare he was having.

Dear Mr. Barnes,

It is with great honor that the United States Military welcomes you to the 107th Infantry Regiment as a newest recruit-

He crumpled up the paper, unable to reread the words anymore. This wasn’t happening. It just wasn’t. He begged at the recruitment offices to give him an exception. That he had a little sister who had no one to take care of her. She was only fifteen years old. Bucky was all she had. But they didn’t listen or they didn’t care. They needed every eligible man and Bucky just happened to be one of them. Short of breaking his one legs, there was no way around this. They had recruited him and he was going to be shipped out within the month.

The front door opened and Genevieve walked through with her school books in her arms. Her happy expression fell, sensing something was wrong, as soon as she saw Bucky.

“Vivie. We need to talk.”

#marvel #bucky barnes #imagine #fanfiction

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anon-e-miss · 6 years

Text

Guarded by Shadows 7

As uneasy as the prospect of moving made Prowl, it distressed him less than the prospect of staying, wondering if Crosscut had managed to weasel his address from someone. Though he had only agreed to few the habsuite, the school and the sparkling centre, the Praxian knew it was all a just a formality. He needed his creations to be safe, for the love of Primus, he wanted and needed to feel safe. It was logical to move his residence to within the walls and guarded gates of the base. The sacrifice of his privacy was inevitable, and regrettable. Optimus Prime had expressed confidence that he could weather any criticism relating to Prowl’s enlistment, that was likely even true, but the Praxian was not confident that he could weather it himself. There would be many voices calling for Prowl to defer his service until his youngest creation was school aged, they would admonish him for his selfishness.

“Did ya need me to take on of the littles?” Jazz asked. It was all moving so quickly. The suite in question was being renovated, but the renovations were nearly complete, and the Polihexian had suggested they come and see if it would suite their family. Optimus Prime had suggested meeting with the school, and sparkling centre. His reasoning was one Prowl could not dismiss, the sparklings needed their lives to normalize again. Truthfully, the originator could not carry all four of his creations in his alt mode at months, he had depended on transports for stellar-cycles, but the idea of giving one of his creations over to another mech was distressing, even if it was necessary.

“Smokescreen, will you ride with Jazz?” He asked, rather than order his eldest creations. “We have been offered a new habsuite.”

“What do ya say, lil’ mech?” The Polihexian asked.

“Ya, okay!” Smokescreen repled, only briefly hesitant, and he looked up at the saboteur with the beginnings of hero worship.

“Me too!” Camshaft exclaimed. Jazz chuckled and looked to the originator.

“If Jazz does not mind,” Prowl said.

“I don’t mind a bit,” Jazz replied.

This was how Prowl found himself following the Prime, his youngest creations secured in the back of his alt mode, as Jazz followed behind him with the elder two. It was not accidental, he realized. These two mechs, the very Prime, were guarding him. He felt a little foolish, and a little over dramatic, but also safer than he had in orns. They met with no resistance from the Vanguards at the gates, if any mech could come and go unmolested, it was Optimus Prime. Prowl followed his commander well into the base, passed the small shopping district, and headquarters, and into the not so terribly small residential sector. In each direction the orginator looked their were procreators and creations, going about their mega-cycle. They drove passed a large park, and the sight reassured Prowl a little more. Unless he wished to, there would be little need to take his creations beyond the base. He was not the only one to have spotted the park and he felt a little flutter of hope from Skids. His little one wanted to play.

Driving passed the park upset his young creation, but he murmured a promise, they would return after their business was complete. They did not drive much farther, before they came to the end of the road, and the complex of what looked like several habsuite towers. Optimus transformed first, Jazz followed shortly after, gently depositing the sparklings as he finished his transformation sequence. Once he saw his elder creations safe on the sidewalk, Prowl transformed, and with familiar ease, kept hold of his younger creations. Skids magnetized to his back, between his doorwings and peered over his originator’s shoulders as he took in this new place. Bluestreak magnetized to Prowl’s chassis, looking about with equal curiosity.

“I have never come this deep into the base,” Prowl said. He had not realized until now that the base was really a city, within the city-state of Iacon.

“The complex manager is waiting inside to meet with you,” Optimus Prime said. “I hope you don’t mind our company.”

“No, Sir,” the Praxian replied. The temptation to bolt back to his habsuite was very real, and very strong. Based on the base schematics he should have realized before how expansive it was but he had never paid any mind to the residential sector. There were many places to hide, to get lost.

“Well mechlings, did ya wanna hold my servos, or your origin’s?” Jazz asked Camshaft and Smokescreen. “It’s a new place, we wouldn’t want ya gettin’ lost, right?”

Both mechlings reached for Prowl, and he was happy to take their small servos into his. Jazz stood at his right, as as they walked, Camshaft reached and took hold of his servo as well. A mech like the saboteur should have had creations, not a mech like Prowl. Of course he did his best for them, but the Praxian was not naive enough to think his best was not substandard in many ways. He should have been thrilled to have them, thrilled to teach them to speak, to walk, to watch them develop, and to nurture every moment. Instead Prowl often felt overwhelmed, trapped, and he worked in part to take some control back. All the same, he loved them with more intensity than he never would have imagined from his spark before he had carried them.

“Prime Sir,” the manager, a yellow and red Builder said. “Jazz. You must be Prowl. You’ve got a beautiful family. I’m Neutro.”

“Thank you,” Prowl replied. “Good to meet you.”

“When we spoke you said the habsuite was nearly ready,” Prime said.

“I took a look before I came down,” Neutro replied. “It’s just the finishing touches. Damage to the suite wasn’t so bad once we got the floor up. Not to worry, Prowl. The previous tenant just flooded the place. Luckily the struts of the place are as good as ever. We’re redoing the paint before we put in new floors, easier for clean up. It’s safe to visit, so how about we go up?”

“Yes, thank you,” the Praxian said.

The building manager led the way to what to Prowl was a massive elevator. Even with the Prime, there was space. Clearly the complex had been designed with warbuilds in mind. Even a small suite would have more space than the one his family occupied now. They could use more space, some separate space where they could play apart when their tempers flared. All four of his creations were brimming over with curiosity. He had expected them to be anxious at the prospect of relocating, but at least of the moment, they were happy. It gave him the courage to be optimistic. As long as his creations were safe and comfortable, he would find a way to manage. There would be scorn, and judgment but he was already scorned, Prowl had not been popular in Praxus either. When he had taken leave from the Enforcers when Smokescreen’s carrying had advanced, some of his fellow Enforcers had cackled with delight. How did a mech like Prowl end up a broadcarrier?

“Right through here,” Neutro said.

“Up, Camshaft,” Prowl ordered lightly as he knelt. His second eldest wrapped his arm’s around his originator’s neck, as Prowl put his arm under the mechling’s aft, supporting him against his hip.

“We can each take one, if it would help you, Prowl,” Optimus offered. The Praxian almost stepped back from the Prime. He had always been on his own with his creations, always.

“Camshaft?” He asked.

“Up, I want up, up, up!” The golden-faced squealed as he clung his arms loose from his originator’s neck and stretched them out to the Autobot Commander.

“I’ll help wit that,” Jazz said, and he took Camshaft from Prowl, and handed him over to Optimus. The mechling cheered with unabashed delight. Once Camshaft was secure, Jazz crouched beside Smokescreen. Under his originator’s watchful optics, his first emerged climbed onto the Polihexian’s back without ever a nanoklik’s hesitation. Jazz hooked his arms under Smokescreen’s legs, and smiled back over his shoulder. “Ya good, lil’ mech?”

“I’m good!” Smokescreen replied.

Prowl was not, in fact he was absolutely terrified. He was terrified that one or both of the mechs would drop his creations. His peds felt as if they had been bolted to the floor. For a mech that pride reason over emotion, this level of paranoia was very unsettling. Originator protocols ran rampant in his processor, worse than they had since Tyger Pax. With his free servo, Optimus reached down, and clasped Prowl’s shoulder. The pressure steadied the tactician. These mechs were not strangers, they were allies, even friends, they would not drop Camshaft and Smokescreen, especially with the natural magnetic grip both sparklings still possessed. Finally, Prowl felt some of the tension in his frame release, and he nodded his helm. Neutro led them through the door.

Just the great room was bigger than Prowl’s entire habsuite. The construction team was absent, some of their tools were left behind, but set out of the way. Still, he was relieved to be holding, and to have his creations held during the tour. Prowl did not understand how he was expected to afford this. Unless base housing was cheaper than he had appreciated. His current habsuite took up every credit of his housing allowance, but to be fair it was in an expensive building, due to the high level of security. It was smaller than Crosscut’s habsuite, but even without flooring it felt more welcoming than that place had ever been. The tactician had always thought of the habsuite he had lived in for vorns. It had never been a home, never. Every furnishing, ever colour and design had been selected by his former Conjunx Endura, to suite the sometimes business mech’s, sometimes ambassador’s aesthetic. Despite having no part in the upbringing of the mechlings, Crosscut had designed the nursery. Rather than a warm, nurturing space it had been dull and formal. Even in the nursery, he had not been particularly comfortable letting the mechlings really play, and in their habsuite in Iacon, there was just not enough space for them to truly enjoy.

“It is massive,” Prowl murmured, as he absorbed the space.

“It’s one of the larger units,” Neutro confirmed. “Three berthrooms, two washracks. The great room, an open kitchen and dining room. Large enough to fit warframes comfortably enough. It’ll fit your mechlings family perfectly.”

“Prime. Sir, my housing allowance would cover this?” The Praxian asked.

“It would,” Optimus confirmed. “And before you ask, without any special exemptions. Base housing it based on need, and to some degree rank. You have both.”

“’M just a couple floors up,” Jazz said. “’N I wrote the buildin’s encryption, ‘cause I ain’t gonna trust someone else for it.”

They made a strong case. Prowl realized it was foolish to feel so hesitant. He said nothing, instead he walked through the great room, and wandered down the hall. The doors were locked in the open position, and the Praxian had an unobstructed view of both washracks, and finally the berthrooms. All four of his creations could fit well enough in any one of the berthrooms, not nearly so crowded as they were now. If he put the oldest two and the youngest two in separate rooms, they would have really room to spread out, a piece of personal space for each mechling. Instead of what amounted to being little more than a closet worth of space, the master berthroom was large enough not only for a full berth, when he could budget for it, but there was a perfect alcove for a desk and workstation.

“What this?” Skids asked, his back.

“Berthrooms, shyspark,” Prowl replied. “A new home. Would you like it? Space to run without tripping over your brothers?”

“You too?” The early first tier sparkling asked.

“Of course,” the originator promised. “You, Bluestreak, Camshaft, Smokescreen and myself. All together, and only a short distance from that park you saw.”

“Oooh,” Skids said. They had not been to one since the near miss with Crosscut. Prowl had not felt safe enough to step out of the habsuite alone, let alone with all his creations. They had been, not lethargic, but quiet and uncertain, feeding off their originator’s anxiety.

“When we have finished here, we will got to that park,” Prowl promised.

Bluestreak babbled excitedly at that declaration, drawing a smile from his originator. Prowl kissed his helm as he returned to the waiting mech. Camshaft was now on the Prime’s shoulders, stretching his arms to the ceiling, though he was metres away from reaching it. He caught the last nanoklik of Jazz swinging Smokescreen around in his armsm and heard the glee in his eldest creation’s voice. Of all of the mechlings, Smokescreen had been most affected by Prowl’s anxious mood. But then he had seen Crosscut, and had far clearer memories of his progenitor than his brothers. While Crosscut had never laid a servo on Smokescreen, the mechling had witnessed part of the interface that had led to Bluestreak’s kindling, and he had heard the angry threats Crosscut had voiced to gain Prowl’s compliance.

The memories of that dark-cycle had largely faded in his creation’s processor, but they remained a clear in Prowl’s as if they had only just occurred. In a physical fight, Prowl had always been capable of overpowering his unwanted Conjunx Endura, and that last interface he had pushed Crosscut away. Even after three carryings, and vorns out of service, the former Enforcer still remained a formidable amount in servo to servo combat. But the last had been on that mech’s side, and when threatened the humiliation and arrest, Prowl had submitted. As he had lain under Crosscut, limp and helpless to stop another kindling, he had seen Smokescreen in the doorway, likely drawn by their argument. And he had tried to stop Crosscut, just long enough to tuck his, their eldest mechling back in his berth, but his Conjunx Endura had not seen fit to, and he had rutted into Prowl even as the originator had called for Smokescreen to return to his berthroom. As a receptive mechanism, his frame had not been his own under Praxian law, it had belonged to the state, to the contributive spark he had been paired with, and the newsparks burned off his spark. Under the laws of the Functionalists, Prowl had held no right to refuse.

Crosscut could not come for him here. He would not be welcomed through the gates, and he would not been nearly skillful enough to crack encryptions written by Autobot Jazz. They could live here, he could live here, free from the spectre of his creations’ progenitor. That settled the decision for Prowl. The lack of privacy would bother him, fear of a scandal still sat heavy in his spark, but all that was bearable when he considered the security, and space this relocation would give his family. Next cycle he would formally withdrawn Smokescreen from his school, and make arrangements to enrol him one on base. After wards, he visit the sparkling centres and select whichever one suited him best for his younger creations to attend. His creations would be exposed to new younglings, make friends. How could he possibly not make this change?

“Thank you, Neutro,” he said as he joined the other mechs. “We will be happy to take the habsuite.”

“We’ll adjust all the counters and fixtures for your frame size as we finish up the renovation,” the manager replied. “You can move in the beginning of next quartex.”

“That is acceptable,” Prowl said. Their move would fall precisely at the end of his proceo cycle, and perhaps that was ideal. If Crosscut could not be deterred, the end of that damnable cycle would likely see him return to his business off world, at least the Praxian could hope.

“’Spose makin’ appointments wit the school ‘n centres gonna be next on yer list,” Jazz said, as they left the suite.

“I will make appointments for next cycle,” the originator said. “After I formally withdraw Smokescreen from his current school. I promised Skids a visit to that park. I do not believe the walk is too far. Prime Sir, thank you for your assistance. I am sure you have business that is better owed your attention.”

“Sine you’ll be on base, after you’ve finished with your tours, come by my office, whatever time,” Optimus ordered, and he lowered Camshaft to the ground. Though he had clearly enjoyed his ride on the Prime’s shoulders the glyph park had the mechling race over to his originator. “There’s a project I’d like to go over with you.”

“Yes, Sir,” Prowl replied.

“Would ya mind company, Prowl?” Jazz asked, still holding Smokescreen. The mechlings still happy to be held. “When they’re tired out, I can help ya get’em home.”

“I would not mind,” the Praxian replied. It was foolishness, but the promise of an escort put him at ease.

“Great!” The saboteur grinned down at Camshaft. “Up or down, Cam?”

“Up!” The mechling declared.

“Y’re the boss,” Jazz said. He knelt and Smokescreen climbed onto his back, and magnetized into place. Once the eldest mechlings was secure, the Polihexian picked up the younger, and neatly climbed to his peds. Even with all his practice Prowl did not think he managed the manoeuvre with nearly as much grace. “We could drive but I thought ya been cooped up for orns, a walk might be good for ya.”

“A walk is welcome,” Prowl replied. “You have gone out of your way to help us. Thank you.”

“Ain’t like I had to do much,” the Polihexian said, as they set off. “Ya do good work Prowl, I’d hate to see ya go, so ‘m glad to do my bit to make sure Iacon’s safe for you ‘n your bitlets.”

#guarded by shadows #prowl is crosscut's babymama #dark praxus #maccadams #ficlet

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breathinginthevapor · 6 years

Text

A chance to make it right again

Summary: It’s been a year since you last saw Luke Hemmings, rockstar and your former best friend, but when invited to celebrate Christmas with the Hemmings family, you might get a chance to make everything right again.

A/N: I know that I haven’t been in any way active on here, but in celebration of Christmas I thought I’d post a small one shot which includes a little bit of Christmas spirit (not very much though), I hope you enjoy x

“How are you, darling? Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Liz greets you with a loving hug and you can’t help but melt into it. Perhaps there’s just a gene for great hugging skills in the Hemmings family because it’s the exact same case with Luke.

“Yeah, it’s been way too long,” you agree, sending her a big smile while pulling away. “I’m doing great, thank you, what about you? Has Andrew’s back gotten any better?” She leads you into the dining room while assuring you that Luke’s dad is doing way better than last you talked with a member of the Hemmings household and that her only worry is that he’ll be eating too much Christmas food because he always has a hard time losing the extra pounds afterwards.

“But enough about us! We are so happy you’re coming; the children haven’t talked about anything else the whole day.”

You laugh, easily imaging the small kids that have always loved you jumping up at the thought of you celebrating Christmas with them this year. “Thank you again for letting my join you for Christmas, Liz. It really means a lot,” you say and smile.

“Nonsense! I’ve known you for 15 years, Y/N, you’re a part of the family, you know you’re always welcome,” she argues and warms your heart with her kind words. It’s true you’ve been a friend of the family for many years and even lived here for short periods of time when your parents were on business trips or something like that, but you’ve never been here for the holidays and not many people would open their homes on Christmas for their child’s former best friend. But that’s just the way Andrew and Liz are, and you’re extremely grateful for it. Otherwise you would be forced to celebrate Christmas alone in your small apartment without any of the things that usually defines your favourite holiday, such as a Christmas tree, tasty food and good company. Originally it was the plan that you should celebrate the holidays with your best friend, but her mum got sick two days before Christmas and had to go to the hospital, your parents and the rest of your family was in Spain (or was it Italy? You weren’t entirely sure) and you couldn’t afford a plane ticket so when you coincidently ran into Celeste and Jack yesterday and they offered that you could join the celebrations at the Hemmings House instead of sitting alone, you accepted the offer even though it would result in a meeting with the boy you had tried your best to avoid for the last year.

As soon as you step into the room where all of Luke’s family gathered, his small cousins run towards you, yelling your name. “Y/N! Y/N! You’re finally here!” Their excitement isn’t exactly quiet and soon the whole family has their focus on you, but the only thing you see is a certain pair of blue eyes. You swallow the lump in your throat and then step forward, hug the kids and listen to their stories about the candy they’ve eaten and their guesses revolving their Christmas presents. However, your focus is elsewhere and you keep on loosing track of what they’re trying to tell you. They thankfully don’t seem to notice that you’re not exactly present and when you make your way around the table to greet all Luke’s uncles, aunts and grandparents you make a bigger effort to answer rightfully to their questions about your studies, how long it’s been since the last time you saw them and thanking them when they tell you that you look more beautiful than ever, that they like your dress or that your new hair style suits you. But just as you’ve almost made your way to the tall blonde you used to call your best friend, dinner is served and you sit down between Jack and one of Luke’s uncles which’s name you don’t recall.

At first you’re tense, embarrassingly aware of his presence so near you but then you get caught up in all the interesting, funny and friendly conversations around you that you manage to forget. You laugh harder than what you’ve done in a long time and you haven’t felt this at home and safe since you were friends Luke and it feels good. Finally, you allow yourself to let go and stop worrying about if your laugh is too loud or if you’re being too much. So when the plates are being taken out and dessert prepared, you’re in a happy and calm state of mind, at least until a certain blond rockstar appears beside you and pats your shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispers.

You turn around, meeting his pale face. His blue eyes have a gentle glow with small pecks of worry and hesitance, like he’s afraid he’ll scare you away. “Hi.” You send him a small smile, and he takes a deep breath and bites his lip, an old habit of his when he’s nervous.

“It’s been a while.” His voice is low, almost gentle and his eyes keeps you trapped. Even if you wanted to, you’re not sure if you’d be able to move from your spot, not when he’s looking at you like this.

You nod. “Yeah, it has.” Flashes of the last time you were together appears in your brain but you show them away, knowing they will upset you and the last thing you want to do after all the kindness this family has shown you is cause a scene.

“Do you- Do you perhaps wanna go for a walk? Get some air, you know? If you don’t want to that’s fine as well, but uh, yeah, I just thought it would be nice,” he proposes, nervously scratching his neck and stuttering more than you’ve ever heard him do before. If this had been old times, you would have laughed and pulled him in a tight hug, but it isn’t. So instead you settle on nodding and shooting him another small smile.

You walk out in silence, the warmth and light of Sydney seeming so out of place when set up against the cold between you and the guy you used to call your best friend.

You haven’t noticed it until now but he’s wearing a ridiculously ugly Christmas sweater you bought for him two years ago and you don’t know if you feel a bigger urge to cry or laugh. You settle for neither of them.

He’s walking in front of you, of course the fastest of the two of you with his long legs. Usually though, he makes an effort to slow down his steps so you can walk together but right now he seems too lost in thought. Suddenly, he stops, standing a few metres in front of you and looking at you like you’ve just placed a knife in his chest. “Why? Why did you just leave? I- I needed you, I needed you so much, but you just left. Why?” He’s standing right there, in the middle of the road and telling you how bad you broke his heart. And your own heart breaks into smaller and smaller pieces for every word he says.

“I just- It sounds so stupid now, but I just couldn’t handle watching you leave me every time I had just gotten you back.” The street is silent besides your low voices. You breathe in, holding back tears and mentally preparing yourself to continue. He deserves answers. “I couldn’t bear saying goodbye in another airport, couldn’t bear only getting to see you five times a year and otherwise only through a screen. And I couldn’t handle that despite you almost never being here with me, I still loved you so much. And I tried to get over you, tried to go out with boys with regular jobs but they just weren’t you. I didn’t know what to do, I’m sorry, but I never meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry.” He looks surprised, which honestly wasn’t what you expected. You thought he would have figured out by now that you had been in love with him but apparently, he hadn’t.

“You- you were in love with me?” he asks, as if processing the fact that you, his best friend through almost 15 years had viewed him as more than a friend without him knowing.

You shrug and answer, voice fragile and almost breaking: “I thought you knew.” You can’t get yourself to look at him, can’t meet his eyes. If you do, you’re afraid you’re gonna cry.

“How could I know? You never told me, never showed me any kind of signs you felt anymore for me than strictly friendship.” He sounds frustrated, but you still don’t have the strength to turn your head and look at him. “How could I know, Y/N?” his voice is barely a whisper, but you hear him loud and clear. You’ve always had a way of following every small thing he does and hearing everything he says. Perhaps it just is like that when you’ve spent so many years having feelings for someone.

You don’t answer him; don’t know what to say, really, because you can’t think of anything that wouldn’t make this awful situation even worse. How can you ever face him again after this?

You can hear him walking closer to you and eventually feel his breath on your neck when he whispers once again: “Look at me, Y/N.”

You shake your head, still not willing to face the shame that’ll surely appear in your body if you ever look at him again. “Please just look at me,” he begs, and you can’t refuse when he asks you like that. You turn your head, meeting his eyes and feeling the wetness in your own. He’s close, so close and you can sense it in every cell of your body. Even after all this time apart, all it wants is to be close to him. “I- I know there’s been happening a lot of shit between us, but do you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ll ever be able to fall in love with me again?” He pauses, swallowing a lump in his throat before continuing: “Because, fairly, I have loved you since forever, but I never in a million years thought you would reciprocate my feelings. And I’m aware that it might be too late, but I needed to tell you and now I need to know; do I still stand a chance?”

You look at him, look at the ugly sweater that’s way too hot for the warm weather, the freckles that adorn his rosy cheeks, the blond curls that’s completely out of place and lastly the sky-blue eyes that’s been your only comfort on lonely nights. And when you nod, it doesn’t matter that it’s a thousand degrees, that there’s not a single sign of snow in this desert-like climate or no mistletoe is in sight: you’ve never felt the Christmas spirit deeper. And when he kisses you, it feels like coming home. It feels like finally being where you belong. It feels perfect, despite the sweat in your armpits, the hands that you don’t know where to put and your teeth that accidently collide.

He smiles against your lips before pulling away, looking all over your face like he’s searching for something. ”Your hair has gotten shorter. I like it; it suits you,” he says. “But your eyes are still the same as they’ve always been, pulling me in and making me wish I never have to let go of you again.” He breathes against your lips, waiting for you to say something.

“Then don’t. Ever. Take me with you, show me the world. I just wanna be by your side.” And then you kiss him again, and all the wrongs turn into rights. “But for now, let’s get back to the party. I’m really in the mood for one of your mother’s desserts.”

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dandelions-sea-blog · 6 years

Text

These are the Nights that Never Die Chapter Three

Read on Ao3(so much better there)

Rainy Days are the worst....

Previous || First || Next

“Wow… the storm’s gotten really bad, hasn’t it?” Blue says, looking up at the sky. Despite the fact that it was mostly clear, with only a few fluffy clouds covering up the blue ocean above, the RV has been plagued with moaning winds and harsh rain all morning.

“yeah, it’s really raining dimes and nickels out there…” Red says, head in his hand.

“What does that even mean?” Blue asks, giving his friend an odd look.

“that there’s been a change in the weather.”

“Stop.” Blue slaps his palm into Red’s face. It only seems to encourage him.

“Is Red making unnecessarily complicated puns again?” Papyrus sighs, eyes never leaving the table as he scrubs it clean, removing all remnants of their breakfast. He’s tenser than normal; under his eyes are a woven pattern of black swelling.

“Yes, he is,” Blue pouts. Red places a hand over his soul.

“excuse? my puns are only as complex as they necessarily have to be,” He claims in mock outrage.

Blue rolls his eyes, going back to staring at the clouds. They are honestly very pretty… days like these just don’t seem real; when the sky looks just so perfect like this. Ah, if the weather wasn’t so bad they could all go out and have a picnic with the new food that Sans and Edge bought last night! It would be nice to get out of the RV… it has started to accumulate a bit of smell that Blue can’t quite find where it’s coming from.

A particularly bad gust of wind hits the side of the camper, causing Blue to jump and Red to jerk awake from his half nap. Sans watches them from behind.

“why don’t ya come away from the window?” He says from the couch, “ain’t good t’ be that close to glass during a storm…” Sans’ books and spreadsheets laid out in front of him. He does all the planning for the trip; deciding where they’ll stop next, how much water they can use, how much food they have. Blue sometimes wonders what he does to be able to afford a vacation like this… it’s rude to ask though.

“Oh okay,” Blue says, pulling Red’s arm over to the couch. Blue takes a seat next to Sans while Red sprawls out on the floor, snoozing quietly. “...Lazy.” Blue mutters, shaking his head. At least the others have an excuse, being out all night getting groceries.

Sans hardly seems to notice when Blue sits down next to him, frantically scribbling on sheets of paper as he sweats in silence. Everyone seems to be stressed out today; Blue imagines it has to do with the storm. Papyrus is oddly quiet, hardly taking up any conversations or banters with his counterpart, and Edge has been particularly snippy as well. It all makes Blue very uncomfortable, but he refuses to bring it up in fear of making everything worse.

Blue plays with his hands for a while, trying to seem uninterested in the incredibly interesting things that Sans is up to. He may not want Blue looking over his shoulder, after all. He seems pretty deep in focus right now… He looks up at the ceiling, attempting to count every tile on the roof… then all of the corners of all the tiles… then all of the dead flies in spiderwebs that they really should clean off sometime …

“So whatcha doin’?” Blue finally breaks, looking over at the papers laid out all over the coffee table. In the center of them all is a blue notebook with a faded skull sticker on it. Sans smiles, glancing at Blue out of the corner of his eye.

“what, you wanna take a look at my cheat sheets?” He says, scooting over just enough that Blue can get a better view of all the papers.

“What are these?” He asks, looking over the complex documents.

Sans points to the first one. “this is water supply; we can carry about 150 gallons of water at a time, and we gotta periodically flush out the waste water.”

“That sounds hard,” Blue says.

“yeah, it’s a real drain. ”

“Mweeeh… no puns while we're learning!!!”

Sans chuckles, shuffling the papers around. “right now i am focused on making sure that we have enough food to make it to our next stop - this storm has really put us behind schedule… we might have to leave today.” Sans says with a frown, tone shifting minutely towards the ‘worried leader’ side.

“Aw, but we just got here,” Blue complains. Sans snorts.

“tell me about it… it’s a pretty big pain in my coccyx,” He says, nose ridge wrinkling up. “we got some stuff last night, but we’re gonna need a lot more before we head out for our next stop again.”

Blue hums in understanding. “So… if you don’t mind me asking… what is our next stop?”

“heh... i’ll tell ya when i figure it out.” Sans’ voice sounds deeper than usual, raw exhaustion interwoven between every syllable.

Blue raises a brow bone, confused. Don’t they have this trip planned out at all? He opens his mouth to ask exactly that when there is a loud noise from the kitchen, taking both of their attention.

“nGAH!! EDGE! PLEASE REMOVE YOUR BLASTED CAT FROM MY KITCHEN BEFORE SHE BREAKS SOMETHING ELSE!!!”

“I DO NOT CONTROL HER MOVEMENTS, PERHAPS YOU SHOULD NOT STACK THOSE PLATES SO PRECARIOUSLY!!”

“welp... i better go step in before someone busts a skull…” Sans says, sliding off the couch. Blue scoots over entirely onto the couch, looking over the notebook that Sans left behind. He hesitates… is it rude to look in here when Sans had already sort of gave him permission? Yes, but Blue isrealllllly curious; he decides one little peak is a forgivable offense.

Blue giggles to himself as he opens the book, feeling like a child going through their parent’s drawers. Inside he finds page after page of calculations; records of how much fuel they’ve used, how much they’ll need, where they’ve been, places they plan to go… some sections are crossed out with little scrawlings giving reasons as to why this plan won’t work, or why going to that state is out of the question… just a bunch of random, ramblings thoughts and plans that Sans has collected.

Blue finds himself quickly bored with his searches, scanning through the pages until he gets closer to today’s date. He stops when the pages run out, going back to the last writings that Sans made.

Water:

Runs out in 3 days

Black Water:

Overflowing

Food:

Runs out in 6 days

Ammo:

Low but not dangerous. Yet.

Electricity:

Literally the only fucking resource we have.

Closest Safe-Havens:

Pleasant town (Too far)

Gaston (Probably not safe)

Hagersville (Not enough gas)

Berton (Too Residential)

Conclusion: We’re fucked.

Blue hums, looking over the notes. Well these seem… rather bleak. No wonder Sans seems so stressed out all the time! He is doing so much planning and worrying that he doesn’t have time to enjoy this trip at all!

Blue closes the notebook, setting it back down where he found it. He claps his hands together. Well! This certainly won’t do! He won’t allow their brilliant leader to be bogged down with so much worry. Blue is going to make sure that he has fun tonight.

Sliding off the couch, Blue taps Red with his foot. The other stirs, looking up sleepily.

“wha…?” He says, rubbing an eye.

“Get up, lazy bones - we have planning to do!” Blue says, skipping back to their room. Red just shrugs, following along.

“whatever ya say, kid,” He mutters.

“now, have th’ two ‘o ya finally got that out of yer systems?” Sans says, exhausted from mediating the two very large yet immature skeletons in front of him.

Edge frowns, holding his precious cat to his chest. “I would be more satisfied if he would apologize to Doomfanger.” He says with a genteel tone.

“I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE TO THAT ANNOYING CAT!” Papyrus folds his arms, “YOU ARE LUCKY THAT SANS MADE ME APOLOGIZE FOR YELLING AT YOU.”

Edge snarls as the two fall right back into bickering. Sans sighs hard, pinching the bridge of his nose. This… is exasperating. Everyone is exhausted from their stressful night, and waking up to a hoard of zombies banging at the side of the bus this morning wasn’t exactly the most relaxing turn of events.

He doesn’t even try to get between the Papyruses this time, just sitting down on the dining booth as he waits them out. The van rocks as a particularly enthusiastic zombie slams its body into the side of the vehicle. Really, this is his fault. He should have known this place would be crawling with crawlers… except it also had so many useful resources - it was worth the risk as long as they didn’t do anything to catch the attention of any predators .

Anything, such as running out into the middle of the woods at night shouting like a crazy person …

Sans laughs at his own unintentional joke, even if it is in bad taste. He glances over to where he left the kiddo, feeling a deep pang of worry when he realizes Blue isn’t on the couch anymore. He looks around and sees that the back-room door is shut - Blue must be in there. He relaxes once more as he listens to his brother and friend snap at each other over just about every petty squabble one could have. Jeez… they haven’t fought like this since Blue came around…

That guy sure does wonders for the psyche, ironically. Sans really thought that things were gonna get better now that he was around; but nope. It was just a lull in their luck, a pleasant kink of fate. And now that they are settling back in things are going right back to shit.

Sans sighs.

“AND ANOTHER THING - DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW LOUD YOU ARE??”

He’s lost track of which one is speaking at this point… Sans puts his head against the table, digging his palms into his temples. The headache this entire conversation is giving him has spread to his patients. He’s done .

“ e n o u g h!”

Sans’ hand comes down on the table.

“alright, you two - listen up!” Sans snaps, head jerking up. If he still could, his eye would be ablaze with magic right now. He stands up off of the bench, ready to lay into the two skeletons until they put this petty squabble to bed for the rest of the day.

Except he is interrupted by a familiar, cheerful voice.

“Guyyyys~” Blue says in a sing song voice, walking into the room with one of the biggest grins they’ve ever seen on his face. In his hands he clutches a baby-blue bag - the only item they had found on his person when they discovered him locked away in the basement of his apartment complex. “I have a surprise for you~~”

Papyrus’ arms unfold and his face softens some. Of the three of them he has been the most receptive to Blue’s particular brand of positivity. It seems that no matter how bad his mood gets Blue is able to come in and cheer him right up. Edge is much less so, but even he relaxes a bit, attention turning from the skeleton beside him to the one across the room.

Sans smiles, well, this at least makes his job easier.

“heh, whatcha got there, kiddo?” Sans asks, hands shoved into his pockets. Blue’s smile grows impossibly wider. If he had skin it would probably tear with just how much force he is putting into showing his happiness.

“Close your eyes~” Blue commands.

“Now may not be the best ti-” Edge starts, abruptly cut off by Sans elbowing him in the shin. Papyrus already has his eyes shut, and Sans waits only long enough to ensure Edge’s cooperation.

“No peeking~” Blue says, voice laced with excitement. Sans can’t help the small grin that plasters itself over his face. The kiddo is just so contagious. There is a soft shuffling of fabric from in front of them, and something is unzipped as Blue places the contents of the bag down on the table in front of them.

“Ta-da!!” Blue shouts. Sans winces at the sheer volume of the noise. “You can open your eyes now!!”

Sans opens a socket to take a look at what Blue has decided to get so worked up over. Part of him is honestly expecting nothing - that he’s created some new delusion in his mind to instantly remedy the situation. But once again, the kiddo manages to surprise him.

“heh... where’d ya get that ?” Sans asks, hands in his pocket as he steps forward to observe the grey, book-shaped box that has been set up on the dining table. Even at first glance there is no mistaking what this is; a portable DVD player. Sans hasn’t owned one of those since they were in the Underground, and even then it was way back when he was a babybones. He opens the lid with a finger, looking at the screen inside. It isn’t much bigger than his hand-and-wrist, but it looks to be in perfectly good condition. He wonders if it still works…

“It’s mine,” Blue says proudly. “I carry it with me on the way to work. The buses run so slow, so I like to watch a movie on the way.” Sans snorts; that’s genius. Papyrus has bent over to look at the device, examining it with mild intrigue.

“Well that is very nice,” Edge says shortly. “But what I would like to know is why you chose now to bring on this impromptu show-and-tell.” He snarks. Sans rolls his eyes - jeez, what a wet blanket.

“Well, Red and I decided that it is time for us to have a movie night!” Blue says. The three skeletons stand up straight, looking between each other. Movie night?? Now? Blue smiles, crossing his arms. “I know that everyone is a bit stressed out because of the storm, so since there isn’t any way we can change the weather, we might as well take this time to relax and have some fun!”

Sans blinks, tapping his chin. That… isn’t a half bad idea actually. It’s not like sitting around and worrying about if-or-when the zombies will crawl back into their hiding spots is doing anyone any good. They have the extra electricity from charging in the sun all day; and if the three of them continue to stay this high strung it isn’t the hoard outside the party will have to worry about killing them all…

Edge looks less convinced, scowling at the device. “That has got to be the single dumbest idea I’ve ever-”

“heh i’m in.” Sans says with a shrug.

Both Papyrus and Edge look to him curiously

“Sans, are you feeling alright?” Papyrus asks, sounding worried. His hand comes down on Sans’ forehead. “You aren’t developing a fever, are you??”

“nah bro,” He chuckles, shaking his brother’s hand off of him. “i think it’s a good idea; our batteries are full and they’re just gonna keep chargin’ t’day since we won’t be doin’ much. i say we should just relax and take the day off.”

Papyrus doesn’t seem entirely convinced Sans is entirely sane, though apparently the idea of a movie night speaks to him as well, and he lets up. “Well, it does sound fun…” He says, a smile slowly writing it’s way onto his face.”

Edge is less convinced, looking between the two as if they had just suggested they jump out and try to make friends with the hoard surround them.

“HAVE YOU TWO LOST YOUR MIND!?” He snaps. “WE CAN’T JUST- WE CAN’T- WE HAVE TOO MANY THINGS TO DO!? SITTING AROUND JUST… DOING NOTHING????”

“it’s not doing nothing,” Sans corrects. “it’s a mental health day, for our health.” He closes the dvd player, flipping it over to check just how many watts it uses for his notebook. “if we stay cooped up in here worrying any longer we’re gonna end up killing each other or ourselves; the kiddo’s got the right idea.”

Blue squeals in pure delight. Hands curling little balls at his chest. “THIS IS SO AWESOME!! MWEHEHE… WE’RE GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN!!” He reaches into his bag, practically dumping out about half a dozen DVDs. “I don’t have too many with me - if I had known we’d be gone this long I would have packed a few more…” He says, already going through and picking out favorites.

Sans chuckles, strolling across the room to one of the shelves.

“oh, i wouldn’t be too worried about running out of choices,” He says with a wink, opening up the doors of the storage space to reveal his and Papyrus’ collection. Practically every movie they’ve ever seen is in here, and several that they haven’t, all organized by genre and director. He turns around, delighted to see Blue’s awestruck face as he pursues the titles.

“now, what kinda movies you guys like t’ watch?”

In the end, they settled on five movies; A comedy for sans, an action thriller for Edge, a superhero film for Papyrus, a mystery for Blue, and a cartoon for Red. They drew straws to decide who goes first, all agreeing that Sans should get first pick of times since he’s done so much for them all. Blue and Red end up in the kitchen making popcorn while the other three set up the living room, finishing their chores down with twice the gusto.

An air of excitement seems to have come over the entire camper. It seems that for the first time since Blue arrived everyone is in anticipation for something; even Edge, despite his constant grumbles about how stupid this all is, seems to be just a little lighter in his steps as he goes through his routine.

By the time midday rolls around everyone is sitting in the living room, waiting. The spare duvet from the master bedroom has been pulled and laid out in the middle of the room, Papyrus and Edge sprawled out as Sans selects his dvd. Blue has finally finished popping the popcorn he found under the sink, pouring out the warm treat into bowls. He keeps the kettle ready for another batch, certain that there will be more need to be made by the time the day is through.

Blue hops up onto the couch with Sans and Red, offering up the bowls to everyone who wants one; which is everyone. Even Edge takes some popcorn, eating it slowly and savoring every bite. Papyrus is much less conservative with his, taking entire fistfuls at a time and dropping bits onto the mat which are promptly scooped up and fed to Doomfanger. Blue doesn’t actually see Sans eat any of his popcorn, but every so often when Blue looks over a little more has disappeared.

The movie is more to Sans and Red’s taste than anyone else's, but it gets a chuckle out of Blue. Sans, on the other hand, just about busts a rib with every line. Red lets out a constant stream of chuckles, drowning out the dialogue half the time. Blue acts as the runner, going between the living room and the kitchen to retrieve drinks and refresh popcorn. By the time the credits roll on the first movie everyone seems relaxed. Blue comes back from getting another round of snacks to find Papyrus leaned back into the couch with Sans draped over the armrest so the two are almost completely side by side. Red has his feet propped up by Sans’ head, looking halfway to sleep - a sign of relaxation for him. Even Edge looks less… well, on edge. He sits with his spine straight, Doomfanger in his lap. His facebones are no longer scrunched up, his shoulders hung relaxed at his side. Blue smiles at him, feeling his soul warm.

Edge glances over at Blue, face suddenly dusting with a light blush as he looks away, hands clenched. “I still say this is a waste of time and electricity.” He snips, arms coming up to cross over his chest. Blue rolls his eyes.

“Would you like the orange juice, or apple?” Blue asks, holding out the cups in his hands. Edge refuses to look at him as he snatches the apple juice from him. Doomfanger rubs her head into his shirt and he lets a hand down to pet her coat.

“i think boss ha’ next selection, right?” Red says from the couch. Blue nods.

“Yeah, he does!” He says, turning back to the gruff skeleton. “Which one was yours again?”

“Midnight Blaze Racer Four,” He mutters, squirming in his seat.

“Aw, but we haven’t seen the first three??” Papyrus says, sounding just a tad disappointed. “How will we be able to follow the plot?”

“heh... yeah… ‘plot’...” Sans says from his spot on the couch, physically drawing the air quotes with his fingers. Edge turns, throwing a bit of popcorn back at Sans, bouncing off his head with a satisfying thunk . Sans chuckles.

“You will be able to pick up on main story,” Edge assures Papyrus. “Besides, this is the fourth installment, but it actually takes place before the first movie but just a bit after the third-and-a-half, which was a prequel telling the story how Blaze’s mother ended up going from a rich girl from southern california to wanted intergalactic crime fighter.” He is already loading up the DVD and skipping through the commercials for ‘soon-to-be-released’ movies that came out almost a decade ago. “But you don’t need to know any of that because when this movie came out the plot for the next hadn’t even been written yet. This is just the best movie in the franchize, so we are skipping all the garbage that came out with the extension and sticking to the original cannon.”

“...Well now I’m even more confused than when we started!!”

“shhh, just watch the movie bro.”

Blue ends up spending this move squished between Sans and Red, the two of them falling in and out of naps as the spectacle on the tiny screen plays out before them. Honestly, Blue has no idea what is going on, and he has a sneaking feeling that even if he’d seen all the previous movies he would still be lost. This time the movies takes about twice as long as it’s runtime due to Edge pausing it at random intervals to explain some plotpoint from another movie in the franchise, then again seconds later to answer follow up questions posed by a very befuddled Papyrus.

By the time that movie ends the group is very much ready for Papyrus’ much simpler, logical movie about an orphan bit by a genetically engineered snake, gaining the power of super speed and strength and chooses to fight the forces of evil. It doesn’t have to make sense in the real world - it just has to flow logically on its own. Which it does, somewhat. At times…

Papyrus is on the edge of his seat the entire time, and even Blue gets excited, cheering along Snake Lad as he takes on Sir Mongoose and saves Lady Lana, warrior super spy princess, from his evil clutches. Sans seems to get his enjoyment from the flick by pointing out every time the movie tries to do science and exactly why it is wrong, while Red just makes lousy puns on just about everyone and everything there. Edge pretends to ignore it, claiming the effects are too cheesy for him to get involved - but every once in awhile Blue thinks he sees genuine enjoyment on Edge’s face.

Finally it is Blue’s turn! Sans only had a single mystery movie that Blue hasn’t gotten to see yet; it’s an old one in black-and-white. It has a very unique pacing and tone to it, something that Blue can appreciate. Sans and Blue keep a long discussion going on about film techniques and cinematography. Papyrus and Edge seem bored, while Red straight up falls asleep during the first act, though the action scenes at least get some response out of the others.

During the final confrontation where the murderer is revealed Blue notices something. He steps forward, pressing pause on the player and he listens.

“Do you guys hear that?” He asks, quickly getting the attention of the other occupants of the room. They all sit up, listening closely for any sign of disturbance, sharing a look of mild fear.

“Hear what, Blue-Sans?” Papyrus asks with a frown. “I don’t hear anything…”

Sans’ eyes widen as he practically throws himself off the couch, bare bones clacking against the floor as he prances over to the window. He stands on his toes to look out. “...they’re gone……” he mutters, almost too quiet for anyone to hear. Edge and Papyrus share a look of disbelief as Blue smiles.

“See? The storm is over now, and you guys didn’t even notice!” Blue chirps. The others look between each other, seeming blown away by the fact that they could have forgotten about their current situation. Blue rolls his eyes, ejecting the DVD before going to the cabinet to select a new one.

“what’s up kiddo - movie borin’ ya?” Sans asks, going back to lay out on the couch.

“It’s getting late, and I wanna see Red’s movie before we go to bed!” Blue announces, pulling out the DVD Red had anted in. The skeleton chuckles from the couch.

“aw, yer sweet, kid,” Red says, setting his head on his hands.

Edge stands as the movie loads up, taking the empty bowls of popcorn back into the kitchen. Blue frowns, watching his friend leave the room with a deep heaviness in his soul. “...Are you not going to watch the movie with us?” Blue asks, downtrodden.

“No,” Edge replies, scrubbing the bowls harshly with a dry sponge. He growls softly as Blue watches, scrubbing with extra gusto. Blue would like to think that it is just because he is trying to get off the extra butter… but... Blue glances back at Red, looking apologetic. The bags under Red’s eyes seem deeper than normal as he waves a hand.

“don’ sweat it, kid,” He says, a hint of something deeply troubling in his voice. “boss is… complicated…” He leans back into the couch, arms folded over his chest. “let’s just watch the flick…“

Blue isn’t entirely satisfied with that resolution; nevertheless he slots the dvd into the player and presses play, sinking back into relaxation as the cheerful sound of violin music fills the room. Almost as soon as the actual movie starts Edge seems to be satisfied with the dishes, immediately climbing the ladder to his bunk and flinging shut the curtain with a loud grumble. Sans and Papyrus relax some, politely asking that they unfold their bed so that they too can lay down. By now it’s pretty late, after all; they spent the entire day watching movies.

Blue starts to feel sleepy as well, rubbing his eye as the movie splashes bright colors against the dark walls. He moves closer to the DVD player on the table, setting him and Red up at the foot of the brother’s bed. He curls up in the comforter with Red, rubbing his eyes.

“heh, kiddo… ya should probably get t’ sleep yerself,” Sans says from utop the bed, propped up on a pillow. “ya look bone tired.” He chuckles. Papyrus grumbles in his sleep, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like ‘overused joke’.

“I wanna stay up with Red, though,” Blue says, flighting back a yawn. His head bobs without him meaning too, floating town to rest on his hands. “Everyone else got to watch their movie with friends…”

“heh, i think red’s already asleep kiddo…” Sans says from utop the bed. Blue blinks, looking back to his friend lying next to him. Sure enough, soft snores come from the snoozing skeleton. Blue chuckles, curling up in the blankets.

“What a lazy bones...” He mutters sleepily, petting Red’s skull. A soft purr builds in the other’s throat as he nuzzles into the touch. Blue is tempted to just sleep here on the ground; but that would just be too lazy for his tastes. Slowly he rises to his feet, nudging Red awake as he bundles up their covers. He turns off the DVD player and ejects the disk, making sure that all of the DVDs make it back to the correct case and spot in the cabinet before heading off towards his bedroom.

“Goodnight Sans!” Blue says, following the sleepy Red into the bedroom. “Goodnight, Papyrus…”

“Goodnight!”

“g’night, kiddo…” Just before Blue can shut the door Sans continues. “hey, uh… blue?”

Blue pauses, looking back out into the room. It is dark, the only light coming from the everpresent glow of the outside lamps. Sans’ silhouette would look ominous in any other context, but to Blue it is relieving. Sans’ posture is relaxed, slouched against the back of the couch-bed. Blue can practically hear the other’s calm soul-beat from here.

“i wanned t’ thank ya,” Sans says, contentedness filling the air. “fer t’night…“

Blue feels his cheeks warm, his soul aching in a way he can’t quite place. The smile on his face can’t be seen in the dim light of the RV, but Blue has a sneaking suspicion that Sans knows it’s there.

“Mweh… no problem, Friend! I’m glad everyone had fun...” Blue says quietly, slipping into the room. “Goodnight.”

#my writing #undertale #zombie apocolypse au #fanfiction #underswap #underfell #movie night #fluff #angst

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