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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

sun in the shadows (03)

word count; 12,706

summary; trying to make some headway on the study leads to an interesting revelation, and progress in your friendship with noah.

notes; if this part is a little sucky, I apologise. it was a last minute addition that I created because I realised I wanted to include some extras.

warnings; brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, but it’s very mild.

The weather was improving, the drizzle of the winter and the grey skies overhead were getting lighter, the showers of rain were getting less frequent and the winter was moving on. Spring was making itself known, bulbs of daffodils were finally taking root in the soil, and green was sprouting from the earth that had been frozen over and dead only a couple of weeks ago. The watery floors were drying up, limited ice was fading away, and graduation was sitting right on the horizon for you all.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag, rooting through the contents to find a place to slip your file inside, all your notes for the class you’d be having were inside, and there was a blank page for your next session waiting to be filled out. Once it had its place, albeit getting a little bit crumbled against the other content, you removed your wallet, a few coins jingling in the bottom, and you hoped it was enough for two coffees.

There was a coffee stand not too far away, and you were hoping an extra shot of coffee before you went in might get your brain working a little faster. Only a couple of feet ahead of you was a face you recognised, a dark jumper to match dark denim jeans, a pair of boots for motorbike riding that were beginning to scuff along the edges and the toes. He was hanging over his money, a brown bag holding a pretzel and a tall cup, the tell-tale tag of a teabag hanging over the edge, and he walked away.

Joining the back of the line, you watched him go, sitting not far across the quarter with his headphones on, settling on one of the recently repainted memorial benches. He pulled the tab on eh coffee back, opening it up and a cloud of steam left the drink, curling up into the air that still held a slight chill, drifting away to disappear as he blew against the surface of the drink. In his other hand was his phone, scrolling aimlessly on it as a way to keep himself disconnected from everyone else around him and prompt nobody else to join him. His bag was out on the bench too, pushed a short distance from his body in an attempt to take up the rest of the space to deter company.

Ordering a simple set of black coffees, and finding you had just enough change for a muffin too, you waited patiently for your order, an assortment of condiments and the double-chocolate treat you’d paid for being handed to you first. There was a grinding, the slight screech of the machine as it crushed the beans to create two black coffees for you, plastic lids sealed on and two cardboard jackets fastened around them.

Balancing the load between them all, you headed over to him, using your knee to nudge the bag up the bench until it bumped his leg, and he jerked slightly, looking up to see you. Offering him a beam, his narrowed eyes lightened a little, and he sighed. Putting down his phone and moving his bag to the floor, he lifted the headphones away from his ears, and let them hang around his neck. Sitting yourself down, he slumped back into the wood, and you scooted up to sit closer to him, placing the spare coffee you’d bought for Stiles on the floor away from your feet.

“Hey, Noah!” He gave a short nod, still a little uncomfortable, and he turned to face you more. “So, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

You shrugged, opening up the bag of extras and searching through for a couple of sweetener packets, and a wooden stirrer. “I didn’t. I was just gonna’ grab a coffee before class and head to my hall early, because, y’know, studying at home is distracting.” Your hand waved off the statement, finding the packets you wanted, and clutching your cup between your knees for stability. “So, anyway I was going to text you when I got there, but then I saw you, so I figured I’d come and say ‘hey’!”

“Right.”

“So, hey!” You waved a little before taking the top from your coffee, and leaving it on the bench beside yourself. “I ask once again, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“Well, since I am the most popular guy at this college, I’m pretty busy.” He smiled a little at his own joke, particularly when you gave him a laugh, and your brow raised.

“Oh, he’s got jokes today, huh? I like it, I can roll with that.” Tipping the sugar into the cup, you added a couple of packets, before stirring it slowly. “I take it you’re free, then. I was hoping we could squeeze in some study stuff this afternoon. I have a class in a couple of minutes, but I wanted to see if you were free?”

“Well, I’m free all day. I had a six AM class.” His face screwed up at the idea, and you could feel his pain, having spent the entirety of your sophomore year with a teacher who held lectures at six AM so she could avoid her morning sickness before class, and rush home for it afterwards. Professor Anderson going off on her maternity leave was the best thing that had happened to your education that year.

“Great, I’ll sort it with Stiles, and we’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds like a thrill. I can hardly wait.” He smiles, the sarcasm just like his brothers as it came through, and you repaid him for the joke with a chuckle. While the two of you had made progress, you could tell he was still a little unsure around you. You were polar opposites and he didn’t take well to that, the atmosphere that you brought with you could be a little too much for him to handle sometimes, you couldn’t stop the guilt that was eating at you a little. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a look on your face like you want to talk about things. Just warning you, I’m not good at that heart-to-heart stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that.”

“Shut it.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, and you grinned cheesily in reply to him. “You can tell me, though. Can’t promise I’ll help, but..”

“It’s nothing weighing me down. I just wanted to apologise. I clearly interrupted your free time. You got yourself a little pretzel to eat in silence, and everything.” He offers you a blank look at your slight dig, and you only winked, waving the muffin in a bag that you’d bought, and taking a sip of your coffee once the lid was sealed back on. “People usually like it when I stop by to see them, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, really.” His words were strained, the response bringing you no relief as he forced them out, and your frown remained. “I’m serious, okay? It’s alright.”

You were trying your best but learning the lines with Noah was different to you. Upon starting college you’d been thrown in at the deep end of socialisation and a whole world you’d never quite had access to before. Coming from a smaller town that had always limited your expectations was tough, and you’d taken it differently from the way Noah had. You’d had so many experiences, becoming legal to drink and venturing beyond your comfort zone, truly leaving home and facing the idea of having your life laid out before you, the first time truly having your heartbroken, and being too far to simply collapse into the arms of your mom or dad for support when things got messed up.

“When does your class start?” You jumped, lost in your thoughts as you slumped back into the bench, and you sat up straight again, turning to find that Noah was already looking at you, eyes scanning over you slowly. It was a good reminder, time had been slipping away from you and in the ease of his peaceful and quiet company, you could have sat there for hours.

Checking your watch, you sighed, lifting your bag strap back up onto your shoulder more securely, and packing everything you had with you inside, leaving you to hold a coffee cup in each hand. “In about ten minutes.”

“How about I walk you?” He picked up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and you nodded, a warmer feeling at his offer blooming where cold guilt had been. Standing up and making sure not to spill any of the scalding coffee onto your hand. Peering around the busy campus quarters that was more filled now than it had been for months, the lighter weather tempting groups to come out of their dormitories and the cafés to gather outside instead.

He fell into step beside you, toes scuffing occasionally on the slightly uneven stonework of the quad, before it fell away into smooth concrete pathways on the way to your lecture. The grass alongside each path was growing greener, dull colour fading away into something brighter. Paper crinkled beside you, the cup of tea in his hands being finished and the cardboard cup was crushed between string fingers, knuckles even paler than usual as he crumpled it up, and as you approach the closest bin, it was disposed of.

Your fingers flexed around your coffee cup, almost having forgotten that it was there as the heat from the two began to fade away a little. Taking a sip, the refreshing burst of sweetened caffeine was like a spark to your system, and you revelled in it. “How do you take your coffee?”

You lower the cup from your lips, swallowing your mouthful, and you couldn't stop the rise of your brows once you turned to look at him. “Creamer, usually. I like a caramel flavoured one. But, since I’m not big on creamer in packets or from street vendors, this one just has sweeteners.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and your lips pressed together tightly to try and contain the smile you wanted to let free, silence forming between you both for a moment, a further gathering of steps as the two of you went on, your building coming into sight again. “Did you watch the news last night?”

“Is this small talk?”

“It’s an attempt at small talk.” He winced, and you chuckled, a small smile on his features as the fear of judgement or humiliation washed away, and he gave a sigh.

“Okay, let's try this.” Your mind spun, searching for a track of something to talk about, and a thought clicked into space. “If you could watch one genre of movies for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Comedy. Like, comedy-action. You know, ones like ‘Jumanji’ or something?” He was quick with it, certain about his answer, and you nodded.

“Yeah? That was quick. How come you’re so sure?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, one hand coming up to hold his bag strap, swinging it to the side to be able to get inside, and fish out the paper bag with a pretzel inside. “I guess I just think they’re good for you. Good for the soul. They have action and it keeps you a little on the edge of your seat, but it’s funny. It's easy-going, when you’ve got anxiety, or you’re having a bad day, or you just want background noise, they’re perfect.”

“Alright. Fair enough. Okay, tricky one.” his eyes narrowed a little, but an amused look passed over his features while he waited. “If you had to choose specifically between comedy and action, which is it?”

“It’s got to be action. Because comedy usually means Adam Sandler or Seth Rogen, and some of their comedies are good, but some are jus-” He paused, jaw dropping a little, and his hand came out, pausing in front of your to bring you to a halt too. A smile curled on your lips, and he looked shocked. “Holy shit, you’re good!”

“Ask a basic question that people are passionate about, it always leads to more options, and everyone always wants to talk about something fun.” His head shook slowly, as though he was in disbelief, and you took a dramatic bow, trying not to spill the coffees in your hands as you giggled. “Give it a go, I bet you can do it.”

The paper in his hands crinkled, your footsteps taking up again, and the two of you were making your way towards the building once again. Taking a bite from his pretzel, a piece torn away with his teeth, he thought it over. “Does your family have any secret or ‘famous’ recipes?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Kudos to you, Noah.”

“Thank you. I thought about it for, like, eight whole seconds.” He grinned, the joke moving away from you both as you left it behind, and you thought about his question.

“Maybe it’s not my family recipe, just a personal one, but I’m great at making lasagne.” He scoffed, and you nudged him with your elbow. “I’m serious! I make a great lasagne!”

“You don’t seem like a cook to me, is all! You seem like the sort of person who’d manage to burn a pit of water.”

“You can’t burn water, an.. oh, I just got it. You jerk.” It was a joke, your nose screwing up as you stuck your tongue out at him, thanking him a second later as he held the door open for him. The bright lights of the outside changed to artificial lights in the halls, not as much coming through the windows as trees outside managed to cast shade into the building. “Well, I can cook. I love to cook, and I’m good at it. Especially lasagne. My family are generally the only ones who have ever had it, and thanks to that insult, you’ll never have it.”

“Oh, woah, no! You have to let me try it now. Prove me wrong, or I’ll be forced to believe you’re bluffing.”

“You’re sneaky.” You scoffed, students filling the hall and filtering in from different sides of the building, lectures in different halls all waiting to take place, and you stepped to the side of the corridor once your doorway was within reach. “If you’re lucky.”

“I’m betting on that.”

Glancing back, Stiles was already inside, as expected. Stiles Stilinski had never once been on time, he was either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, and since he’d spent the night with Derek, who was an early bird, you’d figured which one today would be. His head was slumped on his hm half-asleep and on the verge of drooling as he sat there, and you chuckled, turning to Noah. “Thanks for walking me. Also, thanks for small-talking with me.”

“Thanks for the advice on small talk.”

“I’m gonna’ head inside, but, I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded, confirming the times with you, and lingering a moment longer. It was quiet, but not so tense, and he rolled on the balls of his fete, the half-eaten pretzel in his hands was seemingly abandoned as one hand tucked into his jeans pockets, the other hanging limply while holding the delicacy by his side.

“Thanks for sitting with me. This wasn’t so bad. It was almost fun.”

“You know, one day, you’re gonna’ tell me you had fun with me. I look forward to that day.” He smirked, your head tipping to the side at the expression.

“If you’re lucky.” He was repeating your own words back to you, and you beamed at the chance. Backing away from him slightly, you fixed him with the cheekiest glance you could as you walked through the doorway.

“I’m betting on it.”

You could hear his laugh once you were gone, into the classroom and beginning to take the steps up to a seat beside Stiles that he’d reserved for you, his bag sitting on it. He’d already gotten his equipment out, notepads and pencil laid out in a somewhat organised mess on top of the desk.

Placing the two coffees down, you moved Stiles bag to the floor, tucking it behind his chair and a soft snore made itself known from him, the boy not doing well with early mornings but he never had, not once in your years of knowing him had he handled it very well, so it was no surprise.

“Opening up your bag, you dropped your notebook down onto the surface with a loud ‘slapping’ sound, and he jerked upwards, flailing as he did, and almost knocking the coffees over. Blinking quickly and shaking sleep away, he looked around, eyes wide as he finally focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” He chastised you, leaning back in his seat and holding a hand over his heart. “I was dreaming about high school, I thought you were my lacrosse Coach waking me up for falling asleep in class again.”

“Maybe I am.” You winked, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Drop and give me twenty, Stilinski! Right now!”

“Don’t do that, it’s eerily accurate.” He cringed, shuddering a little, before a wide smile replaced the horrified expression that had morphed, and you pushed a coffee over to him. “You brought me a coffee?”

“Yes, I did. It’s bribery.”

“Oh? What am I being bribed for?” He was curious, rooting through the bag of condiments for it and taking the plastic lid from the cup, steam curling out into the air. Taking an ungodly and certainly unhealthy amount of sweetener and sugar packets to load into his coffee.

“Your free time this afternoon. I’m thinking about getting some of my study done, I can get all the work for the next couple of sessions sorted now, but how do you feel about being asked some later?” He tipped them in, a drop of coffee flying up over the edge and landing on the desk as he stirred his drink with vigour, that same hyper excitement that he always had.

“Can’t I just fill them out now?”

“It’d be better if I could get your responses with Noah.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and making a scene of it, but there was a smile that told you he already agreed.

“You should have brought me two coffees, but fine.”

You let out a victorious ‘aha!’, and shook the little brown paper bag that was still sitting on your half of the desk at him. “I also brought you half of a muffin!”

“Only half of a muffin?”

“Well, it was none, but since I didn’t eat it yet and I’d feel bad eating it in front of you, I decided to share it.” You tore it in half, pushing half across the scratched and vandalised wooden surface to him. Crumbs were left along the surface, and Stiles pressed the pad of his finger along them to gather them all up.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, what I meant was; wow, a full half of a muffin!” He cheered, much more enthusiasm, and you nodded.

“Much better.” At the front of the classroom, your tutor entered, door slamming behind him as he kicked the wedge out from underneath, and his case was placed down on the desk. The room began a hushed quiet, save for the loud slurping of Stiles with his coffee beside you.

“You know,” Your best friend didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, everything he did was more like a dramatic stage whisper on a Broadway show, and a few dirty looks were sent his way. The professor was used to this, a year of experience and advice from previous tutors guiding him to ignore Stiles’ fidgeting and chatter. “You’re going to have to convince Noah to do this.”

Slumping down in your seat a little more, you turned your head to him, nibbling on your half of the muffin. “I already did.”

“What?” This time he was hushed, the man standing at the front near his desk, trying his best to give extra advice to everyone and answer any common questions that he’d been emailed. You’d have to catch the after-class notes in your emails. “When d’you do that?”

“This morning before class. I saw him while getting coffee for you and we walked over.”

Stiles huffed, his brows being pulled together slightly. “Okay. Damn, he was my last free shot at getting the afternoon off.” You grinned, pinching at your friend’s cheek, and he smacked your hand away. “Quit it, I’ve told you not to do that before.”

“In case I pinch your moles off?”

“That's where my power is. My funny is in my moles.” He hissed, only making you laugh more, and you covered your mouth with your hand over his silly superstitions.

“Whatever, freak.”

“Hoe.” He snarked back, and you grinned, punching at his shoulder as best you could from this angle, and he reached up a hand to rub at it. “So, if we’re doing this, I at least want to do it at my place. I’m going out this evening, I gotta’ be ready. Derek’s sisters are coming up to visit.”

“It won’t take long, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out his phone and keeping it ducked from view. He was texting his brother, letting him know to be ready, and at what time your class would be ending, giving him a little time to prepare. Opening your book up and flicking to the page you had marked, it was a journal written about the study of the ways that twins raised in different households could grow up similarly, and you were hoping to adopt some of the content for your study.

“So, what’ve you got done so far?”

Stile sighed, flicking open his notebook, and you were shocked by the fact that he was already at the end of it. There were pieces of paper stuck in, a list of book references on one of the tabs down the side of a page, and only a few blank pages left at the back.

“Oh, wow, okay.” You stared at your notebook, barely reaching a quarter of the way through with the notes you’d been making, and it looked like Stiles was ready to start making progress towards a conclusion for his hypothesis. “So, you’ve got a whole lot done, then.”

“Yeah, well, I want to spend as little time in a prison as I possibly can.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pages crammed full of information as he flicked through to find a blank one. “Plus, I didn’t want to go and interview inmates on my own, so I wait until Derek has free time to go with me, and I get as much done in those sessions as I can.”

“You’re gonna’ be done weeks before I am.” You pouted, your pen twirling at the top corner of a page, drawing a collation of pretty flowers to form a border, and he chuckled.

“I have easier test subjects than you do. They’re already guilty and behind bars, they’re more than happy to open up. You’ve gotta’ deal with Noah.”

“That’s true.” You grinned, thinking back on the conversation you’d had with the other twin that morning. When he was alone, it wasn’t so bad, he talked more and he wasn’t so worried about judgements, but as soon as there was someone else who might hear, he completely closed down.

“Hey, seriously, we have ages left. You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

“I’m just freaking out a little bit, because this is the last hurdle, y’know?” He nodded, and you could see whatever it was he was thinking practically swirling in his eyes, because Stiles’ emotions were open to read like a book.

“It’s terrifying. It’s, like, what the hell are we supposed to do when we finish?”

“I don’t know.” Your head dropped to your hands, fingers soothingly rubbing at your temples. A large hand landed on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. “What I do know, though, is that if I don’t get on with coming up with some more content, I’m never gonna’ finish this study in time.”

“Well, put your headphones on and come up with some questions.”

You did as told, plugging your earbuds in and choosing some classical music that would make it easier to concentrate. Opening one of your survey works back up to the page you’d left off at, your eyes began to flicker over the pages, picking out the useful information. Once you had a list built, you had a foundation to work from, questions to create and organise into groups, different sessions being able to come together.

Beside you, Stiles’ hand never seemed to stop rising, a constant dialogue with your tutor as he checked his work and ironed out any kinks in his study. He was also full of chatter and laughter, getting along with everyone around him and asking about their works, making you turn your music up several times just to be able to concentrate. But, by the end of the session, when Stiles was tugging your earbud out and telling you your class was over, you had a solid three pages worth of questions that had been split up into sessions, and ready to be worked through.

“Pack up and get ready to go. I have plans to get ready for.”

Stiles already had his bag in his arms, notebook tucked inside and pens and pencils put away, two empty coffee cups and a muffin wrapper sitting out, which he quickly gathered up, once his bag was on his shoulder. He was gone, walking past you and down to the waste bin at the front of the hall to dispose of them, his fingers tapping idly on his thigh once he was done.

You gathered your belongings, packing them away and curling the wire of your headphones back up neatly, making sure everything had its correct place in your bag, before following him down and out of the steps.

The halls were filled once again, the two of you navigating through crowds to the outside of the building, and you followed him in his diversion across the pathway, all the way to his car. Some students had already left, spaces beginning to empty out as a bottleneck effect took place at the only entrance and exit to this carpark.

“Where’s your car?” The dirty blue jeep was one of the only ones left in the parking lot, Stiles looking around for your vehicle, and you sighed.

“Don’t get me started on that hunk of junk.” You growled, stomping a foot on the floor as Stiles laughed. Opening the driver’s side door, he hopped up inside of it, legs dangling from the chair. “I’m trying not to use it as much. It splutters when it starts up and I have to try it a whole bunch of times, so the less I use it, the closer to graduation we can get before it eventually taps out.”

“You ever think about just getting it fixed?”

“Oh, big words from the man whose engine is held together with duct tape.” Your hand rubbed over the hood of the car, a slightly dusty layer that made you cringe, and you wiped your hand off on your jacket to stop it.

“Touché.” Stiles only smirked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to my place. I’ll be waiting for hours if you walk.”

He slammed his car door once his legs were inside, leaning over the centre console to pop open the passenger side door as you rounded the car, and he was sparking up the car before you were even fully inside. Slamming it shut, he was reversing from his spot as you clipped in your safety belt, swinging his car around, and you gripped onto the edge of the door. “Easy there, fast and furious.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody is around.”

“Except for me, and I’d like to live until graduation.” His eyes rolled, hitting the brakes and flicking on the indicators as he was leaving the parking lot, moving out onto the main roads. There weren’t so many other cars, the mid-afternoon meaning the other students were mostly in class, in bed, or eating their lunch. College was a weird time, and while you’d loved it, you couldn't wait to regain some kind of normality. “Can we swing by my place? I need to swap out my books. I don’t want to carry all these around.”

“Okay, but be quick! I have to be ready by six and out the door by six-thirty. Derek will kill me if I’m late for this.” His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel as he changed direction to head to your place instead of his own. The space between you both was filled with the radio, the simple tunes of classic 70s anthems, the songs Stiles had grown up with, his dad’s favourite records and he played them constantly. He knew all the words, mouthing along and banging his head, pausing occasionally to check the mirrors and the roads between dancing in his seat.

Rolling the window down as he slowed in his approach to the building, afresh air swept into the carbon of the car, the slightly musty smell of the older car was something you’d miss when it was gone. The shade of the concrete cover overhead was chillier than the sunny roads, and he swung himself haphazardly into a parking space.

“I’ll turn the car around and wait here, cool?”

“I won’t take long, promise!” Hopping from the car and closing the door, you leant on the open door frame, and Stiles slouched in his seat, as he usually did. “Lydia and Ally should both be out, so there’s nobody for me to even talk to.”

“Good, because you’re chatty.” He teased, and you flipped him off, a quick walk as you headed away from him to the stairs. Once you were there, you were taking a quick jog up the sets of stairs, headed for your floor, and balancing your books in your arms carefully. Rooting through your bag to find your keys, they were at the bottom, jingling tantalisingly for you to find.

Leaving your books on the countertop of the kitchen, you shifted through them, taking the notebook you needed and leaving the rest, piling them back up and taking them to your bedroom Abandoned on the desk, you rushed to change, throwing on a bigger and warmer jumper to get through the rest of the day, phone in your pocket and a bag on your arm. Passing back through the kitchen, you were ready to grab the notebook and bag you’d left there, keys hanging in the back of the door, and you eyed the freezer.

You’d made a bet, a point to prove, and you were certain that buried somewhere deep in the bottom, you had a frozen lasagne from the last time you’d made it for Allison and Lydia. You had a few spare moments, and so you moved over to the freezer, opening the door and crouching to scan over all the shelves.

Running your fingers over frozen plastic, you searched for the right one. Tinfoil crinkling in the back, behind a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a tray of alcoholic ice cubes, was a tray of lasagne. Pulling it out, the cold chilled your arm, even through the layers of your hoodie, and you used your foot to close the freezer while wrapping the tray in the nearest tea towel for an extra layer.

Placing your notebook over it and holding it in both arms for security, you clicked the latch onto the door, keys in your pocket and bag on your shoulder to let it swing closed behind you.

Stiles saw you coming, his head snapping over to the metal door between the stairwell and the parking lot when it fell open, backing through it and his brows raised. Opening up the passenger side door, he took the lasagne from you when you handed it over, climbing back into the vehicle.

“This is cold. What is it?”

“Lasagne.” You settled it onto your lap once your safety belt was on, folding the towel underneath to keep your lap from getting chilled and painful, and he nodded. The engine was still running, and taking off the brakes, he was pulling out of the space again.

“So, not that I don’t love a home-cooked meal, but I’m going out for dinner. Why the traybake?”

“I have a point to prove to Noah.” You were looking out of the window, but you could feel his gaze on you, making you a little uncomfortable, and you turned to face him. His eyes were flicking between you and the road, brows furrowed, a stare like he was trying to figure you out, before he let it go. “He told me I looked like I couldn't cook, and it’s a battle I’m going to win.”

“Well, alright then. Save me leftovers?”

“We’ll see.” You winked, and he grinned, eyes flicking to the tray in your lap, before back to the road.

It was only a short journey, the distance between your place and Stiles’ building was short for a walk and even shorter in a car, on the edges of campus and conveniently placed, and it had been one of the building blocks of your friendship with him An easily accessible study partner, somewhere to hang out with, someone to walk home with you after a night out, someone to share a cab with, or simply knowing there was a friend so close to you.

“It’s going to be weird not living around the corner from you in just a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed, pulling into his one building sparking area and it didn’t have the luxury of being covered or underground, it was exposed each flat having allocated parking spaces, and Noah’s bike was parked underneath the shelter, you could see it from here, with a clamp around the wheel and covered from the impending and risky weather of the early months. “I have a feeling that you’ll end up living next door to me someday.”

“You do?”

He parked the car, arm behind your head as he reversed into it, ready to make a quick getaway on the next morning, or this evening, when he would invariably be late. In true Stiles Stilinski style. “Yeah. Especially after I rock whatever gown you want me to wear for being your maid of honour, someday.”

“Lydia is going to fight you for that role.”

“I will fistfight her for it.” He challenged, and you grinned, clambering down from the car as Stiles had parked a little too close to someone else on your side. With your bag on your shoulder and lasagne in one hand, you tried to squeeze around the door without scratching someone else’s paintwork.

Stiles’ arm was slung over your shoulder as you set off toward the building, the elevator being fully functional, and it was a refreshing change not need to take the stairs up to your place, or risk your life in a rickety elevator.

Throwing his keys down on the kitchen counter, they slid all the way across and to the other side, hitting the floor, and he grimaced when you turned to stare at him. “I’ll pick those up later.”

“Uh-huh.” The sounds of video games and music were coming from behind Noah’s door, though it wasn’t fully closed, only pushed halfway, and you hoped that was a sign that he was still in a good mood. Leaving your bag on the edge of the couch that was facing away from you, your hands rubbed together, glancing around at the environment you were still getting used to. “You should put this lasagne in now, so that it’s ready for after the study. Medium heat, leave the full-on tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say ‘hey’ to your brother.” Stiles’ face scrunched up, a mumble of ‘good luck’ as he picked up the tray, lifting it over his head to look in at it from underneath. Wandering toward the sounds coming from the hall, you knocked on the edge of the door, pushing it open a second later when you heard the game pause, and the music following it. Leaning on the doorframe, Noah turned to face you, brows raising slightly, and he shifted in his chair. “Hey.”

“Hi. It’s, uh, time for the study stuff, then?”

“Yeah. You okay?” He shrugged, turning back to his game and closing it off, leaning forwards from where he was sat on his bed enough to turn the console off.

“I didn’t realise we’d be doing it here. It feels more personal, somehow.” He had a large hoodie on, comfortable in his own clothes as he wore a baggy and warm outfit, the same way you often had when everything started to feel overwhelming.

“Well, this study is going to get pretty personal.”

“I know that. It’s just that right now, it feels a bit like I’m naked, y’know?” You chuckled, a momentary smile on his face flashing past, and you were glad to see it. “I just feel exposed.”

“This study is gonna’ do that, but I promise that I’ll try and make it as easy as I can. I’ll break it up, I’ll make it comfortable for you, and we’ll stop whenever you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“That’d be great, actually.” His hands rubbed together, sleeves hanging slightly down over his palms, and he looked a whole lot less terrifying right now than he did with the armour of a bike and a leather jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good, because I need you in high spirits. I brought a lasagne and I have a point to prove.”

You backed out of the room as he advanced toward you, the door closing and leaving you both standing in the hall, and he smirked down at you a little, a disbelieving expression. “You really brought that?”

“You bet I did. It’ll be ready by the time we finish.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started, huh?” He hopped over the back of the couch, settling in beside his brother, who scowled at him as his drink spilt down his shirt from the impact. Taking a seat on the other side of them both, your legs folded underneath yourself in the armchair, finding a glass of water laid out for yourself on the table, courtesy of Stiles.

They looked so different and yet so similar in this moment. You could understand how people may have confused the two of them before their styles became so radically different. In the beginning, before Noah turned to leather and a sleeve tattoo, when they both wore hoodies and band tees and had clean pale skin. With the sleeve of tattoos covered, and the pair both wearing hoodies, one with an etching across the front and the other with a faded logo from being washed one too many times,

Laying out your books, it was more of a note you’d keep to yourself, and following from that was your recorder, coated in the front pocket of your bag so as not to get crushed. Switching it on at the side, the red light flashed on to green blinking once to let you know it was active. “Can you guys do your confirmations for me while I get set up?”

“Surely can.” Stiles sat forwards, leaning down a little with his forearms braced across his knees, as opposed to Noah, who slumped back into the cushion. “Stiles Stilinski, happy to be recorded.”

“Noah Stilinski, aware of being recorded.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his brother’s dead tone, clearly not having as much fun as Stiles was, but you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, why don’t you guys tell me what it’s like to live together at college.” There was a beat of silence, and then a set of matching laughs from both of them, the two starting at one another. There was a look between them, one you didn’t quite understand, and it seemed like some kind of twin-telepathy communication.

“It’s, like, exactly the same as when we were in high school.”

“Uh, what?” Stiles interjected, and Noah turned to look at him. “It’s nothing like high school!”

“Yes, it is!” Noah insisted, and you smirked, picking up your water and taking a sip as the two stared in shock at one another. “We lived together in high school, we played video games, I did all the cooking and you did all the cleaning while dad was at work. The only thing that is different is that we can’t cheat from one another’s homework anymore.”

“We don’t drive to school together anymore, we’re on opposite sides of campus!”

“That so doesn’t count.” Noah scoffed, and Stiles twisted on the couch, his hand gestures much more emphasised than that of his brother’s and you watched the debate go down. “You can’t name any more than that.”

“I take that as a challenge.” Stiles’ head rolled side to side. “Our schedules don’t match up anymore, and we haven’t had our usual movie nights in almost six months now. I can’t bring Derek over because your room is right across from mine-”

“My room was across the hall from you at home. You just didn’t date in high school or have anyone to bring home.”

“Low-blow. Unlike some people, I didn’t want to traumatise my brother in high school by bringing someone home, for that.” Stiles reached out mid-sentence, swatting at his brother’s shoulder, before continuing; “Uh, let's see. Oh! We don’t talk anymore, you didn’t ride your motorbike so much at home, you used to ride in the jeep with me. It’s like a totally different world now.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” There was a palpable kind of feeling in the air, something between them that was sizzling with electricity, before Stiles sighed.

“It’s no big deal. The difference is just that we’re both so busy now.”

“That was really good, actually. Thanks.” The two seemed to have forgotten you were there, both flinching and turning to face you again, matching sets of honey-coloured eyes in varying shades were fixing on you again. “Speaking of what you said, though, does it ever make it hard for you guys when your class times are so different?”

“Hard to do what?” Stiles squinted at you, face set in a frown that his twin normally wore.

“Hard to hang out, talk, have that whole brotherly bond going on.” Your clarification did little for Stiles, his brows still pulled tight and frown never moving, but Noah’s face smoothed out.

“Oh.. well, I g-”

“Totally.” Noah pressed, and once again, Stiles’ head whipped around to look at his brother. “Don’t look at me like that. You basically said it, anyway. We don’t talk so much anymore. We barely know each other. You don’t even tell me about your podcast, anymore.”

“You never listened!”

“You used to tell me your problems, not broadcast them to the world with jokes and humour! I missed two episodes, and you just stopped keeping me updated on it.” The moodier twin crossed his arms over his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the environment you had unwittingly created. “I don’t know. Just feels like we used to talk a lot more.”

They both went silent, and Noah shot you a pleading look, but there was something darker behind it. It almost felt venomous, angry or defensive, as though to say ‘I told you so’ about it being more personal now that they were home. Stiles was occupying himself with pulling a loose thread on their couch cushion out and making it that much worse, distracting himself from it all. “Well, how about something a little bit lighter. Just some questions about hobbies. Stiles, what inspired you to first start a podcast?”

“Well, as you know, I never stop talking.” He smirked, Noah laughing beside him, and just like that, the awkward air between them both was completely evaporated. “I had a lot to say, I had a lot to get off of my mind. At first, it was just to get my thoughts out there. It was kind of like a recorded journey for myself, and to share with my friends from back home. But, then other people started listening. I thought it was going to be the end of my college social life, a social life that I was developing for the first time ever, and they liked it. I was just talking into a mic and getting things off of my chest, making no sense while telling stories and bitching about my homework and suddenly I had friends. It got a whole lot of followers and I made new friends,”

He paused, offering you a wink for the comment, and you beamed.

“-and I was going to parties, I met my boyfriend at a pep rally, and everything just kinda.. blossomed. The more I got out of it, the more inspired I was to keep going. I ended up making multiple videos a week, all differently themed. Sometimes movie reviews, sometimes songs, sometimes just talking. That’s how ‘Mischief Mic’ was born.”

“Alright. That was awesome.” Stiles bowed as best he could from sitting on the couch, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. “Okay, Noah, have you got any hobbies that you didn’t have in high school that you found when you came to college.”

“Not really.”

“Not even one?” You pushed, and the arms folded over his chest tightened, his gaze going to the floor, socked toes pushing into the twist cable rug. He took his glass, swigging all of it, the water draining from the glass in nervousness, and you could hear the crickets inside your mind chirping to fill the silence that had formed.

“No. Not really. I’m going to get more water, feel free to continue.”

“Uh, okay.” You pressed your pen down into your paper, drawing a line through the question on your paper as you realised you’d have no answer to that question when you listened back on the tape at a later time. “Stiles, back to you, then.”

Your next question came, and went, and Stiles was more than happy to answer them. Occasionally, Noah would answer a question, you’d be able to pin him down long enough to get a straight answer out of him, but there seemed to always be something that he needed to mess with, or fix. Almost half of your questions for him had a line drawn through, and you would have to ask them another time, and get a whole extra session in without Stiles, dragging the study out.

It was going to take you twice as long to get through it all if every time you had to ask them separately, and had to spend your time trying to force him to sit and answer. You were missing half of the information that you needed to be able to compare to Stiles’ answers, you couldn’t answer without them.

The clock ticked by, leaving you with all of your questions for Stiles answered. On a blank page, while Noah had once again been tinkering with something in the kitchen, you’d rewritten up all over the crossed out questions that would still need answers. You had doodled on the corner again, waiting for him to come and sit back down, a collection of hearts and flowers, the occasional bee or ladybug, even a couple of misshaped stars, forming a banner across the top of the page.

When he finally came to sit back down, he huffed, eyes moving to the clock as though he was waiting for this to end just as much as Stiles was, and you gave up.

“Okay, how about we just finish this up?” You had reached the end of your tether, not even bothering with the rest of the questions that were written down for him. “We got almost two hours in, that’s perfect.”

Noah sighed, something like an apology in his look as your eyes met his and he shrugged lightly. Stiles only nodded, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall, and he was grinning when he came back. Tearing a page out of your notebook for each of them, you passed it over, blank paper sitting before them, and you searched for a pen or pencil in the bottom of your bag for each of them. Placing your pen down before Stiles and a pencil in front of Noah, they both leaned forwards, picking them up. Switching off your recorder and packing it away, you were left with the two staring at you expectantly.

“Okay, Stiles, come fill yours out in the kitchen. You can’t discuss these ones.”

“Oh, some mystery. I like that.” He picked up his paper and pencil, heading over to the kitchen counter, folding the sheet in half as he did, and you nodded. Standing from your place behind the coffee table, your bag slumped a little more from where it had been propped against your leg.

“Okay, I want you both to try self-diagnosing yourself.” Stiles gasped, a little excitement lacing it, and his pencil was already moving over the paper. Noah, however, looked a little lost, looking to you for guidance. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to use professional terms, just, describe what you think, I’ll be able to figure it out, and if I can’t, I’ll ask you about it at some point.”

He nodded, pausing, not quite as eager to get into the activity as Stiles was, before the pencil finally met the paper, and the slow scratching of graphite over paper filled the silence.

Moving away to the kitchen, you searched for plates, and a dish, laying them out on the counter before moving to the oven. A wave of hot air into your face once you pulled the door open, and when it cleared, you search for the kitchen towel you’d brought with you. Wrapping it carefully around the edges of the tray inside, you pulled it out, resting it atop the oven and closing the door back up.

Flicking off the handles, the light inside went dead, and Stiles loomed up behind you. “Smells good!” He presented a piece of paper to you, your eyes flicking over what he’d written once you’d taken it from him, and everything that he’d written about himself seemed completely accurate. It wasn’t a surprising self-evaluation, Stiles had spent almost four years studying this, just like you had, and so it was bound to be accurate and professional. Even if his handwriting looked a little bit like chicken-scratch.

Noah was still working on his, and Stiles was picking at the edges of the tinfoil, trying not to touch the glass of the casserole dish and burn himself, and as soon as he had some foil pinched between his fingers, he was pulling it back. “Wait, Stiles, watch out for the-”

“Fucking steam! Oh, my God, that’s so fucking hot!”

His hand snapped back, half unpeeled as all the steam from inside clouded in the air, and his hand was clutched to his chest. He was glaring at the pot, before moving away and running his hands underneath the cold tap at the sink, his thumb rubbing over wet skin to soothe it.

A second later, Noah was appearing, placing his paper face down on top of Stiles, which now lay on the kitchen counter. “Well, now that I’ve been scalded by pasta, I’m going to go shower and get ready.”

“M’kay.” He backed away, and Noah leaned on the counter beside you.

“Looks good, but does it taste any good, is the question.” The twin you were left with was teasing you, your eyes finding him, and you raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me something to serve it up with, alright?”

He smirked, pulling open the drawer behind him and searching for a serving spoon. Slicing it into pieces, you dished it up for him, a large slab on a plate, still steaming with cheese that had only just stopped bubbling. He grabbed a fork, and one for you too, waiting patiently as you served yourself, and put whatever was left into a dish for Stiles, covering it back up and leaving it to cool.

“Okay, prepare for the best lasagne of your life.”

Picking up the papers and your plate, the two of you moved back to the couch, sitting opposite one another, and you waited with excitement. Taking a piece off of his plate with the edge of his fork, he raised it, blowing cold air over it for a few moments, before taking the bite. There was a tense few moments, while he chewed, face unreadable, before he was swallowing the mouthful.

“Well?”

You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, a smile on his face at the desperation you showed for his answer, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. This may actually be the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“Yes!” Your hands went up in the air, cheering excitedly and he laughed at your reaction, holding his hand up when you forced him to, palms slamming together in a high-five. He was tucking in again, and you reached for your plate, excited for the meal you had made, Taking a large piece on the tip of your fork, you tucked in.

The sound of Stiles’ shower was running in the background, and he was singing loudly, a song that you were certain was a TV show intro but you’d never seen the show, and there was a chance it was something from Disney Channel. Picking up the pieces of paper again, you turned Noah’s around to face you.

You’d had an expectation, you knew what you thought he was going to write down, and yet you were somehow surprised and entirely not surprised at the same time. It was what you expected but with a twist. He had confidence in what he’d written about himself he was sure of it, and while there were definitely elements that you’d disagree with, there was a lot of truth to it, and you frowned, reading it again.

Noah was watching you do so, the scrape of forks over plates as the lull in chatter came back, and you place the two pieces of paper into the front of your notebook, making sure that it was all sealed tightly away. “Is it alright?”

“It’s just not what I expected from you. But, it’s perfect.”

“That feels like a backhanded compliment.” He smiled softly, but he looked nervous, and you shook your head.

“Not at all, it just means that you have a better grasp on this whole thing than I thought you did.” It was the truth, and while you didn’t want to reveal so much to him about it all without compromising your work, but it made sense. “It just feels like with the way today went, like you weren’t really so interested in it, so I didn’t expect such an accurate self-diagnosis from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed, pushing what was left of his food around the plate, and you copied him, appetite dwindling. “It’s just that when you’re here, in my apartment, and you’re asking questions about what changed and making me confront everything, it feels like real therapy. You said it was going to be casual, and this didn’t feel casual.”

“I get it. I really do, and it’s okay. I can just email you the questions you didn’t answer, and you can get around to them whenever you feel up to it, alright?” He nodded, shaking off the evening’s stress. He continued to eat, polishing off the meal that was laid out before him and settling his hands over his stomach once he was finished. There was a satisfied smile on his face, and your empty plate was soon stacking on top of his own. Leaning forwards a little, you caught Noah’s eye, and one of his brows arched up. “I can try to make it more informal, in the future.”

“That would be great, actually.”

You smiled, the consolidation made between the two of you, and your ears picked up on another sound. “Hold on, is Stiles blow-drying his hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, head turning to the closed bathroom door where his brother resided. “He thinks it makes his hair fluffy.”

“He gels his hair, though! Why does it matter if it’s fluffy?”

“He’s insane. Don’t you know this, yet?” Noah scoffed, and your giggles carried you back into the rest of the chair as you settled back into it. The evening was still waiting to come in fully. Comfortable quiet fell between you both again, and Noah moved away to take the plates to the kitchen. He left them in the sink, water running to wash them up, before storing Stiles’ lasagne in the fridge.

The aforementioned boy moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, skidding on the floors a little and clutching the towel to his waist as he hurried, making himself late with the extra-long shower and the blowdrying of his hair. Noah was washing up the plates, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, and you took that as your cue. The night was over, that much was clear, and you’d be willing to bet that he was more than eager to get back to his alone time.

Taking your bag and double-checking that you had everything, you swung it up onto your shoulder, and made your way toward the door. Hearing the shuffling of your feet, Noah turned, drying his hands on the towel beside him. “Are you going?”

“Feels like I should. Stiles will be going soon, anyway. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

“I don’t have anything to do, if I’m being honest.” He cringed at his own words, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie and making his way over to you. Undoing the catch on the door, he pulled it open, leaning against it and you linseed in the doorway.

“Since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna’ get a coffee with me?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second, and his fingers tapped anxiously on the wood of the door. “As a study subject, or..?”

“As friends.” You confirmed, his lips a thin line for only a second, before pulling up at the sides in a smile.

“Then, yeah. I’d like that.” He looked down, sweatpants and mismatching socks on his lower half, and there was a tint on his cheeks when he looked up. “Just give me two seconds to go change, alright?”

He darted away before you had a chance to reply leaving you there with the words frozen in your throat. Stiles was clattering around behind his own door, and Noah’s door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the doorway. Your hands tapped against your thighs as you waited, bag swinging on your shoulder, and only a second later, one of the doors was opening.

To your surprise, it was Stiles, flapping the flannel on his body to shake out any creases, and he stood before you. Doing a little twirl from where he stood, he began to button it up down his front, looking somewhat smart. It was a nice black and white one, no rips or tears or stains like most of his other ones, and the black stood out prominently against the white, thick patterns with flecks of grey within it.

“How do I look, then?”

“You look great, Sti. I’ve never seen you wear anything so plain before. There’s no colour.”

“Yeah, well, this is a new flannel. It’s my best one, and the skinny jeans are Noah’s. All my skinny jeans are blue or red, it was this or khakis.” He was nervous, resisting the urge to mess with his freshly-styled hair. “The place we’re going to is kinda fancy, but I don’t feel fancy enough for it. I’m gonna’ do something stupid like drop my glass and smash it or make a joke about something dumb.”

“Haven’t you met his family before?” You teased, and he huffed, searching for his keys, and finding them under the counter where he’d never bothered to pick them up from.

“No, not really. I’ve met his mom because she comes to visit a lot, and of course, his little sister, because she’s a sophomore here. But, he has a lot of family. His extended family are coming to graduation, but this is his older sister and his dad, and his uncle, and I’ve never met them before.” His keys were tucked into his back pocket, and his phone followed, your gaze moving over him.

“You got a blazer, Stiles?”

“Uh, yeah. One that my dad made me promise to bring, I wore it to my senior prom.” He shrugged, hands smoothing over his front. “You think I should wear it?”

“Go get it, show me.” He nodded, moving back to his bedroom, and you were waiting for something with orange and blue stripes to come back out, which wouldn’t surprise you. In fact, you’d always imagined Stiles going to his senior prom in a Beetlejuice suit. Noah emerged from the other side of the hall, hangers scraping over their post in a wardrobe as Stiles searched for them. “Did Stiles go to prom in a Beetlejuice suit?”

Noah paused, rolling the edges of his hoodie up, charcoal grey skinny jeans that were only a few shades lighter than the ones Stiles had stolen from him on his legs, and a pair of his usual scuffled boots. “What?”

He was laughing, loudly, shaking his head to hide his grin. “It’s a legitimate question! I have this mental image of it!”

“Unfortunately, he did not. My dad made us both go in three-piece formal suits. He saved up to have them custom made. Said that every man should have a smart suit.” He shrugged, crouching to start tying the laces on his shoes and Stiles reappeared. Over his shoulders was a dark black suit, crisp collar and pressed edges, and it was a beautiful piece of tailoring.

“You look good, Sti. Very smart, but casual. Like a polished version of your usual self.”

“Yeah? Good enough to meet Derek’s family?” His voice shook, and you wished you could ease him more.

“Totally. You look great.” He thanked you both, and Noah grabbed his wallet from the side, and his house keys, letting them both hang in the front pocket of an oversized hoodie.

“You ready to go?” He offered, hand on the top of the door, and Stiles’ head snapped up again from where he’d been checking his phone, presumably looking for texts from Derek.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re getting coffee!” You beamed, and Noah nodded, stepping a little further out of the door with you.

“Oh, well, have fun. I’ll text you updates about how it goes. I might need bathroom-break pep-talk during the night.” You waved to him as you went, wishing him ‘good luck’, before the two of you were wandering down the halls. Thumbing the button for the elevator, the doors popped open, and you were stepping inside along with Noah.

“So, you wanna’ show off those new small talk skills to me, then?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of something.” He hummed under his breath, glancing up to the top of the elevator and looking around at the posters on the walls for inspiration, and he seemed to find one. Turning his attention quickly back to you, you prepared for what he’d found. “Have you listened to any of the student bands? There’s been a lot of them growing, lately.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually.” There were several posters up around the inside of the elevator, different coloured flyers, some on shiny paper and some on smooth matte, varying fonts and designs, it was dizzying. “I haven’t, I’ve never been to see a student band. I should do that before I graduate, though. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a couple.” The door clicked open, the two of you stepping through it. Out into the setting chill of the evening that was threatening to break its way in. He chose the direction you’d be going in, heading toward the coffee shop on the side of campus that had been the first the two of you had met at when beginning the study. “Some of them are good, some of them are kinda’ average. They usually play at the bars on the edges of campus or in the places in the city, the less well-known, kinda’ alternative places. They can be fun.”

“You going out optionally to a night on the town? I’m shocked.”

“Uh, no!” He protested, grinning at you. “I’ve never been for a ‘night on the town’, and I never will. However, going to one of the few small bars around here that aren’t practically a nightclub, to listen to covers of good songs and get a pint without worrying about anyone bothering me or mistaking me for my brother, that’s nice.”

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll go to one sometime.”

“You should, I think you’d have fun.” The two of you weaved between other students, the small talk keeping up between you both as he did his best, and while it was sometimes a little stuttered and stalled, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. It wasn’t until the two of you had entered the coffee shop that he fell into tight silence again. The crowds, the rush of chatter from other groups gathered around the tables, and the friendly greetings of baristas whose chit-chat diverted to him due to his allegiance with you.

“What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Uh, just a black coffee.” He choked out, eyes flicking over all the boards, so many options up there, and you chuckled.

“Really, just a black coffee?”

“I’ve never really experimented. I just ordered whatever was the quickest and the easiest.” He confessed, already glancing back over his shoulder at the queue that was forming behind you both. “What would you recommend?”

“Hm, well, do you have a sweet tooth?” He only nodded, scratching around his cuticles on one hand and staring down at the flesh growing red, and you took his hand. Lowering it back down to his side, the hand formed a fist, flexed nervously, and you let it go, squeezing comfortingly first. Turning to the barista, she was still waiting patiently, and your eyes moved over the boards overhead. “Two mint and dark chocolate hot cocoas.”

“That sounds really good, actually.” He leaned down, mumbling the words into your ear to make sure you heard the quiet tone over the talk in the small coffee house.

“And, two croissants, too.” She rang it up on the machine, and you leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any of the warm and fresh ones straight from the oven?”

“We made a fresh batch about twenty minutes ago, they’re cooling. I’ll get them from the back for you.” She finished it with a wink, passing the card machine over to you once you’d produced your card from your wallet. Swiping it across the reader, you moved to the end of the line, and she moved away to begin preparing your order as someone else took over at the counter.

She was working, creating two beautifully constructed hot chocolates for you both. Placing them down on the counter before you, once they were garnished with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, she disappeared into the back room. Taking one of the ceramic plates with her, you were happy to see her bypass the glass cabinet with the older ones in, and only a moment later, she was coming back. Two fresh croissants on a plate, still warm and soft to the touch, and she handed those over as well.

Noah had been scouting for a place to sit, choosing which was the best one, and he carried both of the drinks while you carried the pastries, guiding you to the seat he’d chosen. It was tucked away in the back, a small loveseat sofa with a low sitting coffee table in front of it, and as soon as the paper cups were down on the surface of the table, he was dropping down into the seat.

“It feels like rush hour on the highway, but with coffee.” He mumbled, and you settled onto the couch beside him passing him his drink over, and he stared at it curiously. “What about the whipped cream. Do I eat that first? Scrape it off? Mix it in?”

“Any of the above.” You grinned, taking a wooden stirrer from the condiments tray in the middle and beginning to stir the cream into your hot chocolate. He placed it down, copying your actions, stirring slowly and trying not to spill any over the edges, but it was an impossible feat to achieve. Sticky droplets left over the edges of your cups and his, creating rings on the table that you had to mop up with tissues. “Okay, try it. This is one of my favourite orders here. It’s bitter because of the dark chocolate, but also sweet. Reminds me of you.”

“Now, that one is a backhanded compliment.” He muttered, taking a sip of the drink, and your lips rubbed together.

“Not everything is a backhanded statement, you know. I didn’t intend for it to be mean, it’s just the truth. You’re all dark and moody, but I can already tell you’re sweet on the inside.” You sipped your drink to finish your statement, and he filled the time where he didn’t know what else to say by pulling a chunk off of his croissant. Chewing on it idly, he settled back into the cushions, and you lifted your legs up to fold underneath yourself as you turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me a lot of questions today.”

“You didn’t answer many, though. You kinda’ have to give me this one.” He scowled falsely, but nodded, licking a flake of pastry from his lower lip. “Not that I think you need it, because personally, I think you’re just fine, but why are you so scared about therapy? The idea of it, anything to do with it, it makes you so closed off. Even more than usual.”

His eyes moved over the room, nervously, before scanning both you and the table, and you put your drink down, holding open palms up to him.

“No recorder, no study. I’m just curious.”

“Okay.” He sighed shakily, and slumped back. “Well, after my mom died, my dad made me and Stiles have therapy when we started acting out. We had a therapist who came to the house, and she was great, don’t get me wrong, but I hated it. I didn’t want her to tell me how to grieve or mourn, and I didn’t want her to tell me how to move on. Stiles needed all the advice he could get, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it my own way. Now, the idea of therapy, brings back all those feelings of sadness and pressure and stress.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You reached out, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and his gaze fell to the contact. “Genuine sympathy and sorrow, not just that thing girls do that you hate.”

“Stop hanging things I’ve said over me, I don’t remember half of them. I blackout in social situations.” He grinned, moving past the moment, and you withdrew your touch.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I understand the nervousness of being in a study.”

“Yeah?” He picked up the rest of his croissant, a large chunk of it being eaten, as he waited for you.

“Yeah. When I moved here, I was so nervous. I was beginning to take my course and I didn’t really have any friends, and there was a senior who needed freshmen for her study.” Noah grinned, settling in for the story and sipping his drink. “She was doing a study about the difference between kids who travelled far from home for college alone as opposed to those who were still close to home, and whether it impacted social clubs, grades, all that. To be fair, it was an awesome study.”

“It sounds like it.”

You smiled, swirling the cup in your hands to gather any loose powder that may have begun to separate and gather at the bottom. “Well, I got drawn into it. She was a senior, and she was nice. I had no friends yet, I was in a flat-share with Allison and Lydia and three other girls who were all too busy getting adjusted to college themselves. So, this senior, she invited me to a party, and then another one, and suddenly people started wanting to be my friend because I was the freshman who hung out with seniors. I figured it would all drop away when her study ended and she didn’t need me anymore, but by then the whole social hierarchy had done its thing, and there I was.”

You shrugged, and Noah was hiding a shit-eating grin behind his mug. “So, you were just a little freshman lab rat, then?”

You scoffed, your laughter mixing with his, and the two of you were left in subtle amusement. His laughter was cut short, though, brought a rapid halt when a set of legs bumped against your table on the other side, followed by two more behind them.

“Hey, girl!” One of the girls on the cheer team, a lacrosse player behind her and a girl who you recognised from your psychology class texting on her phone. “Saw you over here, wanted to know what your plans for the evening were. We’re going to do some karaoke and get some food, you wanna’ come?”

Your eyes moved to Noah, whose attention was fixed on the floor again, as though the splintering wood was of utmost interest. “Maybe another time. I think we’re good here for now.”

“Oh, you sure? I think it could be super fun, you should both come.” The invitation was now extended to you both, and you shook your head at her despite it.

“Seriously, you should go, if you want to,” Noah whispered, and when you turned back to him now, he’d dared to look up, chewing on a lower lip that would go raw, but he met your gaze.

“No, I’m sure. I’m having fun here.” You held his gaze for a second longer, before turning to her, and confirming your denial, and she smiled, promising to make plans with you soon, before she was walking away. Noah was fidgeting beside you, shuffling in his seat, and you could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. “I’m serious, Noah. I’m having fun, and I’m perfectly happy here with you, right now.”

He was trying not to grin, a smile that was being bitten back on the inside of his cheek. “Well, for the record, I’m having fun too.”

“What was that?” You cupped your ear, challenging him to repeat it, even though you had heard it perfectly, and by the look on his face, he knew the game you were playing.

“I said I’m having fun. I won’t deny it.”

“Two victories in one day, for this gal. I’m breaking down all your walls, Noah Stilinski.” You poked at his cheek, and he swatted your hand away, taking a bite from your croissant as punishment, and you tried to snatch it back from him.

“Two victories, one loss. You’re not getting this croissant back, now.”

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ohmygoodnessgraciouss · 3 years

Text

Reality Check - Chapter 6

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023. The two bonded over the loss of their partners. It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend. Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Notes: Thank you all for your love and support!! I love you guys so much and your feedback makes me smile. It’s hard to reply to everyone but I’m keeping tabs on the taglist as much as possible. I’ve noticed a few usernames are not being tagged on this post, so I’ll be sure to contact them. Tumblr decided not to tag them I guess lol!

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter. I changed things a little bit. We’re going a little off course of what I had before, hence the reason why this is late. The chapter I had written at first is only being stocked away for the next chapter, which means it’ll be out sooner than this one did. I promise!

Happy Falcon and the Winter Soldier day, everyone!

“Well Wanda, I gotta skitty before Loki starts wondering where I’m at,” You chuckled nervously. Watching her fix the wall was incredible. It was unlike anything you’ve seen before. So unusual yet so familiar.

Wanda smiled lightly at you. “Alright, I understand. But please feel free to come by anytime. Whatever you need,” She said. You smiled back at the woman.

“Of course! Maybe I’ll swing by in a couple of days to see the boys!” You waved goodbye to her and opened the door.

You took your leave, closing the front door behind you. Vision turned to see you come outside moments later, a confused look on his face. “Vision? What’s wrong, buddy? You look paler than a ghost.”

Vision turned to look back at the fence, where Herb and Agnes once stood. The two had left a while ago, but he seemed frozen in place. “It’s nothing,” He smiled.

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking back at the fence that he seemed to stare at before he looked at you. It was cut nearly in half. From what, you couldn’t tell.

“Absolutely. I suppose I’m just rather nervous about becoming a father. It feels like it happened so quickly.”

“Well, I’m sure it did, Vision. You’ll be fine though. You’re a good man and remember, Wanda’s going to be there too. Like I said before, it’s not like you’re doing it alone. You’ve got this whole town.”

“That’s true. This town seems to be quite... Supportive.”

“Sometimes too supportive. It feels like everyone’s connected sometimes!” You two shared a nervous laugh.

“Oh yes, everyone here is quite connected. Sometimes it is almost concerning. This town is nothing like I have ever seen before. I feel as though you can’t keep any secrets around here.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, trying to figure out what’s going on. The blade was pressing against his skin, close to piercing it. His eyes scanned the man’s face, unable to determine who he was.

“I won’t ask again.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Loki replied, now glaring at the man.

Scott revealed himself to Loki, green magic engulfing his form. He wore the same suit as he did before, but his hair was longer now, reaching down to brush his shoulders slightly. His green eyes were sharper now, and his face was far more defined. Loki watched as the man morphed into a mirror image of himself. “Do I look familiar now?” He spat out, annoyed by the impostor.

“Quite,” He said stiffly. Loki pushed him back while “Scott” wasn’t paying that much attention. He walked to the other side of the room, giving the two of them space between one another. “I am Loki. But who are you?”

“That’s impossible,” Scott said. “This reality’s version of me was supposed to die in 2018.”

“2018?” Loki questioned. “The year 2018?”

“Yes, the year 2018,” Scott rolled his eyes. “What other year would I mean?”

“What year is it now then?”

“2023. You’ve been dead for 5 years and yet you’re here. The T.V.A didn’t tell me about this. Of course they wouldn’t.”

“The T.V.A?”

Scott ignored his question. “Now I’m stuck in the Scarlet Witch’s fake reality with another version of me. But they told me he died. Is it possible?” He was thinking aloud, causing Loki to grow even more confused.

“What are you talking about?”

Scott shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I have a mission to carry out if I want to get out of there. Plans have changed.”

Ten minutes later you found yourself walking to Ellis Avenue. It was close to the edge of town, and very few people lived there anymore. The sun may have been shining and birds may have been chirping, but you felt like the air was icy as you got closer to the border. The sign “Leaving Westview: We hope to see you again soon!” looked old and rundown, as if no one had touched it in decades. An image of a family playing in the park was shown next to the lettering. Perhaps once upon a time it was a cute sign. Now it seemed ominous.

A sense of dread and misery started to seep in as you continued walking closer to the end of the road. It was like you couldn’t control your own thoughts anymore. Or perhaps, it was the other way around. For the first time this week you felt like you were gaining control again.

Making your way to the border, you noticed that there was not a single person in sight. The road continued on, making its way through the forest that was only a mile away. The trees swayed with the wind soundlessly. A part of you almost seemed to beg to leave the town.

So you kept on walking.

It felt like some sort of energy was trying desperately to pull you away from it. You couldn’t understand what pulled you to this town, what kept trying to pull you back into it. You hardly remember anything before Westview. What was on the outside?

You were abruptly stopped by a barrier. It was glowing red, much like the other objects you saw a few days ago. The vibrant color seemed to pulse and move as you walked closer. It was an electrifying feeling, being this close to the magic that kept everyone trapped inside. Some part of you begged, screamed for you to stay back. The other part of you asked for the exact opposite.

You touched the barrier, a shock running up your arm when you did. You almost pulled back instantly, but something protected you from it. You stared in amazement as blue shockwaves seemed to surround your hand. They disappeared, fading off into the red barrier.

You turned around, looking to see if anyone was nearby. No one seemed to be in sight, but you felt like you were being watched. You turned back to the barrier, pushing your hand further in. It hurt, but something egged you on, daring you to cross it.

You took a step in, watching the red engulf your entire body. You couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even see anything that was going on. You had two options: Go back into the town that you’re trapped in or see what’s on the outside.

It seemed to last forever, but it was probably because you could hardly move while you were in it. It felt as if you were frozen solid. Whatever it was didn’t want you to get out. Memories were starting to seep in though. Memories of the distant past, and memories of what had happened only two weeks ago.

You gained feeling back in your hand again. You had to be close to the end if you could feel it. In just a split second you were thrown out of the barrier. You collapsed onto the grass, taking a deep breath. It felt like someone splashed cold water on you.

Lights began to blind you as you heard voices all around you. “Put her in custody, and someone get a doctor!” You heard one say. It was distinct, clear, loud. Whoever it was sounded like the leader.

You felt several people pull you up from the ground, placing you on a softer surface. A gurney, probably. You blinked several times, squinting to see where you were. Someone familiar stood next to you. It was Geraldine. Was that her name?

At that point it didn’t matter. Your head was in too much pain from everything else that was going on to care.

“You’ll be okay, Y/N. We’re going to get you checked out,” The woman reassured you. She smiled slightly and you tried to smile back at her.

You started to doze off, choosing to sleep and recover from the traumatic experience you just had. For the first time in a long time you were able to dream. These dreams weren’t normal though.

They were memories.

Memories of everything before Westview.

Scott watched Loki’s body slowly disappear. Clearly, he was just an illusion. Something set up by the Scarlet Witch to keep Y/N in control. He contacted the TVA on his communicator, sending them a message as he watched the body dissolve.

He was told that this reality was created by the Scarlet Witch and that he had to get the timeline back on track. They never told him about Y/N being involved. They didn’t even tell him that an illusion of himself would be in it too.

The plan would have to change if he wanted to make sure this worked. They didn’t even give him an idea of how to set the timeline right. Now that he knows what’s going on, he has an idea.

And now, he’ll make sure he gets out of here in time.

And he’ll be sure to give the Time Variance Authority hell.

Wanda smiled down at Billy, sitting next to Vision who held Tommy. She felt something turn in her chest. Something was wrong. Her eyes widened, and she looked out across the room, zoning out.

Vision noticed that she seemed distracted, trapped in her thoughts. He reached over slightly to touch her hand, bringing her back. She turned to him and smiled.

“Is something wrong, my love?” He asked.

“No, nothing at all. Everything is just fine.” She said, looking down at Billy once more.

She wasn’t going to concern him with the fact that she knew something was wrong.

@emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15 @ilovemollyweasley @bookgirlunicorn @chims-kookies @austynparksandpizza @yikesdameron @littleladdty @three-eyed-snail @kymera-casterwill @justsomerandompersonintheworld @followthepastelcloud @11mb0 @carolinesbookworld @from-hel-i-with-love @grimalkynslee @boywivlove @prettysbliss @youreobsessedwithmarvel @th3gl1tt3gram3roff1c1al @luthien-t @lokilove3000 @treblebeth @weclassygirl @justfangirlingaround @drpepperobsessed @how-does-this-work @prideofnewberk @matterdontminduntildone

#loki x reader #loki odinson #laufeyson #thor #westview #WandaVision #WandaVision spoilers #Reality Check Masterlist #Fanfic #Fanfiction #fluff #wanda maximoff #vision #avengers #marvel

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 23)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Peter Quill x Reader Word Count: 3787 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Sorry for the delay but it’s here now, I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 22 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

It was hard to come to the realization that Bucky did want a relationship but you didn’t cut it. The weekend at the wedding was a test and you failed. You may have gotten high scores but obviously there was something about Claire that made her better than you. You’ve known Bucky for almost a year but in one date she was able to capture his heart in a way you never could.

The truth sits in your stomach like a rock, feeling the pain each time you move. It’s a boulder tied to your leg and you’re drowning but Peter cuts the rope, with soft gazes and a tender touch, sweet words and sweet sounds he pulls from you as you’re tangled together in bed.

You let go, let yourself be pulled into a bright world where Peter is waiting, because he actually wants you. There is no test. No competition with the exception of Groot. Even Rocket warmed up to you, the temperamental animal preferring to cuddle up in your lap over Peter’s. There was light now that the sea was no longer about to swallow you whole.

The group chat would still go off with messages about plans but you chose not to attend, taking the time to be alone with Peter or hang out with his friends. Drax was a fellow firefighter, a burly man, bald as an egg and covered in tattoos. Thor was a firefighter too, tall with cropped blond hair and biceps bigger than your head and then there was Gamora, the first friend Peter made when he moved to the city. And by friend you think he meant girlfriend though they have more of a platonic relationship now. She was effortlessly beautiful with rich brown eyes and hair, with the ends dyed a bright magenta that complimented the warmth of her skin.

It was nice to hang out with different people and it opened you up to seeing a new side of Peter when he was with his friends. Sometimes he was the Peter you knew, lighthearted and playful, teasing Drax for being too serious to understand a joke, other times Drax would make fun of him; a booming cackle coming from deep in his belly as he laughed at Peter’s expense. Most of the time Gamora would roll her eyes, calling them both idiots.

Thor did his fair share of teasing too although much less now that he was transferred to a new station. It’s probably for the best considering how often he and Peter seem to be in competition with each other though it’s all friendly underneath and you could tell how close everybody was.

They acted like a family and quickly accepted you as a part of theirs but your heart ached behind your smile, missing your own family. Steve who was like a brother to you, Wanda your sister, Peggy the mom of the group who was always there to care and comfort you if you were hurt, and Natasha the other mom that struck fear into the hearts of anyone who would dare hurt her family. Sam and Clint were the troublemakers and then there was Bucky.

You couldn’t think of how to describe him when you didn’t know what was real anymore. The Bucky that exists today is not the person you first knew; the man that was passionate about his music but apologized the moment he realized he was inconveniencing you. He didn’t have to do that. He could have been your asshole neighbor but instead he became a friend.

Peter takes your hand, jolting you from your thoughts as he pulls you off the couch to dance to “Come and Get Your Love.” It’s a fun distraction and you allow yourself to enjoy being swept up by it and surrounded by Peter’s affection.

Groot became accustomed to seeing you in Peter’s apartment, giving you a big greeting as you came over for dinner after a long day of work. Peter was able to steal a kiss before the big dog demanded more of your attention.

“Babe, can I use your laptop?” you asked, kneeling down to rub Groot’s stomach, hitting the spot that made his leg twitch.

Peter stepped away from the stove, wiping his hands quickly on a towel before getting his laptop from the bedroom. With Groot satisfied by his tummy rubs you were free to say hi to Rocket though he was sleeping.

“Here you go,” Peter said, handing you the laptop and leaning in for a better greeting. His tongue slipped past your lips as he deepened the kiss, pulling away when the hiss of boiling water splashed against the flames.

You set the laptop down on his table, bouncing your leg as you opened the cover and waited for it to load. Commencement was next month and you hadn’t applied for graduation yet. An email reminder you got earlier today sent you into a panic as the deadline was coming up.

It was not like you to forget something as important as this. Sure, there’s been a lot going on in the last month but there is no excuse to have let this slip your mind. You’re eager to take care of it right away, ready to log on to your school’s website but the last page Peter browsed was still up and it made your jaw drop.

“Oh my god Peter!” You flipped the laptop around to face him as he craned his head back. “What is this?” you asked, bursting with laughter.

Peter bloomed red like a rose, eyes going wide as he laughed, “Oh shit, sorry!”

The Sex Files, a threesome with an Agent Mulder-esque man having sex with two alien women, a busty brunette painted dragon fruit pink and the other a slim redhead with Wicked Witch green skin.

“Aliens, really?” You raised a brow questioning him with a smirk.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, slightly embarrassed. “It was on the main page. I gave it a chance,” he shrugged, chuckling.

You shook your head laughing, opening up a new tab so you could finally submit your graduation application. As Peter finished preparing dinner you ordered your cap and gown, smiling a little wider when you saw the citron hood, a symbol of all the hard work you’ve put in towards your Master’s degree.

Over dinner you teased Peter a little more about his video. “It’s fine if you’re into that but you won’t catch me painting my skin. Do you know how messy that would be?”

“You might as well. If I had a black light, I bet this place would already look like a Jackson Pollock painting.”

Groot lifted his head at your loud burst of laughter, playfully shoving Peter’s arm. You wouldn’t be lying if you said his joke was still on your mind later that night, lying together in his bed after having just added to the invisible art.

Hot sticky skin against each other’s, the sheets lightly draped over you as the mugginess of the air settled in the room. Your eyes closed languidly, watching the rise and fall of Peter’s chest as you drifted to sleep.

The sun blazes on the street of a sweltering Sunday morning as you walk towards your destination, wiping the sweat from your brow as you huff down into the seat beside Natasha and Wanda whose hair were nearly identical now though Wanda’s had a more fiery copper tone. A tiny smile pulls at your lips when you see mimosa flutes already on the table; now it was officially time for brunch.

You apologize for not seeing them as much lately and thankfully they understood. Wanda was practically inseparable from Sam when they first started dating so she definitely didn’t blame you, although she still thought you were making a mistake.

Bucky was in the back of your mind though you did your best to ignore the fact that you were at the same place you met Wanda almost a full year ago to complain about your new neighbor. So many things have changed but obviously it’s for the better.

“So…” Natasha said with an enticing tone in her voice. She wiped crumbs off of her lips, a faded cherry red from the lipstick that still clung to them. “I have big news.”

“You’ve set a date!” “You’re pregnant!” You and Wanda spoke at the same time, waiting with anticipation to see who was right.

“No,” Natasha laughed. “I made partner!”

“Congratulations, that’s amazing!” you said, leaning over to hug her.

Wanda followed suit and as you sat back down you kept your lips pressed tightly together, eyes widening as Natasha raised a brow to question Wanda about her guess. She sunk back into her seat, clenching her teeth with embarrassment but Natasha was only kidding (or maybe she wasn’t, sometimes you couldn’t tell.)

“Clint and I are going to throw a party once it’s official, nothing big. Y/N is it okay if I invite Bucky?”

Natasha’s turned towards you, holding your gaze with compassion overflowing in the depths of her eyes. She knew what happened between you and Bucky. Whether someone told her or she put it together herself, the latter most likely, it didn’t matter. She knew. She knew and she wasn’t looking to force a resolution but to make sure that you as her friend would be comfortable being around Bucky. You assumed she realized you weren’t only spending time with Peter because of your new relationship but still Natasha didn’t question your actions. She waited patiently, a soft smile on her pillowy lips until you gave an answer.

“Of course Tash, you can invite Bucky.” Wanda started to look as green as her avocado toast as she gave you a worried stare. “I promise, I don’t have a problem with him.”

No one questioned your answer despite the opinions they held back silently and the rest of brunch was spent playing catch up since Steve’s birthday. You hadn’t really missed much, Clint was sleeping until noon most days, Steve was still growing in his beard, Bucky was… still with Claire. Yeah. You figured. You may have checked her Instagram again, seeing a picture of two coffee orders tagged at The Grind House.

After leaving the girls you went home with a seed of anxiety planted in your stomach, knowing it will grow larger every day until Natasha’s party where you would have to see Bucky and Claire again. You wanted to get this over with, rip the band aid off and see them but sometimes life liked to mess with you. Natasha’s party wouldn’t be until the following weekend because this weekend she and Clint were going to Vermont so he could participate in an amateur archery tournament.

You try your best not to focus on the countdown until the party despite the sequoia sized tree of anxiety, each limb a different scenario playing out in your mind of all the terrible things that could happen. It didn’t help that this was your last week at Metro-General as the semester was over. While you were thrilled to have finally finished your hours leaving Elena made you emotional.

This was the end of a long journey, a ride you never expected to be on for so long but now it was over; this is the end of the line and part of you doesn’t want to get off the train. Your legs are atrophied from being in the same spot, Stark Industries, Metro-General, soon it would be time to walk away from both but you’re not sure you remember how. The real world is scary and your doubts and fears are starting to take over.

On the Monday before the party there’s a knock on your door and all you can do is smile. You’ve expressed to Peter just how anxious you are about actually achieving your dream. He comforted you, reminding you there was nothing to worry about and to cheer up. Peter always knew how to bring out your smile and you suspect he’s orchestrated another flower delivery for you. A pre-graduation congratulations of sorts, something to lift your spirits and get your mind back on track to where it needs to be.

You open the door without looking, expecting to see a grand bouquet, or even courier holding balloons but instead there was Bucky. You felt the tree twist within your body, growing to an enormous scale. Your eyes catch sight of an item in his hand, a hanger wrapped in plastic and beneath it the dress you wore to the wedding.

“Hey nei– ” He cleared his throat, speaking your name instead after watching the way your whole body dropped at the sight of him, from the smile that faded to the slouch of your shoulders. “I needed to get my suit dry cleaned and I forgot about this. I got it dry cleaned too so, uh… don’t worry about it.”

He rambled a bit, nervous, handing the dress to you.

“Thanks.” You said, biting back the nauseous feeling that crept its way up your throat.

“Going to Nat’s party?” he asked, hoping small talk would open the door to a real conversation.

Yes, I was friends with them first. “Yeah.” The curtness stayed in your mind only though your short answer wasn’t any friendlier.

Bucky nodded his head, “Kay… cool,” he said, with an uneasy tone that tried to pass itself off as calm. “See ya there.”

You smiled with tension, shutting your door. Tears were burning in your eyes, falling down your cheek as you jolted at the sound of his door slamming beside yours. Your dress was tossed to the side as you ran into the bathroom, running the water in the shower to mask the sound of your body heaving over the toilet. Bile burned up your throat, hot tears streaked down your cheeks and your heart felt like it was being torn apart by wolves.

Avoiding Bucky didn’t help you get over him, and seeing him now, clutching your dress… a painful reminder of the weekend you spent together made it all worse. You wanted to call Wanda, to cry in her arms again, or Steve or even Val, to get drunk with and forget this ever happened. But you couldn’t call anyone. You couldn’t do anything but sink onto the cool tile floor of the bathroom, wishing you never met Bucky, sorry that he ever moved next door in the first place. You cried until there was nothing left to give.

Now that you were done with your internship you were back at Stark Industries full time, devoting your days to The September Foundation, and helping coordinate a guest list for the opening gala. It was a lot of work that kept your mind very occupied so when it was time for Natasha’s party you were feeling better.

Better but not great.

Every time you glanced over at Claire’s arm looping through Bucky’s you felt weak and gripped Peter with a tighter hold. Each time he would lean down to kiss your temple, to hug you, hold you, show affection in any way while being ignorant of the real meaning behind your touch.

Claire waved her hand in front of Bucky’s eyes, having apparently been calling out to him though he didn’t hear it. He was caught up in his thoughts, lost in a tunnel that plunged him further into darkness every time Peter caressed your sweet skin.

He apologized, snapping himself back, taking note of the concern held in Claire’s eyes. He forced his muscles to fake a smile but it was useless, just as he tried to force the emotion that was absent in their kiss. Does Claire feel it too? It’s been that way for a while, empty actions, going through the motions so Bucky can continue to convince himself that something is there but he can’t do it anymore.

The next day he breaks up with Claire and it isn’t a surprise. They part on amicable terms and while Bucky should feel better he doesn’t. You’re still with Peter, and it was his stupidity that sent you straight into his arms.

Claire was supposed to be something special, that relationship he had been longing for but instead she was just a distraction, a voice to occupy his mind, a warm body to keep him company, but none of it worked. Her voice was nails on a chalkboard compared to yours, her body a pair of dice thrown across a half empty puzzle; it wasn’t a match, she wasn’t you.

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to avoid you, staying quiet in his apartment, taking the stairs so he didn’t have to chance meeting you in the elevator. He can’t handle it. He walks quickly past your door, his heart wrenching every time he’s forced to think of you, remembering what he lost.

Emptiness creeps in like a fog, loneliness settles in the empty cavern of his heart, without you life has lost its rhythm.

It’s late in the day when you receive an email from your school that sends you reeling. You couldn’t graduate. You thought it was a mistake, it had to be! There was no way this was correct.

Shaking fingers dialed the school as shaky hands stumbled across the keyboard, logging into your records and double checking that every class you’ve taken over the years is complete with a grade, and then you saw it. Your internship. INCOMPLETE.

Upon the school’s review you didn’t have enough hours, which is impossible because you have been busting your ass since the Fall semester to do this. You planned it, calculated every day, every hour and yet somehow you were wrong.

Your voice cracked as you begged for a resolution, bawling to the person over the phone that you’re thankful can’t see the way tears and snot are streaming down your face, sorry for the fact that they have to hear the way you loudly blow your nose into the phone.

By the end of the conversation you have a plan but it isn’t one that you like. You can walk for commencement next week but you would have to make up the hours and won’t receive your diploma until December.

You cleaned your face, barely, hoping to avoid everyone as you made your way down to Steve’s desk. You broke the moment you saw him, trying to keep your composure as best as you could until he was ready to leave.

Steve was devastated for you as was Wanda when you spoke to her that night. Natasha was already looking into your school’s policies to see if there was any legal recourse. “We can prove negligence on their behalf by failing to communicate in a timely manner to you the student that you did not meet the necessary requirements for graduation, therefore breaching their contractual obligation to provide adequate course guidance in accordance with…”

She went on with more legal jargon before you stopped her. “No, Nat this is my fault. It was my responsibility to calculate my hours. Would it have been nice to have an accurate figure to go off of? Sure, but I was the one who should have double checked. If I went in for an audit I would have known exactly how many hours I needed to get complete before the deadline.”

Natasha let out a sigh of frustration, wishing there was something more she could have done. Instead she let you lean against her, curled up on her couch as Clint prepared a giant bowl of ice cream topped with whipped cream, M&Ms and chocolate syrup.

“Thanks guys, I really appreciate this,” you sniffled, wiping a stray tear away.

It was nice to have your friends around for the night considering Peter was working. You could have texted him about this but chose not to. His shifts are long and stressful as it is and you didn’t want to add to whatever might already be on his mind.

But the next day you went to his apartment after work, somberly dragging yourself in through the door. Groot was able to put a smile on your face, and Rocket too, sticking his little hand out to try and unlock his cage upon hearing your voice but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears.

You took Peter by surprise as you wrapped your arms around him, soaking through his shirt as you cried. He held you close, stroking your hair gently as he whispered, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”

Peter walked you to the couch, his thumb softly wiping away tears, squeezing your hand in his as he waited for you to let him know what was going on. And when you did he let out a sigh of relief. “You scared me so much. I thought something bad happened.”

You were taken aback by his reaction, confused for a moment because maybe in your tear riddled conversation the truth about what happened got lost.

“Peter, I can’t graduate. I have to wait until December.”

“Right but you’re going to graduate. You can still go to commencement and all you have to do is make up the hours right? Did you talk to Elena?”

Of course you spoke to Elena, she was sorry to hear about what happened and is going to work something out with you but that wasn’t the point.

“Peter, I don’t think you understand what this means to me. One of my best friends died from a situation that could have been prevented if a social worker was involved. Ever since then my only goal in life was to become a social worker, to never let something like that happen again. And now I have to wait four months to graduate, four months before I can apply for jobs and go on interviews.”

“It’s just four months.”

Whatever Peter said after you didn’t hear. Everything was white noise as four simple words destroyed your soul. How could he not understand? It doesn’t matter that you will be able to make up your hours (which you will), it doesn’t matter that you are allowed to walk for commencement next week (which you won’t because it isn’t real). What mattered was that after all this time, all of your hard work, the sacrifices you’ve made, working full time while you were in school, exhausting yourself to the bone with your internship, that none of it was enough and you still have to wait. It isn’t just four months, it's a painful setback for your dreams.

Peter doesn’t get it.

Bucky got it...

PART 24

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #peter quill x reader

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

Into My Body, You Just Fold

Floyd Talbert x Reader

Warnings: FLUFF, optional!smut (poorly written dirty talk, lite name calling/degradation), OOC Tabbykins, mutual pining, drunken love confessions, Reader has an unfaithful husband (but OMC isn’t the worst), period-typical restrictions of women’s rights, not vv good writing tbh, and no-no words (per usual)

As terrible a person it made you to admit as much- you didn’t think you could imagine life without Floyd Talbert.

You’d promised yourself at a young age that you’d never be one of those women who needed a man to complete them, far too disenchanted by the sight of your friends losing their fire and spark upon marrying their husbands. Your father had raised you with the same permissive encouragement as he had your brothers, something that horrified your mother so much that she eventually stopped inviting you to her happy home with her new husband altogether.

Now that you were older you realized that marrying Frederick had been your desperate attempt to win back your mother’s love and approval, much more than your marriage had been for any sort of actual love towards your husband.

You’d tried, though.

Frederick was funny and charming and could get along with anyone. He was driven and supportive, and he always made sure that you knew how much you meant to him. You should’ve been able to love him easily and completely.

But you didn’t- You couldn’t when, more often than not, he came home smelling of liquor and another woman.

Sometimes several other women.

It became abundantly clear to you that, as much as you meant to him, you clearly weren’t enough to keep him from straying.

Which is why you found your love for someone like Floyd so….unexpected.

Upon first meeting him you’d hated him, obviously. He was just like Fred, no- he was worse than Fred because at least Frederick made some effort to hide his infidelities from the world.

If anything, Tab flaunted his conquests like a badge of honor. It made your skin crawl.

Not that your dislike for him did anything to deter him, of course.

On the contrary, he seemed to take it as a challenge.

It also didn’t seem to matter much that you were married. The ring you wore on the same chain as your dog tags seemed to deter any other potential suitors- and if for some reason that didn’t dissuade any overly-confident troopers, your marksmanship and reputation nipped any nonsense in the bud.

Not Floyd Talbert, though.

It didn’t matter where you two were- Tab made it his personal mission to win you over. He flirted with you on the boat ride to England, in the plane as it soared towards Normandy, in the middle of a gunfight on the way to Eindhoven. Hell, he’d even tried to charm you while recovering from a stab to his gut.

The boy was shameless.

If you had to narrow it down on a timeline, things had become more sincere and less childish in Eindhoven- when you’d gotten mobbed by a group of drunk and curious men who’d wanted to see more of the lone woman sniper of the 506th.

Floyd had appeared from nowhere and helped you wrestle your gun away from one of the idiots who’d attempted to divest you of it. He’d wasted no time in taking his own helmet from his head and placing it onto your own upon realizing that yours had been taken, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and guiding you from the throngs of people while you shook from leftover adrenaline.

He’d kissed you that day after he had been unable to get you to refocus on him and stop you from hyperventilating.

You’d stood stock still for a few seconds, mind scrambling to process the gentle feeling of his lips on yours as well as the fact that you were no longer tossing in the sea of people you’d been lost in moments ago.

When he’d pulled back, you could only gape at him like an idiot.

“W-why did you—?”

Floyd’s rough hands had come up to hold your face, taking a deep breath of his own before replying.

“I, uh…” he had stammered for a moment before shaking his head quickly and clearing his throat. “I was trying to get you to snap out of...just trying to get you back.”

After that, things had progressed pretty quickly.

He’d stopped seeking out any female company other than yours- not that you’d noticed at the time- spending the few nights of freedom he was afforded with you while you would ritually take apart and clean your rifle, talking with you about anything and everything. He had a knack for making you laugh harder than anyone ever had before.

Sometimes you’d talk about serious things, like your families or past loves or the foolish hopes you both had had before the war.

Every so often, he’d ask you about Frederick.

Thinking about Fred made you uncomfortable. Unhappy.

But because Floyd had been so honest with you, you tried to be honest with him as well.

No matter how innocently the questions began, they always ended with Floyd furrowing his brows and saying your name softly enough that you couldn’t help but hesitantly meet his imploring gaze. He’d always ask some variation of the same question:

“Why did you marry him?”

Most nights you didn’t answer. Some nights you were able to deflect the question well enough that eventually you both fell into a different conversation altogether. One night you’d been in a bad mood and snappily asked him an uncomfortable question of your own.

“Why do you have such a hard time keeping it in your pants whenever a pretty girl is around?”

That always shut him up. And, despite the fact that you could feel the upset rolling from Tab in waves, he never left.

That night, you had taken his fist between your hands and uncurled his fingers. You had felt his eyes on you as you purposefully dug your thumbs into his palm to ease the tension you found, eventually turning his hand over so you could carefully trace your fingertips over his war-calloused knuckles.

“That was unkind,” you had whispered, guilt churning your stomach when at the hurt you knew you had caused. His grey-blue eyes were curious as you hesitantly looked up at him, and once you had met his gaze you’d almost lost your train of thought. “I’m sorry, Tab.”

You hadn’t been expecting him to kiss you again, but even as he had you didn’t immediately stop him.

It was only when he had started to pull you closer that you quickly pulled away. Your breathing had become heavy, and while you didn’t let go of his hand you still said his name admonishingly under your breath.

“You shouldn’t do that,” you’d whispered, unable to look at him and electing to look at your feet as you brought your hand up to press your fingertips against your still-tingling lips. “You- you know I’m….you know why I can’t—”

“I know,” Floyd’s voice was low, and despite the fact that you weren’t looking at him you’d been able to see the grimace on his face. “I just….I know. I’m sorry, Y/N”

You’d cleared your throat, pulling your hand away from his and giving him a tight smile.

“No need to apologize. Let’s just forget about it, yeah?”

Without waiting for his response, you’d gone back to the table where you had been working on your gun, desperate for a distraction.

“So, uh, what was it that you were saying about your brother? He’s graduating high school soon?”

Despite Floyd’s willingness to play along, you had been unable to stop thinking about the feeling of his lips on yours. You wondered if this was what happened to Frederick- if this rush of adrenaline after doing something you shouldn’t was what he was chasing each time he went home with someone else.

You’d never known guilt could be so heady. In that moment, you’d started to realize just how dangerous this friendship with Tab could be.

But even then, you’d also had a sinking feeling that you weren’t going to be able to give him up, That you were no better than Frederick.

Taking your oiled rag back into your hands, you’d scrubbed the metal o-ring of your piston and tried not to think too hard about what this revelation said about you.

It had been during a 48-hour pass that he’d asked the question about Fred for the very last time, after you’d each finished a bottle of sweet French wine while sitting on the floor between two beds of the hotel room.

That night, you’d given him a sad smile and gestured half-heartedly with your canteen as you brought it to your lips.

“Because I thought it was what I was supposed to do. Because…. I didn't think I was allowed to say no.”

He’d stared at you sadly, clenching his jaw a few times before clearing his throat and letting his head loll back to rest against the side of the bed.

“Ask me again.”

You’d frowned at him, confused as to what he was asking you to say. Your silence must’ve given away your lack of understanding, because he laughed humorlessly before closing his eyes.

“

Ask me why I can’t keep it in my pants….'round pretty girls….”

“Oh-kay…?” you’d said slowly, leaning back and stretching your legs out in front of you. “Why can’t you keep it in your pants?”

With a bit more effort than it probably should’ve taken, Tab twisted his body so the back of his head was resting in your lap, the strands of his hair ticking the skin of your thighs where your sleep shorts had bunched up.

“Same fuckin’ reasons.”

In the dim light of the hotel room, you’d been the one to kiss him, your lips trembling with heartbreak on his behalf and complex (if not unbidden) emotion. Floyd sat up so you weren’t having to hunch your body over to reach him, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist as he shifted your bodies so neither of you had to strain to reach the other. Despite Floyd being Floyd- he didn’t kiss you greedily, the plush of his mouth soft as it followed your gentle rhythm without any sign of wanting more than you were willing to give.

Once he’d realized that you had begun to cry, Tab broke the kiss carefully, and he had reached a gentle hand up to brush your tears away, a sad smile crossing his face.

“Now, isn’t that a sight?” he’d whispered. “Never had a girl cry for me before. Don’t think I like it much…’specially when that girl’s you.”

He’d allowed you to cry for him, allowed you to cry for yourself and all of the hurt and pain you’d been holding inside of your chest for what felt like decades. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but when you had woken up the next morning you felt his fingers combing through your clean hair as you both lay sprawled out together on the floor. At some point, one or both of you had pulled the bedding from the bed’s mattresses and tangled yourselves in the soft fabric.

“Is it bad that I wish I’d met you first?” Floyd had asked, his voice a warm rumble as you rested your head on his chest.

“Yeah,” you’d admitted, scratching your nails lightly across his shirt-covered stomach. “But I’m much worse for agreeing with you.”

As he turned his body so he was leaning over you, his hand came up to rest on your collarbone while his eyes danced across your face.

“You’re beautiful….too beautiful to be ruined by someone like me, I think.”

You’d frowned, bringing one of your hands up to trace his mouth with your fingertips.

“Oh, Floyd- you can’t ruin what was already spoiled.”

Tab then lowered himself so his nose brushed against yours, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

“Can’t I?”

Even thinking about it now broke your heart.

Now, nearly two years after the war had ended.

Now, living in the house you’d once shared with Frederick.

Now, as you lay in bed and watched Floyd brush his teeth in the bathroom of the home you shared.

Fred had last written to you five months ago, telling you that he was probably going to be in Japan for at least another six months before he could even apply to come back to the states.

Despite the fact that he claimed his senior ranking in the Navy and his responsibilities to oversee prisoner exchanges were the ‘sole reason for his prolonged absence, you knew that it was probably more a case of him not wanting to return to a life of expected monogamy that kept him away.

Not that you minded one bit.

Not when you had Floyd.

You hadn’t expected him to want to stay with you, in the literal sense or in the more metaphorical sense of commitment, yet he’d barely let you finish your offer before he agreed emphatically.

If you were truly being honest with yourself, you hadn’t imagined that he’d even want to stay after you’d slept with him the first time, shortly after returning to the states.

But he had. He had stayed.

You’re ripped from your thoughts when you realize that the sound of Floyd brushing his teeth has stopped, and when you shook yourself from your trance you realized that he had caught you staring at him. Judging by the smug look on his face, he’d finished getting ready for bed a while ago, and when you begin to blush he crosses his arms across his chest and leans against the doorframe.

“You know, ma’am,” he smirks as you clear your throat and pick at your nails embarrassedly. “It’s not wise to stare at a man like that unless you’re willing to face the consequences….”

You snort a laugh despite yourself, furrowing your brows and looking back to him with a dumb grin on your face. “Oh yeah? And what consequences would those be, Sir?”

His eyes darken with a flash, having made it very clear long ago how much he liked it when you called him that. You cannot help but smirk at his clear shift in arousal.

He pinches his bottom lip as he considers you- something that you couldn’t deny made your heart race with dark promise. Wetting your own lips, you lean back onto your elbows and watch him watch you.

Quirking his brow, he tilts his head and pushes himself from the doorframe to stalk to the foot of the bed and brace his arms against the mattress so he’s nearly leering at you.

“Oh Lovely, I think I’m gonna have to show rather than tell.”

~Smut interlude, doodiLEEdedoo~

You shook your head in amusement, a smile breaking across your lips as he crawled his way up your body- his softening hands smoothing your silky nightgown up your thighs and stomach as he did so. A low, pleased curse rumbled low in his throat at your lack of underwear, smiling against your skin as he ducked down to kiss your hips and soft stomach while completing his journey.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before I convinced you to stop wearing underwear to bed,” he says warmly, encouraging your thighs over his own while he kneels between your legs.

You can’t help but scoff at the wording of his observation.

“Yeah, if that’s what you’re calling ruining all of my expensive undergarments with your impatience, then yes Floyd, you’ve thoroughly convinced me to forgo underwear.”

With an easy familiarity, Tab slips his hands under your nightdress and ghosts his blunt fingernails over the swell of your breasts, smirking at the goosebumps his touch elicits across your bare skin.

You lift your shoulders off of the bed enough to bring the bunched-up nightdress up and over your head before tossing it somewhere on the floor beside you, allowing your eyes to drift shut as he bows his head to kiss at your nipples in near-reverence. His hands map the rest of your body in a cycle that only he can predict, the sound of his skin brushing against yours paired with the warmth of his palms and mouth relaxing you in a way that no hot bath or soft bed ever could.

Floyd groans as you rake your fingers through his hair, allowing you to guide his face up to yours for a slow, imploring kiss before one of his hands slips in between your legs and massages at the lips of your sex.

“Was I taking too long, Sweetheart?” he asks against your lips, his voice growing rough with need. “How long have you been this wet?”

You don’t answer, choosing rather to roll your hips into his touch. Your breath catches in your throat at the first swirl of his middle finger over your clit, something that he does again with a smug hum against your lips.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” he reassures you as he wets his cock with your arousal. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll make it all better.”

Whoever said that slow sex couldn’t also be filthy had clearly never met Floyd Talbert.

By the time he’s flipping you onto your stomach, you’ve been brought to the teetering precipice of release three times- his mouth and fingers and cock working you up while he kissed the sweetest admonishments into your skin. Tab called you needy, cockhungry, and wicked- all while kissing across your skin with such a sweet contrast to his words that it made your head spin.

When he finally, finally pulls your hips up and begins to piston into you, you’re already so delirious for him that you are pleading for him to let you cum- something that only serves to make him grip your hips harder and groan in anticipation.

“Dirty girl,” he grits out as he bends enough that his forehead can rest between your bunched shoulder blades, the line between admonishment and praise blurring headily as you feel that familiar flutter building in your lower belly. “Are you going to come for me? Can feel you shaking for me like a good little whore….”

You barely have to ask for more before he grips your sex possessively with one of his hands, your orgasm tearing through you and stealing your breath as well as your capabilities for speech.

Floyd, whose curse is drowned out by the rush of blood to your ears, follows you quickly over the edge- grinding out as much of his own release as he can in between your legs before collapsing atop you.

Almost as an afterthought, Tab slips himself from your body, rolling to lay beside you as you both come down from your highs.

“So good,” you’re barely aware of him panting out. “You’re so fucking good, Y/N….”

You blindly reach out to drape your arm across his waist, incapable of returning the praise just yet.

He knows, though. You know he does by the way he sighs happily beside you.

~End of smut interlude, doodiLEEdedoo~

“Y/N?”

You look down your body to where Floyd's head rests in the valley between your ribs, your fingers having been lazily combing through his overgrown hair for the past twenty minutes.

“Hm?” you reply, your other hand snapping out to grab one of the pillows near the top of the bed and folding it beneath your head so you can watch him.

Turning his head to press a kiss on your skin, he looks up at you lazily. When you smile down at him, he returns with a content grin of his own.

“Can I ask you something?”

Raising an eyebrow, you narrow your eyes teasingly. “I don’t know, Floyd….can you?”

You nearly shriek when his fingers dig into your sides, rolling your lips together in an attempt to quiet your laughter as Floyd bestows biting kisses up your sternum while you wriggle beneath him.

“You’re such a brat sometimes,” he grumbles as he takes your face in his hands, unable to keep the smirk from his lips. “Lucky for you that you’re a good lay….”

Rolling your eyes, you nod your chin at him.

“Just ask me already, you jerk.”

His wicked expression softens, eyes scanning your face as you look up at him. The beginnings of a knot start to twist in your stomach, feeling the first drops of anxiety begin to stain your blood.

“Floyd…..what’s wrong?” you ask, not liking the way he suddenly electing to look at your mouth rather than into your eyes. “Is everything—?”

“Would you ever marry me?”

Your eyes widen at that. That had certainly not been what you were expecting him to ask you.

Taking in a deep breath, you consider his words for a bit before answering immediately.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him, because you did. No, what gave you pause was all that marrying him would entail- the greatest obstacle being that you were already married, and unless more things had changed in post-war America than you realized, polyandry was still illegal. Not to mention the fact that, upon marrying Fred, anything you had once been able to call your own was now- at least legally speaking- his.

You didn’t even have any right to the house you and Floyd had been living in. It, along with everything inside of it including you, was Frederick’s in both name and law.

And that was what scared you the most- the idea that, should you divorce Fred, you’d be penniless. Homeless. Destitute. You would have nothing.

But, as you looked into the blue eyes of the man you loved more than anything in this world, you realized that you wouldn’t mind any of that at all.

Because you’d have Floyd Talbert.

With a heavy sigh, you sit up so he doesn’t have to lean over you any more- taking his face in your hands and giving him a smile.

“I’d have nothing to offer you, you know.” You grin a little wider at the confusion on his face, brushing your fingertips over his bottom lip as you continued. “No savings or car or house for you to come home to at the end of a long day?”

As the wrinkle in his brow smooths, you know that he knows what you’re really asking him. Bringing his own hand up to mess with the ends of your loose hair, he pouts for a moment.

“Hmm, that’s a tough call, Y/N,” he says with a faux seriousness, tilting his head consideringly and narrowing his eyes at you. “I really like this bed frame—”

You nod, biting the insides of your cheeks to keep from laughing. “It’s a nice bed frame-”

“And the mattress? Best thing I’ve ever slept on.”

“I’m sure. All that built-in lumbar support cost a pretty penny, too.”

Smirking openly now, Tab brushes his nose against yours. “Still not the best thing in the house, though. I’ve gotta say, the pretty girl who lives in it takes the cake in that regard.”

Cupping your hands around the back of his neck, you pull him in for a deep kiss, the both of you almost clicking your teeth together several times because of the stupid smiles on your faces. When you pull back, you peck a quick kiss on the tip of his nose before sitting back enough to look him full in the face.

“If I could, I’d have married you already.”

The smile he gives you is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Yeah?” he presses, biting his bottom lip like an excited kid.

“Yeah, Floyd. I really would.”

“Good,” he says simply, carefully slipping from your grip enough to shift back down so he’s resting his head on your stomach. “Maybe I’ll ask you one of these days.”

Looking down at him fondly, you let yourself lay back so you can grin up at the ceiling.

“Who knows, Floyd Talbert,” you say quietly, heart feeling so full it could burst. “Maybe I’ll even say yes.”

“Good.” he grumbles.

“Good.” you agree.

~ ~ ~

(HELLO YIKES AND SORRY MY DUDES I’M PMSING AND DEEP IN MY FEELS BUT THANKS FOR SOLDIERING THROUGH THIS PILE OF YUCK!)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @liebgotttme

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #floyd talbert x reader #floyd talbert imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Three

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less.

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find.

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges.

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop.

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion.

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?”

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.”

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.”

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.”

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.”

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt.

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign.

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite.

“Spicy...but good.”

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.”

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to.

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.”

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.”

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly.

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?”

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.”

“Windows?” He cocked a brow.

“He did say that it was kind of boring...”

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted.

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Hm. Thanks.”

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.”

“You like those tater tots too though.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it.

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly.

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation:

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi.

Bomi:

Blaze:

*now kiss*

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph.

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.”

Chapter 27

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days.

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before.

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty.

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles.

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins.

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.”

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?”

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?”

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.”

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.”

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes.

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--”

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.”

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out.

“Its just...what I like to do.”

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?”

“Oh...”

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself.

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.”

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.”

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.”

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.”

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?”

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.”

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.”

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript.

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?”

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright then!!”

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.”

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.”

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN.

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry.

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with.

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach.

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store.

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--”

“Hey! Blossom??”

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain.

“You okay?”

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small.

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair.

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck.

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.”

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you.

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.”

“You’re fine, it’s fine.”

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine.

“What are you doing around here?”

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden.

“Ahh, I just got off.”

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind.

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.”

“Oh. It’s Y/n.”

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.”

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so.

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?”

“Cat. Just one.”

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.”

“How's that?”

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.”

“I...guess I can see what you mean.”

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much.

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.”

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

“You don’t have to...”

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it.

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door.

“You coming?” He held it open for you.

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster.

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.”

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles.

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances.

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead.

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor.

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant.

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor.

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips.

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that.

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over.

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good.

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary.

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric.

“That probably would be best.”

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place.

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently.

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.

“How much longer?”

“At least thirty more minutes.”

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night.

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been.

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky.

“Not really.”

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?”

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?”

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.”

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his.

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced.

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart.

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.”

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--”

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...”

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat.

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.”

This.

What the hell was “this?”

“I’m not following...”

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.”

You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all.

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.”

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one.

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper.

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes.

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.”

“W-why?”

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.”

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...”

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“You do?”

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves.

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...”

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable.

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?”

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it.

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust.

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm.

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.”

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could.

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud.

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.”

124 notes · View notes

cozyenigma · 3 years

Text

A Normal Adventure

Had the inspiration to write something for Illinois this time and I’m pretty happy with how this turned out!

Pairing- Illinois/Reader

Word Count- 1,349

Request?- Nope!

Summary- Though you joked sometimes about wanting a normal adventure, your rarely got your wish. That’s the nature of the job really. This time, however, seemed like smooth sailing. At least on the surface...

Tag List- @cookielover0001010

"Should be right around... here!" With a triumphant note, Illinois felt the stone underneath his hand shift. A low grinding sound filled the cavern as a large, oval slab fell aside. The chamber within was pitch black and smelling of stale air. You swung the flashlight beam into it, revealing the passage went in further than the dead end the two of you were currently in. Turning to him you shake your head.

"Okay, that one was definitely luck."

He smiled, standing and waltzing forward. "I do have my fair share of luck but you wound me, sweetheart. That was entirely skill."

It was a routine at this point. You rolled your eyes and followed him in, coughing a bit at the dust he kicked up. "Skillfully guessing then. Anyone would get it if they pressed on enough stones."

"Suppose I just know what to do with my hands," he stole a glance back just in time for you to whack his shoulder. Enough time had passed that you'd stopped blushing at his more forward flirting, much to his disappointment. Still, Illinois bet he could get a reaction if he tried hard enough. For now though he chuckled and kept walking.

The sounds of their footsteps echoed off the walls as they progressed. Illinois was used to it by now. Eventually, though, even those started to get muffled.

The two of you stopped, shared a glance, and then you stomped on the ground. What should've echoed for a few seconds at least barely made a sound at all. You looked back up at him, clutching the flashlight a bit tighter.

"That's not normal," you said.

"No," Illinois stared forward, thinking. The artifact the two of you were after was rumoured to have power of some sort, as most of them were really. He shot you a reassuring smile. "Then again, when is anything we do normal?"

You huffed. "I'd take normal for once. A nice, normal, totally not dangerous adventure. Just grab the thing and get out."

The tension eased, you started forward again.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Illinois grinned.

"Says the man who didn't get stuck in a net trap last time."

"Oh come now. And I even caught you in my arms," he argued, remembering the feeling of panic from watching as the rotten net had broken with you still in it.

"I landed on top of you," you jab the flashlight at him, "big difference."

Illinois blocked the light with his hand. "You've got me there. Still, the trip wasn't all bad. Well, unless you don't want to label going out on the town as normal."

That had been days after you both ventured back to town. Treasure in hand and spirits riding high, you had practically dragged him out of the hotel room. The moon had been shining, the air warm and filled with music. He remembered you laughing, eyes shining as you danced with him. Illinois didn't mention he treasured that more than the bauble he'd brought back.

You hummed, a little smile on your face. "You owed me that one though. I'm keeping count."

Illinois whistled. "Guess my tab's getting a little out of hand. I'd better get to work on that."

The only response he got was another huff. Figuring the trek was unnerving you still, he let it drop. Luckily it wasn't much further that the passage began to widen. The walls opened up and curved around to form a circular room and yet another dead end. This one, however, was much more promising.

Sat atop a roughly carved, square pedestal was what they were after. A gem lay innocently in the middle. What might've been a deep green color decades before was covered in layers of dust and grime. It didn't have any purposeful shape but lacked the sharp edges of an uncut jewel. Illinois grinned and jogged the rest of the way to it.

"What did you say this was called again?" You were following slowly behind.

"The titan emerald," Illinois said, crouching a bit to get a better look at the gem and the pedestal. "Estimated at a healthy 700 carats and some change. But more importantly," he looked back with a grin, "rumor has it that it has the power to grant whatever the owner desires."

Like most times, you looked at the relic with a good dose of skepticism. "It grants wishes?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Illinois waved a hand. "Say that a man got his hands on this and he dreams of having power. Well this is just supposed to make it happen. They say the right things, do the things and just like that- anything is possible."

You hummed. "Sounds like that could get dangerous."

"Well it's not like it's going to wreak much havoc in a museum," Illinois straightened and, satisfied the pedestal wasn't trapped, reached out and grabbed the emerald-

Only to immediately seize up. Vaguely he registered the smooth surface of the gem in his hand and your voice, saying something. All at once he got the sensation of being boxed in. A desperate fear clawed it's way up his throat as he felt the need to run. There was no room here. Not in this cave and not even in his own body. A headache spiked its way into his head and then- nothing.

No more pain, no more fear. There and gone in a moment, they left Illinois standing there with his heart beating out of his chest.

"Illinois? Hey, are you okay?" You asked again, closer now than you were before.

He wanted to say yes. Wanted to reassure you and say something teasing about how you worried for him. But he didn't. Because Illinois suddenly found he couldn't.

Like a puppet on strings, Illinois turned with his usual grin in place. "Of course," he said, sounding normal as ever, "did I have you worried, sweetheart?"

Slow, creeping horror dawned on Illinois that this wasn't him speaking. There was a reason people said and did the right things when they had the gem but it wasn't by choice. Illinois was trapped in his own body with something foreign in the driver's seat.

You didn't notice. He watched as you rolled your eyes and didn't deign him with a response. Despite his inner pleading for help you took a step back.

"Alright," you said, giving the room once last look over, "guess that's it then? Seems a little anticlimactic after all this."

It was an uncomfortable feeling to have his muscles move and his body walk without his input. No matter how hard he tried, Illinois couldn't so much as twitch a pinky.

"And here I remember you wanting a normal adventure for once," Illinois felt his lips stretch into a smirk and felt sick. "Change your mind?"

"You and I have way different definitions of normal, Illinois," you started to walk back out the way you came and Illinois felt his body moving.

His arm slipped easily around you to settle on your waist. Illinois found he was still able to feel you stiffen in surprise. Whatever was in control leaned in a bit and asked, "Maybe we find another bar and dance the night away then if you'd rather?"

This, or maybe just the proximity, finally got a bit of a blush out of you.

"Uh," your eyes slid to where his hand was still resting, "sure."

"Great!" He said cheerfully, pulling away and continuing on. "It's a date then."

You were a little shell shocked still and Illinois was forced to keep going. No matter how hard he rattled the bars of his cage there was no give. Illinois was trapped in his own head, thanks to the overpriced hunk of rock still in his hand.

"Get out!" He yelled at whatever it was, thought it so hard he was liable to give himself a headache. "Get out of my head!"

But his body kept walking like nothing happened. Eventually you followed after him, unaware that your partner had even changed at all.

#Illinois x Reader #Illinois the adventurer #Illinois ahwm #writersofmark #youtuber ego #reader insert #markiplier ego x reader #ego fanfic #My writing

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lemonpeter · 3 years

Text

Desperate

@preciouspeterbparker is an enabler 💕 and I love her for it. She sent me a concept for my au I’d explained a little while before and I was OBSESSED, so I’m sure hoping I did it justice 💕

Warnings: the whole thing is extremely nff, a/b/o, both alpha and omega Peter (I explain it here), alpha Tony, very brief bottom Tony (like one paragraph right at the beginning and Peter thinking about it), s*x toy use god I hope this shows up in the tags

@serrabloodsong

————

“Come on, baby, give it to me,” Tony panted, pressing his hips back until they were flush against Peter’s.

Peter groaned, holding onto his alpha’s hips as he kept fucking forward. He’d never felt anything so incredible, addicted to the vice-like grip of Tony’s ass. It was tight and slick and so different than the stimulation he got from just being fucked.

“I’m so close, Tony.” A soft whine escaped his throat as his hips lost their rhythm. He could feel the tension in his belly about to snap as he approached his high.

His eyes snapped open as soon as he finished, a weak moan leaving him. His hips stuttered forward as he spilled across the pillow that was tucked between his legs. His hand dropped between his legs to squeeze at his knot, now fully grown, the sensation causing his body to jolt and another spurt of cum to leak onto the pillow.

Once he had completely ridden out his high, he went lax against the bed. He was slightly sore from the amount of tension his body had held, but he’d heal. He was more concerned about the dream.

It was the fifth one that week.

Sure, it wasn’t abnormal for him to have wet dreams. Even with all the sex he had, his drive was so high that he was often waking up to slick-soaked sheets and a bit of a wet patch on the blanket.

No, the concerning part was how he was on top in every dream. And how he woke up with a popped knot.

He was a genetic miracle, having presented with characteristics of both an alpha and omega. But since he was primarily omega, it was extremely rare for him to knot anything, or even have the urge to. He always bottomed with Tony and that made him happy. He didn’t need anything else.

But his alpha side seemed to want to be brought to light suddenly. He’d been dreaming about fucking his alpha, something he’d never seriously considered before. And he woke up every morning with his knot buried in a pillow he’d been fucking unconsciously.

He didn’t know what to do.

There was no way that he could ask Tony about anything like that. For the most part they ignored his differences, especially during sex. As far as either of them were concerned he was strictly omega during those times. So it would have been odd to bring up the alpha bottoming occasionally.

And there was also the issue of pain. Alphas weren’t designed to take a knot. And it was pretty impossible without a ton of prep, which Peter was fairly sure neither of them completely knew what to do. There was no way he would hurt Tony ever. So he figured it was best to just...leave it.

Which worked...for about a week.

He kept having the dreams, but luckily Tony left for work before Peter got up, so he never saw his partner’s predicament. Peter let himself ride out the high every morning and then hid the evidence by quickly tossing everything into the washer.

It was easy enough to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was happening. He dealt with it first thing in the morning and then got on with his day.

But then the thoughts started bleeding into his conscious mind.

He’d eat lunch with Tony when he had a break and find himself fantasizing about what it would be like to have the alpha bent over the table for him. His mind would conjure up images of Tony’s body eagerly taking his cock. Then his knot after.

Peter imagined watching in fascination and pride as his cum dripped from the alpha’s puffy hole after they were done.

His cheeks burned as the alpha brought up how distracted he seemed. “What? Oh, it’s nothing. Just thinking about...class.” Like his daily physics work would cause him to space out and drool like that.

But Tony didn’t argue, just shrugging off the answer with an, “Alright, honey.”

The excuses and zoning out were becoming all too common for Peter.

He knew that he needed to find a solution. It wasn’t going to work if he kept up how he was going.

Since he was the only person with his condition (that he was aware of), it wasn’t like he could just hop on Google and look up a solution to his highly specific problem. But maybe he could figure out smaller questions and find solutions for those instead of the big picture.

And that was how he found himself in front of his computer, staring at the search bar. In incognito mode, of course. He wouldn’t be able to look Tony in the eye if these searches were discovered.

He wasn’t quite sure where to start. The entire thing felt a bit overwhelming to him, especially since he couldn’t just find an answer for the entire thing. He had to break it up and he didn’t quite know how to.

So he tried to start simple.

‘alpha wet dream fix’

The only results he got there were articles about why wet dreams happen and instructing to just have more sexual release in the day to day life. Which he already got, he knew that wasn’t the issue.

On to the next search.

‘male omega want to top’

All that came up was porn. Pages and pages of porn.

He clicked on one link, heart pounding as he watched the small omega in the video fucking his alpha hard and fast. The alpha encouraged him the whole time, spouting words of encouragement in between sounds of obvious pleasure.

It was incredibly hot. But not exactly what he was looking for.

‘Knotting in sleep’

He got more porn, somnophilia this time. He tried to reword his search, looking into ‘alpha alone sleep knotting’.

Some more porn, but then he thought maybe he saw a search that could be helpful. His eyes skimmed over the article after he clicked on it.

“‘Sometimes an alpha will involuntarily knot during sleep, most often...if they haven’t had stimulation regularly.’” Peter read out loud, fingers tapping against his temple.

He didn’t get it. Well, he got it. But it didn’t make any sense.

He hadn’t done anything but bottom for years. And he was completely okay with it. The alpha urges hadn’t been there.

But suddenly they were. And he absolutely couldn’t figure out why.

His fingers drummed against his desk as he tried to figure out what to do next. Of course, he didn’t figure that there was any way he’d get a straight answer for what was going on with him. It was just like everything else in his life, a lot of questions with no real answers.

His eyes drifted over the search results again and he hummed as he reached the ‘also asked’ questions.

“‘How can a single alpha safely knot?’” He read off, clicking to expand the tab until the associated link came up. He clicked it as well, eyebrows raised.

There wasn’t much he actually knew about the alpha biology. Even after presenting, he figured it wouldn’t matter since he was mainly omega anyways. It had never occurred to him that maybe knotting outside of a confined environment wouldn’t be safe.

Reading over the Q&A the link brought him to, he realized that he was lucky he hadn’t been hurt by his nightly activities. Even if none of it had been on purpose.

Luckily, he was also supplied with solutions.

“A toy?” Peter mumbled. The only toy he’d ever owned was a dildo with a fake knot on it. And as far as he knew Tony didn’t own anything like what he was seeing in the pictures.

But he didn’t have another choice, really. The sleeve would provide him with a chance to test out knotting on his own and was a safe way to do it.

So he clicked over to another tab, looking up alpha-specific sex toys. And there were...a lot of results.

The alpha part of his brain seemed to switch on, immediately thinking of how each toy would feel on him and which would be best. He scrolled through pages, flipped between stores, all to end up ordering just one. A basic fleshlight that he hoped would do the job. It claimed to be for knotting as well, so he had hope that it would be good.

As he added a few different types of synthetic slick to his cart, he prayed that Tony didn’t look too closely at how he was spending money. But he knew it was all going to come out to a decent sum.

He’d deal with that when he came to it.

After confirming all of the orders, he stood up from the desk and headed back to the bedroom. He grabbed his tablet on the way, determined to continue his research. There had to be some explanation for his sudden urges.

He just had to put in the effort to figure out what it was.

***

Despite how he’d read it was dangerous, his body refused to stop its morning wake up call of an unbelievable orgasm and a fully swollen knot.

He still seemed safe, so he didn’t stress about it too much. It just gave him a bit more pause every time it happened.

And the stimulation felt so good, he couldn’t help but want it to continue on some level. But as always, the knot shrunk again once he had come down from his high and he couldn’t seem to figure out a way to get it back. The only time he was able to knot was from those dreams, his intense fantasies of fucking his alpha.

Great.

His mind was almost constantly on the concept now. He couldn’t stop thinking about it no matter how hard he tried. All of his daydreams became about topping Tony in various positions and locations. Then the daydreams snuck into his normal thoughts again. And every moment felt like one long daydream.

Only his alpha wasn’t really part of any of it, since Peter still hadn’t told him. And he didn’t plan on doing so.

It definitely made things harder. But he didn’t want to freak Tony out by revealing how needy his alpha side was getting or make him feel guilty for not wanting to bottom.

He could take care of himself. That would be alright.

***

“Pete, a package came for you,” Tony called, getting ready to leave back for work after his lunch break. “Friday just informed me that it’s at the front desk downstairs, so you can go get that.” He didn’t ask what it was, too preoccupied by thoughts of work and all he had to get done.

Which was perfectly fine with Peter.

He looked up as Tony talked, eyes widening slightly. It had to have been his toy (and the other things purchased with it.) He didn’t have a habit of purchasing much, so it had to be that if it came specifically for him.

As soon as the alpha had left, he raced downstairs to get the package. And he was ripping into the box without shame instantly when he was upstairs again.

He so badly wanted to try it out. He was desperate to knot, needing to feel how good things could be.

Peter looked over the toy, almost fascinated as he studied it. It was just like it had been in the picture, a smooth plastic body covering a soft silicone sleeve. The entrance looked almost disturbingly like his own pussy, soft pink-flushed lips spread slightly around a small hole.

He could feel himself slicking just from looking at it. And his cock was getting interested as well, slowly starting to chub up in his soft sweatpants.

There was no way he wanted to wait any longer. He was desperate to knot, his alpha side frustrated but calming gradually at the promise of knotting the toy. So he tossed the box in the trash, gathered the lube, and carried everything to the bedroom.

Once he was there, he set everything on the bed while he slowly stripped. His boxers were tossed into the hamper, already soaked through with slick. He was so easily worked up it was almost embarrassing.

But he didn’t dwell on it, sitting on the bed once he was completely bare. The bottles of lube sat next to the sleeve, seemingly begging to be picked up.

He grabbed one, reading the label. It claimed to be the best in the business, bragging about its slide. And that was good enough for Peter. He tore the packaging off and clicked the top open.

While he poured the liquid over his fingers, he looked at the toy again. “How am I doing this?” He wondered out loud, picking it up with his clean hand.

He got an idea, sliding his wet fingers over the lips of the entrance. And his cock gave a twitch as he looked at it.

It looked good, but he knew just a little lube wouldn’t be enough. So he grabbed the bottle again, pouring some of the fake slick directly into the sleeve.

And oh, it looked incredible.

It was a vulgar sight, slick dripping from the pussy. And he couldn’t wait to fuck it.

He set the bottle of lube to the side, laying on his back as he figured out what he was going to do. It seemed like a good start to just...fuck up into the toy while lying on his back. It would be a comfortable enough position to lay in when- well, if he knotted it. But he was pretty sure he’d be able to.

His hand wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking it a couple times before letting go again. He was definitely hard, erection laying heavy against his belly. But his knot stayed small, barely visible at the base.

He knew that would change soon.

He held onto his cock, positioning the toy just above it in order to start.

When he slowly started sinking the sleeve over him, he wondered why he hadn’t considered getting one sooner. It was so tight and wet and-

Completely overwhelming.

The toy was only halfway down his cock before his muscles were tensing and he was spilling into it. Just like that. No buildup, no knot, not even any actual fucking.

“Fuck, oh- shit,” he breathed, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Thank god no one was there to see him. He’d just cum like a virgin, despite being nowhere close.

Although...technically he was one when it came to topping. He hadn’t thought about that.

He pulled the sleeve off again, face still bright red. “I...wow. I didn’t expect that,” he whispered into the silent room.

The first try definitely hadn’t gone how he expected it to. But he was reminded that he had an incredibly short recovery period. Evident from how his cock had never gone fully soft and was already beginning to fill out again.

So he didn’t waste any time before he was slipping the toy onto him again, making sure to take a long pause to make sure he was under control before moving it any.

He came embarrassingly fast a few more times before he was able to actually start fucking it. And every single time his knot stayed uninvolved. No matter how good it felt to fuck into the faux pussy, he would have an incredible orgasm but his knot refused to grow.

He was lost in the pleasure and frustration as he kept going, continuing to work himself up and fuck the toy. It lasted longer every time, although he lost count of the rounds he’d done.

Probably somewhere around...five? Six? He had no idea. The first few had been so short they barely counted in his mind.

But he was finally in the best one, it felt like. It was lasting longer than the rest and if he focused hard enough it was like he could feel a faint tingling in his knot.

His high was approaching quickly and he knew it, nearly praying that his knot would finally pop this time.

But he got distracted for just a moment when he heard something.

Peter froze momentarily as he heard the bedroom door creaking open, but he didn’t keep still for long. Even if he had been caught, he needed to cum. Obviously he’d been found out anyways, he might as well finish what he was doing.

How was Tony home already? It had only been…

He glanced to the alarm clock quickly, groaning as he saw the time. He’d been going for hours. How had he fucked the day away like that?

And it was, indeed, time for Tony to be home.

“Honey?” The alpha asked curiously, stepping inside the room and looking right at the bed. He raised his eyebrows as he noticed what he was looking at, however. The sight before him definitely wasn’t what he’d expected.

Peter looked at him, a guilty look flashing over his face briefly before changing to one of pleasure again. “Tony,” he moaned. “I- oh, fuck, please.”

Tony didn’t know what he was begging for. Or maybe he did, but he was too stunned to figure it out. “Peter….” He’d never seen his partner like this.

But he didn’t hate it.

He watched how Peter’s hips kept thrusting frantically, fucking into a toy so quickly his motions were little more than a blur. And his words were flooding out before he could even think about it. “That’s it, baby. Come on, you can do it. You need to cum? Go ahead, baby. You’re doing so well.”

A choked moan pulled itself from Peter’s throat at the encouragement. And it was just what he needed to reach another high.

He twitched forward, grinding against the toy as he spilled into it. Cum dripped out of the sides, his loads still nearly full even after his fucking-marathon. “Fuck, Tony,” he whimpered, chest heaving with his breaths.

He hadn’t wanted to tell his alpha what was going on with him. But the look in Tony’s eyes made him think that maybe it would have been okay.

In his panic and high he hadn’t even initially noticed that he still hadn’t popped his knot. But he realized it once he was immediately able to pull out of the toy to move closer to the alpha who was still standing at the door.

“Tony, I can explain,” he said weakly.

The alpha held up a hand, making the other man whimper. But he quickly elaborated. “You don’t have to. We can talk later. For now...that looked amazing, baby. Did you have fun?”

Peter started nodding, but ended up whining softly.

Tony moved to the bed, looking at the toy. It shouldn’t have looked as appealing as it did to him. It wasn’t much, just smooth plastic and then soft silicone in a flesh tone that looked vaguely like an omega’s pussy. But what made it was the obscene amount of cum leaking from it. And the knowledge that all of it had come from his darling partner. “Certainly looks like you had fun,” he mused.

“I did...just…” Peter sighed, dropping his eyes to look at his cock. It was half-hard still, but that wasn’t what he was focused on. His eyes were on the slight bump at the base that stayed small despite how hard he was trying to make it swell. “Oh, Tony.” He sighed again, the sound heavier this time.

“Talk to me,” the alpha encouraged, moving to sit down on the bed. “What’s up? Wasn’t it...fulfilling?”

A weak laugh was pulled from the younger man. “Not exactly.” He crawled to the alpha, leaning against him. “I know you said I don’t have to explain, but I do.” He took a deep breath.

Tony nodded, watching him intently. “Okay.”

“You know how I’m...mixed up. Both omega and alpha.”

“Of course.” They didn’t talk about it much, but that didn’t mean that he’d forgotten. He would have been a pretty bad partner if he forgot about something like that.

“Well, I’ve always felt more omega. You know that. That hasn’t changed. But lately things have been...weird,” he said slowly.

“Okay...weird how?”

Peter looked down again. “I’ve been having these...dreams.” Oh, Tony was going to hate him. Shame him. Or something.

“Alright...dreams, weird, I’m following.”

“I keep dreaming about being on top. Uh, giving. During sex.” His cheeks burned. No matter how long he was sexually active, no matter how much they did, he’d always get flustered somehow. “And a big thing in the dreams is...knotting you.”

Tony nodded, not taking his eyes off of his partner. “And is that something you want?”

“No! I mean…yes? I don’t know. I’ve always been happy with the way we did things. And I’m still happy with it. I just.” He made a frustrated noise. “I feel like something is missing. Especially since I keep waking up with a popped knot but I can’t seem to get it any other time.”

“So that’s the reason for the toy,” the alpha murmured, looking at it. “And you haven’t been able to knot it?”

“No,” Peter whined. “I’ve been at it all day. It feels good, but there’s just something missing. I want to knot it.”

“You want to knot it or you want to knot me?” Tony asked, watching him. He cocked his head to the side slightly as he waited for an answer, eyes trailing over his partner’s body.

Peter wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Sure, in his dreams he was on top. The one in control. But he didn’t really want that. He liked the way that he and Tony did things, with the full-alpha on top. Peter liked receiving. He just wanted to knot, no matter how he needed to do it. “The...the toy. I think.”

Tony nodded, picking it up. His fingers swiped over the entrance of it quickly, gathering up a bit of the cum that had leaked out. He pressed his fingers to Peter’s lips, smirking slightly as the young man shivered before taking the digits into his mouth. “In that case, I have a proposal. You want to hear it?”

Peter nodded, still suckling on the fingers gently.

“Okay. Well, you said you’re happy with how we do things, right? So I say we keep doing them. But you can try something new.” He held up the toy again, watching Peter’s reactions. “I’ll fuck you like normal. And you can fuck this. And we can see if that changes anything.”

The younger man moaned around Tony’s fingers, nodding. He hadn’t thought of that, but it sounded wonderful.

Tony grinned at him, slowly pulling his fingers away. “In that case, do you think you have one more round in you, honey?” His hand dipped between his partner’s legs, fingers finding his entrance and spreading the lips slightly. “You’re absolutely soaked, baby. You’ve been neglecting this pretty pussy, haven’t you?” He clicked his tongue. “I’ll have to change that.”

Peter moaned again, clenching down around nothing as he felt the tips of the alpha’s fingers tracing his entrance. “Please. I want this, please. I can go one more time.” He was tired, but he was determined he could do this.

“Okay, baby. Let’s figure out how we need to do this.”

Tony hummed softly, pulling away just to assess the situation. There were a couple ways that he figured things would work out, but only one really stood out to him.

“Let’s see if this will work,” he mused. “Lay on your back, Pete.” He watched as the man did as he asked, nodding. “Good boy. Now….” he moved between his legs, positioning himself like he was going to fuck him. “Does this seem alright?”

Peter nodded quickly, breathing hard. He looked being able to watch his alpha while he was fucked. It was one of his favorite positions. But…

Before Peter could voice his concerns, Tony was grabbing the fleshlight and putting it in his hands. “So while I fuck you, you can fuck up into this. Sound okay?”

His cheeks burned as he took the toy, but he nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Perfect,” Tony murmured. “Now, want to get started?”

They both couldn’t wait any longer.

Peter nodded, the tip of his cock rubbing against the already-slick entrance of the toy. There was still cum from his previous play dripping out, but he made no move to clean it up. He figured that it would only help.

Tony hummed, looking over him. He unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down just enough to free his throbbing cock. No extra stimulation needed, just watching and talking to Peter was enough. Plus the promise of what was about to happen.

“Wow,” Peter whispered, eyes wide. He never got over Tony’s size. And he knew from experience how good all of it felt. He couldn’t wait to take it again.

“I’m sure you’re already wet enough, honey,” the alpha mused, his fingers sliding against Peter’s entrance once more. “I know you need to be filled….” he pushed two fingers inside up to the second knuckle. “So open for me already.”

Peter cried out, clenching down around the fingers. “Please, Tony. I need- fuck, I need you to fuck me already.” He didn’t want to be teased and fingered slowly. He wanted to get to the main event.

“Needy thing,” Tony commented, pulling his fingers out quickly. “But I’ll give you what you want. Just don’t forget that you’re supposed to be fucking that while I’m fucking you.” He tapped the toy.

“Of course,” Peter told him, the tip of his cock still poised to push into it as soon as things started.

“Okay, good boy,” the alpha praised gently. He rubbed the tip of his cock against Peter’s hole, watching how it fluttered in anticipation of what was to come.

He just couldn’t help himself.

He started pushing in slowly, a low groan building in his chest. No matter how much they had sex, Peter was always so perfectly tight. It was incredible every single time.

And at the same time, Peter sunk the toy onto his own cock with a moan. The dual sensations were incredible, better than he ever could have imagined. He felt Tony filling his pussy while his toy squeezed around him deliciously.

Just the initial feeling was almost enough to push him to the edge again. But he managed to calm himself down.

Tony took a shaky breath, taking a moment to get used to the tightness around his cock. It was intense, Peter obviously had only been focusing on his own cock. So his pussy was still incredibly tight, and constantly clenching down as he got used to the different sensations.

The alpha was pretty sure that neither of them would be lasting very long. But he knew it wouldn’t bother him. And it probably wouldn’t bother Peter either.

“Ready for me to move?” He asked gently, holding onto his partner’s hips carefully. He saw the look on Peter’s face and laughed softly. “Oh, I know. I mean, I can only imagine how intense things are for you. But they feel extra intense today even just like this.”

Peter smiled a little, nodding. He looked so fucked out already. “Yeah. I’m ready, alpha.”

Tony began moving his hips, just slowly at first. He didn’t want to completely overwhelm either of them. “Tell me how it feels, baby. Fucking your little toy pussy while I fuck you.”

“It-it feels really good,” the younger man whispered. That was a severe understatement, but he found it hard to form words. His hips thrust up into the toy as Tony fucked into him at the same time. Everything was sensitive and pleasurable and perfect.

“Just good?”

Peter whined. “It’s amazing, but- oh, god,” he moaned. His eyes rolled back as Tony started moving faster already. “I’ve never felt so…so good.”

Tony hummed, biting his lip as he kept his thrusts at an even pace. “Really? Hmm, let’s see if we can make it even better….”

“Wha- oh, fuck!” Peter groaned, hips jerking faster as he felt Tony’s fingers brushing over his left nipple. His nipples were always extra sensitive, but adding it to everything he was already feeling was intense. “Don’t!”

“Don’t? You want me to stop?” The alpha grinned at him, moving his hand lower again to rest on his hip. He moaned softly as he watched his partner fuck faster into the toy.

“Just stop that,” Peter instructed. “I don’t- god, don’t want to cum too fast. And it’s already...I already feel….”

Tony hummed, nodding. He couldn’t deny that he already felt the distinct pressure building as well. “It’s okay, baby. But I’ll stop.” Both of his hands stayed on Peter’s hips.

“Thank you.” Peter held onto the sheets with one hand, the other working to quickly slide the sleeve over his cock as he fucked it. His grip tightened on both things and he felt the plastic creaking under his fingertips.

They kept going, bodies in sync. Tony gazed down at his partner, eyes occasionally dropping down to watch everything else going on. But he loved to just watch the pleasured faces that Peter made.

And the other man was feeling nothing but pleasure. He’d held out as long as he possibly could and knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold off the high that was building. “Tony….” He moaned, movement becoming jerkier and less measured. “I’m- fuck, I’m gonna cum, alpha!”

“Then cum for me, baby, let go. This will be the best one,” Tony encouraged, not stopping his movements. He knew that he wasn’t far behind at all.

Peter whimpered, hardly doing anything more than just humping up into the toy now. But- “Tony! Fuck, yes,” he moaned louder, watching as his knot swelled rapidly.

Exactly what he’d been hoping for.

He thrust weakly, forcing his knot into the tight sleeve and he was done. His vision whited out as he came, hips bucking wildly. “Tony!” He cried out, tears leaking from his eyes at the intensity of his orgasm. And it seemed to last forever, the tightness of the toy milking his knot in a way he didn’t know was possible.

His vision blurred again and then he was out, going limp against the bed.

“Shit,” Tony swore, immediately pulling out despite how incredibly close he was. He wouldn’t continue anything without knowing Peter was okay.

It took only a few seconds for him to rouse again, blinking dazedly. “Did I just- oh my god.” He covered his face with one hand. “Please tell me that didn’t just happen.

Tony still looked a little concerned, but laughed weakly. “Which part? God, baby, that must have been good.”

“It was amazing.” And he was still riding out aftershocks. “But...that was embarrassing,” he mumbled. Then he noticed that Tony was no longer inside him and looked painfully hard. “Alpha! I didn’t mean to make you stop.” He wiggled slightly. “It’s okay, I’m okay now. Keep going.”

The alpha chuckled a little, more relaxed. “You’re something else, you know that?” He repositioned himself properly again, tip pressed against Peter’s now-loose pussy. “You’re sure?”

“So sure.”

Peter had gotten what he’d wanted. So he’d be happy to help his alpha.

He finally popped his knot, feeling more fulfilled than he had since the dreams started. And he’d been able to be with Tony to make it happen.

They’d have to do that more often. Although he was sure that neither of them would complain.

#starker #peter parker #tony stark #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #my writing #alpha/omega Peter #I still don’t have an actual au title thing for it yet #but yeah #tw a/b/o #nff #alpha tony stark #someone let me know if i need to add more

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Halt and catch fire (Nathan Bateman x reader)

Summary: you have an... arrangement, to spend the summer with Nathan at his house. Sounds simple, yes? Nope. It’s not. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Author’s note: FIRST NATHAN FIC! I wrote this all in one go, which I never do. It came to me like lightning. Just remember that Nathan’s a bit of a dick, a’ight? Still would though.

Word count: 4k (ish).

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Explicit smut. Angst. Some dark elements. Hints of coercive control / gaslighting in parts. Swearing. Rough sex. One daddy kink moment. Dirty talk, inc. derogatory sexual language. Mild alcohol abuse. Typos.

Tagging: @dameronsgalaxygal @geo-winchester @xxidontwikeitxx @neverlandlibrarian @jennibradley @itsamedeemoney @bioticgoddess @spider-starry @yougottakeeponkeepinon @a-killvr-queen @porgiez @beyoncesdragon @damerondjarin @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall

Song mood: Pixies, Where is My Mind.

(GIF by @pariztexas)

Nathan ticks his eyes up at you, clicking on you like a cursor. You suddenly animate, placing your book down on the coffee table as you watch him dexterously unwind his hand wraps, veins and muscles standing out in relief as he does so.

You would have to work fast, you knew, while you had his fleeting attention. The gears in his brain shifted too quickly to covet his focus for long. You’d learned that it was always best to catch him in-between tasks. In fact, you can already see him start to open up multiple tabs inside his head even as he shifts from his workout space and into the kitchen, the interior / exterior perimeter almost acting as a delineating line of code, shifting his function between mind and body.

He looks good after a workout, his vest showcasing his taut, sheening muscles. Sweat pools at his chest and the damp fabric clings to his torso, highlighting the silhouette of him, sturdy and hard and strong enough to take control of you. You like to see him pumped-up and gleaming like this. It makes you think about getting his dick pumped-up and gleaming underneath you, wetness pooling everywhere. What really gets you though, is that positively primal look in his eyes which follows a bout with his punchbag. When he looks at you like you have captured his id and separated it from the rest of his consciousness, isolated his base desires.

Once, when you’d worked out together, he had pinned you while sparring, peeled your leggings down from your sweat-soaked thighs and rutted into you right there on the decking. Something in the pit of you stirs and awakens with the memory, clenching like your walls had around him as he had spilled his seed into you. He has good instincts when he’s not subject to logic and bogged down by programming.

Still, as he moves into the kitchen his eyes cool far too quickly, becoming calculating; detached again. All the same, your own body responds obediently to his entrance. You wonder, as you react, if Nathan sees the world as an interface, things only springing to life at his command. You are reticent to be so dreadfully accommodating, but the truth is -aside from the fact you don’t have a lot else to do around here- you enjoy accommodating him.

You especially enjoy him after a workout, when he’s still in his body and not in his head. After all, he might be a genius, but you’d nominate him for the body-based equivalent of a McArthur Genius Grant, if such a thing existed. Especially those genius fingers. Those fingers, which you’ve had to watch skim deftly over his keyboard instead of over your body for far too long now, as Nathan insisted -time and time again- that he was on the brink of yet another major breakthrough.

“Baby?”, you coo at him, and his eyes land on you with casual interest as he finishes blending an iced coffee, pouring it from its jug into a tall glass set atop the kitchen counter.

You’re good for him. With you here he doesn’t need to drink all night, just to shut his mind off. Not that he finds your company mind-numbing... It’s just that you find other, mutually beneficial ways to keep him out of his head. Sometimes, you even convince him to get some sleep.

He takes a long swig of his drink before placing it down and reaching for his glasses. He slips them on to peer up at you, brow furrowed with a question, broad hands settled on his sturdy hips. That look ends you every time. “What, baby?”, he asks, the term of endearment managing to sound a little sleazy on this arrogant fucker’s lips. You’ve noticed him sweetening though, over the summer, whether he’s realised it himself or not.

Nathan looks at you sometimes as if you’re an algorithm he can’t solve, an intricate web of code which makes no sense to him- the only person he can’t figure out and manipulate within five minutes of meeting them. You don’t know why, because your call and response is fairly predictable, as if he has you programmed like everything else around him. You see him? Then you want him. There’s not a lot else to this... arrangement. At least, that’s how it had begun. There’s not anything deeper; not that he’ll admit to. Not yet.

Speaking of wanting him, your eyes wander lazily over his torso and the beading sweat on his skin, his arms defined and pumped through exertion. He looks like a machine and, yeah, you want him this minute. Nothing else will do.

“Shower. Now, strong man”, you command, with a come-hither finger.

His espresso brown eyes harden with a quiet, lust-ridden stare as he idly strolls over the floor toward you, slinging a towel around his neck.

You always feel like he’s studying you, sometimes to the point of discomfort, and yet you can never look away from him when he does it.

“Since when did you start tellin’ me what to do?”, he delivers in his soft Bronx-twang, his tone dark. His sweaty hand comes to grab you -securely, not harshly- by the chin. His eyes flash with challenge, which you return with equal fervour.

“Sorry, Daddy, I forgot my place.”, you purr obediently, knowing from the way his eyes blacken with lust that your words alone will have his dick half-hard for you.

“You’re learning.”, he praises, his voice honey over sandpaper, and you deliver him a wicked smile, your thighs pressing together in desperation already as you look over his bare shoulders and chest as if you’re famished.

But, contrary to your wishes, he releases your chin and you can see he’s already following some half-formed thought down a rabbit hole. “What are you reading?”, he asks, his eyes hovering over to the hardcover strewn on the table. “What made you choose that one?” Oh no he doesn’t.

“Nathan.”, you redirect, your voice throaty and brazen. “It’s nice that you’re interested in how I occupy myself, but I’m not here for Book Club.”

“That’s almost funny, sweetness.”, he chides, towelling the sweat from the back of his neck. Patronising fuck. His amused eyes meet yours, and when he finds them humourless in return, he presses on tiredly with a question. “Do I really have to ask? I know you’re about to tell me exactly why you’re here.”

Sometimes, you can understand his impatience. It must be frustrating for him to be one step ahead of everyone around him.

“To be your fuck-toy for the summer, right? That means you actually have to fuck me.”.

You wind your arms around his neck, arching your body into his, breasts pushing unsubtly up against him. “I need this. I’ve sat patiently while you worked and worked-out. It gets me hot for you. So, now that you’ve adequately displayed your prowess, I need you to fill me up, baby. And I’m not past begging.”

You watch his eyes shine with pride at your words before burying your lips into his neck. You trail your hot, wet tongue and mouth over his salty skin, your words muffling into him. “You should relax, baby. Just let me take care of you. Remember, how much you like it when I take care of you?” The contact must finally tap into something more primal and less cerebral, as he responds by circling his muscled arms around your waist and sinking his lips to yours in a crush. His prominent, wiry beard is abrasive over your skin as he opens you up, his supple tongue delving deep into the cave of your mouth.

Nathan is all or nothing. He lives by extremes. In binary. As the kiss skyrockets in intensity, his hands dragging up your back and winding into your hair, you know he’s going to give it all to you. No holds barred. He tugs on your hair, sparks like static needling over your scalp as he demonstrates his dominance. His power over you. He likes control. He requires it. And that suits you just fine.

You whimper into his mouth, the sound feeble; all of you feeling feeble against his crushing, passionate embrace. You’ve gladly gotten used to the sheer intensity of him, when his focus does land on you. But this time it feels… different. There’s a hint of desperation in it. Like he’s coming undone for you, not fully in control of himself. He breaks from you, ragged breaths heaving in the space between you. Yanking your hair back so he can look you in the eyes. But when you look at him you find him distressed; discombobulated. The way he gets when something defies explanation, when some mystery or formula or person fails to yield to him in the way he’s become accustomed to. His eyes are shadowed beneath his brows and that tell-tale vein is popping on his forehead. Something is troubling him. If you’re not wrong, that something is you.

“It shouldn’t be possible.”, he breathes, sounding uncharacteristically weak. “It shouldn’t be possible for kissin’ you to make me feel this good.”

You moan into the air for him, his sugared praise and the brokenness of his voice elevating you to another level. “Nathan Bateman, you sound weak for me.”, you tease, delighting in your newfound power, sounding almost as cocky as him.

Turns out, that was the wrong thing to say to a man with a superiority complex. To a man on the verge of full-blown narcissism. And yet, it was the best thing to say to him, because now he feels the need to reassert himself... and, oh boy, do you like it when he does that.

“Weak for you?”, he seethes, his mouth pressing right up against your cheek, hot lips skimming your skin as he enunciates his words. He tugs hard enough on your hair that tears begin to spike at the corner of your eyes. “Weak for you? I’m gonna fucking tear you up, you hear me? I’m gonna take you apart until you can’t even remember your own name.”

“Is that what you want?”, he growls, pressing his clothed erection against your hip. “Want me to break you, fuck-toy?”

“Yes. Yes please. Fuck, Nathan.” His words crawl inside the cavern of you, filtering like lines of code to your centre. You respond to his command instantly, and you feel arousal coiling in your body.

His chest heaving, his mouth a snarl, he releases your hair and then both his hands are on the collar of your oversized shirt. He grabs and tears it away from you abruptly, and you squeal as buttons pop their way on to the hard floor, leaving your lingerie exposed to him. Clearly, Nathan wasn’t expecting that to be revealed beneath, as the sight of your body covered in this skimpy, delicate lace garment has him practically falling to his knees for you. “The fuck is this?, he asks, and you’ve never seen anyone look so annoyed whilst captivated.

“I thought I’d surprise you.”, you coo, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Surprise me? I didn’t know you had it in you.”, he growls, still looking over you with a hunger that makes your whole body quiver. But he doesn’t have his hands on you.And you need his hands on you. Those genius fingers.

“Please. Nathan. Touch, don’t look.”, you plead, eyes roving over him and landing on the tent in his shorts.

You snake your hands out towards his waistband but he grabs your wrists firmly, preventing you. “Uh uh. Naughty naughty.”, he scolds, eyes dark like a destroyer of worlds. “The next time I touch you is gonna be in the shower, and it’s gonna be my dick in your tight cunt, understand?”

You nod in earnest, the look in his eyes demolishing you. Your thighs writhe against each other, aching for some kind of pressure at your core.

“Yes, sir.”, you comply, your voice a husk.

His eyes glow with a self-satisfied, almost cruel glint. You know it’s because you’re the broken, weak one now. You also know that he’s just getting started. Smugly, he releases your wrists, your skin still burning where his fingers dug into you. Then, Nathan inches as close as he can get to you without actually touching, whispering right up against the shell of your ear.

“Turn on the water. Take everything off that hot fuckin’ body of yours. Then face the wall, spread your palms and your legs for me, and wait there until I come and fill you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”, you tremble, throbbing for him.

His eyes glint with promise as you sweep out, hurriedly, Nathan landing a smack to your ass as your quaking legs carry you toward the shower room. All you can think about is his promise. But you focus on his instructions, and you follow them to the letter. You know he’ll be watching you on the monitor, and if you put a foot wrong, he’ll make you pay for it.

First of all, you pad over and fiddle with the various nozzles, until warm water is cascading from various jets above your head. You let it sluice over you, soak through what remains of your shirt and your lingerie, before wiggling the sodden, torn garment off your shoulders first. As it drops onto the floor with a wet slap, you stand there in nothing but the delicate red lace coiling closely around the contours of you, a little like wires.

You feel exposed as you think of Nathan watching you through the cameras, seeing the water slipping over the contours of you until you’re gleaming for him. You think of him palming his hardened length through his shorts as you peel away the delicate fabric from your shoulders, thumbs hooking under the straps. For his benefit, you peel it away slowly, inch-by-inch, cups popping away from your breasts, your exposed nipples pebbling under the water. You think about his eagerness growing as he watches, his thick cock twitching, the head beading with slick as the garment peels away from your stomach, clinging to the wetness of your body.

Finally, you fold it away from your hips and your buttocks. It clings to your thighs, material coiling in on itself like the knot forming at the core of you, and your fingers work it down your body until it finally drops onto the shower floor below you. You step delicately out of it, entirely exposed now, and feeling that way. Next, as instructed, you carefully shuffle your feet apart until your legs are spread for him, you palms flush against the wall in front of you. You know he wants to see your hands so he knows you’re not touching yourself. He was quite clear about what the next thing touching you would be, and you don’t think you have it in you to refuse his command.

The waiting drives you crazy, and you slip your palms further down the wall, arching your spine to push your ass out, further up into the air, writhing it against nothing, but imagining Nathan’s substantial length sliding home into your heat. Imagining his strong arms wrapping around the front of you and dragging you into his slick chest as he pounds you.

Nathan keeps you waiting to the point of irritation. The ache in-between your legs becoming discomfort. Your body stiff from holding its position. You are so eager to press your parted legs against each other. To just reach down with your hand or a shower head and relieve yourself. But you don’t, because you know what’s coming is much too sweet to forgo. You moan on nothing but the thought of him.

When he finally enters you are so desperate, so frustrated, that tears are mingling with the rivulets of water over your face. You hear him pad in and almost turn to look at him before you hear a firm “no” in those deep, rich tones of his. You screw your eyes tightly shut so you won’t be tempted. By this point, your legs are quivering with need, your slick dripping from you. You need his touch inside of you. You bite your lip as you imagine you hear the sound of his clothes being dropped to the floor.

Nathan makes you wait a moment more for any contact, and it feels like the longest moment of your life. He’s made you think about him. Made you focus everything in your mind and your body on exactly where he’s going to touch you.

With a groan, Nathan pushes the head of his cock against your folds. Even the blunt pressure has you mewling for him, and you practically collapse up against the shower wall, wavering with need. Finally, with one swift thrust he slides all the way inside of you, as deep into you as he can possibly go, the base of him settling against you with a smack.

“Holy shit, Nathan.”, you sob, as he fits inside of you, stretching you, the size of him straining your walls, his broad hands clamping down over yours on the tiles. All of your focus is entirely on the ridges and veins and girth of him buried up in your cunt. It feels so good. He feels so fucking good.

He stills in you, simply to tease you more - to demonstrate his power. But you need him to move. You need motion. Need his friction.

“I told you I’d fucking split you open.”, Nathan growls. You try to writhe against him but he’s not allowing it. Not yet. His hands come to clamp hard on your hips. “You said you weren’t past begging, baby. Do it then. Beg me to rail you.”

Your words are sugared pleas into the air which dissolve into the water, making everything around you sweet as Nathan finally begins his ruthless thrusts. He buries himself in you over and over and over as one hand comes to your head, pressing your cheek against the cold tiled wall and pinning you in place as the other grasps the meat of your hip. “I’m gonna take you apart. I’m gonna fucking unmake you, baby.”

You believe him. You believe you are going to come apart for him. You could do so already. Could do it on command, you’re sure of it. With the number of times he’s made you come undone, you have no doubt in the sensations he’s capable of delivering.

Indeed, the way his cock slams into your heat, your walls snug around him, is like an electric current jolting through your body, sending shocks of pleasure with every drag of his contours over your sweet spot. Every time he resheaths himself in your tight cunt. His body fits you so perfectly it’s as if he’s made for you, the way he fills you is like nothing else you’ve ever had.

“Nathan.”, you plead, clutching for him, desperate for more contact. “Nathan, please. Hold me. I need you to hold me.”

There is something so soft in the way he wraps his arm around you and nestles his head over your shoulder, his chest pressing up against you. Even as he pounds into you, his pace relentless - his force punishing. Water sluices between your bodies as his wet skin slaps against yours, your moans surrounding him from all directions in the echoey room. You don’t know how it’s possible for something to feel this harsh and this soft all at once, but you guess the real world doesn’t run on binary. Not everything is an absolute.

Nathan’s groans and grunts billow over your ear as he crushes you to him, ensuring you have no escape from the brutality of his thrusts. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him so vocal. The sound of him, all his anger and arrogance humbled in the place of pleasure – all for you- has your release spilling over, that impossible knot tightening in the pit of you and flooding you with warmth.

Your proclamation comes as a silent plea into the air first of all, followed by a low, guttural moan which blooms from your chest. The sensation overcomes you, wipes everything else from your mind for a moment, as if you are a system rebooting. Feeling fresh. Remade.

“Fuck, Nathan. You make me feel so good.”, you praise into the air, and his hand digs even more harshly into the meat of your hip to pull you down on his length as he drives his own hips up in return. Your words tipping him over the edge, he shoots his seed deep into you in thick, warm ropes of cum as he finds his end too. He sounds wrecked with pleasure as he coats your walls with his release, aftershocks spasming through the both of you as his taut body presses against your back. He is perfectly, uncannily contoured to you.

For a moment then, Nathan doesn’t move. He simply holds you. It is the most still you’ve ever seen him, ever felt him. His mind and his body are always -usually- in perpetual motion. But he just stays there, holding you tight for a second as his cock softens inside you, the only sound the patterns of water slipping off your bodies, and his steady, jagged breathing against the back of your neck. The frenzied patter of your heart as you come down from your high, whole body buzzed.

Eventually, Nathan pulls out and you feel his cum slip out too, down your thighs. You feel satisfaction at having made him feel so good. He directs the shower head to clean himself and then you off, laughing half-cruelly as the water pressure finds your sensitive clit, causing you to shudder.

After a deep, gathering breath you turn to face him with a steady, even grin, and you find the hardness in Nathan’s eyes is entirely gone. Wordlessly, you bat your eyes at him and take the shower head from his grasp, reaching for some soap and, with a soft smile, lathering it over his tired muscles - all over his body. He lets you, closing his eyes against it and humming gently when your hand reaches his chest.

When he opens his eyes, he is looking at you again like you’re an algorithm he can’t solve, an intricate web of code which makes no sense to him. He’s developing a habit of this, the more time he spends with you. You counter his stare curiously, and his eyes narrow in return.

Nathan’s not usually very tactile outside of sex, and so when he reaches his hand out to caress your face you flinch away at first, merely from the shock of it. But, gently, he smooths his palm over your face, his eyes reassuring and like cups of warm, morning coffees on yours.

“How do you do it?”, he asks, his voice faltering. “What makes you different from all the others? Why does it feel so much better with you?”

Your eyes glow with a cautious pride. “Maybe you’re getting soft on me, genius.”

“It’s not possible. What I’m feeling for you... it can’t be real.”

You scoff. You knew the softness had to end sometime. There’s his arrogance again. Nathan Bateman. He thinks himself above most things. Of course he thinks himself above love. Or whatever this is.

“Why not?”, you probe, hiding a slight edge in your tone. “I... I feel it too, you know.”, you admit, but he recoils from you at that moment, snatching his hand away. Looking pained. Looking... pissed off.

“Don’t. You don’t know what you’re saying.”, he dismisses, vein popping in his forehead.

You roll your eyes at him indignantly, flipping off the water and reaching for a towel, which you tuck under your armpits and knot at your chest. You pass Nathan a bath sheet too and he towels himself off before wrapping it around his waist. “So, what? I don’t know my own mind now?”

Nathan replaces his glasses, retrieving them from the washroom counter. He furrows his brow as he looks at you from beneath his mildly steamed up lenses, hands on hips again.

“Do you think you do? Know your own mind?”

This look usually ends you, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you in this moment that you don’t like; like he’s studying you all over again. For some reason his question and his manner cause an unease to bloom in the pit of you and you’re not sure why.

“I mean it.”, he continues, oblivious to your discomfort. “Could you prove that you’re conscious?”

You towel off your hair, dismissing his question. “Don’t start this again, Nathan. I’m not in the mood for philosophy.”. Your voice comes out weaker than you intended it. Unsure. The room suddenly feels hot and airless, but as you turn to leave it, Nathan grabs you sharply by the wrist.

“Could you?”, Nathan continues, an intensity in his eyes that you shrink back from, his voice broken all over again. “’Cause… Please.”, he grimaces. “I need to know how these feelings could seem so real when you’re....”

A dread you can’t explain is flooding you now, your bottom lip trembling. He cuts himself off, leaving you feeling as if you’re hanging over an abyss.

“When I’m what?”, you press, eyes interrogating his. “When I’m what, Nathan?”. There is a rising panic in your tone which you can’t quell.

Something like fear passes over Nathan’s eyes then and he shakes his head dismissively, trying to backpedal. “Never mind. Never mind, baby. I’m sorry. Just forget it. I’ve had too much coffee. Or not enough.” His voice is sweet. Sickly sweet. Manipulative. But when he speaks that term of endearment it sounds entirely sincere.

He tries to shush you, to soothe you, dragging you in towards him in a surrounding embrace. You don’t resist it, at first. You fit against him as if he was made for you.

Or you were made for him.

A feeling like bile rises up in your stomach as your next thought arises.

As if you were made by him.

“No.”, you say, feeling suddenly ill with understanding. “No, no, no!”.

You beat and thrash your arms against his chest but he tries to pin you close to him; ineffectually tries to calm you. You become a mess of arms, like sparring, as he begins grabbing at your wrists and pleading with you from beneath his glasses, chin dipped low like a boxer.

Your revelation doesn’t seem possible, And yet you instantly know there is truth in it. When you try to think beyond Nathan? You can’t. You were made here. You’ve never left. You are his. His fuck-toy.

“Baby. Baby, I’m so sorry.”, Nathan begs, looking distraught, undone. More vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him. But you don’t care. You don’t care.This is about you. If there is a “you” at all.

Regardless, you struggle against his attempts to subdue you, but he built you weaker than him. There’s something sinister about that. Though why would a god create someone in his own image when he could create them weaker? If he couldn’t prove himself more powerful, would he even be a god at all?

You sob and sob as the truth of things dawns on you. The scope of this truth feels like it’s frying and warping your brain. You feel like you can’t possibly process all of this. It feels like violence, that he created you at all.

“Baby. Shush.”, Nathan reassures, still trying to capture your flailing arms and to contain you. Control you. “You’ll hurt yourself, please. Please stop.”

He does it with reluctance, at least. When your reactions become increasingly violent, Nathan has no choice but to power you down, for your own safety. For his. He whispers apologies into the steamy air. Claws at his buzzed head in distress. As you fall limply to the shower room floor the sight of you there, like that, makes him hurl abruptly into the nearby sink. His hands shake and tears spill from him as he pushes your damp hair back from your face and carries you down to the lab.

He lays you out on the workbench in front of him, alongside the parts and components and faces of other dismantled flings. For once, he doesn’t have any of the answers. None of the others were quite like you, and he still can’t explain it.

Usually, when he lost control of a test subject, he had one alternative; to delete. To take them apart. To start again. But he’d never lost control of himself; his feelings. Not like this. And even if he deleted you, and all of your memories, he couldn’t scrub you from his own brain.

Could he?

Becoming increasingly volatile with emotion, tears streaming down his cheeks, Nathan yells his stream of consciousness into the air, before fishing a bottle of vodka out of his desk drawer and tipping it to his lips as he takes several generous swigs at once. There are some methods humans can use to forget, he supposes.

Then, his eyes cool slightly, his manner becoming slightly more detached. Detached enough to open you up. To slip red wires inside each of your ports with his genius fingers, connecting you to his system. The wires coil around your body, reminiscent of that red, lace lingerie.

“You’re not real, right?”, he asks softly, over your still, beautiful form, his hands running again over his buzzed head as he leans over you. “You’re not fucking real. Just wires. So, if I just wipe you... doesn’t matter? Right? Doesn’t fucking matter?”

Hands trembling, he boots up your code on his monitor. Frenzied, his eyes move at light-speed over the commands and sequences before his eyes. Looking for some explanation. Some evidence. Something he can point to as proof. Proof of you.

But he finds nothing. He can’t prove it. How can you prove consciousness? So, finding nothing to validate this thoroughly illogical adoration that he feels in the pit of him, he taps hurriedly at the keys and generates a command, his index finger hovering over the button as he tries to psych himself up to “execute”.

Execute. Now there’s a choice word.

Maybe there’s another way. Some other way to deal with this. But gods tend to deal in absolutes, not “if” statements. Nathan tended to deal in absolutes.

If you’re real, he loves you, absolutely.

If you’re not, then he’s not a god. He’s nothing more than a fool.

It all comes down to what Nathan is more willing to risk, in the end. Would he dare risk it for love? Would Nathan ever risk appearing a fool?

His index finger hovers over the key, shaking, like the hand of God.

Creator and destroyer of worlds.

He whispers under his breath.

“I am become death.”

THE END

(PLEASE DON’T SPOIL THE TWIST FOR OTHER READERS? TIA!)

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#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #nathan bateman smut #nathan bateman angst #ex machina #oscar isaac

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estellaelysian · 3 years

Text

Birthday

I know you all will eventually get tired of my letters, but can't help it, I really love them

For @choicesmonthlychallenge March: day 6 - birthday and day 11 - fluffy

**********

Soft breeze sifted through the windows, gently touching him before moving onto her. He had gotten used to leaving the windows open because she liked it that way.

He had gotten used to a lot of things the way she liked it. He didn’t regret a single of them.

The yearn for small things had increased greatly in the last few months: holding hands beneath a table, stealing glances, even kisses sometimes. It made him feel more alive than he ever had felt.

He shifted the breakfast plate to his other hand before drawing the curtains. She did not notice the change of light. Instead, she was busy scribbling down on her notepad, her laptop open in front of her, display a dozen different tabs. He chuckled to himself.

These days, he was more unlike himself, and she constantly acted like him. He should’ve felt something, but all he felt was adoration at how they now had mixed personalities.

Losing himself to her was probably the best thing he ever went through.

The breeze blew again, this time lifting the curtains before gently grazing her skin. Her hair were held back in a bun, and wisps of it framed her face. She was intently looking between the notepad and the laptop, looking like a mess.

The most beautiful mess, mind you. Nothing less spectacular than a star emitting thousand different rays of light.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, although he hadn’t exactly been silent. As he shuffled behind her in the room, putting away the paper and clearing the desk for the plate, he wondered about how easy life was with her. Everything was there, fixed in his brain in a vivid detail.

She left a part of her behind for him always, no matter in what way.

Her pen, her favorite pen would be left at his apartment. Lipstick stains were found on his glasses left a permanent tattoo on his heart. Her stationary, some of her notepads – something always left behind.

Just like her marks all over him.

An intoxicating warmth spread in his chest as he turned to her.

‘Hey,’ he murmured.

‘Hey,’ she said back, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.

‘Would you stop that?’

‘Um, yeah, just a sec…’

‘Leave that for a minute please? It’s your day today.’

‘Don’t you remember saying that it’s just another day, same one like the last?’

‘I don’t,’ he said, crossing the room and taking hold of her wrist, forcing her to look up at him.

Her green eyes seemed to drink in his sight before she shook her head slightly and tried to twist her arm away.

‘Ethan, I have work to do.’ She giggled when he still wouldn’t let go of her wrist.

‘And I could care less. Now come on. Come with me.’

He pulled her after him to the desk, where a plate with steaming cannoli pancakes waited for her. She turned to him, aghast. ‘You made this? You do know this is not for the faint of the heart, right?’

A defeated smile tugged at his lips as she burst into a fit of giggles. ‘This is amazing,’ she said, giggling even more.

‘You are impossible. Eat these; I’ll be back in a sec.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Nowhere. Now come on,’ he prompted gently, before finally disappearing past the door.

‘Strange,’ she mused, taking hold of the fork.

He was not the kind for surprises, never would be. He only knew about the effort it took in planning all of it, considering that it could also fail, and he knew Alishka did it for him one too many times. He could do something for her too.

Even if he needed some help, which a petite brunette was happy to provide.

So here he was, going through everything all over again, occasionally running a hand through his hair. The letters her parents were good to go, so were the ones written to her by her friends. Naveen’s present was all set, so was Alan’s and his own. Smiling softly, he went inside the room again, thinking there was no better way to be.

She was humming to herself as she ate, occasionally tapping her foot against the cold floor, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

She seemed almost childlike, but somehow yet the grown woman who had opened up his heart to love when he thought he couldn’t do it anymore.

The one who had barged into his life without his permission.

He couldn’t be more glad for her presence.

He ambled toward her, his hands held behind his back. She didn’t notice him until he placed a soft kiss on her head. She grinned up at him, holding out a spoonful.

‘What is with all the suspense?’

‘You’ll see,’ he said simply, and waited for her.

Just like he had for the last thirty seven years, for someone to heal him.

He wondered if he would ever be able to express in words what he felt about her. If he’d be able to tell her the rise of heat in his cheeks when she was around, or the way his world lit up just the moment he saw her.

No.

No words were enough to tell her what he felt.

And yet, here he was, holding a letter, something he had never done before, just for her.

He smiled when she turned to him again.

‘Come on now,’ she demanded with a flick of her wrist.

‘Yes. Won’t you sit?’

Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, she settled beside him.

They went through the presents together, first the dress and letters shipped to Boston by her parents, then Naveen’s card and a fountain pen (just like he had given Ethan when his residency ended), and then came the gifts from her friends, an assortment of sorts, all things picked in a way that the whole fit together, just like their group did.

She bounced with excitement through it all, and his heart swelled like a water blossom with joy.

She was the single most precious thing in his life, and he had vowed to never let her go again. Ever.

‘Okay, now your turn.’

‘What? I don’t have a present for you.’

‘What?’

‘Come on Rookie. You know I don’t do gifts. This is all you’re getting for your birthday.’

He was amazed by how fast her mood changed. But she didn’t let any of it show, not even betraying a single emotion she felt.

He reached for her and kissed her gently before handing her the letters he had spent the early hours of morning writing.

She gasped, looking up at him, before a smile occupied her face.

‘Read it, I’ll take a quick shower.’

With that, he disappeared, and she turned back to the letter. Unfolding it, she gently traced the words, written in the familiar scrawl, and taking a deep breath, began reading.

My dearest,

You don’t know how grateful I am for your presence in my life. So since today is your day, we are going to celebrate you. In every way possible.

But the first way is in words.

And even though I say that, you must know that no amount of words can ever describe how beautiful you are, or how thankful I am. Yet, here we go.

You are like the sun in my sky, burning fierce and radiant, correcting me when needed, and pushing me toward the correct path when I stray.

You are like the moon in my nights, peaceful and serene, bringing calm whenever I feel unsettled.

You are like the stars that shine so bright, impelling me to try something new and different every few days.

You are the air that feels alive on my skin, feeding me of breath and life.

You are like the cool water that ripples, tranquil, yet wild.

You are like the tree which provides shade to my tired soul.

You are like the leaves which rustle and give me music when I am weary.

And you, my love, are the most precious thing to me.

And below that were the seven words that proved to be the breaking point for her.

He stepped back into the room, wet hair sticking to his face as he looked down at her.

‘Do you like it?’

‘Ethan… this is the best present ever,’ she said.

Failing to hold herself back anymore, she rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around him tightly, burying her face in his chest.

He rested his chin on her head and peeked to find the letter he had written on the bed, smiling at the last few words before murmuring them to her.

'Thank you for barging your way into my life.'

**********

Thank you all for reading.

Let me know if you want to be added/ removed from the tags

#ethan ramsey #open heart #playchoices #ethan x mc #choices #ethanramsey #openheart #fanfiction #open heart fanfiction

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Lovebug (2/10)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 3 4 5

Notes: I was torn between publishing the next chapter of lovebug or outlier tonight so I opted to just go for lovebug. I'll post the next chapter of outlier mid next week. As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

“We’re gonna delay the release of our next fix…” Levi repeated, just a little slower that time. He didn’t trust himself then to speak in anything faster or with a tone any louder.

It was too early in the morning for a meeting, just a little past eight in the morning. He was called into Erwin’s office right after arriving into company grounds and Erwin, a natural early bird, was talking louder than what could have been considered bearable for Levi.

At eight in the morning though, not a lot of things were bearable, especially if they involved a huge change of plans and a glaring reminder that he had a long work day ahead of him.

More importantly, Erwin’s voice was grating in a way that most bosses’ voices were grating when laced with a little more urgency than necessary. “Yes Levi, we’re delaying our fixes indefinitely, not just for Love Alarm but all of our other apps as well.”

Levi raised his eyebrows. “Really? You know we’ve been announcing this big fix for months.”

“I’ve contacted the marketing team. We are pushing the fixes back a week. You think that will be enough for you to finish everything you need?”

Levi shook his head. “There’s no need to push back the release. I can work on this bug now and I can have the other developers and the support team work on getting the regression testing done and getting the release out.”

Erwin shook his head. “I do not want to give Mr. Jaeger the impression that we aren’t prioritizing his complaints. Levi, you have to understand. He’s an important client.”

“I understand that. And I will be on top of things. I’m testing this issue myself.” Most days, Levi left the testing option to the support team. Given the nature of the bug though and the severe urgency of getting it fixed, it had been an easy decision for Levi to take it upon himself.

Erwin hummed in approval. “Yes and I’m happy to hear that you're going to be investigating this bug. I would rather that we didn’t release anything while investigating this.”

“May I ask why? This bug doesn’t involve any of our other functionalities. I can test this myself.”

Erwin hummed. “Zeke Jaeger is an unpredictable man. I don’t think he would appreciate us improving our product while such a glaring bug still exists. He is a very vocal and he might give us some bad press.”

“Oh?” Levi heard the derision in his own tone then, a smooth yet venomous sound. Zeke Jaeger had been outwardly friendly yet for some reason Levi couldn’t explain just yet. He wasn’t at all drawn by the charisma that accompanied it. In fact, the blonde had just been annoying and the conversation only cemented Levi’s first impression of Zeke Jaeger as bad, maybe even terrible.

What the hell does Hange see in him? He added to himself then. How that had entered his own contemplations then, he didn’t know. He quickly brushed it away and mustered the most seemingly uninvested face he could make then.

Erwin had that special talent of seeming uninvested either. As he settled on the sofa in front of Levi, he mixed the coffee just a little too loudly. He had an aura about him that very much meant business. “Have you done some prior investigation?”

“I did,” Levi said. As he soon found out, that aura was contagious.

“Anything new?”

“I’m entertaining the idea that what if…. The application is working fine?”

“Can you explain why his partner had two hearts while he had none?”

Levi cleared his throat. “Assuming the application is working perfectly, we can draw two conclusions. One, someone in love with Hange Zoe had their application on and Two, Hange Zoe isn’t in love with Zeke Jaeger.” That last conclusion couldn’t have easily been true, but still such words left such a sweet aftertaste in Levi’s mouth that he had to make some considerable effort not to smile.

Erwin raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “Any leads on whose application could have been on?”

It had taken some strength, some self confidence and some self discipline on Levi’s side to pull his phone out then. “My love alarm was on yesterday, I forgot to turn it off after the demo…” He navigated to the ‘history’ tab and opened his history to the exact time to late afternoon yesterday.

One person nearby is in love with you. Levi read silently to himself. In that split second, he was contemplating display issues and front end bugs that maybe just maybe accidentally chalked Hange’s heart as ‘love.’ It was highly unlikely though so even before that idea had ripened into something worth an explanation and a support ticket, Levi brushed it aside.

“So your application was on the whole time.” Erwin murmured, looking intently at the phone in front of him.

Levi nodded. “But it’s a good step in the right direction. That means there’s a bug to investigate after all. I just have to isolate it to either Hange Zoe’s application build or mine,” he explained.

“That seems promising and do you need any help organizing a meeting with her.”

“She’s coming today for a little testing.”

“Just like my best engineer to think a few steps ahead.” Erwin asked, a smile curling up his lips. “And you think you can get it done within a week?”

“If all goes well… Even less than a week.”

***

It had turned out that that small meeting had worked well to organize Levi’s thoughts. He had a quick action plan from there and with an action plan, a new burst of motivation, or at least enough of it to carry him from Erwin’s room to his own small office space in a little less than five minutes.

A week to investigate. Levi thought to himself as he leaned back on his office chair. He looked back up at the ceiling for a good few seconds before writing his deadline down on the white board next to him.

He didn’t need that whiteboard, their workflow trackers and excel sheets worked well to always keep Levi in the right state of mind. Yet there was something organic about white boards, something natural about being able to write the numbers with his own hand, freely changing his fonts with just the slight of the hand, impulsively changing formats at just a quick motion.

So he kept it there next to him, a large annoying waste of space to most people. But Levi had taken great pains to make it look organized in his room, measuring each frame to the millimeter. It was a large clean slate right next to his desk in his very small office. And more importantly, it was something that was very much his to play around with like he wanted to.

Under the deadline, he put the new release date of their fix.

We’re delaying the release of the next fix by a week.

Such wise words from someone who didn’t know how the investigation process actually worked. But with an employee and boss relationship, emphasis on Levi being the employee, he had to make it work. That’s how it had always been in the office. Erwin wasn’t a developer. He was a manager. And Levi was being paid by him.

Levi though never liked the idea of delaying fix releases. Once the date was announced, he liked to make sure all of the quality assurance testing and the regression testing was done two weeks ahead. And with that habit becoming custom for the Love Alarm project, he was sure they would have managed to make the release next week. Staring at the workflow interface, he noted the bar was more than half full already, most bugs were tagged as fix. All test builds were submitted and passed and they could have easily moved on to the final regression testing before release.

And regression testing never actually failed. The Love Alarm app after all was a very functionally simple application.

With the weight of a wasted timely release and the powerlessness of corporate politics bare on his back, Levi let out a long sigh.

He opened up his slack channel and typed out a few words.

We’re delaying the next fix release.

But it wouldn’t just be the Love Alarm which would be affected, all the other applications would be affected as well. His notifications exploded within five seconds, all feedback from each time. Levi started to wonder, maybe he should have put everything in one message.

So he edited his old message.

We’re pushing it back a week.

Under that, he put a new date and time as a reminder to all other employees. There were many why’s, many protests and his application continued to shake with notifications.

He checked the time on his phone. Hange had agreed to meet at nine and she should be texting soon. With little to no brains pace to create a summary of his meeting with Erwin in less than ten minutes, Levi typed out two words.

Erwin’s orders. Without waiting for anymore protests, he closed his laptop, packed up his things and ready to move to the small conference room he had reserved for him and Hange.

It was a few floors below. A small room among others but Levi was familiar enough with the layout of their offices to know it was very much soundproof.

Any unwelcome alarms, unwelcome notifications and unwelcome conversations would stay in that room. Even before Levi had dropped off his things in the conference room, Hange had already texted.

Her car was by the gate already.

Meet in the lobby. Levi texted back as he quickened his pace, quickly turning back towards the elevator, laptop bag still in hand.

He could have been too slow. Or Hange could have just been too fast but by the time he had arrived in the lobby, she was already on one of the seats next to the reception, playing around with her phone.

She was wearing a light sweater, her brown hair was pulled up messily into a half ponytail. Levi though had to note that it still looked very much like it fell into place. For a second, he had given her a good onceover, admiring everything at once.

Only a split second later, he was cruelly reminded that he had made her wait, long enough for her to have to sit down in one of the lobby sofas. “How long were you waiting?” It wouldn’t have been the first greeting Levi would have liked to give then. His heart was racing though and soon he realized, maybe he had taken up the unnecessary challenge of jogging down those five flights of stairs while keeping his laptop safely in tow.

Hange looked up from her phone seeming surprised. “Are you busy? Was this a bad time to visit?” Hange asked. “We could reschedule... “

More and more, the first greeting then was seeming less and less ideal. “No, no. This is great. I don’t know what just came over me. Thank you for taking the time to test this bug with me.”

Hange shook her head. “No, no, I asked my partner to invest in this application for a reason. I see great potential and I’d be happy to tweak some of those bugs with you.” Her lips widened into a smile. “So what’s the game plan?”

Levi gestured towards the elevators. “We do some simple testing. I just need to isolate the cause of this bug.”

“Oh? How does application testing work?”

“We use the application,” Levi answered matter-of-factly. Was there any other way to test it? It didn’t seem like something he should be asking the very important partner of a very important person though so Levi kept that last question to himself, instead keeping his face then as something both subtle and questioning.

“That’s cool,” Hange said. “So how’s your job?”

“It’s fine,” Levi answered. “The investigation will keep me busy.” He stared at the numbers on the elevator, getting lower and lower and Levi could have sworn it couldn’t go any slower. He could have found some consolation if anybody else had joined them in the elevator then, to at least abate that awkward need to carry some conversation between them.

Any other employees though had chosen for themselves to wait in front of other elevators. Levi was almost considering doing the same thing.

After all, Hange was talkative. She was asking questions. When they entered the elevator together, the very slow elevator, there would be more than enough time to send two to three questions back and forth. And Levi was quick to realize, he was an incredibly boring person.

“So do you have any hobbies?”

“Programming.” What about you? Levi had readied himself to ask in that long split second of silence that followed.

Hange though was quick to respond even before he could take control of the conversation. “Well aside from your actual job.”

“I like to clean,” Levi answered. He started to wonder how dorky that hobby sounded like. He needed to rephrase. “I meant--- organize things…” He added a second later. “Like Marie Kondo.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard about her,” Hange said. She had at least allowed for a split second silence then, long enough for Levi to take the reins of the conversation.

Hange though was a high profile person, her partner was one of the richest men in the country and Levi’s mind was racing with hypotheticals. Was it okay to ask her about her hobbies? Her interests? Or was that supposed to be an exclusively professional meeting?

Soon, with all the questions nagging at him at once, he unearthed a question at the back of his mind that he had been meaning to ask since he had met Hange down at the lobby.

So how’s your husband?

Where’s your husband? Do you hang out with him often? Do you usually do stuff alone? A question that couldn’t so easily be answered by a single google search on an incognito window, only that night, he had tried searching keywords just to be sure.

Hange Zoe Zeke Jaeger Relationship

And soon after searching that just once. He had made sure to clear his browser history just in case he didn’t do it in some incognito window. After all, night mode and incognito mode had almost the same interface.

He soon found out though after jumbling around keywords over a search engine that Google wasn’t omnipotent as it turned out. The only one who could have satisfied his curiosity at that moment was the brunette next to him then.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask it just then though. So he went for another question, a very vanilla one but it seemed like a safe bet. “What about you?”

“What about me? What do you mean about me?”

Levi was starting to doubt the flow of the conversation of a while ago. Did he remember it correctly?

The elevator dinged like it was announcing some coming of a messiah. That had been more than enough to break the awkwardness of that exchange and Levi quickly slammed the open elevator door, just a little more loudly than usual. He gestured for Hange to go ahead.

“Hobbies,” Levi said as he met her outside the elevator.

“I like research,” Hange answered.

“Is that your full time job?” Levi asked. He didn’t need to ask. He had read more than enough articles of Zeke Jaeger’s partner to have seen ‘neuropsychologist’ used as an epithet enough to be convinced that that was her full time job. The last thing he wanted to do though was actually accidentally imply in a conversation that he had googled a few keywords for answers before clearing his browser history.

Hange nodded. “Yes it is.”

“Well… Hobbies aside from your actual job?” Levi asked. He kept his own word usage and his own phrasing similar to what Hange had used with him. If Hange asked it that way, that should have been a socially acceptable way to ask.

“I like plants,” Hange said firmly. She wasn’t looking at him. Although Levi had wanted to see the face she was making then, he started to realize that craning his neck to get a good view of her face might just look a little too weird.

So he settled for her side profile. From his view he could see eyes were everywhere at once from the hallways to the doorways just a little further away from the area that opened up as soon as they exited the elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Over here,” Levi said, he was quick to pull her towards the other side though, before she found out that he had taken a good few steps already in the wrong direction. “The conference room is over here…”

“We have a meeting?” Hange asked, her voice suddenly very tense.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just thought it would be better that I reserved a room, so we could do some testing where we wouldn’t bother anyone.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I thought I was supposed to be preparing something.”

In those few minutes, he had made her wait, made her navigate some awkward conversation and made her panic. Then and there as he led her to the room, he was guessing what kind of dashing review she’d be giving Zeke about their first meet up.

More importantly, was he giving a great second impression? It was nine in the morning, too early for him to be confident that he was a fully functioning human being. Or so, that was what he repeated to himself then. He could make up for it after lunch.

Hange settled on one of the chairs nearest to the door. “Do we sit together?” She asked. The meeting room was designed for a maximum of ten people and for a good few seconds, he wondered if he should have gotten something much smaller.

Even before he had figured it out for himself, he was looking between sitting right next to her or towards the other side of the room. They weren’t married. Could he sit beside someone who was married?

But if he sat too far, he might not be able to hear her. He went for a very safe in between. He dropped his laptop bag on the seat next to her with some flourish, as if to say, he was married to his job and he was happy with that arrangement before sitting on the seat right next to his bag.

There was a bag between them, they were a safe distance away and Levi pulled his laptop out and booted it up. “I’m suspecting that the issue with your application might be the build. Can you redownload it for me?” He asked. The laptop had been a reminder at least that they were there for business. And business meant that they had a topic of conversation and he had practiced that script enough times to know, he probably didn’t sound like an idiot.

“Are we testing now?” Hange pulled her phone from her bag.

“Yes we are. Just download the app from the app store. I need to confirm that this isn't just your build in particular being faulty,” Levi brought out his own phone, deleted the application from the folder before redownloading it into his phone.

The ‘downloading’ message next to the love alarm application served some form of inspiration for conversation topics at least. “So, how does your husband like the app?” Levi asked. That line was straight from the basic customer service manual and he was very much sure that was acceptable territory for a professional conversation topic.

“Ahh Zeke? He loves the application. He told me himself, he sees potential in it too.”

Did he tell you over dinner? Over car rides? Somehow, Levi was picturing them over a happy dinner in their European style dining room in their very expensive penthouse apartment down town. He knew how it looked. He had seen it in one of the lifestyle articles he had googled just the night before. “That’s good,” Levi said, he felt that comment catch at his throat. He cleared his throat. “The bug... How does he feel about it?”

Hange’s face fell at that. Subtly at least, but with Levi had been staring at her for the past few seconds, it was very much noticeable as a split second movement. “Yeah, about that…”

“Did he say anything about it?”

“We did research on the application last night… And we were theorizing… so the heart could have been from him… and from someone else right? Someone else had their application open then. And he was saying it was you.” Hange’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “But I remember you said, it could be a bug right? And I’m sure you turned off your phone before we tested it…”

“And we’re testing again,” Levi said as he opened the newly downloaded application on his phone. “Log into your account.” He ordered, looking pointedly at Hange’s phone.

The biometrics were already in his account, all he needed was to log his fingerprints again. Levi took a glance at Hange’s phone laid out on the table.

She had gone through the log in process quickly. He turned the love alarm on and rested his chin on his hands and waited. Hange only needed a few seconds. Soon she had turned it on.

And within a second, her phone buzzed then his phone buzzed. It did wonders to shake the whole table then, enough for Levi to have to grit his teeth as the table shook sending a bolt of shivers up to his chin.

He could have sworn he felt blood rush to his face then. He quickly turned off the alarm. “It might be a problem with our phones. I”ll bring down some test devices and we can try this again. He avoided Hange’s gaze only brushing his hands on her shoulders long enough to make his point known. “Just wait here.”

Hange mumbled something with a seemingly obedient tone. Levi didn’t bother to guess. He quickly made his way out of the room, up the stairs--- he was in no mood to run into anyone in the elevator.

It had taken him roughly ten minutes to go back up to the office and come back down with a bag full of gadgets. He dropped the bag on the meeting table, maybe a little too loud and a little too roughly. “These are the most common gadgets used for testing the love alarm. They’ve all been factory reset so just set any one of them up and we try the application again.”

Hange seemed frozen with surprise, at the least she had managed a nod.

Setting up the device was a simple process and Hange didn’t ask too much about it. She had at least kept quiet through the whole ordeal and although it was second nature for Levi to set up a device, he made sure to keep his head down, his eyes intent, feigning deep concentration.

Or maybe he needed to concentrate. His hands were shaking just a little bit, his heart was racing.

He was sure he only needed to try it one different device, one commonly used model for both of their phones to rule out any problems with build or model. It was a decisive move.

And the climax of such a process came once again when Hange had motioned to click the love alarm again before looking up at him. Before they even met eyes, Levi clicked the on button on his end.

It was at the moment when the alarms rang in unison again did Hange avert her gaze. Levi bit his lip as he stared back at his phone.

One person nearby is in love with you.

He glanced up, at Hange’s phone. Although he couldn’t make out the words on it, the characteristic heart near the center was enough. She was getting the same heart.

He grabbed the phone from her. “It might be related to the model,” Levi said, Years of experience working with applications and phones were telling him, it wasn’t related. One working phone was more than enough proof. Looking at the watch at the end of the meeting room, he saw it was far from lunch time, he had at least ten devices in the bag. “Let’s try it on other phones… Just to be sure.”

***

“Levi, what if…”

“What if…” Levi nodding his head at Hange slowly, a subtle gesture for her to continue speaking.

For lunch, they had settled for one of the diner just along the wide shopping streets only a few minutes walk from the building.

An eventful few minutes walk. Levi had turned on his love alarm, put an earbud to one ear and listened to the alarm ring on repeat as he followed Hange through the streets. There were a few other notifications that popped up and left as he listened. But the ringing coming from that one heart which he had already surmised long ago, was from Hange’s heart had settled into even the cadence of his steps. It became an ubiquitous part of the short walk to the shopping street.

When they had settled in the diner though, Hange was quick to drop her phone in front of him and show him the history of her application. On her phone, there was one heart that remained steadfast through the whole ten minute walk as well.

At that moment, Hange pointed at it, then glanced quickly at Levi’s own phone. “What if… You are attracted to me. And I’m attracted to you? Because this love alarm, it doesn’t just check love right? It checks attractiveness. So if a passer by thinks you’re attractive, your alarm rings,” Hange said.

Levi leaned back on the diner behind him, picking at his fries with a fork. He couldn’t bring himself to eat one, just the results of their testing that morning had him losing his appetite. Consequently, he had ordered the burger meal at the front of the menu, something he was in no mood to eat.

“So maybe…” Hange said.

“Hange, we just met. During all the tests. I have never made anyone’s love alarm ring. Besides, I don’t think I’d be the type of guy to get attracted to someone at first glance. I don’t believe in love at first sight.” And someone who’s married at that. If Levi had something in his mouth then as that thought ran through his mind, he was sure he would have choked. He was more grateful than ever that he hadn’t started eating.

“But, we saw it already… The application was giving the same reading and when we were walking too… It never stopped ringing…” Hange explained. Still she looked like she was still finding the right words.

Levi understood her clearly though. “Hange, are you in love with me?”

Hange turned a bright red. “What? No, I'm married. Also, we just met and I don’t believe in love at first sight either”

“So do you believe there’s a bug?”

Hange nodded. “Maybe? Or maybe the data you put into the application was flawed. Maybe there are things that need to be improved.”

“That is a good point. So what do you suggest then Hange?”

“I’ll help you research. I pitched this application to Zeke because I wanted to try rolling something out similar to hospitals, psychiatric units. And if he invests maybe we could improve the application, work to make it more accurate?”

“That’s the plan. But he said so himself, he’s not going to invest in the application until the bug is fixed.”

“But what if it is working as expected… What if it’s just a matter of fixing the data?” Hange looked out the window, seeming deep in thought. Levi wondered if that last question had been for him or for herself.

“I can do further testing on this. Just to make sure,” Levi said. “The problem is… How are you gonna convince Zeke to invest in this?”

Hange sighed. “I guess it's going to be a question of timing. I'll catch him when he's in a good mood and--”

“Hange, are you willing to admit to your husband that you might just be attracted to some stranger?”

That shouldn't have been such a difficult thing. He had heard before of married couples who window shopped so Levi amended that question in his mind.

Are you willing to admit to your seemingly unhinged husband that you might just be attracted to some stranger?

***

Sometimes, the only way to find the bug is to break the application.

Levi and Hange got caught in the lunch time rush. But Hange wasn’t a typical worker, Levi wasn’t a typical eight to five employee either.

So Levi saw opportunity for a little test. “Open your love alarm,” he whispered. He put one earbud to his ear, motioning for Hange to do the same. He turned on the application once again, letting the shill ring grace his ears one again.

It was annoying at first, but over time, he had started to see it as an old friend. He was far from the denial stage already and he was already threading the lines of acceptance.

He was a developer. He had fucked up the coding and a bug had appeared. And that issue, it was a bug for sure, a bug he needed to investigate.

And any opportunity for data and evidence, was an opportunity he couldn’t waste.

“We walk through the lunch crowd,” Levi said. “Usually when I walk through, I get two to three rings. Sometimes more. There have been issues before that getting too many at once, sometimes the application would conceal all the hearts and the only way to get it to work again is to reset the application.”

“So what do we do?” Hange asked.

“Turn on your application and we walk through the crowds,” Levi repeated matter-of-factly.

The crowds around him though were disconcerting and he could understand how Hange would have needed some guidance then.

What did she know about testing? When Levi asked himself that question, he started to pick out another question too. What did he know about testing?

He was an engineer and he had been working with applications for years. He had experienced a lot about testing. But he had never experienced testing with a customer married to one of the biggest opportunities of a company and being accused of being in love with her by his own brain child.

He was treading unfamiliar grounds.

The ringing of the alarm was always unsettling at first. By the fifth ring, it always found a rhythm. Or maybe it was his own brain that found rhythm in it.

And he walked to that rhythm, he pushed past the crowds to that rhythm and every two to three rings, he would take a glance to see Hange beside him, her face had settled to some rhythm too. Sometimes, she would look back at him, other times she would look behind her, as if she suspected someone had set her alarm off.

But he had become part of her rhythm too. From his peripherals, he could see she snuck glances at him. Very quick glances that Levi had been perceptible, invested enough to notice.

They could have been walking for five minutes, or maybe even ten. Soon, Levi realized, the love alarm had embedded itself into the background noise, an annoying ring amid faint voices, conversations, public announcements.

It had only seemed loud once again when the street had opened up to an open space at the center.

In front of them was an empty park, and it usually was empty when the lunch crowds had made their way back to their offices. Levi had worked there long enough to know.

The chaos of the alarm had subsided into one noise. He turned to Hange to see that she was looking up at the sky then, one hand over her forehead, shading the view from the bright afternoon sun.

The light from the sun had done wonders to make her cheeks look a bright pink and for a second or so, Levi just stared, long enough for Hange to have noticed. Or maybe it was her plan to look to him eventually.

“Did it stop?” Levi asked as soon as he became aware of those hazel eyes on him. He averted his gaze and looked around the empty park. Nobody should be ringing his alarm. Nobody should be ringing her alarm. But them.

It should have been a win-win situation. If that had worked to break the application, Levi could have clocked that as the bug and investigated that instead. If it worked as expected, if the two applications continued to ring, then maybe it was working.

His alarm was still ringing. He did a thorough 360 of the park. No one was near enough to even meet the ten meter radius. Just to be sure though he turned to Hange. “Anyone around our ten meter radius?”

The park was empty save for one old man on a bench a good distance away, definitely more than ten meters. He hoped it had sounded like a redundant question.

Hange shook her head. “Nobody. But the application is still ringing.”

“Did it stop at all? During the walk?”

Once again, Hange shook her head.

Levi took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders back. “Erwin gave me a week to figure this out. I’ll do some of my own personal investigation after this.”

“Hey, I’ll do what I can too. I really want you to get those funds.” Hange took her hands in his and Levi had half the mind to pull away. If her hands weren’t so soft and maybe a little too warm even for a cool spring day.

Levi had been almost disappointed when Hange dropped his hand and turned back to her phone. Just ‘almost’ though. They just met, he couldn’t be too invested in hands.

So he thought back once again to backend work to the numbers that made up the love alarm. And he thought of Hange’s little suggestion. “You said something about flawed data right?”

***

“My plan is I’m gonna see if I can convince Zeke to take up that love alarm,” Hange said.

“No need to hurry. I have a week to get it working,” Levi muttered. He wasn’t looking at Hange then. His laptop was propped on his lap and he was looking through open support tickets.

They had a support team and being a developer, answering customer queries wasn’t his job. At that rate though, he was looking for anything to keep him busy. Zeke would be coming to pick up Hange and the last thing he wanted to be was free enough to stare at them.

“I have some books on love, I could send them over,” Hange suggested

Levi looked up from his laptop. The support ticket on ‘how to download the app’ was not very interesting after all and he found reason once again to stare at Hange’s bright hazel eyes. “Why would I need books about love?”

“You seem… inexperienced with love?” Hange started. She seemed unsure with that answer.

“Inexperienced with love?” Levi narrowed his eyes at her.

“Allergic to love,” Hange repeated. “so I thought it might help if you read on them.”

“Why would you care if I read them?”

“If we’re gonna work together to improve the accuracy of your alarm, I think you should learn. I’ll do my part too. I’ll learn a bit of coding.”

Levi shrugged. “Send them over then. I’ll look through them if I have time. First things first, I need to get a little more testing done.”

“They might be useful for testing. Or maybe they’ll be able to help you pick out which sensations in particular point to love.”

“I loaded the data. I would know,” Levi said.

Hange raised one eyebrow at him in playful suspicion. It had done some magic in helping Levi recall that all he remembered were the numbers and some hints about sweating, palpitations and some quickening paces. But machines had a tendency of learning more about the users over time.

“Maybe I’ll read one or two before bed," he added a second later.

“Great. Then I’ll do my homework too. I’ll see what I can get from Zeke. Hopefully I can convince him to invest, even with the bug.”

“You have my number---” Just update me. Before Levi could let those words out, he had fallen back into that support ticket about that one person not knowing how to download the application.

It was still a boring and stupid support ticket. But when Zeke had padded into the lobby like he owned the place with a butler in tow, Levi decided that the idiot of a ticket was still a better view than Zeke at that moment.

“Thank you for picking me up,” Hange said in an almost melodic tone, a tone that made Levi’s ears bleed.

“My meeting ended early and I don’t think we had a good dinner since last week. What did you have for lunch?”

“Burgers and fries.”

“Burgers and fries? Hange, I gave you more than enough money for a good meal." Zeke sounded mortified.

Levi froze. He had suggested the diner for its strategic location. He found himself running his right hand slowly over his wallet in his front pocket. He was sure he had the money for anything more expensive.

“It was good.”

“Well, I’ll make sure we get something better tonight. There’s a new restaurant, just outside town, they sell the pink fatty tuna and Kobe beef imported straight from Japan, same day shipping apparently so it’s definitely the freshest we can get here. What do you think?”

“That sounds great,” Hange said.

She had said it in such a tone, a tone she had never used with Levi before. Like she was tasting the food as she spoke of it. Of course she wouldn’t use it on you. You just met her. Levi thought to himself. As he willed himself to get back to his senses, he realized the ticket was still untouched. Although he had been staring at it since a while ago, he hadn’t made any progress at all.

He looked up at Hange then at Zeke. “Apologies for only taking her to a diner. Next time, I’ll make sure to take her somewhere a little…” Rich, expensive, snazzy, exclusive, snobby? Too many adjectives were running through his head then but Levi settled for something seemingly more professional, or as professional as he could go. “More your tastes.”

“That would be very much appreciated,” Zeke said. He took one of Levi’s hands in his, too suddenly and too forcefully that Levi had to smack his laptop to keep it balanced on his lap. “Thank you again for taking very good care of my Hange here.” He had slipped a hundred dollar bill in between Levi’s hands and maybe he had expected Levi to smile and say ‘thank you.’

And most days, Levi was polite enough to have mustered one but his ears were still ringing, not from hearing the love alarm non stop that day but from those last words Zeke had said.

My Hange.

Hange waved, motioning with her hands to ‘text soon,’ then she turned her back on him.

Levi couldn't’ even get a good view of Hange as she walked away. Soon enough, Zeke had wrapped one arm around her shoulders. From Levi's angle, he couldn’t tell whether Hange had pushed closer to him or Zeke was the one who pulled her closer.

For a second longer, he pondered it. Of course Zeke would pull her closer, that’s his Hange. Of course Hange would move closer to him, she’s his.

Levi looked back at the support ticket, he had opened again.

How to download application. Please help.

He closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa. He closed all his open tabs before laying his eyes again on the empty draft.

Within seconds, he had closed that tab as well. There were larger issues then than a customer not being able to download an application.

***

Hange had sent books about love in a drive folder and she had emailed it to him. When Levi opened it, he was quick to figure out, they were all self help books

Scott Peck? He could have sworn he had heard that name somewhere and when he opened it, he found the book was hundreds of pages long. He didn’t have the attention span for that.

Maybe I’ll read one or two before bed. He had promised Hange that evening. But he didn’t actually have to read it right?

So instead, Levi googled the summary.

Genuine love is volitional rather than emotional. The person who truly loves does so because of a decision to love. This person has made a commitment to be loving whether or not the loving feeling is present. ...Conversely, it is not only possible but necessary for a loving person to avoid acting on feelings of love.

Levi was quick to close it after that. If that concept of love was real, that would defeat the whole purpose of the love alarm. The last thing he had wanted to do so late at night was invalidate his own brain child.

“Book one for the night. Done,” Levi whispered to himself as he opened the next book on file.

Before you love others, you must learn to love yourself.

“Cliche,” Levi said. But soon after reading it, he turned back to the application on his phone. He turned it on to see an empty blue screen void of hearts. There wouldn’t be hearts, he was alone in his apartment.

He thought back to Hange’s mention of flawed data. He thought back to the alarm that wouldn’t stop ringing. They had been testing it that whole day, there was nothing wrong with the application and the developer in Levi knew there weren't any glaring bugs.

But the testing would continue. He hadn’t completely tested all the scenarios after all. The alarm ringed with Hange but would it have alarmed with anybody else? His five years worth of experience testing the application told him 'no.'

Or maybe he just hadn’t been actively looking for the right people.

Even at night, the gears in his mind managed to turn and soon, he had a plan albeit a vague one. But the first few steps were clear at least. Levi navigated to his play store and typed a few words on the screen. A few minutes later, he was downloading an application with a familiar flame icon on the screen.

He took a deep breath. "This is part of the testing process," he muttered to himself. He was gonna be spending the whole night swiping.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

Text

Two Dresses (Dante x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Patty desperately wants to know what happened between Dante and Y/N. Hopefully, Morrison is here to help. (Part 3 of A Tab To Erase) (Part 1) (Part 2)

Tags: Pre DMC3 Dante / Dante is Tony Redgrave / Love / Fluff / Slight ANgst / Implied Sexual Content / Explicit Language

Author’s note: Part 3 is out. Sorry for keeping you waiting. The story is coming to its end. Only one or two chapters left.

MISSION 3

Indifference is the worst form of contempt. But how can you be indifferent when a squeaking tiny voice as unbearable as fingernails on a chalkboard constantly splits your ears with endless whining? Dante wished to know. “Pleeeeaase Dante. You promised.” Patty begged again as she almost sprawled on the man’s desk, strangely not caring about the grease or the tomato sauce that were disgustingly splattered on the wooden surface. “I didn’t do such thing.” Dante nonchalantly took a bite of his pizza, trying to ignore Patty’s pleading blue eyes and her feeble attempt at convincing him to tell her the rest of his ‘love story’ (she had decreed it was one) with Y/N. “Come on, Dante! You have to tell me!” The frustration in every single word coming out of her mouth was growing stronger. You could hear it in the way her voice was becoming more and more piercing by the minute. And in spite of all the time spent with Patty, Dante had never succeeded in really ignoring her childish whims. “Don’t you watch TV shows?” She added. “You know full well I don’t.” And it was the truth. Except for adults programs once in a while, Dante cared less about television, contrary to Patty who was a professional binge-watcher capable of watching a dozen of episodes a day and still yearning for more. “Well, even if you don’t, haven’t you ever experienced the frustration of a cliffhanger? Like, in Bolero in Spring, when Jenna has a car accident right after she decides to run after Josh to finally tell him he is the love of her life and that she loves him too and you know you’ll have to wait a whole week to know what happens next?” Dante’s brain shut down after the first question, or maybe even before that, finding a not-so-surprising fascination for the slices of salami on his pizza and their perfectly round shapes. “Like I told you, I don’t watch TV.” “Haven’t you ever longed for anything?” “Yes actually. Right now, I long for peace … and quiet … and for you to finally shut up.” The girl glared at him, shooting daggers at him as sharp as a thousand Rebellions.

“What’s going on here?” Relief immediately shone in both Patty’s and Dante’s eyes when Morrison pushed the door of Devil May Cry, replacing the tension in the room with paternal warmth that was so like him. “Morrison! You got to help me. Dante doesn’t want to tell me what happened between him and Y/N” She complained with her small fists clenched tightly, a childish attitude that would have made Morrison smile if it hadn’t been for his surprise.“ You told Patty about Y/N? How weird of you.” “Not for free.” “You know her, Morrison?” There was a gleam in Patty’s eyes, one only curiosity and excitement could create. “By reputation. Everybody in the mercenary business knew who she was and was aware not to touch a hair on her head. I bet even demons knew. Y/N. Tony Redgrave’s beautiful girlfriend. And probably the only girl that could make Dante act somewhat … mature.” He said as he chose his words wisely, though he wasn’t sure they were fit for the memories of Dante he had in mind. “ What are you talking about? I’ve always been mature.” “ Yeah. Because eating strawberry sundaes and pizza everyday is very adult.” Dante frowned, pretty sure he had once heard a similar reprimand coming from someone else’s mean mouth. His mother? No … but close. “Have you been spending time with Trish lately?” “ Stop changing the subject and tell me the story!” Dante eyed at Morrison with an insisting look that meant ‘Get me the hell out of here.’ but today, he would not receive any help from his friend. “You know she won’t let go, Dante. So, should I tell her or should you?” Dante sighed. “Two dresses off my tab and it’s yours.”

TWO DRESSES

Two star-crossed lovers in fair Redgrave City, where we lay our scene …

Are you kidding me?! What? I thought you loved that kind of lovey-dovey crap. Dante! Fine …

The rest of the story was no Shakespearian play. There was no betrayal, no sword fighting, no friend or parent tragically murdered, no forbidden love, no unfair ending, no … Who was Dante kidding? There was all that and worse. Another reason why he hated Shakespeare so much. But when love started to bloom and with it the chances at a normal peaceful life, Dante never considered those dramatic events. Not even a slight second. After all, he was an overly enthusiastic nineteen year-old with the girl of his dreams on his arm and a long-awaited roof above his head. What could go wrong? Especially when all he thought about, all he imagined were simple mornings waking up with the one he loved so dearly and nights with his silver head in between…

“In between what?” “ Y/N’s fingers... Y/N’s fingers of course.” “ You’re not so good at making this story family-friendly you know that, Dante?” “I’m doing my best here, Morrison.”

And his epicurean – though quite lewd - plans were all shared to the utter despair of Y/N’s parents who constantly reminded Y/N of the big mistake she was making in getting involved with a boy like ‘that vermin Tony’. “What about college? What about that confortable life we wanted for you? How can you throw all this away for that boy?” Dante remembered the time Y/N’s mother had said that with a menacing finger and a poisonous tongue. That and the infamous “Is breeding with that trash and raising his filthy bastards truly what you want Y/N?” So long the time that family had generously taken him under their roof for a few days. Guess money does make you stuck-up assholes after all. That’s what he had wanted to reply. But instead, he had just stood still, arms crossed over his chest and had remained silent, out of respect for Y/N and also because, deep down, he was sometimes thinking the same.

He wanted the best for Y/N. He wanted to give her the best life had to offer, all the things she wanted, all the things she needed but he only had a few dollars in his pocket and a list of debts he didn’t really know how the erase. And even though she seemed like she didn’t mind now, what would happen in a few years, or even just a few months. What would happen when the little he had to offer would not be enough anymore?

“Will you love me all the same in a few years?” She asked him, soft hands placed over his strong naked chest and (colour) eyes staring deep in his looking for the truth. “I’m sure I will love you even more if that’s anything possible.” “Then stop worrying and stop with the silly questions already.” And she kissed him with all the comfort and the love she could gather. She kissed him like there was no tomorrow, like there was just them, only them, together, on that mattress on the floor in this furniture-less and decaying shop he had just been allowed to rent for an astronomical amount of money. “A neon sign.” “ What?” Dante asked a bit confused. “You should get a neon sign, like the one my parents had at the restaurant.” She added with a soft smile. “You want me to get a pink neon sign?” He joked and took delight when she laughed. She was so insanely beautiful when she was laughing. “It wasn’t pink. It was red.” “ My coat is red. That sign was definitely pink. And pink doesn’t scream ‘menacing devil-hunter in the house’?” “Menacing devil-hunter?” She repeated, arching an eyebrow suspiciously. “Where?” Dante looked at her smirking mockingly at him. “Watch it you!” He pushed her on the mattress and went to lie his burning yet still sweaty body over hers to place a multitude of hungry lovely kisses on her neck, wishing this moment would never end.

But it ended, as all good things end eventually. Thanks to Enzo Ferino, once again. That piece of shit had the knack to ruin things after all. “Tony! Per l’amore di Dio! Tony!” He shouted from downstairs, visibly alarmed if not terrified. “Speaking of the Italian midget.” Dante sighed, his lips still on Y/N’s skin, thinking that maybe ignoring Enzo would make him leave. “Tony!!!” “Damn it.” “Pretty sure the menacing devil-hunter hiding in this shop will scare him away?” Y/N taunted again and Dante grinned before pressing his lips on Y/N’s one last time. “Oh, he sure will. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Dante said as he reluctantly left his girl’s loving embrace to put on a pair of pants and go welcome his unwanted guest fidgeting in the hall. “ You’d better.”

“It better be important, Enzo.” Dante demanded as he lazily walked down the creaking stairs to show him how annoyed he was to see him here. “You’ve just ruined a perfect moment with my girl.” “Y/N? Y/N is with you?” The man’s eyes were widened with fear and distress and even though Dante knew how much of a coward Enzo was, he had never seen him that way. “How many girls do you think I have?” The short man leant against the wall and took a deep sigh. “Well, that’s relief I guess.” Dante frowned, unsure if he should remain annoyed or start asking questions. Hell, why not both. “Will you tell me what’s going on?” “A man came to Bobby’s Cellar. Looking for you.” “Not a first.” Dante walked pass Enzo to grab a bottle of whisky he had left early on on one of the many boxes he had not yet unpacked. “One of Denvers’ goons presumably.” He leant against the wall and took a mouthful of amber alcohol, thinking about the girl waiting for him upstairs and how he should have never left her. “No. Not Denvers. That man was working alone and he asked about a certain Dante.” The half-demon froze for a second and his blue eyes darted a brief astonished glance at his partner. A man looking for Dante - Dante, not Tony - was no good news. “I said I didn’t know any Dante but then he described you and I thought che cacchio è. Then he threatened me and … He was scary, Tony” “What did you tell him?” Dante frowned. He had the feeling Enzo had fucked up. He could feel it in his guts. Otherwise he would have never rushed to his new place in the middle of the night to warn him. “That you weren’t here. That you certainly were with Y/N. And then he had me, Tony. I …” “ You mentioned Y/N?” Enzo took an immediate step back when he heard the anger in Dante’s voice. “ I … I’m sorry. He … He tricked me.” Then he took another step and another one, trying to stay as far away as possible from Dante, until his back bumped against the door and he was able to spot a terrifying red flame burning with rage in the mercenary’s eyes who was towering him menacingly. “What did you say about Y/N?” If the weird man in Bobby’s Cellar had scared the shit out Enzo early on, what he had felt back then was nothing in comparison to he was feeling right now. Paralysed with fear, he couldn’t move anymore, couldn’t speak. He could only stare at the raging fire in Dante’s eyes and feel a burning warmth emanating from the young man’s body against him. Were those the flames of Hell? Was he about to be punished for his sin? For betraying his partner? “What did you say?” He shouted and Enzo trembled and squealed like a pig, arms covering his face to protect himself. Yes, his man Tony was about to flay him alive. He was sure of it. “What are you?” He mumbled.

“Tony.” Enzo thanked all the gods for that divine intervention. Though whom he should have truly thanked was Y/N and her soft reassuring voice that had miraculously pulled Dante from his dark rage.

I like her. Dante smiled.

“Stop please.” Enzo felt Dante calm down and when he finally walked away from him, the small man took a deep breath. “If something happens …” Dante didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to and Enzo was already nodding furiously. “I know.” He blindly grabbed the handle behind his back and quickly opened the door to run away as fast as he could.

Dante watched him running in the cold night with a frown until he couldn’t see him anymore. Then he swiftly strode back to Y/N waiting for him on top of the stairs to pull her in a strong protective embrace. And when his lips pressed in her silky hair and she realized he couldn’t let go, she started worrying. “What is it?” She had never felt him like that. “It’s nothing.” He replied softly even though the voice in his head was screaming things like Don’t you get out of my sight, even for a second. I can’t lose you. Not like my mother. I love you so freaking much. “Stay with me tonight.”

But deep down, Dante wasn’t sure this was the smartest decision.

***

“And so was it?” Patty curiously asked as she stared at Dante with her big blue eyes. “ Was it what?” He replied, pretending not to understand. He loved teasing her. “ The smartest decision?” She clarified with an enthusiasm that clearly showed her interest and her will to know more. “ I thought you loved cliffhangers.”

#DEVIL MAY CRY #DMC #DMC FANFICTION #DEVIL MAY CRY FANFICTION #DANTE #DMC DANTE #DANTE X READER #A DOZEN ICE CREAM CONES #A TAB TO ERASE

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kidney9-9 · 4 years

Text

Good Morning

Anonymous asked:

Going through a rough time so steve distracting you by spoiling you with gifts and uh going to town on u to forget pls xx

Hi sweetie! Thank you for sending this in! Hope you enjoy. Masterlist linked in bio, tags in reblog :)

Steve Rogers x Reader (Angst/Fluff/Smut) Warnings: swearing and fem!oral recieving Word Count: 2.5k

You squeezed your eyes shut in frustration and anger as you muted the call. Everything was going to shit, it seemed. Your family got upset with you for not responding while you were away on a mission and threw out all your childhood belongings. Your friends outside the Compound spread rumors about you online about stealing from a charity and cheating on a few people after you forgot to say happy birthday to one of them. Your apartment outside the Compound caught on fire after your neighbor threw a lit cigar the ground in front of your door, on your mat. Even the weather started to turn sour, the sky started to darken and the colors around you were now fading slowly into a dull earthy tone.

You didn’t know how your life could get so bad within the very few days. And you didn’t know if it could even get better at the time. It just didn’t seem possible. You were stuck at Steve’s place now, and you had a feeling you were getting annoying just from being in his space. You didn’t want to bother anyone now, feeling as though something else would happen and you’d lose more people you care about.

Steve didn’t know about your family and friends treating you like that, but when you saw his shoulder from the shadow against the wall, you silently cursed because he could hear everything now. All the fucking anger your family was casting out to you now, telling you that you were a disgrace and a shame to the family name. They were mentioning your friends too, and they believed their rumors, that you robbed a place and intend to rob more.

It made no sense. You had a good job as chief editor at one of the most recognizable newspaper companies. Why would you do such a thing? And you knew if your bosses heard any bit of what your family and friends were saying now, you’d lose the job. You contemplated what to do as you saw Steve moved closer, his frame now peeking out from the door.

You couldn’t stand it if he believed what they were saying. It would hurt so much, and you’d have to find an apartment sooner rather than later. You murmured his name, “Steve, uh I can see you.” The phone was still muted as you could hear one of your family members shifting through any stuff you used own, while cursing out about how you didn’t deserve any of them.

Steve moved closer to you, stepping slowly as his face twisted even more with anger, hearing the words that were directed at you. “What’s happening?” He responded, not understanding the situation. You frowned even more at his words, facing the other direction now, not wanting to see if he was angry at you.

“I don’t fucking know anymore…” You finally responded, voice cracking as you let your tears fall. So many hidden tears, you didn’t want him to see but now he can. Steve froze at the sound, eyes going to the back of your head for a few seconds before he stepped closer to the table, rounding to the other way.

Your head leaned against the top of the chair, not finding the strength to gaze back to him. “Sweetheart,” He paused, his tone turning warmer as he saw the silent cries falling from your lips. You shook your head frantically back as you could practically feel the disappointment rolling through the phone.

“Hang up the phone.” Steve spoke again, scooting closer to you now as he sat on the chair next to you. Sniffles came from you as you felt his hand cup your cheek and you blinked away the fast tears, glancing to the phone on the table.

You hesitated as you grasped onto the phone, crying even more as you heard someone shout, “She’s a whore and liar! I don’t understand why you didn’t kick her out by eighteen!” Steve scoffed, wishing he could yell back, but he knew he shouldn’t. Instead he took the phone from your hand, before they could say even more, and pressed the end button.

“Y/n, look at me, please.” Steve begged you watching as you squeezed your eyes shut again. You whimpered as his other hand drifted to your waist. He stood up, bringing you along with him and you cried against his chest, slowly pushing your hands around his back and hugging him.

The hug must’ve lasted around ten minutes, and you wished you could stay there for longer. His hugs were always incredible, melting away some nervousness you’ve had, but this one was different. You wanted to thank him, but it was just too difficult to talk about what happened. The next few days, Steve stuck by your side, insisting to make every minute happier.

He started to do his work from home now, still wanting to make you feel happier. You were already working from home, reading through the articles sent to you before publication. You didn’t want to reach out to any of your friends or family, even though now they realized what they did was wrong. It made you frown when you’d see their names pop up on your phone, when they tried calling and texting you. You appreciated Steve, he was a sweet boyfriend, and being in his apartment made you both a lot closer.

For example, waking up next to him every day. It was an incredible feeling, seeing him yawn and greet you good morning with kisses and kind words. You noticed cute habits or things about him that you didn’t know from before, and it made you fall in love with him even more.

“Hey babe, look what came for you!” You heard as you washed your hands. You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion, but quickly stepped out of the bathroom, glancing through the crack of the door to see Steve holding a few boxes. You let out a giggle as you walked closer to him, to see him struggling with the boxes.

“What are these?” You asked gently, taking a hold of the box by his head, so it didn’t tip over. You set it down on the counter quickly, after you noticed how heavy it was. Steve smiled back to you, carefully placing the other boxes on the counter as well.

His smiled widened as he chuckled before answering your question, “It’s just a few things I thought you’d like…” He trailed off and your facial expression deepened in curiosity. You laughed a bit in confusion but surprise before opening one of the boxes.

You tore open the tab, eyes widening as you saw one of the items. It was exactly like your favorite childhood toy, a newer version though. You picked it up slowly, gasping as you started to remember everything. How you used to play with it almost every day, tucking it into bed, and how you’d accidently spilt tea on it. You felt your eyes water as you gazed back to Steve with a softened expression.

“Baby…” You murmured, sniffling. Steve instantly started to worry, guilt clawing at him, “Oh no, I didn’t mean to get you upset, I’m so sorry! I’ll return this stuff.” He apologized, rambling as he pushed away the other boxes, rather across the table.

You shook your head, giggling a bit. “No, this is amazing, I- how did you do this all? Thank you.” Steve felt relieved but was shocked again as you pressed your figure against his, holding him tightly in a hug.

He hugged you back quickly, running his hand up and down your back sweetly and slowly. “You told me about them before and I wanted you to have parts of your childhood with you. It’s important. I lost all of mine, and I know how hard it is. You didn’t deserve what happened, and I wanted to make things better for you.” His words dripped honey into your ears, and you squeezed him even harder after that.

He was so incredibly handsome and sweet; you couldn’t believe it. He’s always been this way and you had to tell him now, what you felt about him, “I love you. I’m not saying it because I’m surprised right now, but I’m saying it because it’s the truth. Everything about you – is lovable.” You whispered, hearing Steve’s heartbeat.

Steve beamed, pulling you back within a few seconds, “I care about you too, so much. I was worried you’d think it was too soon, if I said I love you.” His response made you giggle, shaking your head. He quickly pulled you up, picking you up and setting you onto the counter, kissing you deeply.

The kiss was passionate, and the tears of joy ran down your face, slowing down as you felt his tongue swipe at your bottom lip. You giggled again, pulling at his hair a bit before kissing him even harder.

Weeks after Steve’s surprise, the gifts started to become a daily thing. You’d wake up to see he bought you your favorite pastry, shipped from your hometown’s bakery. Or sometimes, he’d tell you to close your eyes, and he’d drip a diamond necklace around you. Some gifts made you feel so special, how he’d give you handwritten letters on days he was too busy to go home, or even sketches of you laying on the sunbed of his balcony.

Today, you woke up, hearing Steve get out of the shower. You yawned and stretched in the bed, before sitting up and grinning back to him as he dropped the towel, heading towards the closet. “Babe?” You mumbled, sleep still in your voice.

“Your ass is hot.” You commented, head tilting as he glanced back to you. Steve laughed, shaking his head before responding, “I know, but your ass is hotter.”

You giggled, denying it playfully, watching as he sat on the edge of the bed, still undressed. You were only in his shirt from last night, still dirty with a mixture of his and your cum on your thighs and stomach. It felt sticky but you enjoyed it. You shifted closer to him, letting the shirt peak up slowly as you straightened your back as you sat up completely.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve murmured, as he closed the gap between the two of you, kissing your lips softly. It was a sweet and gently one, but he quickly set his attention down to your neck, causing your back to curl closer to him. He could feel your nipples harden against his chest, and he pushed you down all the way onto the bed again.

You sighed in delight as he shifted his body against yours, kissing down your neck, and closer to your chest. He spread the button down apart, kissing and taking his time as you felt yourself shiver, becoming hornier. “Steve…” You moaned his name gently, as his lips opened and pressed attention into one of your breasts, his tongue circling over again.

“You’re my darling, I love you so much,” Steve paused, breaking away from your chest as his hand smoothed over your other breast, pinching gently. He dipped back down after he gazed back up to you lovingly, kissing down lower onto your torso.

The sounds coming from you spurred Steve even more, wanting to give you some love this morning, more than ever. Before he could though he glanced up, “May I?” His question was answered with a yes, as you nodded, shifting your hips, trying to get any relief from the growing arousal building up.

Steve smiled before moving all the way down, in between your legs. His head rested against your inner thigh, as he slowly twirled circles on the other. He groaned in desire, feeling the stickiness of your cum and the feeling of you quivering under him. He lifted his head slowly, kissing your skin gently before moving closer to your center.

You whimpered, wanting him to continue, and he did. His kisses slowly made their way closer to your clit, but he paused once he got there, and instead his tongue came out, licking slow and strong against you. A gasp flew out of your mouth and you groaned out his name as he did it again before pressing an open kiss against your pussy, and his fingers drifted closer.

He collected your wetness with his finger, as he twirled up slowly to flick and tease your clit before he dipped his finger in, causing your head to roll against the pillow, back arching as you wanted even more, “Please! Please, Steve, fuck I’m begging you.” You cried out as he pushed two fingers in now, pumping in and out in a rhythm matching his patterns on your clit with his tongue and mouth.

“Mm, my baby is getting everything she asks for.” He answered, chuckling against your clit to press vibrations into you. Another gasp, and he moved his head back, to get his other hand closer. His fingers ran up and down your inner lips, teasingly before he set them on top of your clit.

Without warning, he started to ring into your clit repeatedly, strength and speed slowly going up and causing more moans to pour out of you. Your eyes were clenched shut as your orgasm neared and you gasped out, “Steve- I’m going to come.” You stuttered, some mumbles coming out of you as well, a bit incoherent as you started to shake.

Steve smiled, going faster, “Such a good girl, come for me.” You gaped even more, heading tilting back against the pillows and your hips raised even more trying to get more pressure from his fingers, and now his mouth too as he started to kiss and lick around your pussy.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you even faster now, curling in and hitting against your g-spot and you cried out his name.

“Fuck! Steve! I’m coming! I’m coming.” You shouted out, shaking and shivering even more as your cum pushed out of you, onto his tongue, and he continued to lick it up, after he pulled his fingers out of you. He continued to slowly roll his fingers over your clit, causing your orgasm to last longer.

“Taste so good,” Steve hummed slowly, pulling away from you before laying down by your side. Your heavy breathing started to slow into a calm one, and you gazed to him lovingly.

“That was… thank you.” You breathed out, giggling in a joyous daze. You reached out and cupped his sweaty face, cuddling closer to him. Your legs tangled with his and you tucked your head closer to his as well.

He could feel your breath against his neck, and he shivered before mumbling, “Good morning, I love you.” The words made you giggle, and you thought back to all that time ago, when you thought everything was over and shitty. Now it was incredible… you felt a happiness you didn’t know was possible with him.

“I love you too.” You whispered back, before he kissed you gently. The two of you laid in bed for the next over, slowly making out passionately before you had to get up for proper breakfast.

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