#should i walk aimlessly around the city? should i just read a book somewhere? should i get laid? should i go shopping?

[michi-chelle]

cancelled plans suck ‘cause it’s like well what am i supposed to do now?

[icaruseater]

Into the Wild West

I could say I drove out west for a few reasons. Maybe I went to fully envelop myself in the atmosphere of the story I wrote last semester in creative writing class. My professor told me I should try to get it published, but I haven't even looked at the most recent draft in months. Or maybe I drove out west to propagate. I haphazardly plucked the petals and dusty polleny seeds just that morning from the wilting tulips at my bedside table (even now, the left side of my bed reeks of dead flowers). I shoved the contents in the only pocket of my tote bag so I could throw them into some field and maybe see flowers one day. Or I could say that I went out west to finally have a cigarette in peace. All of these are at least partially true. But really, as corny as it is, I drove aimlessly out west to feel something.

I wanted to go to Marfa, a small desert town about 6 hours away, because it's where part of my story takes place. Unfortunately for me, it’s also a travel destination for hippy-dippy types over spring break, so basically every hotel in town was booked out the wazoo. I ditched Marfa for Comfort, a town that is closer to me but still out west. However, when my phone let me know that I had reached Comfort, I zipped right past the exit as every other car got off. I've only been driving for an hour and a half, I thought. I decided to let the open road guide me.

I did not yet know that it would be the last exit I saw for another 20 minutes. A pang of dread hit me, plus I nedeed to pee, but then i turned the corner and was met with a gorgeous view.

The west was not dry at all. In fact, it had the most green I’d seen since Hawaii. Massive open pastures, beautiful cows and horses lazily grazing. The sky was perfect. Whenever the sky is blue and spotless, it sounds silly but I get scared. It really makes me feel like I'm living on a movie set, like everything is fake and even the sky is a precisely ironed sheet layered carefully and deliberately by the production designer on set. This sky had the right blend of fluffy clouds and streaks of sunlight to feel real. I rolled down the window, but was immediately wacked with abrasive wind and quickly rolled it back up.

Just then, I passed a sign that read “FALLEN ROCKS“, which I incorrectly read as “FALLING ROCKS”. The highway grew narrower. Suddenly, I was surrounded on both sides by massive rock formations. They towered over me, and I anxiously glanced to my right and left the whole way through, somewhat anticipating a torrential downpour of massive boulders that would crush me.

The city I ended up in was Kerville. I got off hoping to find a restroom somewhere. I felt an intense urge to go to the Lowes because I had noticed it from the highway and it had seemed exceptionally large from there. When I finally found it and parked my car, I realized that was likely because it was on a hill, towering above the churches, elementary school, and an outlet mall.

By then, the sky had become completely gray. The weather really wasn’t nice at all. The large gusts of wind that felt like kisses and cradling under a hot sun suddenly became the gray cloud’s henchmen, assisting in the misery.

I walked into the Lowes. I looked around for a restroom, savored the smell of fresh cut wood, pretended to be interested in the light fixtures, and genuinely considered buying an aloe vera plant. I got out, having not found a restroom, now trying to see if the parking lot would be a decent place to smoke. It was not, I determined. Too many people walking around, loading things in their cars, and the weather was actually getting pretty nippy. I plopped back in my car, shit outta luck.

That’s when I saw it: the giant cross. I had seen multiple big wooden crosses on the drive up, but none quite as eye-catching as this. It sat at the very top of an even taller hill east of the Lowes. It looked so far off, but my phone told me it was a 5 minute journey. I made my way.

The drive up was steep and a little terrifying. After sloppily parking my car in the tight diagonal space, I still had to walk further up.

The view was gorgeous. Not of the cross, but of the town below. Suddenly, even the Lowes looked like a tiny store in a dollhouse. Again, so much green. The breeze was even stronger up here, so I stuffed my hands into the sleeves of my sweater as I looked around.

One thing that caught my eye was a statue that looked pretty suggestive from where I was standing (it's actually Jesus washing a saint's feet, which is debatably still suggestive). Behind it was another great view of the whole town (I imagine this is how God sees the world).

There were quite a few other people there, actually- plenty of families. The interactive part is when you get a “prayer rock”: a white rock in which you're supposed to write a message and then place it near the cross. It feels important to mention that they had to be white rocks, with several signs around the premises sternly instructing guests to not use brown rocks. Any brown rock would be removed.

I thought about what I should write on my prayer rock. Something clever, quippy, different, I told myself. The only thing I could come up with was “God is Dog”. In the end it didn't even matter because, while the rocks were provided, sharpies were not due to “COVID safety reasons”. My theory: they were getting stolen out the wazoo. I walked all the way to the back of the cross by the porta potties. The whole place was rocky and hilly, so when I inevitably stepped on an unsteady rock and fell down a small side of the hill, I yelped “Jesus Christ!”. I gasped and, before I could even process my fall, anxiously looked around to see if anyone had heard. Nope. There wasn’t even anyone in the general area. I'd fallen next to a big cart full of white rocks. I still wasn’t quite sure what made a rock a “prayer rock”, and why the brown ones couldn’t be. The idea hadn’t occurred to me at the time, but even now as it is almost midnight and all this happened several hours ago, I wish I’d stolen one.

Anyway, I thought I was just about done when I found a “secret passage” under the parking lot. It led to a very woodsy area. It had another great view of the town beyond the trees, and I passively thought of how it could be an ideal location for me to get murdered if it weren’t for God standing right over there. Would it be sacrilege to smoke here? I thought, searching for the pack of cigarettes in my tote. Instead, my eyes landed on the tulip petals and seeds I'd snatched earlier. Oh yeah, propagating. I wasn’t sure if it would work there. The patch of land in front of me was particularly dry, especially considering the greenery basically everywhere else, but I didn't feel like going further into the woods. I tossed the petals and seeds onto the rocky ground, figuring the wind would carry them where they could grow. We learned about propagating in 3rd grade science class, I'm pretty sure that's how that works.

I looked at my phone: 12:59. In one minute, I'll have been in Kerrville for exactly one hour. I put my phone down and closed my eyes.

The sound of kids laughing up by the cross. The distant faint chirp of birds in the sky. The gusts of wind causing my curly hair to whip across my face. The soft crunch of my own footsteps. I opened my eyes as I walked out of the passage and back up to the parking lot.

I was about to get in my car when I realized that the parking lot was right on the precipice of a dangerous, massive ledge. There was a wall made of stone to protect the people and cars, but it only went up to my hip. I sat on it and let my feet dangle over the edge. I still wasn’t over the perfect view of the town. I fought the hard wind as it stung my face, which by then I’d learned to tolerate. I realize now that it was actually protecting me, pushing me back to safety. I thought about jumping, then flying. Mostly, though, I thought about nothing.

On the drive back, the highway was completely clear of other cars. Surrounded by nothing but greenery and the gray sky, I sped up and turned the music up high (I ended up going a little over 100 mph). It must have been going on for multiple songs, but the one I remember playing is New Flesh by Current Joys. I saw the fallen rocks sign again, reading it correctly this time, to which I exclaimed to myself “OH! FALLEN ROCKS, NOT FALLING ROCKS!” I laughed loudly and took up both lanes because I could and rolled the window all the way down, embracing that chilly abrasive wind, and screamed in pure joy as I maneuvered between the narrow rocks, sailed down a series of tall hills, and practically flew by the pastures.

I stopped by my favorite burger joint on the way back, where I finally got to use the restroom. I ordered it to-go, stuffing the fries in my face as I traveled familiar roads back home. By the time I arrived, I had eaten all the fries. I didn't mind, of course. I popped open a beer and drank it with my burger- a double with cheese, bacon, and jalapenos. I felt like I was gorging myself- taking a guzzle of the black and tan beer like it was the last drink on earth and biting into the burger like it was the finest dining a girl could ask for- but I enjoyed every second of it. Even though I was already feeling slightly woozy, I topped off the bottle after finishing my burger. Being tipsy or drunk makes me feel more tired than anything, but I was able to make it to the shower before practically throwing myself on my bed. It felt like heaven. Maybe next time I'm in the wild west, if I remember to bring a sharpie, I'll write “God is in my bed”.

[thatsamericano]

My Missing Puzzle Piece

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano, with background FrUK and FACE Family and mentioned Cankraine. Human AU.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 1564

Summary: According to the words written on his arm, Alfred will initially be more of a nuisance than a hero to his soulmate, but he’s eager to meet them regardless.

A/N: Written for @aphrarepairweek2021​, Day 5 “soulmate.” Title taken from “Teenage Dream” by Katy Perry.

Alfred woke up on the morning of his sixteenth birthday more excited than he’d ever been. He was getting closer to adulthood, and like all teenagers on their sixteenth birthday, he would finally be able to read the first words his soulmate would ever say to him on his arm.

He ran into the bathroom, turned on the light and read what his soulmate had to say to him. Or to be more accurate, he tried to read it. At least it was in the same alphabet he was used to, unlike Mattie, who had woken up three days ago with a Cyrillic script on his arm. But it obviously wasn’t English.

Che cazzo di problema hai?! Mi hai fatto inciampare, stupido stronzo!

From what he could tell, his soulmate was having some kind of problem with a stupid person.  That wasn’t an ideal situation in which to meet the fated love of your life, but Alfred, optimistic as always, spun it in a positive direction. He smiled as he thought of rescuing his soulmate from whatever stupid person was bothering them, showing off how cool and heroic he was, and impressing them so much that they fainted right into his arms, just like Superman had met Lois Lane. It would be totally epic!

His hopes for a heroic, comic book worthy meeting were dashed a few days later. On the morning of his birthday, Alfred explained his soulmate tattoo to his curious family, and his Papa Francis was able to determine that he probably had Italian on his arm. The following week, their other dad, Arthur, brought Alfred and his brother to a language learning center in order to have their tattoos assessed by the specialists working there. After knowing the language written on their arms, they would begin receiving tutoring in their soulmate’s language.

The expert in Slavic languages was able to determine that Matthew had Ukrainian on his arm. His soulmate had lost their cat and was asking Matthew for help. Matthew’s new language tutor took him into another room for his first lesson, and then it was Alfred’s turn to be assessed. When the Italian instructor, a balding, middle-aged man who introduced himself as Mr. Moretti, read what was on Alfred’s arm, he started chuckling.

“What’s so bloody funny?”

Mr. Moretti addressed Alfred rather than his father. “Your soulmate is annoyed with you. And they weren’t exactly polite about it.” He explained what the tattoo said. The “stupid person” (asshole, really) they were having a problem with was Alfred, who had apparently made them fall over, and his soulmate was wondering what the fuck was wrong with them.

“Oh.” Alfred frowned down at the desk he was sitting at. “When I saw that they had a problem, I was kind of hoping I could be their hero. Does this mean my soulmate’s gonna hate me forever?”

Mr. Moretti smiled sympathetically at him. “That’s generally not how it works. But helping you learn as much Italian as you can before you meet your soulmate will probably go a long way to smoothing things over.”

After that, Alfred said goodbye to his dad, who promised to pick him up later, and started his first lesson in Italian. He learned how to say “I’m sorry,” and how to tell his soulmate what his name was.

Nearly two years later, Alfred had graduated high school without meeting his soulmate or bumping into any other Italians. Matthew hadn’t met any Ukrainians looking for their missing cat either, so instead of a more traditional graduation present, Alfred and Matthew asked to go on a trip to the places where they would be more likely to meet their soulmates. First, they would visit Italy for a couple weeks, and then they would go to Ukraine so Mattie could get a chance to meet his soulmate.

After flying into Naples, Alfred was eager to immediately go out and explore the city on the off chance that he might meet his soulmate. The rest of his family, however, was exhausted by the long flight and insisted on checking into the hotel so they could catch up on their sleep and adjust to the time difference. Alfred went along grudgingly.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast at the hotel, Alfred, his dads, and his brother all left to go sightseeing. They’d visited the ruins of Pompeii and had been wandering around the Piazza del Plebiscito for a while when his Papa brought up the idea of stopping to get lunch.

“I think we should give it another half hour. Statistically, I’m more likely to run into my soulmate out here than in a restaurant.”

Matthew laughed. “You’re actually objecting to the idea of eating? That’s not like you, Al.”

Alfred pouted at his brother’s teasing. “I just want to meet my soulmate,” he muttered.

“Perhaps if you could tell us your type, it would narrow down the search a little, mon chou,” his papa suggested.

Alfred thought it over. “I don’t think I have a type. I hope they’re around my age so we can be together for the rest of our lives, but other than that, I’ll like my soulmate for whoever they are.” Matthew was fairly sure his soulmate would be a girl, but he was open to other possibilities. Alfred had no gender preferences, so it could theoretically be anyone.

His dad sighed. “So the plan is to walk around this city aimlessly until some Italian calls you an arsehole.”

Alfred glanced behind him to speak to his dad. “Pretty much.”

“And if they’re not here?”

“Then we’ll wander around aimlessly somewhere else in Italy. And then, if that doesn’t work, we’ll go to another town, until I meet whoever it is I’m supposed to—”

Alfred was interrupted in the middle of talking to his dad by a body colliding into his. He heard a startled oof, then whirled around to see a brunet man falling to the ground. He managed to avoid faceplanting on the pavement by throwing out his hands at the last minute, then quickly scrambled to his feet.

Alfred knew Italian pretty well for an American kid who had a French and English parent. He knew that in this situation he should say mi dispiace or ask him ha bisogno di aiuto, but Alfred couldn’t get his mouth to work. His heart was beating too fast, his stomach was filled with butterflies, and he’d scoffed at the idea of love at first sight so many times before, but he couldn’t explain his reaction any other way.

The stranger he’d knocked over because he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going was beautiful.

Of course, he started yelling at him, with that phrase Alfred had first learned nearly two years ago and that was now making his arm tingle with recognition. The stranger was glaring at him, but Alfred was too mesmerized by his gorgeous hazel eyes to feel intimidated. He was gesturing furiously, but Alfred was awestruck by how cute it was.

He was grinning by the time the stranger had finished ranting at him, and he said the only thing he could think of. “God, you’re perfect.”

Alfred’s soulmate’s eyes widened, and he grabbed onto his right arm in disbelief. Alfred laughed and went over to hug him. But he was too exhilarated from hugging his soulmate to stay still. Alfred picked him up and spun him around. His soulmate hissed at Alfred to put him down, but he ended up clinging to Alfred’s neck in a way that suggested he didn’t really want to let go.

By the time he set him back down on his feet, his soulmate was blushing and smiling a little in spite of himself. Alfred beamed. “You’re the cutest person I’ve ever seen!” He turned towards his amused family. “Isn’t he the cutest person you’ve ever seen?”

Matthew chuckled. “Alfred, you might want to find out his name before you start telling us about him.”

“Oh right.” Alfred cleared his throat. “Mi chiamo Alfred. Lei… come si chiama?”

His soulmate snickered at him. Maybe it should’ve bothered him that he was being made fun of, but Alfred was too focused on how adorable he was and how much he wanted to kiss him. “Your accent sounds ridiculous,” he explained. “And my name is Savino.”

“Well, Savino, I’ve got the rest of my life to get better at it. Especially if I have you to help me.”

Savino’s lips twitched up into a grin. “I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Alfred introduced his soulmate to his brother and dads then mentioned that he and his family had been thinking about getting lunch before Alfred ran into him. He asked Savino if he would like to join them for lunch.

“I know a place not too far from here. I’ll take you there.”

Savino linked his hand with Alfred’s and started to lead them forward confidently across the piazza. Alfred snuck glances at his soulmate’s face and squeezed his hand, marveling at how right it felt to hold Savino’s hand, and how right it felt to be with him, even if he was only beginning to get to know him. The piece of his life he hadn’t even known he’d been missing was guiding him through a foreign city, and now Alfred felt complete.

[kitsunesakii]

I don't bite - part one

  I walked down the street, my hands in my pockets and my headphones on. It was well past midnight and the moon was at its peak. I fiddled with the placement of my headphones resting against my ears, having just got off the bus they were jostled out of position. Normally I didn't ride the bus, instead flying over the city. But, my mission's house was a little past my favorite park, and I had time on my hands. Shoving my hands in my pocket I heaved a sigh. I wasn't really fond of my mission. I hated biting if there wasn't consent. And there wouldn't be in this instance. I dragged my feet, skipping over the cracks in the sidewalk like a child.

     I arrived at his apartment complex a little after one. But I knew he wouldn't be home, it was Saturday, and every Saturday he wasn't home until around three. Hence the headphones. I sat down at the bus stop, he wouldn't be arriving from the bus, amusingly he walked home from wherever he left. But I didn't plan to stand for a whole hour. So sitting down, I waited.

     My eyes met movement, and I felt him come up. I sucked in a breath, I can do this, I can do this. I got up and nonchalantly walked behind him. The tap on my shoulder is what made me whip around, my headphones clattering to the ground. Making my mission turn as well.

     "Hey sweetheart, didn't mean to scare ya, just wanted to ask why you were out here all alone? "

     I stared at him kind of dumbfoundedly, he was clearly homeless, and by the smell wafting off of him I would say he was drunk.

     "Who said she's alone? " the voice was small but firm, as my mission, a guy who's name I wasn't given, walked up besides me, I stilled. both his hands in his pockets. "I told you to keep up, " he handed me my headphones "you know you slow down when wearing these" he made a disappointed frown.

     I looked from him, to the homeless man, then back to him. My brain slowly catching on to what he was doing. He's protecting me, a stranger I forced out a laugh, "haha, gosh I was falling behind, sorry bout that! " I gave him a smile, weary to keep my mouth shut. The homeless man looked at us for a moment, before turning and walking away. Leaving us alone on the sidewalk.

     I turned to fully face the guy. In pictures I had always thought he would be taller, instead, he was only a half an inch taller than me. "Thank you" I sputtered, my brain still catching up to the events that had just transpired. He just stared at me, his face resting in a rather relaxed posture. Neither frowning or smiling.

     "I noticed you were behind me, do you also live in that apartment complex? " his voice was low, like the gentle hum of a cat. His eyes locked with mine, they were a tainted blue with gold lining. This is your chance, no ones around. I clenched my headphones, my mind spinning a million miles a minute.

     "Ah- no, I don't"

     "Oh, " he responded cooley, "well, then, lead the way" it was probably rude to just stare at the boy that basically saved me from someone, but my mouth wouldn't work and my hands were hurting from the plastic rim of the headphones biting into my fingers.

     I gave him a quick smile before forcing my legs forward. Walking aimlessly. He walked beside me quietly, glancing at me every couple minutes. After a while we hit a cafe, and I walked up to the door, once again turning to face my mission. "Thank you,this is my stop, may I ask you your name? "

     "Matthew" he stated.

     "Well then, thank you Matthew" I gave him another small smile. He nodded, his eyes flickering up and down me before he simply walked away. I watched him, my heart beat rapidly increasing with every second. You could still finish your mission, it would be quick, painless I took in another breath. I couldn't do it. He protected me, looked at me like a person. His eyes, blue golden. I felt a small dash of heat nest itself on my cheeks. The anger came second. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn't go back empty handed, could I? I failed, I couldn't kill him. Why did it have to be him. A good person with a lax life. I gritted my teeth, there wasn't anything else to do besides head back home. It wont be home much longer. Leaving the coffee shop I headed back to the bus stop, no longer feeling up to walking.

     "What do you mean you couldn't kill him!? " I winced at the tone of voice he used, looking at the wooden floor, unable to make his gaze. The room in question was small, but I felt smaller. It was musty and you breathed smoke with every grab at air. I had spent most of the night into the early hours of the day waiting for him to return. 'Initiation' you could have a home, safety, love and more with a stupid test. I'm an idiot my brain screamed, drilling the words harder then the cutting edge of his own.

     "I-"

     he grabbed my chin with his long nails, cutting into my skin easily.

     "Such a simple task," he growled, "this should of been easy for you, such a waste of energy" this wasn't the first time I had seen him this mad, last week, another lonely vampire seeked refuge with him, and they too couldn't do what was asked. using the hand gripping my chin he yanked me to the floor. I recovered quickly, standing to my feat instantly, taking a small step back. Focusing my attention on his words instead of the  burning sensation the cuts caused.

     "You can stay here until sunset, but then, consider yourself cut off" he growled, with that he used his other hand to scratch from my cheek to the length of my neck,  leaving a scar. I waited until he left my small room before patching myself up.      

     What was I getting myself into? Hot tears trickled down my face, collecting bits of blood on it's way down. I should of never accepted his offer. Idiot, it was stupid to rely on others. All it did was end in pain. It didn't help that I had insomnia. Stupid night Terrors that left me trembling. He had said he could help. Instead he stepped all over me, and I let him. I wiped away the tears. I was fine, I was able to handle myself before and I could do it again.

     I tried to sleep, getting only a few merciful hours before I couldn't stop fidgeting. Thankfully it was a pretty cloudy day, and I didn't own much. Shoving the clothes I did own, and a few other belonging into a bag, I forced myself to leave. Going back to the park, under the shade of a great willow. I breathed in the fresh air, so much better than the musty air of the shady apartment I was forced to stay in. I pulled out my book, enjoying the quiet.

     A small shuffle got my attention, I looked up, wincing at the pain the quick movement pierced into my neck. Only to see Matthew sitting besides me, looking up at the sky. He glanced at me, and once again I was peering into his blue gold eyes. Sparkling in the sunlight. I couldn't help but smile, cautiously keeping my fangs out of sight. "Fancy seeing you here" I stated.

His eyes swam, tracinging my scar wordlessly. "Hi" he said flatly, his features neutral. I felt my fingers absentmindedly play with the corner of my book. "Your bleeding"

     My hands emediatly grazed my scar, my eyes still locked with his. "Oh, yah,  fell-" I muttered, without a moment to process I felt his hand come up and trace the length of the wound. Moving his hand gingerly, his eyes fixated on the scar. I held my breath, his fingers sent ripples that danced over my cheek down to my neck. It was almost soothing, the gentle carressing made my scar itch. I stared at him, his face was like stone, not even paying attention to the surprised expression that was slowly melting from my face, replaced with a tint of scarlet.

     "Does it hurt? "

     I almost didn't register his words, being he practically whispered them. I  caught  his wrist, holding it before it left my neck, "no" I whispered back. He opened his mouth, then closed it, removing his hand and shoving them back into his sweater pockets. Then, as if nothing happened, he once again tilted his head towards the sky, and I back down to my book. Some time passed, I felt him look back over to me, quietly watching me read. It was hard to ignore, and after a few minutes I matched his gaze. He looked lost in thought, not even registering that I caught him staring. Instead, he looked trapped in deep conversation with himself.

     "Do you come here often? " I asked, ripping him from his thoughts.

     "Not really, Do you?" his voice had such a nice hum, almost like an accent.

     "Not really, but it's been a rough day and I didn't have anywhere else to go and I quite enjoy reading-" I felt myself start to ramble, and quickly shut up. My sharp loud voice a stark contrast to his. His brow folded slightly, barley making a dent on his neutral expression.

     "Did someone- Do you need somewhere to stay?"

     "No" yes, I watched him nod before slowly  turning his gaze back to the sky. I looked up as well. The clouds were striking. Each had a unique shape and the sun created shadows that bounced on the tips of some and on the body of others, adding to the depth of the cloud cluster. In total it looked like I was staring at a painting, perfectly mastered to fit the atmosphere. Each cluster was like an island, floating in the blue sea, each containing it's own form. I admired the brilliant picture of white on blue, getting lost in it, feeling time slowly slip away. My eyes closed, lost in my own sea, I didn't even hear him leave.

     I watched the clouds, the day slowly passing over me, fading into the shadows of dusk. I slung my backpack over my shoulders and adjusted my headphones on my head, choosing a playlist before heading out into the night. I walked the same road I had just yesterday, when an idiot decided to look out for me. I bit my lip, a little too hard. Ah, I stopped, abruptly wiping away the bit of blood with my sleeve. "Just another scar to add to my growing collection" I grumbled into the breeze. I found myself walking up to the same cafe I had seen last night. I decided to go in, since I had no real destination.

     Pulling of my headphones and Opening the door I was greeted with the late night song of a coffee shop. in total, there was about 6 people. Not including the barista and myself. There were two girls at a table, looking over a laptop. And a boy flirting with the barista, who wasn't giving him the time of day. Over by the tv was a couch, empty besides a guy with his back to me.  And in another table was another girl and boy, talking lightly. I walked over to the couch, listening to the music that echoed quietly throughout the room. The couch was awfully comfortable, like a warm hug it beckoned me into the soft safety it had to offer. I closed my eyes, hugging my backpack to my chest as I let myself drowned in the beconing noises of the coffee shop.

     My brain sank into the small specks of sleep, pulling me just enough to be jolted awake. Mently cursing at pain it caused in my stomach. I adjusted to the striking colors surrounding me, rubbing the last flecks of sleep out of me. I was me with a pair of eyes, blue with gold lining. "Hi" I gasped, still recovering from the violent awaking.

     He stared at me a moment, and I got the feeling he had been staring before. I straitened in the cushions, fighting against the stiffness of my body. Sleeping in a sitting position wasn't in the least bit comfortable. "How long you been there" I joked, trying again to shift myself into a more polite position.

     "Are you sure you don't need a place to stay? " his voice carried the same low hum as before, but I noticed the concern. Feeling the tips of my cheeks get red. I did need a place to stay.... But I had no money whatsoever, except for a few bucks for the bus. I looked down, why was he being so annoyingly nice??

     "I-im" for the first time, I truly didn't know what to say, he was being so calm, it was driving me mad.

     Without warning, he stood up picking up a coffee that I hadn't noticed before. "Follow me" he said

     We walked out of the coffee shop and into his apartment complex, I fidgeted with the handle of my backpack, forcing myself to keep my mouth shut. A million excuses flooding my thoughts. We entered an apartment room, well, more like two room, one small and one large. The kitchen seeped into a nice living room, equipped with a cute couch and coffee table. A little to the left was a separate room that I could only assume was the bedroom. There was a tv on the wall, and a couple shelves to the side, adding a touch of comfort. As I looked around, he walked into the kitchen and placed his coffee on the counter.

     "The couch folds into a bed, and I have spare blankets, oh-" he walked over to a  cupboard and pulled out some medical supplies. Quickly walking over to me, "here, sit" without process I stumbled into the couch, barely catching myself, bracing into the fluff of the fabric.

    "What-" before I could finish my thought my breath hitched as his hand cupped my chin, gently tilting my head, looking at my scar. He glanced at his supplies, picking up a Q tip and dipping it in a thickly coated gel. He put it on my scar, I gasped, the gel felt cold against my skin. He pulled back, his eyes widening

     "Did I hurt you?"

     "No, no, you just startled me, that's all" I gave him a reassuring smile. After a hint of hesitation he carefully glided the Q tip on the length of my scar, only stopping to add more gel. His fingers pressed lightly on my cheek, being carful to not be rough. His gaze set on my scar, his eyes shining in the light on the ceiling. "So pretty" I mumbled, blinking at the fact that I said that aloud. His eyes flickered to mine and I emediatly went beet red. A small smirk rested on his face.

     "Thank you" he mumbled back, his face a light shade of red. He finished quickly, and soon he just sat there, stroking my cheek with his thumb. Not bringing himself to move away, his face back to its same stone look. I yawned, it had been a while since I had gotten even a few hours of sleep, and I was weak. He caught on emediatly and let go, muttering something about blankets while he headed off into his room.

     I rubbed my eyes, setting my backpack down on the floor next to the couch. He came back and opened the couch, creating a cozy looking bed, a perfect fit for me. He placed down the pillow and blanket, and wordlessly I climbed into it. Letting my body relax, barley feeling the blanket being pulled up over my shoulders, or the lights being turned off.

     No, no no no, I wimpered, the shadow looming over me. "Your dreaming, wake up"  the shadow took a step towards me, I let out a low wine, unable to back up, "your dreaming, it's ok, I got you, it's ok"

I felt a tight gripped hand pull me against something, ripping me almost completely out of my nightmare. My eyes still closed, I bared my teeth at the shadow. I tried to pull my legs up to my head, trying to cower from it. My stomach tightening in knots. Something gripped me close, I felt breath on my ear. "Hay hay, it's alright, nothing can hurt you, your safe, your safe." I felt my body relax, the voice louder than the shadow. I let the invisible thing pull me closer, laying my head on something rhythmic. Slowly sending me back to sleep, my eyes still closed, I felt somthing brush against the top of my head, already to far asleep to notice.  

     When I woke up it must of been early because the sun was still well behind the horizon. I sat up, yawning and baring my teeth. There was a clatter in the kitchen, I looked around, the lights were off, but there was Matthew, cooking something over the stove. The smell wafting over. I couldn't help but smile, I didn't know why, but I had slept through the entire night without waking, and I felt very relaxed. I stood up, careful not to disturb Matthew, who was deep in thought. I walked over, leaning against the island and just staring. He was smiling. It was quite a sight, making his eyes shine even more. I wondered what he was smiling about, what was causing his face to show such emotion. I looked over his shoulder, in a pan was two eggs. They crackled and popped.

    "Good morning," I said finally, unable to keep myself quiet. He look over and his smile faded slightly, going back to its stone look. But the light in his eyes only got bigger. "Oh please, don't stop smiling for me" I teased, watching his face go bright red.

     "Good morning" he said back, watching my movements closely. "Did you sleep good?"

     "Yes actually! I sleep wonderful, your couch is super comfortable" I said, his eyes searched mine, as if looking for a clue. I cocked my head to the side, giving a playful frown to his reaction. "Everything ok?" I asked, the tense silence growing too much for me.

     His features relaxed, "yah, just making sure" he said, turning his attention back to the pan of eggs. After a moment he skillfully slid them on two separate plates and handed a plate to me. Opening a drawer and pulling out two forks. We sat down over at a small table that bordered the kitchen. It was in front of a window, outside I could see the sun peeking out. I shuffled nervously, taking a bite of my eggs.

     "These are really good" I said, my mouth full of egg. His blue gold eyes brighteded, and he glanced at the window, noticing the rising sun. Then, he stood up and pulled the shutters closed, making sure no light got in before proceeding to continue making work on his eggs. Without any words said. My brow folded, confusion and slight paranoia lapping at my senses.

     "What was that about?" I asked innocently, my eyes narrowing.

     "He looked at me a moment, his fork still fiddling with his breakfast. "The sun is too bright in the morning" he said flatly, averting his eyes.

     "Ok...."

     We went back to eating in silence, after I was done, and noticed he was also done. I stood and took his plate, quick enough so that he didn't have the chance to argue. "Thank you for breakfast" I said again, placing the two plates in the dishwasher. "And... Thank you for letting me stay the night, but..." I made myself state what had been bugging me for the past few minutes. "I don't have enough money to pay you for your hospitality. I don't want to invade on your privacy, and you probably don't want someone like me hanging around your apartment and-" I was cut short in my rambling by the small smirk that was slowly growing on his face. I had expected him to be disappointed, maybe even mad. But he looked, amused. "What? Why are you smiling" I said, embarrassment flickering in my words.

     "I wasn't expecting payment. I enjoy the company." He explained, trying but failing at forcing his smirk off his face. "You can stay as long as you want" he finished. Standing to his feet he walked over to a drawer and pulled out a spare key, handing it to me. "Just make sure to lock up before you leave" he hummed, his voice back to its low sing song like melody. Leaving me flabbergasted.

     I cleaned up the couch, folding it back to a sitting position and placing the blanket and pillow on it neatly. When I finished I sat down, he had left shortly after our conversation. Mumbling something about work. He had tossed me the remote before leaving. I skipped through the channels, the news wasn't ever really interesting, it was all the same now. Talk about the politics of vampires and humans, vampire rights and freedoms. Stupid. Ten years now, people have lived with them peacefully. The news was grasping at strings. Still, it was better than nothing, and I settled for a channel on cooking. It wasn't long before I got fidgety, and had to pace around the room for a while. It was too bright to risk going outside, so I opened the fridge to drink something instead. There wasn't much, but orange juice sounded good, so I drank that. Slowly but surely, as the day carried on, the sun started to settle behind the horizon, kissing the mountain tops.

     I fiddled with my headphones, when the door opened and in he came. "Hay!" I shouted, giving him a closed lipped grin.

     "Hi" he breathed back, clearly exasperated from whatever he was getting back from. He made a beeline to his room, closing it behind him. It didn't take long before he had came back out in a new more comfortable outfit. His hands in his pockets. "Are you hungry, I know a really good place over a ways" he asked, his blue gold eyes locking with mine.

     "Yes! I would love that!" Jumping off the couch giddily, I needed to get out into the fresh air. We walked out of the apartment and into the night air, softly lit with the last remaining glow the sun had to offer. There was a slight breeze, and the trees danced to its rhythm. I smiled, unable to contain the happiness stirring inside of me. Like any vampire, I absolutely loved the nighttime. The shadows that played in the corners of your vision, mixed with the hum of others basking in the night air. Bats gliding gracefully in the air, silent as the darkness around them. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I caught Matthew staring at me. His eyes full of awestruck wonder.

     We made our way over to a cute little restaurant and ordered food, sitting in the outside seats. Per his request.

     "How was work?" I asked, nibbling On the sandwich placed in front of me.

     "It was fine"

     We ate quietly, silently enjoying each other's presence. When I finished, I closed my eyes. A gust of wind crashing into me, it felt amazing. And I itched to be up in the sky, feeling the rush of the flight. The high it gave. I opened my eyes, his soft gaze peiring into mine.

     "Your so beautiful when you get lost in thought"

     His abrupt complement left me red and speechless, "ah," I averted my eyes, my gaze faultering towards the floor. "Thanks" I mumbled, unable to meet his blue gold eyes. My stomach stirred with the same weird feeling I felt the day before. We walked home, too flustered to speak. I noticed him watching me in the corner of my eye, his face in its calm stone stare. I could get used to that, I pondered to myself.

     We got home and I once again got ready for bed, this time entering the bathroom and changing into pj's. I layed back down into the comfy blankets and drifted into sleep, the events of the day still lingering in my thoughts.

@vigilantetendencies

[hwauas]

🕊️: "the lost prince" (6)

park seonghwa (박성화) - 2,269 words

the lady came into the room as soon as she got the permission. she lowered her head a little, and Seonghwa and you bowed respectfully in front of her.

     “you don't have to be this formal. and you can call me Iseul.”

she sat on a chair next to your boyfriend's bed. even her posture was showing how elegant and sophisticated she was.

“i wanted to come, because.. you know, news are spreading quite rapidly..”

     “and so, you wanted to come and see the new city's attraction?”

Seonghwa sighed as he looked down. he felt deeply hurt — yet, he didn't let her speak.

     “Seonghwa, honey, you should let her speak. don't be this rude. i know things are hard but no one would make fun of you.”

     the tension in the atmosphere seemed to have increase so abruptly. Iseul was looking down, feeling almost guilty for coming here when the reasons that brought her here wasn't the ones Seonghwa talked about.

you softly grabbed Seonghwa's hand, to try and soothe him. your thumb was stroking his hand mindlessly.

     the woman seemed to be waiting for something — and you weren't stupid: you knew she was waiting for a permission to keep going.

as you were still calming down Seonghwa, you mentioned her to keep going.

     “to be honest with you Seonghwa.. i lost my child years ago. but i know that, somewhere else in this world, he's living. i just don't know where..”

the lady was looking at Seonghwa with a kind of protection in her eyes. she was talking about a tough time of her life, yet her eyes and whole face was showing off something else than sadness.

“i understand how you may feel. i understand how hard is it to have no family. since the day i lost my child, my husband is my only family. i believe you think this beautiful person by your side is your only family now? but you have a real family, blood related, waiting for you somwhere in this world. just as i'm waiting for my baby to come back home.”

     a tear started to fall down your boyfriend's cheek, and then an another. you hated to see them. they were the physical representation of the pain he was feeling.

“how did you face the truth? there's one moment you have to accept the truth. you can't deny this for ever.”

     “there is not a right way to do it. you know you had the choice when you realise you don't have the choice anymore.”

the woman was looking at Seonghwa. you knew she was sharing the same pain as him deep down.

“if you're indeed the lost prince.. i'm sure the King and the Queen are waiting for you, and are ready to give you all their love.”

     “i don't really wanna think about that.. about being.. the lost prince.. i'm not strong enough to handle this. i just can't be a prince.”

Seonghwa suddenly held on your hand tightly.

“plus, as y/n said to me right before you came.. our worlds would be different, and i can't imagine a life without her/him anymore.”

     “oh, Seonghwa.. if you indeed are the lost prince.. why would you have to break up with her/him? that doesn't make sense. the King and the Queen would be thankful she/he was here for you throughout this tough moment of your life. and rules are less strict than you think! there is no reason they won't accept your soulmate.”

     you frowned. you studied a lot royalty, monarchy and everything which was related to this world. and it was even your speciality.

“but every books i've read, and every people i talked to about this agreed with me: there is a lack of freedom as a prince. King and Queen often rule their child's life.”

     the woman laughed. you wondered if she was in pain or something. her laugh almost sounded hypocrite and fake.

“what's written in books are not always true. things are not set for ever. they evolve through the time.”

     Seonghwa squeezed your hand softly, and rested his head on your shoulders. he whispered ‘we'll see later’ to you. you were looking down to your hands linked together. the woman was looking at you both, with the same protection she showed before.

the whole atmosphere was less tensed than before.

###

later in the day, in a different place.

     the woman was now wearing her crown again. she was stunnier than before. her hair was again tied up in the most gracefully way possible. her dress was quite simple, way different from the large dress from our clichés: white, with trompet sleeves, not that huge and with beautiful details.

she was walking through the corridors, and stopped in front of a door leading to a large living room. there were hundreds and hundreds of books on different shelfs. the room was bright because of the sun rays, and the light colours of the room.

     a man was standing in front of a window. he was wearing a crown too. no need to be smart to know he was the woman's husband. she approached him slowly.

     “each new days without our son is hurtful..”

the man said almost in a whisper. this words weren't enough to describe the pain in his heart the destiny took his son away from him, his only treasure.

     “i talked to him today. he's so beautiful.. he looks like you.”

     “you.. what?”

the man turned over to face his wife. she seemed to be happy, after 16 years of sadness.

     “you don't want to stay updated with the news because you're afraid we finf our son. you're afraid of the day we will be reunited together, because you missed him so much that you don't know how you will react. or you're afraid we may learn we've found our son, but dead. you're afraid of good and bad news. but i'm not. this little human lived inside of me for 9 months. i held his head when i had to breastfeed him. he's the only one for whom i went on my knees to tie his shoes. he's the only one i cried for when he came to the world.”

the woman wiped away few tears. she was trying to hold them back, but it was hurting even more: she needed to cry. not to mention the knot in her throat because of her tears.

“he means the world to him and, unlike you, i'm waiting for this day they would say they found him, or they have a serious trail. and today.. they said they were having a trail.”

     “what do you mean..?”

the man seemed to be too shocked to process. any information seemed to be fully understood.

     “it's been a while i didn't say 'Seonghwa'..”

     the man approached his wife, and took her shoulders. his eyes were teary. he couldn't believe what he's heard from his wife. he waited for this day for so long..

     “when i'm seriously thinking about abdicating.. stars give me my son back to take my place..”

he kissed his wife's forehead. the emotions were taking the leads, and he couldn't hold back his tears anymore.

     “so you were serious, in this letter..”

     “you found it?”

the king sighed. he starred to walk around, aimlessly, and stopped again in front of the window.

“the waiting is so hard for me. it consumed all my energy. and i'm getting old.. i don't want the country to see me getting old, and i'm not living in my time to take decision. i wanted to wait for fleur-de-lis to come back before making this letter public. the country needs him as a king now. and a new queen.”

     “i'm not sure he's ready for that.. and his girlfriend/boyfriend either.”

she sat on a sofa, looking at his husband's shapes.

     “his what?”

     “hey, understand him. understand them. he has no idea he's a prince. and even though she/he believes Seonghwa is the prince, just as the policemen in charge of the case, Seonghwa doesn't want to hear this possibility. he just followed his heart by dating her/him. he wasn't doing anything else because he has no idea of the rules.”

the woman was strongly protecting your relationship with his son. she would let her body and her soul to protect you both in front of the king, because one thing she concluded about the meeting is that you were both in love and none of you was ready to face this.

“they're of course not ready to hear the truth one moment or another. they're afraid their worlds would be different and they would have to break up.”

     “that's true! they have to break up! it's not the rules, and he has to marry a real princess, not a peasant!"

     “first, because she/he comes from an another background doesn't mean she/he is a peasant. you better take this back, Park Junghoon. then, you can't break them apart. you know he still can lives by his someone's sides, even though their worlds are different. and finally, if you go against them, i doubt you would have a heir. do you wanna stay there until you die so i take the leads instead because you don't have a heir — or should i say because you refused to let him live his love story for shitty rules? do you wanna be the king until your last breath? do you want your country to see you getting old, and to see you die? do you want your only son to be mad at you because you imposed him your rules when the only thing he was asking for was to be reunited again with his family by his girlfriend's/boyfriend's sides?”

she was speaking firmly to be sure his husband would understand. but honestly, it wasn't the first time they were arguing. since someone took their son away from them, their relationship got even more fragile days after days.

“no, you don't. so if you wanna make this letter public, you better accept her/him when he'll be back. or else, you would definitely lose him. and me this time. no queen anymore, no prince as future king, no daughter-in-law/son-in-law anymore to be a future queen/king. you'd be alone and you'd have to stay there until the end.”

the queen stood up from her sofa, and started to walk away.

“take this as a way to thank him/her. because since the very first day they met each other until now, she/he never let Seonghwa down. and for the moment, Seonghwa has no one else. without this person by his side, i don't even think he would still be alive..”

she opened the door. but before leaving, she stopped to add one last thing.

“your daughter-in-law/son-in-law, if you accept it, is Choi y/n.”

     the woman left the room. the king was speechless — he knew his wife was right. he couldn't take you away from Seonghwa. impossible.

###

    after the woman left Seonghwa's room, you gave your boyfriend his clothes to be comfortable in his own clothes rather than in the hospital's clothes. and you even changed yourself in more comfortable clothes.

Seonghwa ate the meal tray normally, and the nurse even did her best to get you one to eat with him. it wasn't the best food you've ever eaten, yet it was enough for you.

     and after this moment with him, eating and talking about everything and anything, you both layed down in each other's arms. you were looking through the window, at the starry night.

     “a clear night like that.. it reminds me of our prom date.”

you were almost daydreaming, thinking about this night.

     “it was literally two days ago.”

Seonghwa gently mocked you. he was looking at your sparkling eyes with a bright smile.

     “prince of my heart, don't make fun of me.”

     “the only kingdom i wanna rule.”

Seonghwa giggled as he pulled you closer to his chest. he even kissed your forehead multiple times.

“i really don't want to be the prince. i hope my family is somewhere else..”

     “if we forget about the fact that would mean having a statute.. i just wish you find your family. them or not, i don't care. i want to thank your real mom for giving birth to you.”

you wrapped both your arms around your boyfriend's waist. you also rested your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

     “i'm afraid to meet my parents, to be honest.. i don't know how things will be going.”

     “i understand the unknown may scare you. but you can't avoid this for ever. it's hurting you, you know that. and it's hurting them. you'll get to know the truth about what happened. there's a lot to win by finding them, and meeting them.”

     Seonghwa only nodded. he was now the one looking at the dark sky while you were half asleep against his chest, under the blanket. the stars and the mood was lightening up perfectly the room, without making it too bright. it didn't take you too much time to fall into a light sleep.

     “i'm so afraid y/n... i don't wanna lose you by meeting them.. you said the truth thinking about me but.. i'm ready to give up on my family for you..”

he kissed your forehead as he held you tighter. he was looking at you sleeping, and quickly fell asleep too.

[thestarkerisobvious]

Ghosting You -- Chapter 12

my amazing art by @mrstarksbaby

The Previous Chapters Are Here

WARNINGS:  Suicide Idealization and drug use.

Chapter 12: Peter –   The Plan.  The Slap-In-The-Face.  The Sacrifice. 

He patrolled like a madman that night.  Zoomed through the streets of New York like a man insane.  Busted drug deals with a speed that would have astounded the Flash, if the Flash were a real life person and not a funny character in a comic book.  Left both dealers and clients webbed up to walls and blinking in confusion.  All the wares he dumped in the harbor as quickly as he yanked them - meth and coke and a dozen little pills he never stopped to identify.  Tossed them in the harbor before he could think about it.  Hour after hour after hour he grinded his way through the New York underground without mercy.  Finally, at dawn, when there was nothing left to do, he simply web-slung aimlessly, circling around his own neighborhood.

But the non-stop action wasn’t helping.  The exhaustion wasn’t helping.  It seemed like, if he could just keep moving… well the answer might not come to him, but at least he could come up with the definition of the problem.  

Somewhere in his journey he came across the rooftop of a neighboring building, and that’s when he remembered the Random Stash.

He had no real plans for the Random Stash when he had left it on that particular rooftop.  It wasn’t even that much coke. Just enough to get a regular person by for a couple of days. Hardly even worth hiding. He’d dropped it off there weeks ago and had forgotten about it.

He was glad for it now.  Thinking While Straight wasn’t working, so he tried Thinking While Messed Up.

It was absolutely the right move.  Getting high helped him think. The coke took the edge off the fear, and only once he had taken the edge off the fear could he possibly get around to facing his problem head on.  And once he was looking it directly in the face, then he could analyze it, see it for what it was.

In the end, his barely high brain informed him, it came down to the simple facts:

He had screwed up.  Royally.  Not “screwed up” as in getting in trouble at school or getting a bad grade.  “Screwed up” as in Quentin Beck happened, and conned him into committing a crime.  He had stolen Stark Tech by giving it to the enemy.  It was a crime so horrible he should either be jailed or possibly executed.  But he would never be either, which you would think was a good thing, but it wasn’t.  It left him shouldering a burden, a guilt, that he just couldn’t bear.  Maybe there were better people, smarter people, out there that could bear it, but he wasn’t one of them.

So he did the only thing he could think to do, he made a promise.  And that promise was the only thing that was keeping him sane.  The promise was where his brain went every time (and there were a LOT of times, sometimes daily, sometimes hourly) that his brain reminded him “You Committed A Crime.  You Almost Got People Killed.  You Should Be Dead Or In Prison And You Are Not.”  Every time it happened, his solution was the same.  He remembered, and recommitted himself, to his promise.

And his promise was simple.  He would no longer trust in anything that he couldn’t verify blind.  If he couldn’t do it with his eyes closed, he simply wouldn’t do it at all.

It should have been a hell of a lot harder than it was, but it wasn’t.  Utilizing sound, echolocation, his sense of touch AND his spidersenses made it ridiculously easy.  He could navigate his entire apartment with his eyes closed, hell, he could CLEAN it without sight.  He then moved on to walking the streets of New York the same way, Buying dark glasses  to keep from looking like an idiot, he set out with the goal of mastering one city block a week.  But it was so much easier than that.  He was now up to webslinging blind.  Sure he had bashed into several building corners, probably denting a few more buildings than he was comfortable with, but now it was effortless.  He wasn’t up to busting criminals this way - hurting people was different from hurting bricks - but it seemed the logical next step.  It meant his computer- and TV- time was severely limited.  The only screen time he allowed himself was his own phone.   He was obviously going to have to spend more time with his eyes open when he went to Columbia, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it (if that bridge even existed.)

But all his blind-man promises had been abandoned for the past several days, along with Spider-Man’s obligations, along with Peter Parker’s obligations.  And why?  So he could sit and talk to FRIDAY all night long.  

FRIDAY.  Someone he couldn’t verify blind.  Eyes open or shut, she was always the same.

She was someone he couldn’t trust.

6.  And it WASN’T because she had just HAPPENED to read out-loud the email from the DAY he had come up with the against-the-window fantasy.  That was just a coincidence.  It had scared the shit out of him at the time.  But now… calm, exhausted and high as a kite, he could see that she had just given him the slap-in-the-face that he needed.  She made him back up, and now that he had backed away from her, he could see what he needed to do.  

He knew what he needed to do.

And that meant something bad.  A hurt.  A sacrifice.  

But that was okay, wasn’t it?  People made sacrifices all the time.  Criminals sacrificed their freedom, and sometimes their lives, because they had committed a terrible crime.  Peter had committed a crime, and this was all he was being asked to give up.  It was harsh, but it was a harsh that he could live with.

The only problem, of course, was the disappointing fact that he had been, for almost two months, a Man With A Cool Car.  And now he no longer had a car.

-------------------------------------------------

We’re here, folks.

I’ve FINALLY managed to write the bit that I needed to bridge from Where We Were (written by myself and @von--gelmini​) to Where We Needed To Be (also written by myself and @von--gelmini​)

I’ll start posting it tonight.  It will be a WILD ride.  You’ll want to hang on tight.

[gingerwritess]

It’s my birthday tomorrow!!! Can I get some wholesome Loki birthday content? 🥺 ilysm

sorry i missed it hon, happiest of birthdays to you and all the birthdays i’ve missed!! hopefully this makes up for it!

read on to get a little drunk with Loki on cheap champagne (this is the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written oh lord it’s my new favourite)

For the past couple weeks, Loki’s been plotting.

You’d say planning, but that’s not quite what’s been going on. He’s…plotting. Setting an elaborate plot, not just making plans, thinking he’s being slick about it.

Not quite.

The fifth mistake was his random “let’s play would you rather” attempt around the dinner table.

Starting subtly with “would you rather drive or fly somewhere?”

You’d opened your mouth to answer, but Elliot cut you off.

“I’m learning how t’ fly. Mr. Wilson’s teachin’ me.”

…which only caused immediate chaos in the Loka household, resulting in a few panicked calls to Sam wondering how in fresh hell he thought putting your six year old in a flying robot-bird-suit was a good idea.

Apparently it was only once, and Bucky was on the ground watching, and Elliot wasn’t wearing the suit, I was carrying him—‘cause that’s so much better.

So on the evening of the day before your birthday, when Loki insisted on starting the celebration, you didn’t call Sam or Bucky. You called Peter.

Why is trusting a seventeen year old kid with your children easier than trusting two grown adults? THOSE grown adults??

He’s a good kid, and actually had been Loki’s first choice of a babysitter. He arrives right on time, ever the politest, and immediately gets dragged off by an excited Elliot to go play Legos.

“Feel free to leave!” He yells from Elliot’s room, “I’ve got them under control!”

“I’m unassured,” Loki announces.

You have to agree.

After showing Peter where to find dinner, Frigg’s favourite blanket, extra diapers just in case, the fire extinguisher, and the other basic items needed for Loka-home survival, you both kiss your kiddos goodbye with a stern “be good.”

Loki lays your coat over your shoulders and offers you his arm.

“We’d better be off, and I’m driving. No arguments.”

“Goodbye forever,” you sigh to your children.

—

Loki’s evil scheme turns out to be…not so evil.

He did drive, rather well, actually, and simply booked a reservation for two in a chic, modern restaurant overlooking the city.

“Surprise,” he smiles, offering his arm once again when you step out of the car.

You take it, albeit suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“Elliot made me promise not to keep you to myself on your birthday,” he explains with a laugh. “So tonight is just for us. No obligations, no diapers, and absolutely no stress.”

Right there in the middle of the parking lot, you wind your arms around his neck and pull him close, pressing your lips to his.

“Thank you.”

“Happy birthday,” he murmurs, grinning against your lips. “I adore you.”

There’s a skip in his step when you head off towards the city walk, hands intertwined and swinging mindlessly between the two of you.

A dream of golden darkness, night has fallen beautifully over the city, bringing an unexpected rain along with it as people hurry by, window shop, stroll aimlessly.

“Ah, your first gift,” Loki remarks when you step out from under the parking structure, lifting his face to the rain. “A kiss in the rain. Redeemable whenever you see fit.”

“Please tell me you didn’t put Thor up to this,” you giggle, grabbing the umbrella from his coat pocket. Opening it with a quick shake, you give Loki’s hand a tug and pull him under it. “Bribe him for rain tonight or anything.”

“Mhm.” A soft smile tugs at his rain-speckled lips. “I use my brother to seduce my wife, of course.”

“Is that what’s happening?”

“Maybe,” he purrs, arms slipping around your waist to pull you against him. “I’d say it’s working, wouldn’t you?”

You just hum contentedly and let him sweep you off into this rainy, city-lit dream, complete with a kiss in the rain that leaves you breathless, the umbrella slipping from your grip.

“We really should be going now,” he whispers when the kiss morphs into an embrace, catching the umbrella and moving it back over the two of you. “Don’t want to miss our reservation.”

“To hell with the reservation—”

“No,” Loki laughs and pushes you gently away. “I did something relatively normal and exceptionally midgardian, so we’re following through with it, no questions asked.”

You huff and complain the whole way, grabbing Loki a few times in the middle of crosswalks to steal a smooch—not that he argues against it, at all—but eventually, Loki comes to a stop in front of the restaurant and pries his hand from yours.

“Remember,” he hums as he opens the door for you, “we’re perfectly average humans.”

“Gotcha. You definitely aren’t a wizard.”

“Exactly.”

Loki’s apparently in the mood to impress you tonight, judging from the beautiful restaurant and the prices on the menu. There’s a tiny hint of smugness to his smile as he helps you out of your coat and pulls your chair out for you before sitting down himself, so once he’s seated across from you, you quirk a suspicious eyebrow.

“So. What movies have you been watching, dear?”

He quirks an eyebrow right back.

“The same as you, my love, why do you ask?”

“You’re being weird.” You prop the menu up in front of your face, just to send him pointed glares right over the top.

“I am attempting to be romantic,” he replies, mirroring your actions with his own. “Now shush and let me spoil you.”

You give an indignant scoff, but go back to browsing the menu, pretending not to notice how Loki’s locked his ankle with yours.

That may be the worst conflict he’s had to face yet - whether to sit next to you and be within touching distance, or across from you to more easily speak with and gaze at you.

He’s left one hand empty, resting on the table as he scans the menu, so you take it and lean over to press a quick kiss to his knuckles.

“Heh—no, I’m supposed t—y-you don’t—”

“Shush, Loki.” Behind your menu you smile, overly pleased at his instant fluster. “Let me spoil you.”

After composing himself slightly—though not letting go of your hand—he flags down your server and asks for the “most expensive, hardest to acquire bottle of wine in your stock.”

The server, some twenty year old named Matt, looked slightly confused, but brought it nonetheless.

Loki, ever the showoff, pours it with a flick of his fingers all the while mouthing something close to you are so beautiful across the table. You don’t last long; crumbling into a fit of laughter, you shove his hand away and bury your face in your hands.

“You’re so weird,” you laugh, shaking your head. “What is your deal tonight??”

“Look, it’s been a while since we’ve gotten to go out.” He shrugs, a grin on his lips at the sight of yours. “I’m just trying to take every advantage of tonight! Just drink your wine and let me spoil you, norns.”

“I thought you wanted to be average tonight,” you snort and lift your wine glass. “But okay, fine. To spoiling each other.”

“To spoiling you.”

“No, you.”

“Don’t start this,” he warns, clinks his glass against yours, and takes a sip with you.

The drink hits your tongues and for a split second you consider—only to spit the wine right back into your glasses.

“Oh, my god, that was disgusting,” you gag, trying not to laugh when Loki takes the napkin straight to his tongue.

“I don’ think ‘at kid was e’en old ‘nuff t’ drink,” Loki responds ever so eloquently.

When Matt come back around, Loki spits out the napkin and orders the exact opposite of this bottle: “your cheapest, please.”

It’s a simple champagne in a golden bottle, and this one Loki pours by hand.

“Take two.”

Another clink, another testing taste—

“Oh, yeah. Much better.”

By the time you’re done with the bottle, it tastes expensive.

Ever since Frigg was born, it doesn’t take so much to get Loki tipsy—no more immediate need for some special “Asgardian” liquor, because with the general sleep deprivation and slow deterioration of hyper-masculine Asgardian “tolerance” levels, he’s been slowly relaxing.

You can’t complain. Luckily, alcohol only adds to Loki’s charm, turning him into a giggly, affectionate, ridiculously touch starved poet who doesn’t give a single crap about opinions on pda.

Judging from the flush of his cheeks and how he’s stroking your calf with his ankle, he’s teetering off the tipsy edge by the bottom of the bottle.

“You,” he announces, and points his fork at you, “are my lover.”

“Mmmhm.” The pride shines clear on your face, and you don’t mind him seeing.

“That’s so…so fantastic. You are the one who loves me. And I am the one who loves you.”

“Life is so cool.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Loki grins. He takes a bite of his dinner and washes it down with another sip.

And there in that much-too-posh restaurant, soaking in a bubble bath of golden champagne, you absolutely cannot die, it’s simply incomprehensible, so you lean in with a grin of your own and theatrically whisper one of his favourite words.

“Never.”

The wink you slap on the end of your promise seems to send Loki’s thoughts spiralling into elsewhere, and you go back to your dinner with a flustered little smirk.

Loki doesn’t hesitate to order dessert, waving off your tipsy concerns about how expensive the first three courses were, and when the pièce de résistance arrives in all it’s nine layer, dark chocolate, gold flakes and vanilla gelato glory, your protests drown in the second champagne bottle.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Loki tuts when you reach for it, and he holds up his own fork, visibly fighting back a laugh. “You are my birthday girl. This–this has to be something romantic.”

“But I wanna eat it all. Romantically.”

He plucks up a beautiful, decadent bite and lifts it to your lips, his chin resting on his hand as he watches you lean over to take the bite off his fork.

Even with your lamely “seductive” attempts to lick your lips, Loki promptly bursts out laughing.

“What??” You cry, grabbing a napkin and furiously searching your mouth for any messes. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you, darling,” he snorts and lifts his fork to show you. “I can’t–I can’t feed you anymore, I can’t—”

He can’t breathe, he’s laughing so hard, forehead on the table and shoulders shaking as you watch on in confusion.

“I’m kinda offended, baby.” You reach over and take your own slightly angry bite of dessert. Maybe it wasn’t the prettiest bite you’ve ever taken, but hell, it’s your birthday and you’re drunk.

“All I see is our kids,” Loki wheezes, nearly crying with laughter. “We’ve fed them both, so–so now I just—heheh—all I can see is feeding you—”

Then he breaks off into incoherent snorts, and you manage to piece it together.

The image of little Frigg, onesie-clad and head lolling back onto her high chair with her mouth consistently open and ready for food to fall into it, flashes through your mind.

She makes these little open-mouthed grunts if she doesn’t get food upon request, head still thrown back and mouth still wide open, like a tiny baby raven freshly hatched and begging it’s mother for a meal. With that striking image of your daughter in mind, you consider what you must have looked like just then, across the table, and burst out laughing, too.

The two of you give it a couple more tries, switching off with who’s feeding who, but when you decide to bounce the forkful of chocolate heaven towards Loki’s mouth with a giggly “here comes the train—choo choo!” Loki wheezes so hard he falls out of his chair, and you collapse onto your silverware, weeping with laughter.

Matt calls you a cab.

The driver is a wiry little man with a tough face and a shiny bald spot, and brilliant blue eyes. Todd, Loki deduces as he climbs in after you. He refrains from commenting on the bald spot, but norns, it shines like a diamond.

“Todd?” Loki asks after a moment of sitting primly in your seats, heads held high and hands folded in your laps.

The epitome of “too much to drink,” but to the two of you, right now, you could pass as perfect royalty.

“Yup.”

“If I were to double the price of this trip, would you mind if I kissed my wife?”

Todd ponders the request for half a second.

“It’s her birthday,” Loki helpfully adds.

And shoots you a ridiculous wink that seems ridiculously attractive, at the moment.

“Meh, what the hell.” Todd shrugs. “But clothes stay on.”

Loki salutes and is on you in an instant, and the rest of the trip is a complete blur of giggles and shushing and sloppy kisses with no seatbelts until Loki rips himself from your grip to gasp “here!” to Todd.

You blindly follow him out of the car, still ridden with giggles and not at all minding the view you get when Loki climbs out of the cab, only to find yourself standing on the sidewalk of an empty street, glowing under a streetlight in the leftover drizzles from earlier’s rain.

He pays Todd with a wad of cash that’s most definitely more than double the charge, but Loki thanks him profusely for the ride and the backseat and insists he keep it.

When the cab drives off, Loki jumps in a puddle, sighs, and walks over to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pressing his lips to your temple.

“We need to walk it off,” he says, and you agree. You’re only a few streets away from home, so you don’t bother with the umbrella.

The fresh air does wonders as you and Loki amble towards home, arm in arm and leaning on each other, the occasional leftover giggle escaping.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

You miss a step and glance over to him to find him already staring, a soft smile on his lips.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you wind your arms about his neck. “Thank you for everything, Loki.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.” You emphasise it with a kiss.

He returns it, not the most precise but still laced with effort, and it’s so gentle and warmly caressing that you know in the end, he still got the last word.

“Love you,” he mumbles, and you mumble it back, leaning into him with a tight hold of his arm to land another kiss on his neck as you turn onto your street.

Loki laughs and kisses you right back, ducking under your ear and pressing his lips to your pulse point before you can squirm away. Your hands find his shoulders and you shove him with a giggle, only encouraging him to pounce again and hold you tighter.

“Okay,” you gasp through giggles, “okay, stop it, stop, we’re home!”

He resurfaces with a grin and straightens your shirt for you. “To be continued.”

With a roll of your eyes you grab his hand and drag him to the door. “Remember. Sober and mature. We’re adults with kids.”

A solemn nod.

Then he bangs the door open and sings “we’re hoooome!” before you can say or do anything.

Peter looks blankly up at you from the kitchen table.

“Oh.” The two of you push through the doorway, fighting back more laughter. “Sorry, Peter. We’re home.”

“Hey, welcome back.” He stands with a grin and Loki sticks out his hand for a shake—which Peter gives, a little confused. “Everything was great here, just perfect, they’re great kids.”

“I know,” Loki sighs, still shaking Peter’s hand, “I made them.”

“We,” you correct.

“Right, right, couldn’t have done it without her.”

“Okay…cool.” Peter pries his hand from Loki’s grip with an awkward chuckle. “Anyways. I gotta go, um, just…just one little hiccup we had…”

“Did Elliot set something on fire again?” You groan, fishing around in your purse for your wallet to pay the kid. “Damn it, I told Loki he was still too young—”

“No, nothing caught on fire!”

Loki bumps you with his hip and holds up another wad of cash—I’ve got it.

“He was really hyper,” Peter explains, pretending not to notice Loki leafing through what’s got to be the biggest wad of cash he’s ever seen. “We went outside and ran around and everything, but nothing could get him to stay still, so uh…Mr. Loki, is it legal to take money you conjured?”

“Perfectly,” Loki assures him, pressing the money into the kid’s hand. “I worked for most of it.”

“O-okay…”

“It’s all real,” you promise him with a laugh. “Really. It’s not illegal. How’d you get Elliot in bed then?”

“Right, I might have kind of sort of had to…” he scratches his neck, laughs. “Um, well, I maybe had to usemywebtostickhimtothewall.”

Loki just nods understandingly and pats Peter on the shoulder. “Wonderful. As long as he’s asleep.”

You can’t bring yourself to mind too much, either. It’s certainly not the strangest thing that’s happened in this household.

After assuring Peter that you’re not at all upset that he webbed your son to a wall, Loki sees him to the door and waves goodbye after another very formal handshake, then he turns back around and lets out a giant breath of relief.

“I think I covered that perfectly. He had no idea.”

“Definitely.” You give him two thumbs up. “Wanna go see if Elliot’s really on the wall?”

A grin splits over Loki’s face, and he dashes down the hall to Elliot’s room with you hot on his heels.

“Unreal,” he whispers when he peeks his head inside, “he’s dead asleep. He looks comfortable.”

You stick your head through the doorway and have to pull back immediately, letting out a loud snort of laughter at the sight of your little son, spread eagle against the far wall and snoring lightly with his Iron Man plushie clutched in one hand, webbed and weirdly comfortable.

“There’s no way he’s—”

Loki claps both hands over your mouth with a very loud “shhhhhhhh!” before slumping against the wall with his own silent fit of giggles.

“Shuddup.” You lick his palm and he laughs harder.

Seconds later you’ve tackled him to the ground to smush your hands to his mouth, the two of you giggling and screeching and shushing and slowly forgetting your two kids are sleeping behind these doors.

He finally catches your wrists and holds them tight, keeping you above him as you catch your breath, still grinning and breathlessly laughing.

“Do you want your present now, my love?”

“Loki,” you gasp, pretending to be scandalised, “in the hallway? You dirty boy—”

“It’s an actual gift,” he groans, head falling to the floor with a thud. “Sometimes you’re worse than I am.”

“Yup.” You settle onto his hips and smile down at him. “I’ll take the present now.”

“You don’t want to move somewhere more comfortable?”

You wiggle a bit; he grunts and lifts an eyebrow.

“Nope, this is pretty comfy.”

“Careful.”

Resigning himself to your hallway-lap-straddle, he sighs and pulls a package wrapped in brown paper out of thin air. “For my birthday girl. Our birthday girl.”

You eagerly rip through the paper, and a thick leather-bound book falls onto Loki’s stomach.

“Ooh…”

Running your hands over the smooth cover, the stamped gold embellishments, you catch Loki’s eye.

“I’m writing you a book,” he explains.

“What’s it about?”

“You.”

He pushes himself up to lean back on his hands, guiding you to open the book and flip through it. Sure enough, it’s handwritten, about half of the book already filled with Loki’s beautiful script, a couple sketches, some pressed flowers, loose papers…

“It’ll never run out of pages.” He points to the spine, the thickness. “I used the entire book just trying to capture the kind of person you are and the beginnings of how we met, so I charmed it to always carry enough blank pages for our story.”

“Sheesh, that’s a lot of writing.”

“And there still aren’t enough words in the universe to describe you.”

You scoff, but Loki shushes you with a finger to your lips.

“It’s a constant work in progress, and one with an conclusion I never want to reach. But, I can assure you that it will have a happy ending, when it arrives.”

“Loki. Thank you.”

He looks up at you with those big puppy dog eyes and smiles, dimpled and ageless, and you lean forward and kiss him.

—

Midnight passes and it’s your birthday, officially, as you and Loki eat some bread and drink some water, sitting on the kitchen counters quietly laughing and teasing and reminiscing—among other things—until you’re exhausted and heading back towards sober.

The two of you carefully cut Elliot off of the wall and carry him to bed, slowly realising that Peter actually webbed your child to a wall and that maybe you should bring that up again with him tomorrow. Elliot clings to you for a minute when you try to lower him into bed, whispers “bappy hirthday, momma,” tries to kiss you on the cheek, and falls back to sleep.

Frigg, when you check on her a room over, is a little sack of cotton footsie pjs and dark hair, mouth wide open blowing spit bubbles as she sprawls across the mattress of her crib.

“I love her,” Loki croons, kissing the tips of his fingers and brushing them over Frigg’s round little cheek. “She sleeps like you.”

Your elbow finds it’s way nicely under his ribs and he hisses.

In bed, you’re snug under Loki’s arm smushing your cheek to his chest, ankles entwining. He’s tired, but still awake, so you reach over and grab your new book, setting it on his chest.

“Read to me?”

His drowsy chuckle rumbles under your ear and he takes the book, thumbing past the in-depth love letter/birthday dedication you already cried over twice.

“On this day, some years ago,” he begins, yawns, and scoots you closer into his arms, “you were born. You came into this world and I like to believe you cried a beautiful song, unlike our own screeching children (spoiler alert, I am so sorry). At this time, I was, of course, well into my adulthood, just waiting for the day you would try to kill me. Not to make this weird.”

“Brilliant.” You lean up and plant a sweet kiss on his jaw.

“Darling, you’re making me blush.”

“Shh, I know. Keep reading.”

“Luckily, this is not my story, and my wife has a thing for older men.”

You poke him in the gut.

He laughs and steals a proper kiss.

The two of you huddle even closer, trying to press yourselves into one, and Loki reads you the beginnings of your happy ending until neither of you can keep your eyes open.

You fall asleep in a tangled mess of searching limbs, Loki’s book lying open over his heart to save your spot.

―   ―   ―   ―

fuel the writer?

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

~ breaking up the taglist to fix the scrolling problem! ~

@doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15

~ scroll here ~

@mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys

~ scroll here ~

@highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sadwaywardkid @lokioneshot @brooksaza @wild-honey-piy @ellaenchanted91 @watermelon-lights19 @just-another-romantic @skinny-macncheese @lokisironthrone @rorybutnotgilmore

~ scroll here ~

@toozmanykids 

[luthien-t]

Resurfaced Memories. Chapter Two.

Loki x Female reader

Summary: Fast forward to current times, you work as a florist with Linda in small shop. Loki and Thor are here in midgard for their weekly visit, will you meet again?

warning: angst-ish

A/N: (Taglists are open) + I am not sure if I want to make this a 15 chapter series or a short series of 5 chapters, but we will see! Happy reading!!

3.1K+ Words

Current Time

Carrying the flowers and plants from the truck, you were helping Linda restock this month. It may be a small local shop, but it is always filled with the same usual costumers. Sometimes they just come in to be surrounded by the nature of this shop to read a book or work. You always told Linda how adding a stay in option for the costumers and making tea or fresh beverages will attract more and the crowd that comes in every time in the morning just adds a nice, subtle, relaxing aura to this flower shop.

Walking in from the back with the new cacti and aloe vera, you stand by Linda. “Sweetheart, just set them back there and i’ll get to it.” Linda says as she sat on the stool next to you. For the past 75 years, you and Linda have been through many obstacles, you sometimes assumed that maybe you were injected with the serum like her, I mean, she always joked about it, considering how you never aged, your strength and body still holding you all together.

“Are you sure you don’t have any of that super-soldier serum in you somewhere, y/n?” She said as she busied her hands with removing the thorns from the roses carefully and you let out a soft laugh, carrying two more boxes in your arms to set them beside her. “75 Years later and I’ll give you the same answer, Lin, I don’t remember, but maybe, I guess.” She chuckled and went back to organising the shop before opening hours. 

“Honestly, you look like you haven’t aged a day since 1945, sweetheart.” She smiled at you and you bit the inside of your cheeks, her words ringing in your head.

She has a point, you look the same, your body heals and no matter how much alcohol you consume, you are still the same sober y/n. This isn’t the first time you questioned yourself and your inhumane abilities, it was always a mystery to you and no matter how hard you try, you always end up with the same answers. I don’t remember. For Linda on the other hand, she is just now slowly starting to age, wrinkles were visible and grey hair was starting to peak in her roots, she knows that she still has a long way ahead of her before it is her time. You assumed that signs of ageing will appear to you in a couple more years, considering how much younger you are compared to Linda, or at least that is what the doctors always told you regarding your age.

Through the years, you’ve started taking courses about almost everything, you and Linda traveled to places you can only dream of visiting, you’ve met people from across the world from different cultures and you were absorbing every knowledge from every religion, culture and even mythology. 

You’ve grown attached to Norse mythology the most, something about it just sucked you in, you learned about the realms and their people, you’ve taken courses about them and watched documentaries for your entertainment, it attracted you even more when it was proven a reality from the Avengers, Thor the God of Thunder was real, so you can only imagine the other Gods and what they’re up to. 

“I’m gonna go grab a cup of coffee, need anything?” You say as you set the last box next to Linda. 

“Just be here before we open, sweetheart, the pretty one should be coming today!” She smiled at you. Every Thursday for the past two months, a nice gentleman would come, have small talk with Linda while she prepares him his bouquet, you’ve always been busy with getting things for the shop or just in the back cleaning up so you never got the chance to meet the gentleman she brags about. You kissed her cheek and grabbed your book before walking out. “Be safe!” She yelled before you left and you smiled to yourself, she was like a sister, a mother and a friend all together, you were extremely thankful for her, and maybe even more thankful for that serum. It is the reason she is still around with you, it may feel selfish but you can’t imagine where you’d be if you lived all these years alone. 

You loved your morning walks before opening the shop. The streets were filled with busy people trying to get to work or students rushing to school with their friends, you absorb the soft sun hitting your skin and walked towards your favourite cafe, music playing in your ears.

Reaching the coffee shop, you greeted your usual barista, she knew you routine like the back of the hand and had your drink ready before you reached the place. Tipping them after taking your usual order you go to your usual seat by the window. You loved coming here, it was a local coffee shop with freshly brewed coffee and sometimes good tea, but nothing tops the tea Linda makes, smiling to yourself you open your book and start reading, living in your own world and blocking out the noises around you, slowly you start losing track of time as the book grabbed your attention more and more.

“Thor, this is ridiculous. Do we have to leave the tower?” Loki crossed his arms, following Thor through the streets to god knows where. He knew that his brother leaves The Tower every Thursday, but this is his first time tagging along. “I promised Jane that I will see her, I just need one thing- Ah, we’re here!” Thor smiled widely at his favourite flower shop. Loki rolled his eyes at the place, these flowers and plants were nothing compared to the ones they have back in Asgard. “You could’ve brought something better from Asgard, it is free.” Loki mumbled to Thor, walking in behind him into the shop.

“Lady Linda!” Thor beamed, ignoring Lokis comment. 

“Thor! I was worried you were ditching the shop today! The usual?” Linda says as she starts preparing his usual bouquet.

“Yes, please! Now how can I ditch this beautiful shop?” He says.

 Loki behind him, was growing impatient by the minute. Deciding he had enough of following Thor and not liking the idea of being the spare in Thor and Janes gathering and with that he slowly stepped out of the shop, his gaze roaming around the streets before his legs took the lead, taking him to wherever he wants, as long as it was far from the two lovebirds. Thor has an entirely different life here and Loki barely knows the Avengers back in the tower, he has the right to roam around this boring realm for any source of entertainment. 

“Lady Linda, please, meet Loki, my br-“ He turns around, Loki was nowhere to be found and his sighs. “-other.” He finishes his sentence. “I saw him leave, that’s all right, dear. I’ll see him next Thursday?” She smiles at Thor as she wrapped his bouquet and he smiled wide. “You can count on it.” He says as he take the bouquet from Lindas hand before leaving the shop and to Janes place, leaving his brother be. He understands why Loki hates it here, maybe if Loki walked around freely he might find a liking to this place.

Loki was aimlessly walking around the city, disgust written all over his face as he passed the meaningless shops, watching the people interact with each other, he watched every window of every shop before his eyes landing on a particular stranger with her book. Stopping in his tracks, he stares at her. He knows that face anywhere, he has it engraved in the back of his mind.

Is that-? No it can’t be. But There is no other. No.

Unsure of what to do in this situation, all he does is watch her. His mouth was running dry, hands clenching and unclenching trying to stop it from shaking slightly. He must have been staring for too long because she noticed, her eyes averting from the book and slowly up to him, his heart beating faster, now he is sure that it is her. He could never forget those eyes, even if he wanted to. He blinks as he looked at her through the glass, a smile slowly appearing in his face, after all these years. She gently smiles before looking down at her phone and closing her book to get up. 

Almost done with your book, you feel a pair of eyes on you, trying to ignore the feeling you slowly look around before you meet the prettiest eyes you have ever seen, a smile slowly appearing on your face at him, his eyes capturing you. 

There stood a man on the other side of the window, black hair, almost reaching his shoulder, he was wearing a tight black suit and his skin was pale yet his face was perfectly contoured and he was practically glowing under sun, his eyes never leaving yours, growing nervous at the sudden attention, you close your book and get up after checking the time and cursing under your breath. You’re two hours late, Linda is going to be so mad at me, you bid your farewell to the barista and walk out of the shop, you wished to see the man again but you’re running late so you pray silently to see him another day. Jumping slightly as you walk out the cafe, the man that was by the window is now standing in front of you. You gasp lightly, he is even more alluring up close.  

“Sigyn- I thought I’ve lost you, my love.” The stranger says to you, the name echoing in your head and you blink at him. “I’m sorry?” You start and take a small step back, your heart aches for the mans loss but he is mistaken. “Don’t apologise for my fathers doing,” He chuckled gently, a smile appearing in his face and you shake your head, your hands were starting to tremble and this time you take a big step back. His words were sending warning signals to your mind, fathers doing? “You’ve got the wrong girl, sir” You tell him, looking away from him. His smile drops and stares at you. 

“Sigyn, my lo-“

“I’m not who you think I am” You turn your head and look at him. 

“Then who are you?” His brows furrowed, confused, just when he thought he found you.

“Not Sigyn?” You reply, confused.

“Who are you?” you emphasise your words, repeating his words back to him before glancing quickly at your phone. You know who Sigyn is, she is the second wife to Loki, her love story with him is one you’ve always dreamed of, minus the complications they have in mythology. 

“You don’t know who I am?” The man asks you, shock dripping from his words as if you’ve said anything wrong, shaking your head, you start to question if this stranger is worth getting late to work.

“I see..” The man takes a step back and nods, sliding his hands into his pockets. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have bothered you.” He starts to slowly walk away from you. “I hope you find her though!” You say to the tall handsome man before walking quickly away from him and to your work. 

Loki watched you leave, your last words glued in his mind, you were always supporting him and hoping his plans work, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and slowly follows you, he refuses to believe that you’re not the one he loved before. You walked with elegance that the mortals lacked, you smiled at the strangers passing by and his heart clenched, how is it possible that after all the years you simply just deny him? His eyes widened slightly when you walked into the flower shop and ran a hand through his hair. He has to find Thor.

“You won’t believe what just happened?” You say as you walk in the shop, seeing Linda with her arms crossed. “Better be a long two hour story to explain why you’re late” She said and you gave her a small sheepish smile. “Well not exactly but, a man today called me Sigyn? As in Goddess of Victory? As in Lokis wife?” Lindas eyebrows raised in interest and she sat down. “Carry on.” She said and you started working on the Lavender behind the desk, fixing its soil and organising it in the pot. “He said he thought he lost me? But I just said he has the wrong person and came here as fast as I can.” You smiled at her. 

“Interesting…” She says and you glance her way, this time your eyebrows were raised. “Anyway, did the nice gentleman come in today?” You ask, changing the subject and she chuckled. “Yes! He was here thirty minutes ago!” You nod and let out a small hum. “You know? I never got the chance to tell you who he is.” She said before walking to the back of the shop. You laugh and nod. “Yes because a man who comes every Thursday for flowers is so important, Lin.” You say and water the plants before cutting any extra leaves you find. 

“The God of Thunder, y/n.” She said as she stood behind you and you snort. “Suuure” You giggle and wear your gloves to remove some plants from their soil. “His brother was here too, today, black suit, black hair, barely looks like Thor.” She said, as if she was stating the most obvious facts.

“But he left quickly, before Thor.” You nod at her, not sure what to add to this conversation.  

“How can you be smart and stupid at the same time? His name was Loki, y/n.” 

Your eyes widen and you set down the watering can. Realising that you just interacted with one of the Avengers and the same person you’ve read stories about. 

“Oh my god. And I had the audacity to ask him who he is” You snort then rub your face with your palm. 

“I mean, it could be him considering how close that cafe is from here, but who knows” She adds. Your conversation was cut short when the door was open, both Linda and you turn your head towards the door and you swallow at the man standing in front of you. 

“You work here?” He asks, his eyes wandering around the shop and you just simply nod, your mouth running dry. Lindas eyes switched between you both before standing up. “Time for my lunch break! Bye.” She said as she quickly walked out of the shop and you flip her off quickly before the man turns back to you. 

“you made doubt that it is not you, but, you just keep proving me wrong.” He whispers, a smile appearing on his face and you just stare at him. “You’ve always helped mother in her garden” He chuckled and looked down at his feet before back up at you, you were speechless, unable to form words. You just continued to stare at him. 

“Sigyn-“

“No” You interrupt him, as much as his aura was pulling you to him, you just don’t want to pretend. It is not fair, he was confusing you.

“I’m y/n. I have never seen you in my life, Loki.” You say and he smiles at you. 

“I missed hearing my name with your voice.” His memories of you never left his mind, the way you feel, your voice, your smile and your touch, all of it was glued in his mind, remembering you every second of the day.

His words caught you off guard and you just stare at him, an eyebrow raised at him. 

“Ever since Odin told me what you’ve done, I refused to believe him, you would never leave my side, not like that.” You open your mouth to protest and he raises a finger. “Please” His voice, desperate. “Let me speak” You sit down and look up at him, nodding at him to continue and he smiles softly down at you.

“I have waited for you, everyday. For months, years, even decades pass and still no word of you, I have travelled realms with hopes of seeing you again, how is it that everything we’ve been through and you don’t even want to talk to me? Have I done wrong?” His voice breaks in the end and he kneels down to your level, his face aligned with yours and you shake your head, turning it to the side and your eyes glued to the people passing by, unable to meet his gaze from his strong words and question that you don’t even have the answers to. “What have I done for you to leave without a word? For you to change your identity? To hide? From what?” He raises his hand to your cheek slowly, craving to touch you, to feel you again but you stop him with a hand around his wrist and he closes his eyes. Even when your touch was a warning, he was drinking every bit of it, remembering everything that was before. 

“I don’t know you, this is my first interaction with you. I’m sorry, I understand that you’re a god, but if you stay in this shop any longer, I have no option but to call the police” Your voice was stern, his eyes widen and he looks at you. “You don’t remember.” He whispers, lowering his hands and standing up. Shocked at his words, you furrow your eyebrows. 

“Excuse me?” You look up at him before standing up and walking towards the door, opening the door for him to leave. 

“Si- y/n. How long have you been here? on mid-“ he sighs, hating the different names this place carries. “On earth?” His question startling you open the door wider and look up at him, giving him your silence as your only answer. 

Loki was staring at you, trying to find any hint of hidden truth, his mind was contemplating his next moves until he takes a step outside of the shop, looking at you. Your eyes met and something in the back of his mind was telling him to not move, not leave, to just stay here in your presence, Sigyn or not. But your actions next jabbed him in the heart, he watched you as you shut the door and go back to where you stood before he walked in, his eyes never leaving yours while you busied yourself with your work. 

Taglist: @jessiejunebug​ , @hellethil​ ,

[quirkfics]

threshold of the underworld

A commission for a wonderful anonymous commissioner!  A part ii for playing house

wordcount: 5000

warnings: smut, oral, DP, post Deika City (aka manga spoilers!!)

pairing: Dabi x Female Reader x Tomura Shigaraki

Dabi and Tomura aren’t exactly the most mannerly of people. 

Tomura might keep to certain basics, and he’ll argue over them until he’s blue in the face- But he’s demanding. Rude, especially when he doesn’t get everything he thinks he should. Dabi doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he finds most things and people not worth his time. He might not put as much effort into his rudeness, but his words are sharp in a way that isn’t always immediately apparent. They're like a knife fresh off a whetstone, so sharp that you don’t realize you’re bleeding until after you’ve put the blade down. 

Despite that, they’ve always scrounged up enough manners between the two of them to give you some kind of prior warning about when, or when not, to expect them. 

It’s a system that’s worked well for the three of you. So well, in fact, that you’ve never discussed other options. You’ve never discussed what you should do, if anything, when they just… Stop calling.  

That isn’t exactly right though. Saying they’ve stopped calling implies that maybe they’ve ghosted you, or they’re rejecting your calls, or they’ve just decided they’re through. It implies that… That you know they’re still alive, that they exist, somewhere.  

But you honestly have no idea where Dabi and Tomura are, not anymore, and it's eating away at you. 

You would have been worried simply because they're people, and people you've spent time with to boot. It's human nature to be concerned, to care - at least a little. 

But you've had them in your bed, and despite your best efforts… You care a lot. 

Honestly, it's frustrating. None of this should be much of a problem. Not one of the three of you ever took the time to sit down and hash things out. Why would you have? 

The agreement, such as it was, was that you would pass time in each other's company. Asking a lot of questions was.. not a good idea, and knowing even a fraction of what they do- You listened. You didn't press for potentially damning information and they didn't offer it. 

And talking about the state of the relationship between the three of you? 

You're not even sure how you hope it would have gone. Regardless, all of that has left you exactly where you are now. Alone, out of the loop, and wondering if they're even alive. 

You hope they are, no matter how hurt or angry this has made you feel. You care about those reckless fools, despite your better judgement, despite all three of you coming into this knowing that things like feelings had no place in their lives. It figures, really, that you’re the one to catch them though. Feelings and kindness might not have a place in their lives, but it has a large one in yours, and- You’d kind of thought that might have been what kept them coming back.

Oh, the sex was great too, but it hadn’t just been that. Not towards the end of things. They’d started to stay for longer than a romp in bed. You’d woken to them sprawled over you, overheating you until you’d kicked off everything but the sheets. You’d found the gleam of Tomura’s hair on your bathroom counter and the handful of useless junk Dabi had emptied from his coat pockets. Receipts for things he paid cash for, spare change, once an eraser- It’s notoriously difficult, having evidence of someone existing comfortably in your space, and then having them vanish this way. 

So you’re hurt, and sick to your stomach with worry, but short of shouting to the police that the men you’d been… dating? Are gone, there isn’t anything you can do. And you most definitely know you can’t go to the police. You’d never get away again, despite not knowing any pertinent details about their goals. The police and heroes would keep you under strict surveillance, purely on the off chance that Dabi or Tomura or both would come back for you. If by some chance, they did- but they haven’t. 

You pull your blankets up to your chin, trying to ignore the beginning of the storm picking up speed outside. You want desperately to sleep, to let the sounds wash over you like white noise, but your worrying is too loud. You clutch at your pillow, twist your fingers into the sheets and do the only thing you can do. You wait. 

You feel like you can’t breathe as the days go by. Time sprints and halts at random intervals, leaving you weary with it’s passage. 

When you have something to do, people to be around, everything seems to go by too fast. You can barely move without it feeling like someone’s quirk has pushed you to the end of your shift or all the way back to home again. And when you’re alone? All the quiet piles up in the house, and it’s stifling. You feel like every creak of the floorboards or wisp of wind is surely someone arriving at the door. You jump whenever your phone buzzes or rings, snatching it up so quickly that you’ve started to frighten people on the other end. 

And… And you’ve had way too much time to think.

They used to joke about it all. About feelings. Playing house, being a port in the storm of their lives. It was hurtful at the time, it still kind of is, but- But it’s hard not to look back at every interaction, at all the nights spent in your bed and not see the softness. 

As the weeks go by, two becoming three, you think you might be able to work through this. It sucks, it will always suck, not knowing, being left here to wonder about their fates. You have- had, feelings for them. Maybe it was almost love, you decide one evening, food halfway to your mouth, your eyes focused on nothing. Dabi always claimed a kiss before he left. They were glancing things, just barely brushing your cheek. Perfunctory. He didn’t think about it, like it had become a habit, and that- You’d let yourself hope a little bit. Dabi put thought into everything. He hated wasting time, whether it was on words or actions. If he didn’t need to do something, he didn’t do it. And yet he’d kissed you, consistently, let it stand as his goodbye.     

Tomura was more formal, more distant. He threw on his clothes, barely caring if you or Dabi were watching and, at first, would leave without a word. He was always the first to say he didn’t care if you were rambling, but would come back to the topic just before he left, telling you to ignore the coworker you didn’t get along with, or to toss out the things that were causing you some sort of grievance. Tomura thought about the things you said, extensively, before he even considered answering. Maybe he didn’t even realize it himself, but he did care, at least a little. You take the bite of food, trying not to sniffle as you think about it. He probably would have claimed that the only thing he cared about was not having to listen to you complain, so he was solving the problem. 

Both of them were such atrocious liars. 

And now they’re gone.

You’d held out hope, until last week, that you’d still be able to find them somehow. They were part of the League of Villains, and the news seized onto any and every report people gave about them. You watched almost religiously, but day after day, the only thing reported was that… No one had heard anything. It was like the League as a whole had suddenly just vanished. The reports claimed that it meant the populace as a whole needed to be worried, needed to be on edge, prepared for their inevitable return and the horrible things they were no doubt up to.  Anger sprung up for the space of an hour before it spiraled back down. They’re not here. Their phones are no longer in working order. For all intents and purposes they’re not anywhere. 

It’s… It’s time to move on. You’re not planning on dating anyone, not anytime soon, but you can’t just sit here and mope any longer. You clean up the bits of them you find, the receipts, the few stray hairs, and decide you need to get out and do something. All in all, it doesn’t amount to much excitement, but you take walks, leave the house. You still wish you could hear from them. You still want to know they’re alive, but you’ll deal with it. You can’t exactly do anything else. 

It’s just shy of a month, and you’ve just gotten home for the evening. The wind is loud outside, and getting colder, and you still can’t help the moments where you get distracted. You find yourself staring out the window, jacket still clutched in your hands, watching early evening darken the sky like a blanket being rolled out. If they text me, you think, eyes caught on the flickering stars starting to dot the sky, if they just call me, just once, I can forget about it all. It’s a silly promise, a game you play to help cope, and you know it isn’t exactly the smartest thing to do. You know, in the long run, you’re going to have to stop it, because it just keeps you hoping, keeps you thinking about them, but for now… 

If they let me know they’re alive, everything will be okay.

Nothing happens. Not for a full minute, not for five, and eventually you have to put your coat down. You don’t need to just stand here in the kitchen, staring out the window, searching for shadows that aren’t there. You should get into some comfortable clothes or pajamas and catch something on TV or scroll aimlessly on your phone or read a book, anything but standing here. You leave the room, tired from the day, tossing your coat haphazardly into the front room and-

The back door rattles. 

You can see it from where you’re standing when you turn around, can see the knob rattling. There’s a pause, and for a split second you think you might have imagined it- but then it starts back up again. Your first instinct is to search for your phone, but before you can move out of sight, before you can even take a step, there’s a strange crumbling noise filling the air, followed quickly by choked laughter, and then Dabi’s tired sounding voice, just loud enough to hear over your heartbeat echoing in your ears: “I don’t think she’s going to like that.” 

You don’t remember moving, can barely feel the motion of your feet carrying you back into the kitchen until you’re standing six feet from the door, clutching desperately at a chairback. The door swings open, revealing Tomura and Dabi in the near darkness, their eyes bright, brilliant with life. They’re alive. They’re alive, and your heart is heavy in your throat, cutting off your voice and any words you might consider speaking.

You don’t know whether you’re relieved or angry, watching them tromp in like they’re home, like they belong. The debate inside your head seems to take eons, because maybe you are leaning more towards angry. Did he just ruin your door? But the sight of Tomura brushing dust off of his hands makes you pause.

Your doorknob is gone, and so are some of Tomura’s fingers. His hair is long, longer than you’ve ever seen it, and even though his eyes are bright, even though his smile is clear on his face - and growing wider at the sight of you - he looks terrible. Like he hasn’t been sleeping, like he’s been thrown around like a ragdoll and he’s just barely keeping his feet.

“Tomura?” You croke and you clutch tighter to the chair, because you’re not sure you’re awake, not any more. His hand- His hand, and he looks terrible, even as he reaches out for you, a strange looking glove in place and motions you forward. You don’t move. Your eyes dart to Dabi when he finally makes it inside, and he looks worn down and ragged too. He still has all his appendages, but his eyes, always heavy lidded, always sleepy looking- Dabi looks like he’s two minutes away from laying down on your floor.

Tomura snorts when you don’t move, and he doesn’t look… Disappointed, not exactly, but he’d obviously fully expected you to just- “Thought you might have missed us,” he rasps, lips quirking upwards when you look him in the face. “So we came straight here.” He takes a step forward, and you have to physically stop yourself from taking a step back. You… You’re not sure you could take it, if this ended up being a dream.

“You’re alive,” you murmur, glancing over Tomura’s shoulder at Dabi again. 

“...You thought we died?” Tomura asks, nose wrinkling with distaste, with disbelief. He glances back at Dabi, as if to say can you believe this? But Dabi shrugs. 

“We nearly did. Multiple times,” he says honestly, and you feel light headed. Carefully, you pull the chair out from under the table and sit down in it. If you pass out, you’re not sure Tomura should be the one closest to catch you, but- but you’re starting to believe that they’re real, at least. 

“I know- I know no questions is the rule, but if you could tell me anything, I would be grateful. I’ve been-” You bite on your tongue, trying to pretend that you weren’t about to say mourning you because you’re not sure either of them would like it, for a multitude of reasons. Tomura hadn’t seemed particularly happy about you thinking they were dead, and you don’t want to hear what Dabi might say about you being attached. “I’ve made myself sick, worrying over you,” you say instead, and you think the laugh that you follow it with sounds mostly steady. The look they share makes your stomach drop and then Tomura takes the few remaining steps forward, tilting your head up with his thumb, all the better to meet his eyes. 

“Don’t patronize her,” Dabi says, before Tomura can do more than part his lips. His eyes narrow in response, and you think he might just say something flippant on purpose, something that will rile up Dabi and cause an argument that will drag on for the better part of an hour.

“I was securing some important things for us,” he says, and tips his head back towards Dabi. The League, then. “It took-” Tomura pauses, gritting his teeth. All it does is show off how hollow his cheeks have gotten, and all you want to do now is take them to bed to sleep. God, he needs it. They need it, and so do you, if you’re being honest. “It took much longer than I thought it would.”

Dabi comes to a stop next to Tomura, reaching out to pinch gently at your cheek. “Wasn’t trying to leave you high and dry,” he says, and you have to bite your tongue again, or you’re going to start crying. 

In all likelihood, that’s going to be about as much of the story as they’re willing to give you. More might come out over the visit, or maybe the next, in awkward starts and stops about small details- but you’re not sure you care about the details. Not after hearing how very close they came to death. Dabi hasn’t lied, doesn’t have any reason to lie, not here, not to you. But it must have been close, for him to bring it up with such a blase attitude. That… That scares you.

You should probably be scared of them still, of their destructive quirks and the way they’ve used them, but in all actuality, all you feel is relief and- and want. Still. Maybe if they’d stayed away, maybe if something really had happened, you might have been able to move past this. Past them, but they’re here. They’re real, and all you want to do is be pressed between them so you can finally rest.

“Bed?” You ask, getting to unsteady feet, but Tomura hooks a finger around your wrist, tugging you in close. 

“In a minute,” he says, voice quiet. His eyes search yours, pupils expanding the longer he looks at your face. You want to ask if he missed you, or about his fingers, but- “Aren’t you going to welcome us?” He asks, and if it had been anyone else, you might have thought it was a joke, but Tomura? He doesn’t joke like that. He expects to be answered in some capacity, and the only thing that’s springing to mind has you wanting to look away. If you do- 

Your mouth is dry, but you lick at your lips, unable to turn away, to refuse because you’ve wanted to say it before. You’ve thought about it, especially while they were MIA, and you might… You might not get this chance again, not if he changes his mind, not if something really does happen to them the next time they leave here. “Welcome home,” you whisper and your heart starts to pound for an entirely different reason now when he smirks. 

“Doesn’t that sound beautiful?” Dabi asks, and you would think he was teasing, that he was mocking, if you couldn’t see the soft, weary look in his eyes. 

“Good girl,” Tomura says, and that sharp smirk hasn’t faded from his face, but… But they both look like they’re about to fall over. 

“Are you ready to catch some sleep now?” You interrupt to ask, knowing what Tomura is thinking about, what he’s going to suggest, even before he starts to open his mouth. 

“We should,” Dabi says, but not like he thinks they’re actually going to. 

Tomura lets you take a single step backward, but he hasn’t released your arm. “If you’re tired?” He says, less like a question, and more like he’s mulling the words over in his mind. “Then yes. We’ll head to sleep for the night. If you aren’t-” And there’s such promise in the air that you half believe your could twist your fingers and find that it’s tangible, that it comes wrapped up in paper and ribbon. “Then there’s a few things I’ve been thinking about for the past month that I would very much like to do.”

“Trying to leave me out of this?” Dabi asks stepping up so he’s shoulder to shoulder with Tomura, and if they were any other men, if they were more tactile, you’re fairly sure that they would be elbowing each other out of the way. Instead Dabi just snags your other wrist, and you’re fairly sure that both of them have made note of your racing pulse by the looks they give you. 

“Should we?” Tomura asks you, and his chilled finger strokes over your wrist, as cool as Dabi is warm. 

“Should we what?” You ask,completely distracted by the look in his eyes, by the way they’re touching you, by the desire curling around your spine and spiraling through your veins. They’re here. They’re alive and-

“Should we leave player 2 out of this?” Tomura asks, jerking a thumb in Dabi’s direction. The motion, the phrasing, the look of distaste in Dabi’s eyes- you start to laugh. You can’t seem to find it within yourself to stop, not yet. You’re shocked and elated that both of them let you step forward and lean your forehead against their nearly touching shoulders. This close, you can smell ash on them both, but they’re clean enough that you know they’ve showered recently. You wonder if it’s their clothes, because Tomura did say that he wanted to come straight here, because- because he thought you might have missed them. You have to bite down on your lower lip, because even if you keep laughing, you know it’s just going to morph into tears, and neither of them want that, even if, at some point later, you’re going to need it. 

“No,” you finally wheeze, realizing then that Dabi’s fingers are laced with yours and Tomura has tilted his head to rest against you. “I don’t want to leave either of you out. I still think sleeping is the best option-”

“Still worrying about us?” Dabi asks, and the way he leans in to say it, voice rough with tiredness, with want, had your heart thudding unevenly. "You're always so sweet." He says it like he means the taste of you, and you can't help the quiet hitch of your breath.

“Worry later,” Tomura says impatiently, and his hold on your wrist tightens. "Bed, now," he demands. 

Neither you nor Dabi argue, though when they finally release you, you catch Dabi rolling his eyes over the tone of Tomura's words. He's always so demanding, in just about everything he does, and yet there's something about the way he says it, the curl of his mouth- Even Dabi, who definitely disagrees with Tomura simply on principle, is swayed by the quiet charisma. He's part of the League, after all.

The three of you head to your bedroom in near silence, with you leading the way. Neither of them has ever been keen on filling silences, though you do, sometimes, but tonight? Anything you might say will either come across as hurt, or a confession. You're not sure which would be worse.  

It's hard to find the words though when the only language all three of you seem to speak well is with your bodies. And even in that capacity, you’re not sure that a… confession, of sorts, would be well received. 

You glance over your shoulder at them, pausing with your hand on the bedroom door, searching out their faces in the shadows. 

“Scared of the dark?” Dabi teases. You want to laugh with him, to mirror Tomura’s smirk and brush it off, but- It’s not that you’re scared of the dark, no. You feel like you’re on the threshold of the underworld, leading them out, and you just want to be sure that they’re still here. Still alive, still tangible after the nightmare of the last month, that they won't be whisked away by the fear that’s set up shop in the back of your head. 

"Just… wanted to be sure I'm not dreaming." 

“That’s enough of that,” Tomura scoffs and pushes past you. He snags hold of your shirt at the last second with his injured hand. There’s tension building up around his eyes and his forearm when he tugs, but he doesn’t let go of you, doesn’t verbally clue either you or Dabi in to how he’s feeling. “We’re alive, we’re walking-”

“Barely,” Dabi volleys in, raising an eyebrow when Tomura’s head snaps around so he can glare at him. “And some of us are missing pieces.”

Tomura’s mouth opens, anger in the curl of his lips- and then it slowly morphs into a saccharine smile. "You’re right,” he says quietly, and then lets go of you, mechanically stripping out of his clothes. “So I think we deserve a little care, don’t we?” 

For the space of a breath, you think Dabi is going to say something else that’ll set Tomura off, but when you glance at him, he’s smiling too. “Gonna take care of us?” He asks, expectant, but unlike Tomura, who sounds almost mischievous, Dabi sounds warm. You’re half way to throwing all your worries out the window. Earlier in the month you’d actually thought the words, though you’d tried to quash them down deep, but- it’s true. You care. You l-

Before you can open your mouth though, Tomura is taking you carefully in hand, drawing you towards the bed until he’s sitting back on it, leaving you standing at the edge between his naked thighs. He lays back, arms crossed behind his head to form a pillow and waits. You make to touch him, fingers just barely brushing over the tops of his thighs, but Dabi’s arms slip around you and his hands close around your wrists. He pulls them back up until your hands are trapped against your own chest and hooks his chin over your shoulder.

“Can’t take care of us with clothes on,” he says softly against your ear and desire settles low in your abdomen. He keeps your hands where they are, shifting until both your wrists are trapped in the grip of one hand, while the other snakes down your body, pushing at your trousers until you can shuffle them off. As soon as you’re bare, as soon as your shirt hits the floor, Tomura is crooking a finger your way. “Not going to keep him waiting, are you?” Dabi asks, fingers stroking down your spine before he’s bending you over, pressing your cheek to Tomura’s thigh. 

You could lay here, could let Tomura start things by putting your mouth exactly where he wants it- but you do want to take care of them, and at least in this way, you most definitely can. He’s half hard before you even curl your hand around the base of him, and as soon as you take the head of Tomura’s cock in your mouth, Dabi is parting your legs. You make a noise of surprise that has Tomura tensing, growing harder against your tongue and then Dabi is stroking you, hand curled around your hip to hold you still. 

“Always so wet for us,” Dabi murmurs, and the sound of him, the roughness, makes you dig your fingernails into Tomura’s thigh. Tomura hisses, but you know he likes it, has always liked when you leave little marks on him or Dabi, when you lose control. 

“How wet?” Tomura asks, propping himself up so he can press gently against your neck, urging you to take more of him in your mouth, to suck- “Wet enough to take us both?” He asks, and curses when you make another noise around him, vibrations nearly causing him to buck. 

Dabi tests you, fingers slipping inside and scissoring, and he steps in close so he can rut himself against the back of your thigh, groaning when you press back against him. “Shit, I don’t know, better ask her,” he rasps and then twists his hand, fucking into you with his fingers and trying to press against your clit at the same time.  

Tomura pulls you off of him, tugging just hard enough at your hair to have your head tilted back. “Well? Gonna take care of us both or do we need to take turns?”

“I- I’ll try,” you offer, heat so prevalent that you’re surprised you haven’t started sweating. That’s all Tomura needs to hear though, because he pulls you onto his lap, breath coming heavy and fast as he lines himself up. 

“Been waiting- waiting for this,” Tomura growls, eyes fluttering closed as soon as he starts to slide inside. “Dreamed about being here, every time I-” Dabi doesn’t give either of you time to adjust. He places his hands just under Tomura’s and then pushes, leaving you aching and full and maybe you can’t- “Oooh, fuck, you should see her face,” Tomura says and then you’re whimpering as Dabi presses against your back, changing the angle so he can-

“‘S a lot,” you gasp, because it is, and it’s just a little bit, just enough to have your legs shaking and both of them frozen. The only noise in the room is heavy breathing and the small noises you’re making as they try-

Tomura’s laughter is choked and his lips brushing your shoulder as he speaks has you tensing. “Yeah, look at you! Going to make a mess of us both and we’ve- we’ve barely- fuck,” he groans as Dabi slides against him. 

You’re going to be a mess period. You don’t think you can last much longer, with the pressure, with the slow pace they have to keep, you feel like you’re about to burst. Between Dabi’s quiet muttering and Tomura’s constant cursing and wriggling-

“Oh, I’m-” And then you’re shaking apart between them and Tomura is pulling you into a messy kiss as everything turns wonderfully hot and slick and they’re both coming. Dabi whispers your name and when Tomura finally lets you pull away for air, you think you might black out for a moment. 

When your eyes flutter open you’re aching, in all the right ways, and you’re pressed in between them. You don’t think you’ve lost much time because Dabi is still cleaning you up, but you’re now using Tomura for a pillow and- you’re exhausted.

“I did,” you murmur sleepily and Tomura’s gloved hand stops it’s stroking over your neck.

“Did what?” Dabi asks and there’s a quiet shuffling before the light is off and he’s climbing into bed beside you. You’re absolutely spent, and you know that any moment now, you’re going to drift off. 

“I missed- missed you two,” you say through a yawn, relaxing completely once you’re draped twice over with their limbs. Neither of them say anything, but you don’t particularly mind. They’re cuddling you and they came straight here-

Just as you’re starting to drift off completely, you hear Tomura mutter in a tone that brooks no argument: “She can’t stay here.” His partially gloved hand tightens its grip on your side.  

“Agreed,” Dabi says, barely awake as his hand strokes down your spine. “It’s not going to be safe for us to come back here.” He sighs. “Not anymore.”

“We’re not giving her up,” Tomura states and it’s almost enough to rouse you, but-

“No. And we can’t just vanish on her, not again,” Dabi yawns, and then goes silent. 

“We’ll bring her home,” Tomura decides, and then his lips are soft against your shoulder.

[m2jay]

True Self [Genos x OC]

Ch.1 | ~The Task~ (pt. 1)

There  haven’t been any recent attacks lately within the city. There’s been a suspicious amount of time of peace. This didn’t sit well with Genos as he had thought that something would soon emerge out of the ground, or some unknown species from another planet would attempt to take over. The cities A-Z not being under attack seemed more concerning to him. ‘Is there some sort of invasion coming up ahead?’ he thought to himself as he let his thoughts wonder.

Saitama had been watching tv longer than usual. He didn’t bother doing any so-called “hero” work as no monsters or villains have shown up. To him, the small crimes like stealing purses and shoplifting weren’t much of a challenge or worth his time. Plus, he knew the struggle of meeting weekly report deadlines for C-Class Superheroes. It was especially harder for them to meet that cut off point during these times since there weren’t as much high stakes. 

The two of them have been in the apartment together more lately due to their circumstances. Aside from lazing around, Saitama would always keep up his work out regimen. Genos would follow along with it in hopes of becoming as strong as him, even though he still thought it was full of crap, but he believed his master was wise and knew best. 

Aside from working out, Genos would take account of the bald man’s habit of reading manga. With his excessive amount, he assumed that his master had learned many things from there. His workout routine didn’t explain much about his impeccable strength for just a punch. Perhaps that was it. Maybe the mangas were the answer. It made sense for him since that’s all Saitama ever did in the apartment. He either watched or read, and he had an abundant amount of manga in the bookshelf. He stared at the manga as he rested his face on the palm of his hand, elbow supporting the weight as it was on the table.

Not long after, Saitama got up from watching to grab one of his manga. He looked within his bookshelf and grabbed one that caught his eye. An amused smile came across his face as he pulled it out then sat down across from Genos. He hummed as he got into the story. He flipped through the pages and made inhumane noises at some points, rooting for the characters, or being amused by actions. At some point, he looked up and caught Genos staring intensely at him. He then lifted the manga up higher to cover his face as the cyborg made him uncomfortable. He didn’t understand why he was being looked at that way, and sweat began to drip off his head excessively. Saitama took one quick peek at Genos one more time and quickly averted his eyes after realizing he was still staring.

Minutes had passed and Saitama had enough. He closed his manga and slammed it onto the table, giving the cyborg his full attention. “So Genos..” he awkwardly initiated, “..what are you thinking about now?”

“Master! I now understand how you’ve attained your immense strength!” Genos exclaimed with confidence.

Saitama squinted in disbelief. He had told the young man what he did many times. 100 pushups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10km everyday should do the trick. He had stated that that was all he did for a few years, but it seemed the cyborg still believed that there was more to it. He blew out some air with a whistle and replied, “Do you now, Genos? What might that be?”

He pointed at his manga shelf behind him. “It’s your mangas!” he insisted. “There’s surely plenty of things in them that you learn from.” 

Internally, the man felt dumbfounded, but he went with it. Though he regretted taking him in as a disciple, he did enjoy the blonde cyborg’s company. However, he never really knew what to teach him because he truly didn’t have anything to teach, so he often made something up. “Oh, of course, Genos!” he went along with it. “There’s many things to learn from them.” The bald man then proceeded to skim through pages of his book for action scenes to show his disciple.

Genos nodded in agreement as he tried analyzing each image in depth. “May I use this as study material?” 

Saitama froze as he slowly looked behind him to look at his manga with concern. Knowing his disciple, he knew he would take them all too seriously, some of which weren’t even action too. He had a selection of various genres, but they mainly consisted of action and slice of life. “Sure..” he allowed Genos to go through his mangas as he slid the one he was reading to him. 

One by one, Genos went through his mangas. At times, when he finished, he would go outside to practice some of the moves he had seen. He’d often successfully do these skills after trying it once or a few times. It didn’t take long for him to finish reading all of Saitama’s action-based mangas. All there was left now were the others, including the slice of life ones. He had often seen his master read them when he was relaxed, but it seemed like there was more to it. Perhaps other than strength, he gained wisdom from these ones specifically?

The cyborg was determined to learn from these slice of life manga, but he couldn’t fully understand what the point was for them and asked the bald man for guidance. “Master, I don’t really see why you read these.” he commented.

At last, something for Saitama to give bullshit advice about, normal life. He lifted his fists up with confidence and exclaimed, “You see, Genos, that’s what you’re lacking! Knowing how to live normally on a day to day kind of lifestyle is good for the mind!” He internally happily cried as he finally found something he could genuinely try to teach his disciple. He then lowered his tone to sound more calm yet seemingly serious and said, “There’s more to life than training, you know.” He thought that surely this task would be easy.

Genos placed his cold, metal hand on his chin and looked down on the table, just thinking. “Doctor Kuseno had built my body to be able to function for a normal life though--” he was then interrupted by his master’s complaints.

“Ahh! No!! That’s not what I meant!” Saitama whined as he placed his hands on his cheeks and tightly drooped them down out of frustration. He then pointed at him fiercely. “I mean you need to live like your age! Yeah! Something like that!” 

The cyborg quickly wrote down what his master had said, but didn’t write as much as he usually did. He looked back up at him to hear more, only to find him shaking his head. “And?” he asked as he anticipated more words of wisdom.

Saitama’s eyes widened but still stared at Genos blankly, thinking how dense he could possibly be with social related things. “Genos!” He got up from the table and grabbed him by the arm to drag him out of the apartment. “Out! You idiot! Go!” he kicked him out the door and slammed it shut. With a sigh of, he smiled and raised his arms ecstatically. A day without dealing with Genos’ questions sounded relieving. As he walked back to the living room, he noticed one of his beloved books were missing. Bending over to check under the table, it wasn’t there. A vein popped out of his forehead out of irritation as he made his way back to the front door. As he opened it swiftly, he looked down and noticed Genos sitting down reading. He took it out of his hands immediately and glared muttering, “I thought I told you to go..”

Genos’ eyes averted from his master’s as he awkwardly got up and went away to roam around the city. He pondered and found himself deep in thought. “Shoujo manga..” he muttered to himself. Not long after, he himself got irritated as he placed both hands behind his head and bent back a bit to look up and get a deep breath but not let out a big sigh. 

After walking aimlessly, Genos had found himself at the udon shop that he and his idiotic yet wise master had went to after their first training session together. A sense of relief went through him as he entered. The familiarity the place gave him allowed him to expect whatever could’ve possibly come. When he entered, he noticed that it was more packed than usual, which was odd. 

The only seat that was left had luggage by the table. The owner of the place insisted that no one was sitting there at all and assured Genos it was alright for him to sit there. He nodded in agreement as he trusted the man’s words and sat down. Soon after, he was greeted by a new staff member. They caught his attention since he’s never seen them before. He kept an eye on her. She looked quite frantic, probably because of all the customers that were there that day. “Hi there! What can I get you?” she kindly asked him.

Genos raised his hand up and said, “I can eat somewhere else.” he insisted.

“Do you not like the food here?” she awkwardly asked.

He shook his head and replied, “It seems too busy here. I’d be causing more trouble for the staff.”

She waved her hands. “No, no. It’s really okay. Trust me.” the girl urged with her brows furrowing with concern.

“Miyu!” the owner called out to her. “We have more of the orders ready to give out!” 

“Coming!” she looked at Genos and lifted a finger, then briefly apologized, “I’m sorry, but I’ll be right back with you.” Miyu quickly made her way to pick up the finished orders to bring them to their tables. She then returned back to Genos’ table and smiled. “Sorry if that took a while. What was it that you would like to order?”

“I’ll take the Super Spicy Mega-Monster Udon Challenge, please.” he requested.

Across the room, the owner spotted Miyu taking Genos’ order. “Oi, it’s Demon Cyborg again! Miyu, did he order our special udon challenge?”

‘Demon Cyborg?’ she thought as she looked down at Genos, a bit confused, then at her owner. Miyu stared at her boss, not understanding what he meant, and awkwardly nodded. “Yes.” she responded bluntly.

Her boss sighed as he placed his hands on the sides of his head and shook it. “Get over here, Miyu!”

Miyu went up to him in a hurry as she could tell that he was stressed out. “What is i--?”

He shoved the bucket of udon and reward money into her hands. “Someone else ordered it but wussed out. Go give it to Demon Cyborg, and here’s the money too. He always finishes it.” he said. As he watched her walk away to give the cyborg his food, he said one more thing. “Your shift ends after you give it to him. You’ve had a lot of commissions today, so you’re all set to go.

Her eyes lit up and her mood seemed to change. If someone paid attention, they would’ve noticed the difference. She let out a sigh of relief and happily gave the cyborg his food and reward money. “Here you go!” she said as she placed his items on the table. For a second she eyed at his reward money but shook her head. “Must be nice..” she said to herself. Right after doing that she asked, “Is it.. Alright if I sit in this seat right here?”

Genos shrugged. “I see no problem with it.” he answered.

“Thank you.” Miyu then plopped herself down onto the seat and began to open the luggage. She pulled out a manga and began reading intently, feeling relaxed. 

When Genos finished, he felt more energized since he gave himself more biofuel. He was about to leave until he noticed what the girl was reading in front of him. “Is that a.. Shoujo manga?” he asked in awe.

Miyu looked up at him as she raised a brow. “Yeah, why?”

“I would like to read it.” Genos looked at her with confidence and waited for an answer as he gave her his full attention. Since his master had taken back the one he was reading, maybe he could possibly read from someone else.

She moved her book to the side a bit. “Why would you wanna read it?” Miyu was in disbelief that a boy was actually eager to read a shoujo manga. To her, he seemed like the serious type that didn’t really pay attention to such things.

“I wish to learn about life from it.” he told her.

A small smile came across her face from his answer. To her, he sounded determined yet genuine too. Miyu lifted the manga up to show him the cover. “This is a shoujo manga, but there’s also shounen aspects in it. There’s a lot of action in it where the characters fight these monsters and demons.” She explains some of the things that may interest him.

“Shounen in shoujo?” Genos asked puzzled. “That’s quite new.. But I don’t see why it can’t be a thing. He gently swatted his hand showing a dismissing manner. “I understand fighting and skills, but I want to learn about the other things in shoujo.”

“Demon Cyborg!” the shop owner called out to him.

“Yes?” he turned to look at him. When he did so, he noticed everyone else had already left. ‘Strange.. I wasn’t paying attention to my sensors. I shouldn’t be letting my guard down so easily.’ he thought to himself internally with shame.

“I respect all that you do, but we’re closing soon. I mean- you can stay all you want, but I would think you would prefer going home, yeah? A hero like you deserves the luxury of comfort.”

‘Hero?’ Miyu thought as she squinted her eyes as she looked at him. She did take note of his features, but she didn’t fully understand the whole thing. Doing awkward jazz hands, she made an offer, “If you want to continue this conversation, I can stay to talk and I’ll close up the shop.”

The blonde cyborg raised his hand. “No need for that. I’m sure you all need the luxury of your homes as well.” Genos got up from his seat and pushed it back to the table properly. He turned his head to look down at Miyu. “You can call me Genos.”

“I’m Miyu.” she properly introduced herself. “Genos, do you come here often?” Miyu asked curiously.

He looked to the side to think for a minute. “I guess you can say that. Why, Miyu?”

She rummaged through her luggage to pull out the other volumes. “Here.” she insisted on giving them. “Just promise to return them after you’re done reading, learning, or whatever.”

Genos slightly bowed and gratefully took them off her hands.”Thank you, I appreciate it.” He then dug into the pockets of his pants for the reward money and gave it to her in return. “Take this. I noticed that you glanced at them at some point. I assume you need it?”

Her eyes widened. “That’s your reward! Really, it’s okay!” she persisted, feeling guilty.

He placed it on the table. “I insist. You need it more than me.” he said. “Plus, you’re entrusting me with your knowledge. That’s fair.”

Miyu’s jaw dropped but she smiled and internally felt teary because it was true. “Thank you, Genos. I’m thankful.” She waved as she noticed him about to take off his leave. “Bye, see you soon!” 

“Of course. You were quite nice if I might say.” He waved and gave her a small reassuring smile as he walked out. “By the way, you should keep smiling happily. I thought you looked nice.”

“I’m honestly really awkwa--!” Miyu paused after being caught off by his word. ‘Does he know social cues? Or is he really just that straightforward?’ She shook her head and placed her hand on her cheeks, feeling it tinge as it was slightly warm. She could tell she was somewhat pink, but it wasn’t noticeable unless someone went up to her face.

“That’s strange of him.” her boss commented.

She turned to look at him as she grabbed her luggage’s handle, ready to go. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I don’t really see S-Class heroes from the Hero Association really socialize during their free time.” he answered, baffled.

Miyu shrugged and said, “I don’t know.” as she walked out of the shop with her stuff. She looked up at the udon shop’s sign then down at the money in her hands, which she held to her chest. She sighed and had a saddened look on her face. Without wasting any more time, she walked off.

Meanwhile, Genos walked back to his master’s apartment. He felt quite ecstatic since he had more material to study and learn from. If it wasn’t for Miyu’s kindness, he wouldn’t have gotten them. He was surprised by her generosity, but he surely wasn’t going to let it go to waste. When he arrived at his master’s place, he carefully knocked on the door and waited for him to open it.

Saitama soon opened the door looking like a bum. When he opened the door, he had this dull expression as he picked his nose with his pinky. He flicked his fingers to the side, making sure nothing was sticking to it. Before actually acknowledging his own disciple’s return, he noticed the mangas he was holding. “Ohh!” he gushed with amusement. “You got the Sakurahime The Legend of Princess Sakura volumes?! Where?!” 

Genos walked in and made his way to the living room. “I got them at the udon shop we often go to.” he answered respectfully as he sat himself down to begin reading.

“Wow!” he gasped in surprise. “The udon shop sells manga now?”

“No, Master, you misunderstood.” he corrected him and said, “I borrowed them from one of the workers there.”

The bald man closed the door and made his way to the cyborg, crossing his arms. “A worker?”

“Yes, they had it in a luggage.”

Saitama spat a bit. “What a weird dude.”

“No, Master. They were actually quite kind.” he added, “She was new.”

“Oh, in her purse.” he commented bluntly. “She has taste.” he referred to her manga choice.

“No, Master, luggage.” he persisted.

“Shut up! You’re talking about purses! I know what I’m talking about.” he exclaimed stubbornly, believing he knew. 

Genos rolled his eyes as he continued to read. With his sensors, he sensed his master not moving. He looked up from the book and noticed him looking at him with excitement. Feeling unsettled, he questioned him. “Yes?”

“I want to read!” Saitama shouted excitedly. “You have the physical copies right here, and I’m too lazy to search them up online.” 

The cyborg glared a bit at the man’s laziness. “I must study first.” he told him.

Saitama’s shoulders drooped as he looked up at his ceiling, giving a heavy sigh, “Agh!” he then complained, “You’re gonna write a bunch of stuff into a journal though and take a long time!” He internally screamed as he knew Genos would analyze every single small detail to precision. He’ll take an image, action, or word and go into a deep depth with it. His intense analyses didn’t seem necessary to him, but he knew he couldn’t stop him. “Genos! Hey, Genos!” The bald man continued to persist. “Genos..”

[k0gamis]

Temptation ➝Shinkane Week 2019 Day 4 ➝WC: 7225 / Rating: explicit

Upon his return to the country, Akane visits an old friend to get drinks and catch up.

***

22:19

The mesmerizing lights of Tokyo are one of the things Akane loves the most about the city. At night, when the ink of night backdrops the towers and buildings that each forge a shape unique to every onlooker, she feels the lights are especially dazzling. 

She’d been enamored with the faux magic since her first drive through the city at night, when a last-minute interview for the CID awaited her in the morning, prompting an unexpected trip from her home in Chiba. She remembers the long breath she drew as her eyes settled on the skyline for the first time, watching the buildings shift around each other as the car drove on. She remembers wondering which building would be her hotel and what excitement she had to look forward to once she moved to the city for good; it was not unlike now, except the hotel she searches for in the distance is not hers, and she finds herself admittedly far more nervous than excited this time around.

The car drives automatically, which is unusual for her; Akane enjoys driving and normally likes to switch off the auto-pilot setting. But from time to time, especially at times like these, where her mind feels somewhere else and her eyes wander aimlessly outside the window, she lets the car drive itself.

She approaches the hotel as the car pulls into the parking lot, and Akane’s stomach does a flip. Her gaze flits between lit windows, counting up the rows until she hits floor number six. One of them belongs to room #644, and knowing him the curtains are likely closed, drawn open only enough so that his eyes can briefly dart outside to watch cars zip by on the freeway in between paragraphs of the book he’s reading.

When she steps off the elevator onto the sixth floor, her heart beats with the rhythm of her footsteps--perhaps even faster--as she follows the signs. Her fist raises, clenching once to squeeze out the nerves, then knocks twice and takes an anxious step back when the door opens.

He’s wearing a black bomber jacket that covers a white collared shirt tucked into dark jeans, somewhat reminiscent of the casual style he donned his formalwear all those years ago. She relaxes the second she catches his eye, feeling her shoulders unclench and the corners of her lips turning up; what had she been so nervous about?

He doesn’t offer the greeting of a normal person, and instead steps to the side so she can enter.

“You’re a bit overdressed,” he says, his voice as rough and calloused as ever. She missed the sound of it. “But you look nice.” 

“I came from a dinner party in Chiba,” she explains. Chiba was almost an hour away, leaving no time to change, though she would hardly classify a black pencil skirt and a white ribbed turtleneck as overdressed. She doesn’t argue, and lets him take her coat to hang it in the closet.

The room is small, contemporary, with one bed, a desk with a swivel chair, and a small black chaise in the corner where a paperback book sits open but facedown. The decorations are sleek and modern, brightening the space considerably. A mirror taking up the wall alongside the bed makes the room feel bigger than it looks. She was right about the curtains.

He seems uncomfortable the further into the room they venture. Or perhaps awkward was a better word.

“There’s a bar downstairs,” she says, and that’s all she has to say. Soon she’s back in the elevator and sitting across from him in a dimly-lit booth, ordering a margarita.

“This place seems a little fancy to be holed-up in,” she says casually. “It doesn’t really suit you.”

“It wasn’t my choice,” he says. “And you’re right. The room feels stuffy.”

She giggles a little to herself, as she was thinking he would say something like that. It’s nice to know he hasn’t changed.

“How do the scanners work?” she asks. “Has your hue…?” She isn’t sure how to word her question, how to ask if his psycho pass has improved at all, especially since she is doubtful that it has. But she can’t think of another explanation for how he’s able to be placed here and walk around unsupervised, or to enter the bar without flagging the scanners.

He points to his skull with a single finger, similar to the shape of a gun. 

“It’s classified,” he says. 

“You can’t tell me?”

“It means I can’t be scanned without permission.”

“They’re placing an awful lot of trust in you to not cause trouble,” she says. He chuckles.

“Still not holding back your harsh remarks, I see.”

Before she can think of a response, their drinks are set down in front of them, Akane’s margarita glass standing tall above his scotch. She takes a tentative sip, watching as he downs a couple gulps without haste, nor does he grimace from the sultry taste.

“How are you?” she asks, her voice lowering. He stares into the contents of his glass, held by his fingers at the rim. The last time she’d seen him he wasn’t terrible, satisfied with distracting himself amidst guerilla operations and tactical advising. But satisfied doesn’t translate to being well, and based on one of their final conversations, he hadn’t seemed all that well at the time.

“I’m alright,” he says finally. It’s hard to get a read on him, to see how much of him is telling the truth. He notices the look of concern on her face despite her attempts to mask it. “Really. I am.”

“Have you thought about receiving psychological care?” she asks, not yet sold. 

“I’ve contemplated.” 

“That sounds like a no, then.”

“I’m still exploring my options. I only got back in the country a couple days ago.”

“Yes, I’m sure Poe’s poetry has all sorts of resourceful information about your options.” He smirks at her remark over his glass.

“Are you familiar, then?” he asks.

She shakes her head regrettably. “Not as well as I should be. I do more tactical reading these days.”

“You can borrow it if you’d like.” 

She smiles softly around the salt on her glass. “I’m tempted, but I’m not sure when I’d be able to return it.”

He shrugs. It’s not like she’d be on a deadline, since he isn’t going anywhere now. That much has yet to completely stick with her. It is almost too good to be true, that she has difficulty believing it at times. He had been away for so long, and even then she’d only known him for a few months prior to his disappearance. It feels unreal for him to be anything but gone. 

Did she even have the right to think of him as much as she did all these years, when she’d only known him for such a short amount of time in comparison?

“Why Chiba?” he asks, breaking her from her thoughts.

“What do you mean” she asks.

“Your dinner party.”

“Oh,” she says, her voice turning surprisingly sour. “It was for a school reunion.”

“You don’t seem too thrilled to have gone.” He finishes off his drink and waves a bartender over.

“Well Chiba isn’t exactly nearby,” she explains. “And then having to explain the death of your best friend to everyone who hasn’t heard over and over and…” She pauses, mostly because the bartender steps into earshot near their table, but also because she needs to collect the rest of her thoughts. She hasn’t yet finished her margarita but asks for a second anyway while he’s there, and finishes speaking once he’s gone to prepare their order. 

“Of course there were people who she knew who couldn’t come to the funeral, and some people who just didn’t know it happened at all, but there was an overwhelming amount of reactions that just seemed…” Her voice hangs in the air for a moment as she searches for the right word.

“Insincere?” he offers.

“Yes,” she says. “Exactly. It became all anyone wanted to talk about.”

“That sounds exhausting.” 

The way she swishes down a few gulps at once rather than the polite sips she’d been taking told him he’s right. Then she continues on, mentioning how one of her old classmates in particular was someone she has the misfortune of knowing more than she’d like to. He watches her finish the rest of her drink and wonders what she means by that. An ex-boyfriend, perhaps? Or was he simply fabricating reasons to project onto his dislike of this individual, other than by the way she spoke of him?

“He dated Yuki for...I’m not sure, a month, maybe?” she says, immediately dissolving his hypothesis and leaving him feeling foolish. “They broke up around the time we took our placement exams. Back then he found it just intriguing how he and I were the only two to score an A ranking for the Ministry of Commerce, which he brought up again tonight and wouldn’t shut up about it. That, and his absolutely incredibly well-paying job as a financial consultant.” 

She rolls her eyes and immediately reaches for her second drink once they’re dropped off at their table. He can’t help but feel amused watching her speak. It seemed his hypothesis wasn’t that far off. 

She seems to notice his gaze intent on her but misreads it, by the way she suddenly sits up straight, as though she’s caught herself doing something she isn’t supposed to be doing.

“I’m sorry,” she says, giving him a bashful smile. “I’m blabbering on about it. I’ll stop.”

Kogami shrugs. He isn’t bothered. He’s the one who asked in the first place.

“If you need to rant about slimy bastards who can’t take a hint, then you should rant,” he says simply, flashing her half a grin. She lets out a curt, breathy laugh, though she still looks apologetic. “Dude’s way out of his league, anyway. Doesn’t seem like your type in the slightest.”

“And just what do you know about my type?” She narrows her eyes inquisitively at him over the rim of her glass, hiding her lips behind it.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I know you’re not into someone with a boring office job, or incapable of holding an even remotely stimulating conversation, and definitely not someone shorter than you.”

For a moment she looks puzzled, and then her face softens into a curious smile. “Your profiling skills are as sharp as ever.”

He can’t tell if she’s referring to herself or to Mr. Financial Consultant, or maybe both, but he shrugs off the compliment anyway.

“Anything else exciting or otherwise noteworthy?” 

Her eyes roll a second time, like the mere act of giving thought to these previous events was as annoying as experiencing them.

“He invited me to his apartment so I could talk more about the tragedy if needed,” she says. The way her voice hardens on one particular phrase, coupled with the lingering traces of anger in her eyes, makes him want to subvert the topic.

“So how did you give him the slip?”

“I told him I had a date to get going to,” she says simply. He nearly chokes on his drink. The gentle rose rising to the tops of her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed.

He doesn’t remember choosing to lean forward, but then his arms are crossed on the table in front of him and there’s noticeably less distance between them.

“Is that what this is?” he asks.

“Would you call it something else?”

He keeps his gaze fixed on hers, looking for any hints of hesitancy, uncertainty, or even a trace of humor, yet he finds none of that. She stares back at him blankly; it’s a genuine question, and she expects a genuine answer.

“I guess not.” 

He studies her again, but differently this time--as though he’s letting himself truly look at her for the first time in a long time, which he is. Her face is no longer curved with juvenile softness like the first day they met; instead it’s been replaced with hardened edges, with stories he’s yet to listen to. Her eyes have grown more intimidating than ever, though she holds in them a gentleness that hasn’t faded in the slightest.

“Is there something on my face?” she asks. She brings a hand up to touch her cheek subconsciously. 

“No,” he answers. Then he notices she is shivering. “Are you cold?”

Her composure shifts suddenly, like she hadn’t even noticed that she was, in fact, cold, until he said something.

“A little,” she says. She glances up to the ceiling, finding an air vent positioned directly above their table. Just her luck; purposefully picking the booth furthest off to the side had to have some sort of drawback. 

When she turns her attention back to him, he’s shrugging out of his jacket.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-” But of course, because he’s him, he ignores her protest and passes it over the table. She hesitates, but takes it anyway, thanking him quietly. When she slips her arms through the sleeves, it’s warm and smells like his cigarettes. It’s surreal to find his scent somewhere other than her ashtray.

“Aside from all of that,” he says, referring to her less-than-pleasant dinner party, “how are you?”

“I’m doing fine,” she says. “Though I feel like I’ve talked about myself too much.”

“I don’t mind,” he says.

“I want to hear one of your stories,” she insists. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty to pick from.”

“You’re putting me on the spot,” he says. “Now it’ll be hard to think of one.”

“Did you meet anyone special?” she asks. 

“What do you mean by ‘special?’”

“Like interesting, noteworthy, quirky, I don’t know. Someone with a story.”

He has to think for a moment, though it looks as though he’s contemplating what he wants to tell rather than searching for something to say.

First he tells her of the few temporary comrades he traveled with after leaving SEAUn, who were mostly mercenaries like him skating by and keeping a low profile. She chuckles to herself as she tries to picture him , of all people, keeping a low profile, which she then explains once he questions her reaction. He laughs along with her briefly, but it doesn’t last long.

His eyes change when his story shifts, and he tells her of a young girl he met named Tenzing. He doesn’t tell her much. His story focuses more on the act of saving a bus full of refugees from armed guerillas--which, to her, sounds a lot more like him than in the previous tale--and how he was followed by the young girl, who’d been on the bus, to seek self defense training. 

He tells her she was a cheerful, enthusiastic child with a lot of passion and promise, and that he agreed to train her because she was an orphan of war, and that he felt sorry for her. He pauses there, and she can see the sadness hardening his eyes like steel. She can tell that there is more to the story, but he seems hesitant to continue. So she gives him an out.

“Sometimes I wonder if kindness is actually your true weakness,” she muses aloud. 

That takes him aback. “As opposed to something else?”

“I would have said fear before, but now I might be thinking differently.”

He leans back against the booth cushion and studies her with a calculating eye, crossing his arms over his chest. “You must think you have me all figured out, then, right?”

“Is it rude of me to say that I think I do? To a degree at least?”

“It’s not so much rude as it is ballsy,” he says.

She laughs, but goes on to explain her reasoning. “I’ll admit, you puzzled me when we first met,” she says. “I couldn’t figure you out for awhile.”

“That’s funny,” he interjects. “I used to feel the same about you.”

“Do you think you have me all figured out, too?”

“More or less. To a degree,” he adds with a smirk. “Though I’m not as confident as you seem to be.”

“What it comes down to is an understanding of someone’s character,” she says. It took her a long time to figure that out, though she hadn’t figured it out all on her own. “When you understand their character, you can understand their reasoning behind most things.”

“And when you understand reasoning, you can make all sorts of inferences,” he finishes. “That’s what you were going to say, right?” 

She nods. She gives him a curious smile, seeing the gears turn in his head. She wonders what he’s going to say next.

“Put your theory to the test, then,” he challenges, throwing back the last of his drink and setting the glass down at the end of the table. “If you have me all figured out, tell me what you think my type is.”

It’s her turn to be taken aback, and she feels her cheeks grow warm. She avoids his eyes, at first wondering why this prompt of all things, then supposes it’s his way of making up for poking fun at her regarding the same topic earlier. Either way, she decides to humor him.

“You’re similar to me,” she says thoughtfully, “you prefer someone intellectually stimulating. Monotony bores you, so you like someone who can keep you on your toes--but not someone too reckless, even though that’s rather hypocritical, if you ask me.” He chuckles at the abrupt drop in her tone, riddled with vexation, before she continues. “You have a very protective nature, so you prefer someone that you can easily protect. But you also like when someone has a strong sense of self and can be assertive when they need to be. There’s a complicated balance there, but the right person won’t make it complicated.”

He takes a long moment to consider everything when she finishes.

“I’d give that about an eighty-five percent accuracy,” he says finally. “Maybe ninety.”

“Did I miss something?”

“You didn’t mention anything about physicalities.”

“You’re not materialistic; you value intellect more than anything. I didn’t think things that are particularly important to you.”

“Not most things, but some things.”

Now she’s the one who doesn’t remember leaning forward. “Like what?”

He mirrors her instinctively, with a peculiar repressed grin on his lips--almost coy. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“You’re the one who mentioned it,” she shrugs. She distracts herself by sipping on what was left of her drink.

“Was I?”

She backtracks when she pauses to recall the exchange just a moment before. “It was more of a group effort,” she decides. “But either way, I wouldn’t consider physical preferences as something that can be deduced by one’s character.”

“All right then,” he says. “I take it back. I’ll give you ninety-five percent accuracy.”

“What about the other five?”

“You really don’t settle for less than perfect scores, do you?” 

She laughs, because he’s right, yet she fixes a look on him that tells him she isn’t backing down until she hears his answer. Always so persistent and thorough. He sighs.

“It would be inappropriate to say,” he says quietly, and he almost feels bad for the urge to chuckle he has when the rose hue returns to her complexion. She finishes her drink then scoots the empty glass to sit discarded beside his.

“Is it because you’re shy?” she asks. There’s a ghost of a challenge in her tone that he’s positive he isn’t imagining. He no longer feels bad. 

He chooses his next words carefully.

“It’s...more of a conversation that would be better had upstairs.” 

For a moment, the air between them is stiffer from his implications hanging heavily in it. It takes her a second to process his words, and then she seems to process them a second time to have them finally click, cued by her eyes widening just slightly. Before she responds to him, she checks the time via the terminal on her wrist. He’s surprised by how strongly he anticipates her answer, by how his heart beat with a more vigorous rhythm in his chest than it was just moments before.

“I’m tempted, but,” she says, following her words with a sigh, and he already knows what comes next. “It’s getting late, and I have plans in the morning. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, waving away her apology. Her unwavering sense of responsibility hasn’t changed either, it seems. His ego isn’t bruised by any means. The admittance of temptation alone is enough to satisfy him. 

“Perhaps when you find time to return the book, you won’t be visiting too late,” he says. 

“I’ll make sure to leave the following morning open, too,” she says, offering him a smile before she gets up to pay the bill.

Back upstairs, she swaps his jacket for her coat, and even though hers is thicker and more suited for the wintry gusts swirling outside, it’s not nearly as warm. She takes Poe from his outstretched hand and tucks it into her purse, and from there she isn’t sure how to bid him goodnight. She feels a desire to do something, but nothing fitting comes to mind. He doesn’t offer anything other than holding the door open for her.

As she steps through the door, she assures him she will call a taxi instead of driving herself home, and promises she will come say hello in the morning when she returns for her car--if he’s awake, that is--and then he returns her ‘goodnight’ as she makes her way down the hall.

She listens for the sound of his door closing as she approaches the elevator, but she doesn’t turn around even though she never hears it. 

Once down in the lobby, she makes her way to the front door with a taxi service pulled up on her cell phone. On her way, she passes by the bar she was just sitting in a few minutes ago. A smile dances on her lips, warming her from head to toe. It may be the most recent, but this memory is definitely the one she’s most fond of, even if it was rather fleeting in comparison to the others.

And then something about that thought makes her stop in her tracks, just a short distance from the revolving door. Her thumb hovers over the button she’s just pressed, promising a momentary pick-up, but her eyes are fixed on the cancel button in the corner.

Does she really have to leave so soon? She hadn’t seen him in over two years, and she’s already leaving with no definitive plans to see him again after what, less than an hour? That hardly seems fair in comparison.

She turns back to the bar, and from where she stands, peering into the open space, she can see the table where they sat. The bartender is only just now collecting their used cups, preparing to wipe down the table, and she remembers the way his hand curled around the base of his glass when he drank, how his fingertip drew circles around the rim when he spoke, how his eyes shone in a way that matched his glass reflecting the light fixtures above when he gave her an implied invitation back upstairs. 

Perhaps it’s the two margaritas to blame, but she quickly hits ‘cancel’ before she can stop herself. And then she’s walking back into the bar to the counter, and purchases a bottle of Cabernet while she types up a message to Kaori. She hits send, takes back her card and freshly unsealed bottle, and makes her way back to the elevator.

He’s just finished undoing the last button of his shirt when there’s an unexpected knock at the door, barely audible with the shower running. He leans past the curtain to twist the knob, shutting off the water. As he makes his way to the door, he wonders if it’s Akane, but he knows she didn’t forget anything; or maybe it’s a housekeeper, though it seems a bit late for that.

When he opens the door, he’s surprised to see Akane standing before him, holding up a bottle of Cabernet with a look of question in her eyes. They drop briefly to his midsection, then flit back up to his face just as quickly as they fell.

“This isn’t a taxi,” he says, leaning against the door frame. He can see her throat contract when she swallows.

“I don’t need one,” she asserts.

He suppresses a grin and steps to the side, closing the door behind her. She slips off her shoes and drops her purse to the small table next to the closet.

“What happened to your morning plans?” he asks, taking from her the wine bottle as well as her coat. He holds onto the back of the collar while she slips herself out of it.

“I pushed them back,” she says. “Did I interrupt something?” She gestures to his shirt, which still hangs open from his shoulders.

“Just a shower.” With her coat hung properly in the closet, he slides the door shut.

“Well don’t let me stop you,” she says, offering a kind smile. “I can wait.”

“You sure?”

She nods, then pulls the book of poetry from her purse as he turns and heads back into the bathroom, after tossing the bottle safely onto the bed. She can hear the water switch on through the closed door while she surveys the room, and reaches around her neck to remove her necklace.

A small stack of paper cups sit beside a coffee maker on the desk. They aren’t technically proper, but they work just fine for casually drinking wine. She pours herself a small amount, leaving her necklace and earrings on the desk, and curls up on the chaise with his book.

Kogami is quick; by the time Akane reads through only two pages, she hears the sudden absence of pouring water followed by the screech of shower curtain rungs being pulled to the side. She pauses her reading, sipping Cabernet from her paper cup, and decides to wait for him before she continues.

His hair is still wet when he sits down beside her, and he wears the same clothes as before, only his shirt is buttoned rather lazily. The top of his chest is exposed, and she has a nice view of his collarbone. She briefly wonders before deciding with suspicious certainty that he’s done it very much on purpose.

He glances down to read the page where she holds the book open.

“‘Annabelle Lee’ is one of my favorites,” he comments, before swallowing a rather generous amount of liquid from his own cup.

“Really?” she asks. “That’s a bit of a surprise to me.”

“What do you think of it?” he asks.

“I like it,” she says, “but I think I’d like it more if you read it aloud.” He gives her a perceptive smile, obliging, and he dumps back the rest of his wine impressively fast so he can take the book from her hands after discarding the cup to the floor. He invites her to lean into him, draping his arm behind her shoulders across the back of the chaise. She does, with a warm fluttering in her stomach, and curls her legs up onto the seat underneath her, resting her head comfortably against his shoulder.

As he reads, Akane finds that the poem is significantly better read in his voice, which is low and rough, compared to reading it in her head. Something about the rugged resonance of his voice telling the tale of a love so strong and intense that it makes angels envious, a love that ultimately suffers the tragedy of death, brings it to life, as though his voice alone could sculpt the tale into reality. 

He turns the page and continues to read, and she listens. Her eyes follow along with the words as he reads them aloud, and she sips on Cabernet until her cup is empty and she holds it lazily with both hands in her lap.

Eventually, the sound of his voice coaxes her eyes to relax, and they flutter closed. Before long, Kogami notices, and he pauses, craning his neck forward to inspect.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” he asks. She hasn’t, and her eyes open. Having his answer, he pulls back.

“No,” she answers anyway. “It’s just nice to hear you read.”

“You didn’t come back just to listen to me read.” It comes out as both a question and a statement, but she stiffens nevertheless when she feels his breath tickle her ear. She can feel his eyes on her, studying her, reading her reaction, and she wants to return his gaze, but she can’t bring herself to look away from the book in his lap.

She can speak, at the very least.

“What did I come back for, then?” she asks. Her words come out sounding stronger than she feels. She wants to say more, to help steer the conversation like she had absolutely no problem doing when she sat across the table from him earlier, but the warm shape of his body against hers is incredibly distracting. Her eyes study the shape of his hand, the bridges of his fingers as they rest on worn pages. She wonders what they feel like.

“A stimulating conversation, maybe,” he muses. His voice is lower than normal, and she can still feel his breath on her ear, and his arm draped behind her edges noticeably closer until she feels it against her back and his hand cups her shoulder.

“You are good at those,” she says through a shaky breath. She notices a small movement in the corner of her eyes so her gaze flits to it, and she finds herself eyeing the zipper of his pants.

“So I’ve heard.” Her cheeks start to feel warm.

“I liked the one we were having downstairs,” she manages. Kogami slowly closes the book, but continues to hold it in his lap.

He hums with feigned confusion, and though she cannot see his face, she can hear the smirk he’s undoubtedly wearing. “You’re going to have to refresh my memory.”

“We were talking about weaknesses,” she says, and as she speaks he moves the book to drop on the floor.

“We never did talk about yours, did we?”

She doesn’t know why, but she laughs. Maybe it’s because she’s feeling on edge, anticipating what comes next, and didn’t think this would be it.

“I really don’t know what it is,” she says with uncertain honesty. She watches as his hand reaches for hers, plucking the empty cup from them and discarding it to join the book. “Sometimes I think I’m too cold-hearted.”

This time Kogami is the one to laugh. The sound of it bursting from his chest melts away some of the tension in her shoulders.

“What makes you think that?” he asks.

“Because my psycho-pass doesn’t cloud.”

“That’s the last word I would use to describe you,” he says, replacing the hole left gaping in her hands with his own. It’s big and warm and fits perfectly between hers, and holding it gives her a sudden rise of insurmountable courage, as though it were a chink in his armor that she can cling to for purchase. She turns her body just slightly so she can look up at him comfortably, and his hand moves from her shoulder to hover just over the back of her neck.

“How would you describe me, then?” she asks, hoping to turn the conversation to her favor. He mirrors her, pulling a leg up onto the seat so he can face her too.

Despite her effort, Kogami is impossible to catch off guard.

“Intellectually stimulating,” he says thoughtfully, and though he doesn’t smile, there is an unmistakable hint of amusement in the corners of his lips. “Maybe you can be a little reckless, but you work with caution. You’re careful and thoughtful. You’re small-” and when he says this, a charmed smile bleeds through his expression despite his efforts to suppress it, “-easy to protect. And you’re an independent thinker. You aren’t afraid to do things your own way. And you’re complicated, but in the best way.”

When he finishes, her cheeks are uncomfortably warm and he’s leaning a lot closer than he was before. She does, admittedly, feel touched upon hearing his words, but despite that, her eyes are wide and taken aback. It’s not verbatim, but he’s just repeated her words from earlier to describe her, and it’s a substantial pill for her to digest.

Still, brave words leave her mouth before she even realizes she is speaking.

“I give that a ninety-five percent,” she says, countering him, her tone incongruent with her demeanor. She’s tense, and she grips his hand to keep hers from trembling. He notices.

“That last five percent is making you nervous,” he observes aloud. His voice, though low and rough, somehow has an easing effect with an unusual gentleness. Maybe it’s the fact that he can read her like a book and she doesn’t have to say it that makes her relax, even if it’s only miniscule.

“A little,” she admits. He surprises her when he takes one of her hands and raises it, her eyes following out of curiosity.

“Don’t be,” he says to her skin. “It’s just me.” A kiss to the back of her hand sends an excited flutter rippling through her nerves, raising the hair on her arms as her heart leaps in her chest so loudly that she’s she he can hear it.

He is right, and she’s fully aware of it. She knows she shouldn’t be nervous around him. There exists nobody else in the world that she trusts more than the man kissing her hand, holding her in the ghost of an embrace.

“Although there’d be no hard feelings if you got that taxi after all.”

It is this moment that secures her in place. He’s giving her an out, before they walk over the line that cannot be uncrossed. A line of which she has never strayed across before, not with anybody, ever, nor has it even been as close as it is now, just under her fingertips, encircling her with a tempting hand teasing the back of her neck and a knee guarding her in place. 

Perhaps what makes her tremble is the stark unfamiliarity of senses heightened contrasting with how drawn she is to him, how she longs for nothing but to undo the rest of his buttons and lose herself in what comes after.

It’s sweet, but the idea of leaving now is simply laughable. Her hand travels to his thigh, gripping it with silent reassurance.

Her eyes, wide and brown and eager, say it even louder. His are stormy, and in them she can see the way his heart pounds mercilessly just as hers does, and yet there’s a coolness smoothing his slate sky into something tameable.

Control, she realizes, and she wonders in an instance like this what he’s like without it.

His long hand finally settles at the base of her neck, warm and ever present through the thin layer of her sweater. Her own hand falls from his grip to melt into the crook of his elbow as he moves to capture her jaw instead, and she practically pulls herself towards him by his thigh as he leans into her, until their lips meet and she’s delighted to find his are much softer than they look.

She’s pulled into his lap within moments, his hand cradling her underside and trapping her in place, though she hardly minds. Her fingers fumble awkwardly with the buttons of his shirt, pushing it open as far as his shoulders will allow once she frees him of the garment, her polished nails grazing his skin as she drags her hands up his neck to cup his jaws, holding him close as he kisses her furiously.

He breaks the kiss only to slip her sweater up over her head, and the second she’s free he captures her lips again, forcing them apart with his. His tongue, she finds, is just as soft and inviting as his lips.

Distracted, she doesn’t take much notice of his collection of her wrists, as he gently pulls each of them behind her back until he locks one hand ensnared tightly around them. She jumps at this, faltering from his lips, and rests her forehead against his, still close enough that she can feel his sultry breath warming her face. 

“Too forward?” he asks, and his rough voice is low and just as hot. 

She shakes her head, and she can feel her cheeks glowing with heat; they deepen in color when his eyes narrow curiously and he asks if she rather likes it, to which she nods. And she likes it a lot more when he rewards her honesty with a kiss, but this time he is slower, and more gentle, and as he kisses her his free hand trails down the exposed curves of her body until he’s inching under the hem of her skirt and slowly hiking it up her thigh. 

She shudders when his fingers finally forge their way between her legs, and as he strokes her softly he breathes in every single one of the faint cries that spill from her lips.

“Are you still interested in that perfect score?” he asks, muttering in her ear. To her credit, she gives him a playful smirk despite the distracting treatment he’s giving her in her willfully confined predicament.

“The gentleman would really reveal his secrets to me?” she teases. He pulls back to look at her, shooting her a self-depreciating leer of his own.

“I’m no gentleman,” he says. 

“You are to me,” she counters, meeting his gaze firmly. Looking at her, he can’t say she’s entirely wrong. His hand retracts, and although she can’t see it beneath the fabric of her skirt, her eyes dart down instinctively as if looking to see why he stopped. But just as quickly, he tips her gaze back up to his by the gentle grip of her chin, and he’s smiling at her strangely.

“I wonder why that is,” he says. His stare is warm and inviting, and it leaves her heart fluttering as he leans in, closing the distance between them once more, only his lips are rougher, and more insistent. Then he releases her wrists silently, placing them on his shoulders one at a time, and then he’s standing, lifting her into the air with him. 

He lays her back on the bed, and the lights automatically dim, casting a dull, white glow over them that leaves her bare skin radiant like silver. 

Her skirt is too restrictive, and that’s a problem; before he crawls over her frame, he rids her of it entirely, slipping the black from her silky legs along with her tights. She parts her knees for him eagerly, her lips awaiting his return with heated fervor.

In the dark, it’s easier. Hesitation no longer exists, and neither does the past that kept them apart for so long.

He murmurs in her ear with his hand buried beneath her panties, his touches no longer slow and soft, but fast, and rough with need. She struggles to keep up with him.

“I like someone who wants me to take the lead,” he says gruffly. It takes her only a quick moment to figure out what he’s talking about. “Someone who likes to be submissive.”

She can feel the heat spreading across her face, like his rough voice melts into liquid that drips from his lips to her skin and ignites her all the way down to her core. He lets his words hang in the air for a few long moments, busying himself with leaving wet kisses along her neckline.

When her only response is nothing but breathy gasps, he turns the tables on her instead.

“Why don’t you tell me more about your type?” he goads. Being inexperienced, she doesn’t know how to answer, and his generous attention on her makes it difficult to think. But she likes this, more deeply than she thought she would, so that has to mean something, right?

She blurts it out without meaning to, but it’s not the wrong answer.

“You.”

By the way his lips freeze, lingering just above her skin, coupled by his fingers slowing inside her, she guesses that it was not what he was expecting to hear. For a second, she worries she’s said the wrong thing, came on too strongly, pushed herself too far forward on a weak limb.

Minute traces of panic creep through her fingertips as his hand slips from inside her, but are instantly quelled as he shifts his body completely over hers, and he cups her face with both of his hands. Cracks are starting to form in that smooth gloss masking his storm.

The next kiss is hungry, demanding. He’s quickly losing his will to hold back. His hands can’t sit still, and they trade places between holding her jaw, snaking into her hair, and gently squeezing the side of her neck, his thumbs tracing carefully over her trachea with restraint.  His knees force hers apart, and she works on forcing him out of his shirt despite the mess of his hands, freeing his thick arms for her to grab onto appreciatively for purchase.

He moves back to her neck, twisting her face away with a firm grip of her chin, his palm daring to press deeper into her throat. She gasps at the feeling of his lips, enjoying the subtle pressure of his hand. Her hips start to move, seeking relief for the heated excitement flaring between her thighs, but as quickly as they start, she stops herself. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“It’s okay,” he says softly against her skin. “Don’t be shy. Show me how badly you want me.” His words of encouragement arouse a new layer of heat to her cheeks that she’s grateful he can’t see in the dark, but she gives in, letting her reservation melt away with the kisses he trails down to her collarbone. His hips meet hers as she grinds against him, and with it she lets out a pleased groan that curls his lips.

Soon after his hands glide beneath her shoulders, and she lifts herself to give his fingers room to slip off her bra. Her hands take root in wet clumps of his hair when he dips his head to her breast, taking the sensitive skin in his mouth and dragging his tongue around it until he’s pulling from her a light string of moans that grind his hips roughly against hers.

The tautness of her fingers alerts him of her growing impatience, closely matching his. His hands drift downward over her stomach, curling around the top of her panties and slipping them down her thighs, but then he freezes suddenly, cursing once he realizes he doesn’t have protection.

Luckily, she’s come prepared, and gestures for her purse on the table. He retrieves it for her, and jots down a quick mental reminder to stock up on his own supply, noting the exact brand labeled on the little square she produces triumphantly from her bag, holding it up in the air like a hard-earned trophy.

He takes it from her hands, then he steps off the bed to slip from the confines of his jeans, and she nudges her panties from her ankles using her feet. The dull light shining from above the headboard lights his skin aglow, and she watches the shadows of his large muscles dance along his arms while he unzips his pants and shifts to step out of them. 

He moves at a slow enough pace that she can take in all of him with affectionate, sultry eyes, but not too slow so as to not waste any time. His patience is wearing dangerously thin, and from the gaping distance between them she can see the storm of his eyes threatening to break the glass that holds him back. 

Eyeing her body while he rolls on the condom only makes him eager to ingrain the shape of her to his hands’ memory. She lays with her head propped up by pillows, and she watches him with parted, wet lips and a hungry stare. One hand rests above her breast, as though she were holding her heart in place where it threatened to burst from her chest, while the other squeezes the comforter in anticipation. Her legs are bent, her knees resting together, and he’s not sure if she’s fully aware of the intimate display she gives him or if she’s doing it on purpose, but either way, it’s hidden, cast in the shadow of her thighs.

His hands part them needlessly as he moves over her, and she melds her chest to his as he settles on top of her. She cradles his jaw between her soft hands as he lowers his mouth to hers. The kiss is rough and filled with need, and when he plunges himself into her that need isn’t sated in the slightest; rather, it intensifies drastically.

The first few thrusts are careful, calculating, ensuring she isn’t uncomfortable or hurt, but the way she throws her head back in relief, the intensity of her grip as her hands slide to his shoulders, the way her legs wrap tightly around his waist, all push him just over the edge of caution.

His hips pick up in pace and soon he’s snapping against her in a steady rhythm, and he’s grabbing her wrists to pin her hands just above her crown, their fingers lacing together as he crushes his lips to hers possessively, devouring her pleasured cries in his throat. He has to pull away after a moment to allow them to breathe, and he inches their hands higher above her head, caging her face between his arms. As his thrusts grow rougher and faster, he grunts into her shoulder, and her voice rises higher in pitch, chiming in the air like a blissful song floating through his ears. It only pushes him to move faster, harder, deeper into her to see just how much she can take, how much higher he can guide her cries, until her back is arching sharply and her chest presses roughly into his, and her head is thrown back in a final cry as her body convulses with pleasure beneath his, and he follows shortly behind her with a throaty groan into the softness of her neck.

He rests there for a long moment, holding himself up just enough for her to breathe as deeply as she needs to, to catch her breath while he catches his, taking refuge in her warmth. She pries her hands from under his to hold him. Her fingertips massage his scalp lazily, smiling gently when stray tufts of his hair tickles her nose.

Aside from the dim light above them, the window is the only other source of light in the room, and so her eyes are drawn to the open space between the drapes. The sky outside is darker than their room, illuminated by the very same city lights she tenderly watched pass her by as she drove to see him earlier in the night.

The bubbling nervousness she’d felt then, to her, is simply ludicrous as she lay beneath him now, happy and content and without a care in the world. This isn’t how she’d pictured the night to progress, and she isn’t normally one to give into temptations, especially if those temptations breach her responsibilities. 

But as she looks back down at him, at the scruffy, damp mess of his unruly hair sticking out between her fingers, she can’t help but smile. He undoubtedly is, and always will be, an exception. And she is perfectly fine with that.

[fluffyunicornofdanger]

Living a Little Part 6

A/N: I have been thinking about finishing this series forever but just never got around to it. Living a Little is one of my favorite works and I’m so glad you guys like it, I’ll probably have the next part out soon. Between now and then, let’s hope I find the motivation to do my Biology project. Anyway, let me know if you guys like it and yeah. Also, I forgot how much I love writing for Queen, so I might be posting a bunch of Queen content in the near future.

*~~*~~*

Masterlist

John Deacon x Reader

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Summary: Y/n get dragged out of her comfort zone by her roommate, even though she knows Y/n never goes out, due to her studies, to a rock concert. Of all places. But maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all, when she meets, a very interesting, certain bassist. And he just so happens to find her interesting too.

Word Count: 2 k

Warnings: Language, implied domestic violence, editing, idk

A couple of months had gone by and little had changed. 

Charles made appearances every now and then, but they no longer kept Y/n up at night. Or at least, she tried to make it seem like they didn’t.  

Once she’d seen him at the market, while she was picking out apples. Another time, he was at the car wash the same time she was. Every time he crossed her vision she tried to pretend that he wasn’t there. That he was merely another stranger among a sea of strangers. It worked as long as no one listened to her heart rate increase. If someone listened closely, she was sure they would be able to hear her heartbeat against her ribcage. 

Charles didn’t go away and neither did John. 

Though she hadn’t done a good job of communicating with him after their second date, John did a fabulous job of keeping in touch with her. It was evident to everyone that he was in love with her and couldn’t stay away. Y/n felt the same, but at that moment in time, John was more of a distraction for her than anything. 

She never went to see him because she loved him or was dying to see him. She never made plans with him because she missed him or wanted to spend time with him. Every second that she spent by his side was one second that she wasn’t thinking about the nightmare that lurked in the shadows. 

Y/n loved John. She really did, but she needed more than love to survive.

Charles hadn’t spoken a word to her, yet his voice filled her mind with vicious thoughts. The mental abuse he had inflicted upon her years ago came creeping back. Yet he wasn’t the one inflicting it this time around. Y/e was beating herself up just like Charles had once done. 

At night, she would cry for hours about things she couldn’t control, no heard her cries so they lasted for hours. Alice never noticed the bags under her roommate’s eyes or the amount of liquor that Y/n drowned to keep her demons at bay. No one seemed to notice her spilling into a pit of misery.

“David Bowie’s performing tomorrow night at this new venue, you see if Johna and the boys wanna come see it with us,” Alice asked while reading the paper.  

Y/n was hunched over a medical textbook. She had a major test in a week and due to everything going on she’d been less than stellar at paying attention in class. 

“Y/n.”

Her eyes tarted up from the page, “What?”

“Did you not hear me?”

She shook her head, going back to her reading.”

Alice scoffed. “I swear, you have been up in the clouds lately. I’d say it’s because of John but you never seem to happy to see him.”

“I don’t know what you mean-” Y/n closed the book and looked at her roommate. “-how could I not be happy to see him?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, Y/n. You just seem off, that’s all I’m saying.” Y/n rolled her eyes, “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

Without another word, she grabbed her coat and exited the flat. The brisk London air swept her hair up and whipped it around as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She just turned the corner when someone fell in step beside her.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Charles stated.

Through gritted teeth, Y/n asked, “What are you doing here, Charles?”

“Can’t I go out for a stroll?”

She rolled her eyes.

“It’s just luck that I ran into you.”

Yeah, just his luck. It seemed that Y/n had run clean out of luck a long time ago. “You really shouldn’t be here, you know that. I made it clear a long time ago that I wanted nothing to do with you. So, why must you force your way back into my life?” she asked.

He shook his head in amusement. “I haven’t forced my way into your life, I’ve barely entered it. You wouldn’t like what I’d do if I forced my way in.”

Y/n turned to confront him to see that he was no longer at her side. Instead, he had crossed the street, almost out of her view.

What a bastard!

Why? Why couldn’t life just work in her favor for once? Things always went well for her only for a tidal wave to hit and destroy everything! All she wanted was happiness. Just an ounce… that’s all she was asking for. 

No destination in sight, Y/n kept walking. The further she walked, the further away Charles was. At least, she hoped. Logic didn’t matter to her as long as she felt safe in some sense. 

Distance had once made her feel safe. With Charles an ocean away, Y/n felt like she had the whole world in her hands. No task was too big for her with the power that she had felt. That was the power that told her she had what it took to become a doctor.  

She believed that.

And then Charles came back and she wasn’t sure what to believe.

Perhaps up was down and down and was up. The ocean was green and the sky was purple. She just didn’t know anymore. 

Most importantly, she didn’t know who she was anymore.

Sure, she had never been the most outgoing, but she knew what made her happy. Her love her medicine made studying fun and easy and kept her on track for graduating. Music had always brought her to life, allowing her to get lost in the grove. But known of that seemed to bring her any joy.

Y/n stopped in front of a bar, it was 5 o’clock at night and she saw no reason to turn around and walk home. She actually wasn’t sure which way was home. A mind occupied by troubles, Y/n had walked aimlessly with blinders. Who knew what part of the city she was in.

The bar was almost empty when she entered, only a few people scattered throughout. Y/n walked up to the bar and took a seat, she rested her hand against her chin. The bartender walked over a few seconds later and stared down at her, “Rough day, darling?”

Y/n nodded. It seemed more like a rough life, though.

“I got just the thing for you, it wouldn’t fix anything, but it should take your mind off it for a bit,” the bartender told her before she disappeared.

*~~*~~*

A few hours had passed, and Y/n was surprised that the bartender kept serving her and that she hadn’t fallen out of her chair yet. It was probably 11 and the place was hopping with people. There was barely room to move around, let alone breath and the alcohol was racing through Y/n’s blood like a freight train. Her heart was pound as her head spun round and round. Trying to stand, she fumbled around the room before a pair of strong arms grabbed her. 

“I got ya’. Let’s get you out of here.”

Y/n nodded, letting the person guide her out of the building. 

In the open street, the two stopped next to a street lamp. Y/n leaned against it, trying to get her bearings. Maybe she had one too many drinks. 

“Thanks,” she slurred.

“No problem, Y/n.”

Looking up, Y/n caught sight of her savor, the street lamp casting light over his features. It was the last person she wanted to see. “Charlie.”

“What happened to Charles?” he asked before flashing her a smile. “You know you’re a lightweight, so why’d you down so much?”

Y/n growled, shoving herself off the lamp post. How did he always find her? “What are you doing here, Charlie? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

He chuckled, giving her that same old grin, the one that he always gave her before bringing her in for a kiss. She used to miss that smile, used to miss him a lot, but times changed. “I just want to make sure you’re safe. Trying to be nice here, Y/n, don’t go turning me into a bad guy for that.”

She scoffed, walking in the direction she believed home was. “You’re never trying to be nice. You only ever do anything for personal gain.” Y/n turned to him, “What do you think you’ll gain this time around?”

“Who said I plan to gain anything? I’m just trying to be friendly.”

Bullshit.  

Charles walked beside her as Y/n navigated the sidewalk, trying not to trip over thin air. 

“Why’d you even come back? Did the American refuse to put up with your bullshit?”

Charles rolled his eyes, “I got promoted and my company offered me a position here. You can’t pass up money like that, Y/n. It’s insane.”

“You can and you could have passed up coming back into my life.”

*~~*~~*

Alice got up when she heard a knock from the door. It was late and she just wanted to sleep. Y/n had disappeared hours ago and Alice had a big test the next morning, a little sleep, a little less stress, was all she was asking for. God, who knew having a roommate could be so stressful. Trudging to the door, she opened it, her eyes adjusting to the hallway lights.

In front of her stood John, Brian, Freddie, and Roger. She sighed, knowing exactly what they wanted. 

“She’s not here.”

John gave her a puzzled look. Y/n was normally always home. “Where is she at?”

Alice shrugged, “Beats me. Probably at a bar or having dinner somewhere. I don’t know.”

Turning to his friends, the shrugged and suggested that they go. It would be no use waiting for her. John couldn’t help but agree, he should have called ahead anyway. Y/n was always busy with either work or school, and she seemed stressed out over something. Maybe she just needed some time to herself. “Alright, will you tell her that I stopped by?” the man asked.

The blonde nodded, “Of course.”

The musician turned and followed his friends out of the building, disappointment in his eyes. Though he knew that Y/n was probably busy with something, it seemed off. Y/n had seemed off for a while and everyone tried to tell him it was one thing or another. How could he believe that when there was always a hint of fear in her eyes? School and work weren’t the only things bothering her, but any time he asked what was, she brushed it off. 

“She’s probably out with her family,” Brian told him, giving him some hope. “Or probably had to pull an extra shift at work.”

He nodded, that had to be it. 

The group stepped out onto the street as Roger pulled out a cigarette. “This was a bust,” he said as he lite it.

“Oh, don’t say that, Rog. We can still go out a party,” Freddie stated as they walked to the car. “It would just be more fun for John if Y/n was there, that’s all.”

The blonde rolled his eyes, blowing out smoke. “Yeah, whatever.”

They all climbed into the small car as Roger turned the engine. The car roared to life as Roger caught sight of a couple walking down the street. Squinting his eyes, Roger made out what looked like Y/n and another man. It was probably her brother, but he thought she only had a sister. 

John was already feeling down, so Roger thought it best not to say anything, that was until the man Y/n was with wrapped his arms around her and brought her in for a kiss. Definitely wasn’t her brother.

“Um, guys, we have a problem,” Roger stuttered. 

Brian waved him away, “No we don’t, just drive, Roger.”

“Um, no, we do-” He pointed out the window at Y/n and the mysterious man. “- I think that is a problem.”

The three other men followed Roger’s gaze, landing on Y/n.  

John couldn’t believe what he was seeing, Y/n was the last person he thought would be unfaithful. The last person he thought would break his heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Let me know if you want to be added to the permanent or series taglist)

Permanent: @rexorangecouny​ @jennyggggrrr​ @zestygingergirl​ @toomuchlove-willkillyou​ @slash-me-up​ @tommyleeownsme​ @sheldonsherlocktony​ @teller258316​ @fandomshit6000​ @lucyboytom​

Living a Little: @yellowandscarlet @mackers125​ @sunflower-borhap-boys @deakysgirl @danadeacon​ @kenzie-belle​ @rebelblissxx​ @in-theyearof39​ @dreamer821​ @borhapqueen92​ @imgonnabeyourslave​ @peteyparkersbabyy​ @httpsavocados​ @ceruleanrainblues​ @someone-get-a-medic​ @qtheressurections​ @sleepyblossom​ @stephydearestxo​ @queen-crue​

[hoodoo12]

Familial Ties (And How To Break Them) 10/14

SFW ~

She felt oddly drained as they hustled out of the Waldorf, as if she'd just worked a triple shift and then run a marathon. Maybe it was just a side effect of the brand Rigel had left on her skin. She'd noticed it when he released her hand and the blue fire flickered away to nothing; a small blue sigil to remind her of her contract with him. As they made their way back down the Strip she couldn't stop touching it, rubbing the pad of her thumb over and over it as if in hopes that it would simply wipe off.

She was so out of it that it took her a long moment to grasp what Beetlejuice was talking about, but sure enough there was a tiny Vegas wedding chapel tucked amongst the large luxury hotels and casinos with a hand painted wooden sign in the window advertising holy water on tap. It was worth a shot!

Back in their room once again, Pate settled heavily on her bed, wishing she could just curl up there with Beetlejuice and sleep this funk off. But they only had a few hours to accomplish the most important part of their operation: finding the hellmouth. Opening her trusty laptop, Pate set about the task of figuring out where they ought to go first to find one. Beetlejuice sat wordlessly on the bed behind her and she happily reclined back against him as she tapped away on the keyboard.

Scrolling endlessly, she began to feel that sensation again: a vice-like pressure, unmistakable but not painful, squeezing her ribcage. Her finger still on the keys, eyes scanning the screen for a clue where the feeling was coming from. Pate almost laughed out loud when she saw it. It was just too perfect.

"Valley of Fire State Park," she read, turning her head against Beej's chest to meet his eyes. "That's where I'd be if I were a hellmouth."

It was pleasant to have her resting against him, but he couldn't rid himself of the feeling of foreboding he'd had since meeting with his brother. It was a rock in his gut.

When Pate laughed, it perked  him up a bit; she hadn't sounded like her normal self since the penthouse. He rested his chin on her shoulder and looked at the screen of her laptop.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Let's get out there and see if we can find that ugly thing."

Should he tell her they were on time schedule? It was standard for any infernal contract like the one she'd signed; a set amount of time for the breather to uphold their end of the bargain. It was rarely brought to the attention of the person foolish enough to enter a contract; as Rigel so kindly pointed out and used to his advantage, omissions were lies too. Failure to complete the task would result in automatic forfeit.

He decided against telling her; it'd only increase her worry. He'd simply do his best to hurry her along.

With a press of a kiss against her temple, he grinned. "Let's go, baby."

With their gallon jug of purportedly holy water in the back seat, Pate and Beej retrieved her car from the parking garage and set off on the drive to the Valley of Fire. It would take a little less than an hour, but that was just to get there. They still had to try and locate a hellmouth somewhere in the park, and Pate was feeling apprehensive about that particular prospect. Sure, she'd had one of her weird new feelings to even consider going to the Valley at all, but once there how was she going to find it?

Though she couldn't pinpoint the source of the worry, it felt as if there were a clock hovering over her, counting down to some inescapable fate if the plan failed. Doing her best to ignore the growing sense of dread, she drove them through the choked city streets and out into the open road again, setting her cruise control and leaning back in her seat with a sigh while fiddling with the radio or the AC, unable to keep her fingers still.

Beetlejuice had been rather quiet since they left the Waldorf, and every now and then she'd glance over to find him watching her with a troubled expression. He was doing it now, she saw, though he tried to smile before she noticed although it didn't quite reach his eyes. Returning the awkward gesture, Pate reached across the center console and caught his hand, lacing their fingers together.

"It's gonna work," she said, hoping she sounded more assured than she felt. "We'll make it work."

The desert could've been modeled after goddamn Saturn. Beetlejuice half expected to feel the ground to rumble under his feet and a Sandworm to erupt out of it. He'd taken that ride before and had absolutely no desire to do it again, so he stepped cautiously as he followed Pate wandering aimlessly.

The sun blazing down warmed him but he worried about Pate; breathers were much more sensitive to the heat. He was going to make her drink that supposed holy water if they kept going much further.

But before it came to that, Pate stopped abruptly. He watched her look around, and put one hand on the ground, then crawl to another spot and dig a little into the dirt.

He was about to ask her what the hell she was doing, when that dreaded rumble came from underground. He backpedaled away from her, even as she stayed right where she was.

Panicked, he told her to get back--get back--!

The Valley of Fire was appropriately named: it was hot, scorching under the midday sun while all around them formations of red sandstone rose up from the dry and barren ground like monolithic abstract sculptures. Pate wasn't quite sure just what she was doing out here; in the desert, with a demon, looking for a passageway to hell. She still felt this odd certainty that they were in the right place, but she didn't know how she knew. It was as though she were being drawn in by an invisible magnet, her feet carrying her forward even while her brain hadn't a clue.

She gasped quietly and came to a sudden halt when she felt it again, the pressure squeezing her chest; something was nearby, something large and ancient and sleeping very, very deeply. Pate could almost imagine that the ground under her feet were rising and falling in time with its deep breaths. Her eyes scanned the ground, as though she'd be able to see it moving. Kneeling, she laid one hand flat against the sun-warmed ground. Through the lingering heat it had absorbed all day long she felt something else; a long, low thrum, like a guitar string vibrating after being plucked.

Still squatting, Pate awkwardly shuffled forward, her hand never losing contact with the rock and sand, following the vibration to what she determined to be the source.

Aware of Beetlejuice watching closely, she dug into the hot, hard earth with her hands. She wasn't completely sure why she was doing it, but it felt like the thing to do. Before she had time to start feeling foolish, kneeling on the ground in the desert and digging a hole by hand, the ground began to tremble and she went still, hearing Beetlejuice gasp in alarm behind her and shout for her to move away.

She nearly fell over as she struggled to her feet, but he was there, catching her under the arms and all but dragging her backward as the ground where she had been kneeling began to visibly shake. Rocks and pebbles rattled as pointed spikes the color of bone began to sprout in a large oval, like strange flowers. It soon became clear that they weren't rocks, they were teeth. It was the hellmouth, emerging from the desert, pushing its way to the surface. Pate and Beetlejuice stood frozen in a combination of amazement and horror as it all finally went still.

The creature was gigantic, like something from prehistoric times in scale. She could lay flat on her back on its tongue with her arms spread to either side and her fingertips would just reach to the roots of its teeth. Vaguely draconic, with dull grayish scales and boar-like tusks that curled up over its snout in vicious points, the hellmouth simply gaped, its eyes open but unfocussed and vacant. Pate let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, turning to face Beetlejuice.

"All we need now is the book and your brother," she told him.

They were standing in a desert, but he suddenly felt cold.

"Jesus," Beetlejuice swore, looking over the creature Pate had somehow pulled from underground. "That thing is something only its mother would love. Or my mother . . ."

Pate seemed fascinated by it, walking around it to see it from all angles. It seemed dormant, with glassy eyes and staying still as death, but Beetlejuice didn't miss the fact that one of its eyes sluggishly tracked her, while the other remained fixated on him. He wasn't sure if it was pretending to be immobile, and he didn't like it.

"Pate, baby, don't get too close to it," he advised, even as he couldn't understand why someone would want to get close to it in the first place. He'd prefer to keep his distance, but when she made the poor decision to reach a hand out near one of its eyes, he hurried forward and grabbed her, ordering, "Don't touch it!"

Its eye followed them, but it didn't move.

"Pate, don't . . . wake it up more, or whatever," he said, holding her tight by her upper arm and keeping half an eye on the thing. "We want to be hungry for Rigel, and if it gets you . . ."

She murmured something about thinking it was more like a barnacle waiting for something to drift by than an active hunter, but he knew she was only guessing that theory.

He took her other arm so she faced him. "Listen. We're running out of time." Her brow furrowed, and he kissed her in lieu of an explanation. "I'm going to go get the book. You wait here. Do not go near that thing. When I'm back, you call my come stain of a brother, and we'll get rid of him. Okay?"

He kissed her again, making his lips linger on hers for longer than he probably should have, hating that maybe this was going to be the last time they'd be able to kiss.

Breaking away, he stepped through the ether to his place in the Netherworld to retrieve the half of the book Rigel was so desperate to lay his hands on.

Pate stood alone in the desert, watching the air where Beetlejuice had disappeared. Well, she thought, maybe not completely alone . . .

She cast the yawning maw of the goliath hell-beast a nervous glance. When it first emerged and then became totally motionless, she'd assumed it was an indolent predator like the fish who burrowed in sand and just waited for hapless prey to stray too close. Beetlejuice's distrust of it was obvious and much more acute than hers, but now that she was on her own with it, it was definitely looking at her with it's huge round walleye.

Shuddering she turned away and busied herself with the jug of holy water. It was hard to believe that what looked like a jug labeled "Potable Water" that seemed to have originated in a chain mega-store that they had bought second hand from an ordained Bob Ross impersonator could possibly contain the real thing where the bottle from an actual church had not, but time was running out and so were their options.

Experimentally she opened the cap and sniffed it, tapping her finger to the damp underside and touching it to her tongue. It was salty. Not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing she replaced the cap and set the jug on the ground at her feet, waiting for Beetlejuice.

Pate absently brushed her thumb over the blue sigil printed on her skin, breaking off scanning the horizon to look down at it. A chill settled over her at the sight of the Mark. This had to work. It had to!

He slipped through the back alleys of the Netherworld to his own private place. Rigel would shit himself if he knew the book had been secreted here! Luckily sometimes his mother's favorite had his head too far up his own ass to think about simple solutions like that.

Time passed differently here than in the upper world, and when he finally made it back to Pate's side, he wasn't completely sure how much time there was left. He handed her the book, gave her wrist a reassuring squeeze, and nodded. At least it wasn't the middle of the night, like a horror movie. They'd face Rigel during the hot dry day.

 tbc . . .

[docplop]

I have bipolar type 2, so I think that may have had something to do with it. The delusions were severe. It started with thinking I was being group stalked. I worked for a local taxi company and I thought people who worked for Uber were following me and deliberately making my life a living hell. It's difficult for me to remember the exact reasons I believed this, but it was a belief I had for a pretty long time. One day after this delusion had developed quite a bit, I started believing that the people following me were omniscient. I ran away from my city, I drove to my dad's house which is about 3 hours away. While there, I felt like my dad was initiating me into a secret society that could use magic to do almost anything. We were watching the Daily Show and I believed I had a conversation with Jon Stewart through the TV. I couldn't find the cameras on my end so I thought it was more of the magic that I was being introduced to. After a while I went to the guest bedroom where when I looked out the window, I thought of a thunderstorm, and then suddenly lightning started but striking pretty rapidly. I believed I created the storm from my anxiety. I lay down, closed my eyes and tossed and turned all night with. no sleep. The next morning, I got up before my dad, talked to my grandma, who also lived there, and left to go back to my home city. But when I left, I got side tracked. I had the radio tuned to A.M. talk stations and I believed that the radio was communicating directly to me. I got the wind idea to just start driving aimlessly, believing it would take me somewhere meaningful. I heard songs on the radio from some of my favorite artists from the 90s, but they were versions I had never heard with lyrics that spoke to me like never before. I believed it was Jesus talking to me. I decided to drive to California (from Virginia), and started heading west. I saw a sign outside of a farm house that said "Longview", and having been a huge Greenday fan as a kid, I thought I should stop there. I pulled up to this big house on a beautiful property, and thought, "I'm home!" Or rather it would be my home some day. The grass had recently been mowed. I took off my shoes and walked around the property in pure Bliss longing for this house to be my home. I picked a peach off of a tree out front and to this day it was the best peach I've ever had. The house had a pool with a cabana next to it. On either side of the pool, there were three rubber snakes on each side. I had all kinds of crazy theories about the snakes. I walked over to the cabana, and inside was full of relics from my childhood. It dawned on me that I hadn't earned my stay at such a beautiful sanctuary, so I got my shoes and walked back to my car. I looked up at the sky which had turned gold and purple and all kinds of colors in between. I saw planes overhead, and thought, "the only thing keeping me from being able to fly like those planes is my belief in gravity. Someday I'll fly.".

As I drove, I saw numerous lights in the sky that I believed were alien space crafts abducting people all over the map. I started following signs that had seemingly significant names and numbers on them. I passed under a giant overpass, and when I say giant, I mean like it was an overpass for humongous cars driven by 30 foot tall giants. Suddenly I thought I had passed through a dimensional gate and was going to meet these giant people. I found a row of normal sized townhouses and decided to ask where I was ( my phone lost all service, including GPS). There was a chair next to the road that was the size off a small house. I knocked on a few doors, but nobody answered. So I decided to press on.

Being in giant land, I thought that maybe I belonged there, so I started driving down wooded roads looking for my new home. It was night time by this point, and the radio was sending me messages more than ever. I thought the late Dave Brocky of Gwar fame was telling me to find his house. I drove up to a house that had a light on in the upstairs room. I parked, and when I got out of my car, a spotlight shined down on me. I looked over too my right, and a light came on under a newly finished porch. I walked over to it, and when I got there a green light turned on by a staircase, so I decided to climb the stairs. Another light came on at the top of the stairs over by a door to what looked like someone's living room. I called out, "Dave?" As I knocked on the screen door. A thin man with no hair walked out from behind a counter carrying a glass of red wine and in a polite English accent said, "I think you have the wrong house, mate.".

I apologized for the disturbance and ran back to my car and drove away.

After that the memories are a little fuzzy, but I spent most of the night driving aimlessly through George Washington National Forest. I parked at one point and decided I wanted to sleep under the stars. I grabbed a jacket from my trunk and some clothes I fashioned into a pillow and lay down in the grass and started stargazing. I remember seeing two sets of three stars in triangular formation moving around in the sky. I was pretty sure they were two triangular UFOs floating silently above me. The sky was beautiful, but I felt vulnerable, so I got back in my car and continued driving aimlessly.

After a few more hours and a few more attempts at finding Dave Brocky (who, again, was already dead at the time, and it's not like I knew him personally) I was extremely thirsty, and was looking for some water. I found a quaint little church, and thought, "Perfect! I bet they have a spickett somewhere outside.". When I got out of the car, I heard what sounded like huge amounts of water flowing through what I imagined to be a giant organism. I wondered if I had been abducted by one of the UFOs that I saw and was on some kind of holodeck. I walked over to the church and sure enough found a spickett. I had a beer mug in my backseat that someone had given me, so I grabbed it and filled it with water from the spickett. The water was warm and it tasted like how I imagined female ejaculant to taste. It was salty, cloudy and viscous. I spit it out and yelled," What the fuck?!"

I got back in my car and drove without any kind of destination in mind until the sun started to rise. Having no idea where I was, I started looking for a gas station so I could get some gas and a drink. I ended up in a small mountain town and found a gas station who's sign read "Liberty". I wanted to get a beer to calm my nerves and hope for some sleep, but they wouldn't sell it to me. I asked for a cup for some water, and filled it up at a sink by the coffee maker. The water that came out was cloudy, salty, and viscous just like the water from the church spickett. At this point I was sure I was on an alien space craft, and was in some kind of simulation. Everyone I saw seemed to be both staring at me, and evading eye contact at the same time. I left the gas station and continued my aimless drive.

As the sun rose above the horizon, I marvelled at the beauty of the Appalachian mountains. I found my way to Rte 66 and started seeing signs for towns that sounded familiar. I got off rte 66 at a stop where I found a Starbucks. Still thinking I was in a simulation on an alien ship, I thought everyone I saw was a lizard person in disguise. Terrified, I ordered a cup of tea that was supposed to be infused with peach. The tea tasted like it was the same salty, viscous water as before but with some other flavors. I pulled the tea bag out and thought I saw little pieces of meat in it and assumed it was human meat. Trying to not react, I looked at my phone and finally started to get service again. I called my girlfriend and told her what had been happening to me. I was terrified. I was sure that there were people or aliens or something monitoring my every move. The only option I had was to trust that I was actually talking to my girlfriend. There were many phonecalls made between my girlfriend and one of her friends that we figured out lived near where I had ended up.

I want to wrap up this story now.

My girlfriend figured out my location. She told me to stay put and that she'd come get me. Miraculously she found me a few hours later and took me to her friend's house. When we got there, her friend told me I could sit in her kids' backyard tent while they figured out what to do. Before getting in the tent, I looked into the front window and thought I saw one of my ex girlfriends inside talking to my girlfriend and her friend. This scared the shit out of me, because that ex was a sociopath and couldn't figure why she'd be there. I got in the tent, and after a few minutes I started hearing some kind of liquid being thrown onto the tent. I assumed it was my ex throwing gasoline on the tent and that she was going to burn me alive in the tent. I freaked out and broke the zipper to the front flap while trying to escape. When I got out there was nobody there. My girlfriend and her friend invited me in for dinner and an Ativan. This calmed me down and we spent the night there. The whole time I was there, though, I heard that rushing water that I first started hearing by the church. I still thought I was on an alien ship. The following morning I was driven to a hospital where I was admitted to a psych ward for several days. The whole time I was there, I believed I was being kept away from Earth where there was a global Holocaust being perpetrated by the aliens. I believed they were replacing everyone on Earth. I probably should have spent a lot more time in the psych ward, but was released about a week later with a new prescription for anti psychotics. I've been taking them ever since. For probably a year after this, I was still unsure about everything in my reality, and to this day (6 years later) I still have fleeting doubts. I have wanted to write this experience into a book ever since, but haven't had the motivation or focus to do so, as my ADHD is still bad, and haven't been able to structure what needs to be told. This is probably the longest version I've written thus far, and still feel like I'm not doing the experience justice. Thanks for reading, if you've made it this far. Feel free to ask me any questions.

[vara-drakaina]

Fictober Day 2 “Lost and Found”

Fictober Day 2 Prompt: “Just follow me. I know the area.” Inktober Day 2 Prompt: Mindless

Style: Fanfic (Oneshot) Fandom: Destiny Characters: Cayde-6, Andal Brask Warnings: None

Song Inspiration: None this time.

This is a short story about what I think the first time Cayde-6 and Andal Brask met would have been like. No OC’s this time. Writing in a stream-of-consciousness style is so hard, but I hope it came out alright. :)

My name is Cayde-6.

I’m certain enough about the ‘Cayde’ part, at least. The 6 is a little more touch-and-go; not sure what it means, and I’m not sure if it’s right in the first place. This “Ghost”… well, my Ghost—Sundance, she called herself—seems pretty certain of it. And while I haven’t known her for long I’m inclined to believe her.

She tells me I’m an Exo. A humanoid machine, with a man’s mind thrown in for extra confliction. I get flashes of memories… honestly, I wouldn’t even call them memories. I can see them and I’m in them, but they don’t feel like mine. More like… ghosts—with a lower-case G, mind you—:  wispy, transparent, fleeting. Coming and going like loose shingles in a hurricane; probably just as dangerous too.

When I woke up, after all the panicking and residual death-thoughts, I found a book in my vest pocket. It’s next to me now as I write this, having finally made it to what Sundance calls “The Last City.” The last dregs of humanity all gathered here under this “Traveler” for protection.

I’m not sure what to think of this “Traveler.” It seems awfully stationary to have a name like that, and when I look at it, I feel… fudgey. Is fudgey a feeling? It is now, I guess. I don’t like not knowing if that things alive or not. Somewhere deep in me—wherever this ‘Light’ Sundance keeps talking about is, I’m sure—I feel something. I don’t know yet if it’s relief or dread, but it leaves me feeling anxious. I wanna run, away from this city, outside these walls, anywhere there won’t be people telling me what to do or what my purpose is. Just find a nice tree to climb and avoid all that junk.

I haven’t looked in that book yet. Well, that’s a lie, I looked at the first page. What can I say? I’m curious. It seems to be a journal, and frankly, I don’t think I’m ready to read it yet. Maybe the “me-that-was-before-me” has some things to say to “me-that-is-now-me”—but I’m sure as hell not ready for it. Maybe he’ll offer some advice, maybe he’ll call me a dumbass for becoming a 6 in the first place. Maybe he’s right. Either way, I’ll tuck it away for later.

Sundance says that’s normal for new Guardians, which is apparently what I now am. The humans and Awoken—the bluish ones that glow, like that large bald fella across the street from me—they rarely remember anything. She says the Exo are unlucky like that. We get bits and pieces, stuck in the wires and circuitry of our being, like we’re haunted by our past selves. Apparently most Exo were soldiers, which raises more than a couple heavy questions about what my previous life’s gig was. But that’s a thought for another time.

She says my instinct to run and get away from it all makes me a hunter. I guess that makes some sense, considering the “me-that-was-before-me” was probably some sort of mercenary. “A hunter wants freedom; the freedom to roam, and fight, and rely on nobody but the knife in your boot and the cannon at your side. And me of course!” That’s what she’d said that first night, as we camped by a fire that was only there for comfort. I don’t suppose a robot needs to keep warm, does it?

That night was a bad one for memories, especially cozy ones filled with happiness and familiarity. Foreign memories of people I’d met, but never met; loved, but never loved. A woman and a boy, and the man between them, all blurred faces and vagueness. I’m sure there’s something on them in that book, but I’m not sure I want to know what I lost.

Cayde-6 set down his pen, growing frustrated with… well, whatever this is. Sighing dramatically, he crumpled the paper into a ball and shoved it in his vest pocket, stopping a moment to look at his gloved hands. He flexed is fingers and clenched his fists, listening to the dark leather stretch and creak, and the muffled bending of the metal joints beneath. It was the closest he’d ever get to having skin again.

The restless anxiety rose in him again and he chose to leave the quiet rooftop corner he’d holed up in after escaping the Vanguard. They’d talked his ear off about his duty to the Traveler and to the Last City, but he hadn’t been able to focus on anything other than getting a bowl of spicy ramen from that shop he’d seen on his way in. He also hadn’t been able to find it again. Maybe he could take another stab at it...

So he wandered aimlessly through the lower city streets, popping into alleyways or hopping onto a balcony whenever he heard a particularly excitable Guardian talking about the Traveler or the Vanguard. He’d never been much of a city man, or at least, he thought that was the case if his claustrophobia had anything to say about it. Sundance had drifted off to speak with some Ghost friends of hers a while ago, so he had no guide to ease his mindless search of the city. In truth, he wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have been if he actually wanted to find the ramen shop.

“I’ve never seen a Guardian that looked as lost as you do,” came a gravelly voice from behind him.

Cayde-6 stopped, some buried instincts within gearing up for a fight, and turned to address whoever it was what had so rudely interrupted his drifting. Instead he found only empty air, and he looked on in confusion.

“Up here,” came the voice again—rather unhelpfully, Cayde might add, considering up here could be anywhere. Whoever the voice belonged to sounded amused, and that didn’t do much to curb Cayde’s irritation.

He glanced around again, until his optics rested on a man shrouded in the shadow of a balcony nearby.

Eyes narrowed, he defended himself, trying to keep his tone light.

“I’m just getting to know the streets of my new home, I’ll have you know. I’ve always heard getting lost is the way to find the best food.”

The man vaulted over the balcony ledge, dropping down to stand in front of him. He had short, messy brown hair and piercing, but friendly blue eyes. His body was relaxed, casual, betraying no hint of malintent.

“I’m afraid you won’t be finding much in the way of food down here in the residential district,” he chuckled, and held out a hand. “Name’s Andal. What about you, New Light?”

Cayde-6 found himself trusting this man, so he shook the man’s hand as firmly as he could manage.

“Cayde-6. Truth be told, I was looking for a ramen shop I saw on my way into the city. Got me so distracted I missed everything the Vanguard was trying to tell me. Then my Ghost drifted off to gossip with friends, apparently. The nerve.” He rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. “So yeah, I’m definitely lost.”

Andal chuckled again, and turned to walk off, “Well, just follow me. I know the area. Been here for a while now, I know how confusing this place can be at first. I was getting hungry anyway.”

“Hell yeah, I haven’t eaten since… well whenever I died, I guess. I’m starving!”

[bucky-iss-bae]

Listen (Billy Russo x Reader)

Fandom: Marvel’s The Punisher 

Billy Russo x Reader 

Summary: AU Reader plans a cute evening with Billy but he’s a little late. (Prompts: ‘Why can’t you listen to a single thing I say?’ – ‘All you do is whine’) 

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, arguments, mentions of cheating - Sorry if I’ve missed anything 

Word Count: 2523 

A/N: First Billy Fic, hope you all enjoy and I just, he’s so beautiful. Like, the beard the suit, the everything. 

Mastlerlist  Fandom List 

Being with Billy Russo had both advantages and disadvantages. Being together for nearly 2 years we loved each other endlessly, but at some point, Billy and I had to get out of the honeymoon phase. But we were both always there for one another. We were still the cheesy couple that laughed at inside jokes, that knew each other more than anyone would think, and sure on the outside everyone saw Billy as a murderous psychopath, heck my family had issues sometimes with the fact that we were together and happy. Others think he manipulates me, but in reality, we love each other more than he thought he would ever be able to love.

I basically lived at his place, although I still had my own place that was vacant of me most of the time, I just hadn’t ever made the official move into his apartment and I was ok with that. My two other best friends who are a couple themselves live there and my room hasn’t ever really changed. But every night I fell asleep at his place, every morning woke up there, most of my clothes were there, my makeup, shoes. Somehow the change had been gradual and neither of us complained, instead he complimented it. He even suggested that I should officially move in, but neither of you had the time to get everything from one place to another. But in both of our eyes, we were living together, we had a great life together and supported one another.

We were friends when he was starting up his business, I supported him as a girlfriend when he was getting established and watched as he grew and his business grew. Just as he supported me in my career.

But not everything was sunshine and butterflies, in recent months Billy has been distant. Spending more time at work than at home. More often than not I fell asleep before he even got home, some of those nights I did try to stay awake but I was always out of it before I even realised. He was gone before I even woke up some mornings and if I was lucky I saw him only a few times a week. We often spoke on the phone when he took a break, other times we spoke whenever I took lunch in for him on my days off. But his weeks consisted of 7 days which made things difficult because despite living together, we rarely saw one another.

But tonight was different, the perfect date night, he promised he would be home early, and I made sure both of our favourite meals were cooked. Despite staying in I dressed up in my favourite outfit, done my hair and makeup nicely. Other than going out with friends or work I rarely dressed up, especially since I loved it.  

Dinner was ready to be served and now it was a waiting game, it had gone past 7 but that’s understandable, traffic in Manhattan at this time is crazy so I opted to watch a bit of TV while waiting. I had a funny feeling in my stomach at 8 and checked my phone, no messages or nothing. So instead I decided to give him a call but it went straight to answerphone, ok so he’s probably driving, understandable if he got a little caught up.

Before I knew it, it was 11pm, I ended up getting changed into something comfier, threw my hair up, but I was angry. Fuming. He promised, Billy promised me, he promised me yet he hadn’t even called me. None of my messages had been read, and the calls unanswered.

I had a bad feeling, I mean he can’t be cheating on me can he? I mean work takes up a lot of time. And when we first got together, Maria had promised me that he’s a good guy, not the cheating type. Frank even said so, that Bill wouldn’t ever do anything like that. Despite his checkered past, that didn’t involve endless amounts of women, instead it was dangerous, and he had redeemed himself, I mean he wouldn’t cheat would he?  

I was still angry though. He still wasn’t home, it was nearly midnight and he broke his promise. We hadn’t seen one another in months, we went from having dinner together every day, to a few times a week, then to once a week, to me only ever eating lunch in his office.

“Y/N, Hey, Y/N. What are you still doing out here?” Billy was shaking me awake, he was crouched down beside the couch.

I woke with a jolt and came face to face with Billy, it took a few moments to realise where I was. I could see guilt written all over his face but that didn’t stop the anger coursing through me.

“Oh, so you're finally home then?” I bit out, a grimace sat on my face, I rubbed my eyes and stood up glaring at him waiting on an answer,

“I’m so, sorr-“

“No you're not Billy. I asked one thing from you alright. One thing. You haven’t properly been home in months and I ask you to be home for 7, a decent time, so we could eat together and spend time together. But why would I be so stupid to ask for something so impossible huh? I mean what are you even doing billy? What keeps you out until, what 1am?”

“Nothing Y/N. I’ve just been working hard ok. Business has been busy lately, I’ve been in the office, I’ve got a lot going on”

“What? Until 1am? How do you think that makes me feel? For all I know you could have some side chick that I don’t even know about instead I’m made to look like a joke”

“No.” he said shaking his head, “I would never, Y/N. Never cheat on you!”

“Then what am I supposed to think? You’re out of the door before I’m awake and back home after I fall asleep.”

“That’s because I’m busy at work Y/N. Trying to build a life for us, trying to build a future for us!”

“For us?” I yelled, “For us? What us? At the moment there is no us Billy. We have a long distance relationship despite us living in the same apartment. I don’t see you anymore Billy. So how can you say that you’re doing this for us when the last time I saw you were in your office. I mean you’ve bailed on me so much lately, whenever we have a reservation booked you always reschedule, I cooked tonight. I was so excited because I would finally get to spend time with you, but that’s not even possible is it?” I Yelled at him, “You might as well just fucking camp out at work because I don’t even know why you come home at this point”

“Well what do you expect when you're like this?” he threw back at me out of anger, “I’ve been home two minutes and all you do is whine”

“All I do is whine? I wouldn’t be whining if you spent more than an hour a week at home at a reasonable hour. I mean why can’t you listen to a single thing I say? All I’m saying is I want to spend more time with you. But now, I might as well just leave, I don’t even know why I’m still here” I said shoving myself past him and towards the door,

“Fucking hell Y/N” He said yelling for me but I ignored it, I felt the tears running down my face and walked to get my shoes on and I just walked out with Billy still calling for me.

***

Billy P.O.V

As soon as I walked in I knew I had fucked up. I completely forgot the promise that I made to Y/N, that she planned a date night for us. I felt bad that I was never around, but business had been crazy, I was working 7 days a week, near enough 16 hour days, and didn’t have any time. I saw the food, I saw her empty plate on the table, and she was curled up on the couch, she had every right to be angry, but that angered me, the moment she accused me of being with someone else when the only person I want is her, yet now I don’t even know what's going on with us. I was tired, it had been a long day, a long week and the last thing I wanted to do was argue, so instead I went to get in bed, I’m sure she’ll be back later on.

I don’t know how long I was tossing and turning in the bed for, yet she hadn't come back. It was the middle of the night and she was just out there somewhere, by herself, upset and angry.

I grabbed my phone to call her but it went right to voicemail, I was a bit lost on who to call but took the plunge and called Frank,

It took a few minutes but he eventually answered the phone, “This better be good Russo” He grumbled,

“I just wanted to know if Y/N was there at all?” I asked,

“No. She’s not. Why what the fuck have you done Bill?” He sounded awake within seconds but I just pinched the bridge of my nose,

“Nothing Frankie. Nothing. Sorry I woke you”

After hanging up I went to grab my keys to go looking for her.

**

Y/N P.O.V

I had no clue where to go. I only had my bag on me, and just had to get out of there. I was wiping my face, my makeup probably all ruined but I just left the apartment building and started to walk anywhere. It was 1am, on a Saturday night in New York City, it was bust but I felt so alone.

I walked aimlessly for ages, I missed him. I missed being around Billy. I missed us waking up together, having lazy mornings every now and then, I missed being able to talk to him. He was my best friend, but now, now he felt like a stranger.

I eventually flagged down a taxi and realised the safest place for me tonight would be my old apartment.

I caught a taxi there and realised they were both asleep, I used my key to let myself in and went straight for my room. In there I had everything I ever needed, a teddy I had from when I was little which was always there for me at times like this. I just hugged it and got under the covers unable to go sleep.

Not long later there was a knock on the apartment door, I sighed and knew they didn’t even know I was home so got out of my bed to go answer the door,

“Y/N” Billy started relieved to see me, “Come on let's go home,” he said,

“I am home Billy” I grumbled, “So you go home. Nothing of yours is here, whereas I have everything of mine here. So just leave”

He just looked at me before shaking his head, next thing I knew he had picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, “Billy” I gasped, “What are you doing?” He instead shut the door behind me and started walking.

“You said nothing of mine was there. Truth is, everything of mine was. You were. If you think I’m letting you go Y/N, you can think again. I love you, and I’m not going to let a stupid argument loose you, instead, I’ll be better alright”

“Billy, let me at least get my shoes, I can’t just walk out with my teddy”

He let out a laugh, “We’ll get your shoes tomorrow. We’ll get everything tomorrow, and you'll officially be moved in with me” He said, a few minutes later he set me down in his car and I couldn’t help but glare at him, but I wanted to smile. He had such an innocent look on his face, “I’ll give you the rest of the car journey home to be as pissed as you want, but when we get home, we’ll talk alright” He said to me.

I didn’t say anything and instead tucked my feet up on the seat, I know he hates this, but I don’t care. I snuggled up with my teddy in my arms and couldn’t help the frown on my face as I looked out the window.

When we got to the apartment building I got out and was willing to walk with my socks still on my feet but he came around and picked me up bridal style.

I didn’t say anything but rested my head on his chest, “I hate you, you know that” I grumbled,

“Yeah and I love you too,” He said back a smile on his face,

“I don’t want to say too much though, might make it seem like I’m whining”

“Wow” He muttered, “Fucking whine all you like, wouldn’t be you if you weren’t whining.”

“Well not like you’re around to hear me whine anyway” 

“Guess I’ll have to change that huh? I won’t go to work tomorrow, and I’ll start coming back at a reasonable time. Heck, tell you what, you remember when I promised you a few months ago that we could go away? Book time off of work, and then we can go wherever you like”

After we were in the apartment he set me down on my feet again, “You’re not going work tomorrow?” I asked like a little pouting child but so much hope in my eyes, 

“No” He whispered looking at me, “Not if me basically living at work will cost me the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can get my work done at any time. I’ll even start to bring some paperwork home if it comes to it, that way I can do what I usually do when everyone's gone home. That way I can spend time with you, and get what I need to done as well. How does that sound”

Instead of anything I just hugged him, “I fucking hate you Billy because I missed you so much, so much Bill. And I love you, I couldn’t hate you, and I’m sorry, I just, I got angry. I miss you because I never see you but now I’ll feel bad because you have so much to do and I know you work hard and sorry for accusing you of cheating I just...”  

“You know I would never intentionally hurt you. You’re it for me Y/N and I wouldn’t ever cheat on you. But I love you too Y/N. And I’m sorry”

I stepped back from him and looked at him, “Although, now you have to share the bed with my best friend” I told him while hugging my teddy,

He just stood there and laughed but shook his head, “Come on, let’s get some sleep. I’ll make us breakfast in the morning” He said and we both went to get some sleep and for once we went to sleep together.