#“Lying is. like. ninety five percent of what I do.” (Crack) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vanillelace · 3 years ago

Text

⟡ warnings﹕language + its the i-tried-my-best kind of fluff… it runs kind of slow, but not exactly slowburn! lowercase intended.

⟡ pairings﹕music major!huang renjun x theatre major!fem. reader

⟡ genres﹕fluff, college!au, non-idol!au, bestfriends2luvers!au, crack and an eensy bit of angst

⟡ word count﹕8219

⟡ summary﹕you knew renjun since you two were in diapers. you two had an on and off crush on each other countless times, but as all love stories go — you openly flirted, but never confessed. ugh, the people around you kept encouraging the two of you to just SAY IT. but nope! you never did. maybe one day?

⟡ note﹕!! i’m not in college !! happy birthday ahana @moonsclover <3 you’re my first ever friend on tumblr and so you are super special to me! i hope you like it bff <3 listen to anything you like while reading :) the poem near the end is by me, published on another poetry blog of mine on wordpress! thank you @iwonzzi for beta reading mwa <3

“dude… this is a serious question. chocolate, or vanilla?” huang renjun asked you, a serious look in his eyes, and you stared back at him with equal fervour. “dude.. it’s obviously coffee.” renjun gave you the death glare, and you shrugged. “coffee is the l-o-m-l.” you stated simply, going back to flipping through your beauty magazine. “dude, NO. vanilla.” “you’re boring.” “well, your mom.”

a blank silence ensued, and you shook your head. “that was… offensive…” you told him, fake angry, and he nodded, agreeing silently. “we have nothing to do, oh my fucking god,” he muttered, grabbing his phone to scroll lifelessly.

“what do people even do when they have vacations?” you asked him, lying on your back on your bed. you and renjun have always been the best of friends, and even now, you two shared the same room, and had the same taste in almost everything. “good question. that’s actually a debatable thought.” renjun said, thinking seriously.

“you’re right! we should suggest this to the debate club next week.” “yes!” renjun said, and you two giggled. “we’re dumb and dumber, aren’t we?” you wondered, and he nodded a little TOO enthusiastically. “yes. yes we are. wanna watch despicable me?”

“only if you make me caramel popcorn.”

renjun looked at you in disgust. he thought he had you like ninety-five percent figured out, but yeah. the other five percent disgusted, confused, and worried him. he never understood what about caramel popcorn made you feel so happy, but anything that made you happy was okay with him.

“no, seriously, why do you love caramel popcorn?” he asked you, and you shrugged. you had a lot of memories tied with it, like having caramel popcorn in the theatre with renjun when you two were with your moms, watching a VERY childish movie, after which renjun had to puke because the caramel did NOT agree with him.

“good question, one you should ask my mom who feeds me caramel popcorn like it’s water.” renjun sighed, trudging towards the closet where you had all the ready-to-make foods possible stashed away. “RENJUN!” you screamed, running at full speed, but it was too late.

renjun had opened the closet door only to be buried below way too many packets of various foods, from ramen to popcorn. “…i’ll open the door…” you finished, and he groaned in frustration. “Y/N!”

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

after seven minutes of renjun yelling at you for being a dumbass, you apologized to him with your iconic puppy eyes look, and renjun rolled his eyes. ungraciously accepting your apology, he began cooking your favorite flavor of popcorn. meanwhile, you switched on the television to watch despicable me 2.

after renjun walked in with his spiced popcorn and your caramel popcorn, he grabbed the remote, eagerly playing the movie. “RAMSBOTTOM!” you both chorused, and laughed.

“no but the minions are my favorite characters in this entire trilogy,” renjun told you between multiple fits of laughter. “I KNOW RIGHT. such iconic creatures.” you agreed, also between many, many giggles. “we’re so childish.” renjun laughed, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “but we love us for it.” you added, smiling.

“yes! stan us for.. um.. i don’t know, un-smelly feet?” renjun said, and you looked at him. “that was… questionable.”

“we are questionable, no one can question that questionable line. it’s not even a question, it’s just a statement.”

“…yeah, i think?”

renjun choked with laughter at your face, and quickly snapped a picture of you with his phone. “HEY!” you yelled, jumping on his phone. renjun acted quickly, standing up and raising his hand, the one he was holding his phone with. “…renjun, are you dumb?” you asked him seriously, and realization hit him.

you were taller than him. a bit, but it still made a 5% difference.

“MAYBE I AM DUMB, BUT PLEASE DON’T DELETE IT!” renjun said in a loud tone. “fine.” you muttered, settling back on the couch. renjun smirked at you, and you said, “if you really don’t want me to delete it, shut up and don’t brag about your win,”

“fine.” he imitated you mockingly. you instantly raised an eyebrow at him, and he backed off to the other end of the couch, raising his hands in defeat.

“fine, you win!”

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

you and renjun spent the last week of study leave studying and having fun. your midterms were due to start the next week, and renjun took music, while you excelled in theatre. however, you two did enjoy each others classes, and helped when one hit a dead end.

right now, renjun was supposed to be composing a jolly tune, while you had to enact a very depressing and dramatic scene, to understand the emotions felt. what an amazing contrast, right? yes, you both found it sensationally amusing.

“WHY, WHY, WHY!” you randomly screamed, and renjun jumped up from his stave. “Y/N..” he yelled at you, annoyed, and you shrugged, returning to your very conspicuously written script.

after a lot of silence, renjun sighed. “i can’t concentrate. fuck this. i shall scroll through pinterest because we all know i’m an amazing procrastinator.”

“NICE, KEEP IT UP!” you teased, and renjun punched you playfully. “hey! stop teasing me, ms. super actress,” renjun mumbled, turning on his stomach to take a picture of you, wearing your glasses, looking picture perfect with your hair in a bun, and an amazingly sketched pen-drawn line on your cheek. “RENJUN. DON’T YOU DARE.” you said, noticing him slyly raising his phone to capture your script too.

“try and stop me!” he said happily, and you heard the ‘click’ of the camera on his phone. jumping off the bed when you glared at him, he shrugged and ran out of your shared room, causing you to chase after him while the people who were actually studying ended up staring at you two running throughout the building.

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

exam seasons, ew, you thought privately, seated in the examination hall. you were currently writing your last exam, theatre. it was a practical test, and pretty easy if you were being frank.

after finally ending it and getting out of the stuffy room, you picked up your water bottle, taking deep sips.

“do you need water to live? see! one more thing we have in common has been added to the list of stuff we share in common!” renjun laughed, walking up to you. “ha, ha, very cheesy, you nincompoop!” you exclaimed, slightly red in the face. “how was your exam anyway?”

“went well, renjun. you?”

“oh, amazing, apart from the fact that i had not composed anything. it’s fine, next time! it was only like, what, 5% of the total thing?”

you rolled your eyes at him. “wow, renjun. anyone would believe you weren’t the music nerd you really are.”

renjun pointedly ignored your insult. “what can i say? i have a reputation to maintain.”

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

“AND THAT, YOU IDIOT, IS WHY NO ONE EVER DRINKS THE FAMOUS BANANA SHAKE FOR BREAKFAST,” you barked at renjun, who was currently getting all his “breakfast” out of his system. taking a break in between, he looked at you and rolled his eyes, going back towards the sink. the only shared classes you both took were english literature and performing arts, and right now, instead of studying shakespeare, you were currently at the room, watching over him as he… well. you know.

after he was finally done doing his business, he opened the bathroom door, and pulled his bag over his shoulder. “learnt my lesson, okay?” he told you, and you smiled. “sure you did.”

he huffed, pulling you towards the door. unfortunately, he may have dragged you a bit too hard. you screeched as you hurtled toward the door, and renjun stood, frozen, whilst you smacked your face on the very hard wooden door. “OW!” you yelped, rubbing your hand gently on your cheek. “here, let me see,” renjun sighed, coming over to help you.

his cold hand grazed the side of your cheek, and you shivered. memories were filling your mind up, screaming and pulling against each other, begging for you to notice them. you shook your head, and renjun narrowed his eyes at you. “umm.. you good?” he asked you, mildly concerned but not really. he was used to his kind of stuff from you.

“yeah, your hands are cold, you dolt.” “…is that the only reason why?” he jokingly muttered, running over to grab some ice. “i’ll just run over to inform the teacher you bonked your head on your own door!” he snickered, walking out the door.

you then realized that maybe, just maybe, your crush on him was rekindling again.

and yes, that was a very, very, VERY bad thing.

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

after school, you two usually hung out with renjun’s little ‘gang’ of friends, nct dream — mark, renjun, haechan, jeno, jaemin, chenle, and jisung. you were quite close to each other, and you knew some of each other’s secrets. however, only renjun knew your deepest, darkest secrets, and vice versa.

“HEY! Y/N, RENJUN! OVER HERE!” a surprisingly deep voice hooted, calling you two over, and you swung your backpack, seeing the dreamies. it had been jisung who had called you, his characteristic deep voice being a point of astonishment for the girls (and some boys, too) on campus. although he was the youngest of their little circle of friends, he was mature — in terms of voice only.

“so… what’s popping!” mark, the oldest, gushed. “are you guys having too much sugar again?” renjun rolled his eyes, and jeno grinned. “no, MOM, we aren’t… maybe.”

mark, a major in dance, was known on the campus as the ‘heartthrob’ (not that the rest of the dreamies weren’t, he was just… a bit extra.) and many, many, people had an eensy weensy crush on him. you had also fallen victim to his personality once upon a time. he was the decision maker of his group, since the others were so indecisive that even math was truly scared of them.

jeno, however, was the athlete of the group, being very talented at baseball. he was very well known across many universities thanks to his knack at both sports and being charming. he had a particular accent, which not many people could quite place. that made him seem very ‘exotic’.

“jeno… remind me never to give you sugar again, you don’t know how to shut up when you have some sugar.” haechan mumbled, fiddling with the zip of his bag, which seemed to be stuck. shaking your head, annoyed, you walked over to help him.

haechan was the confused genius of a gamer in their group. he usually got straight a’s without even bothering to study, and since he was especially dramatic, you and haechan had constant (friendly) competition to be at the top of the batch. he enjoyed gaming as a hobby, and singing too. you predicted that the dreamies would definitely make a band during their time at uni, and renjun and haechan would be the vocalists.

“here, let me help you,” you grumbled at haechan, who did the same to you. laughing, you finally zipped up his backpack, shooting a thumbs-up at him. “so, where are we going?” jaemin asked, grinning mischievously. “coffee? it’s on me!”

chenle offered, his eyes wrinkling ever-so-slightly at his small smile. you all agreed in unison, and so chenle started off to a pretty café off-campus.

chenle was the ‘rich kid’ of the group. second youngest, he was extremely smart, and was known for his matchmaking predictions. the couple he predicted to be together, would be dating in less than a week. in fact, the only relationship he had ever gotten wrong was the one he predicted between you and renjun. chenle was chinese, just like renjun, but they came from different regions. he took economics, and was to take over from his family’s jewelry business.

jaemin was the crazy, extroverted introvert of their group. he usually behaved like he had had too much sugar. he could handle a large amount of coffee, and his daily order rather concerned his friends. he usually had four extra shots of pure caffeine in his mochas, or americanos. and that was just the minimum. the bare minimum. he took literature, and enjoyed it a lot.

following chenle, you reached your favorite hangout place — florilège de café. it meant collection (anthology) of coffee in french. it had a very pretty beige vibe about it, and it reminded you of trips to the pet store to just feed dogs and cats. the smell of freshly baked bread mixed with the tantalizing scent of coffee just made you so happy, you could jump with excitement.

renjun stared at you, as though he was reading your mind, and smiled at you. “you’re still a five year old mentally.” he commented, causing the dreamies to agree noisily as they took a seat at the table. “haha, very funny, dolt.” you laughed fakely, rolling your eyes. grabbing the very aesthetic-looking menu, you placed your order.

while sipping your coffee, a lot of topics ran across. nonetheless, the one that made you choke was your dating life.

“you know, y/n, i realized your dating life is as non-existent as my f’s.” haechan began, pretending to think deeply. “that’s right, it DOESN’T EXIST.” he concluded, smiling slightly at your expression.

“i wasn’t aware my dating life was a point of interest to you,” you said smoothly, and jeno said, “well, not exactly haechan, but back to the point. you should date, bitch.”

“HEY. language.”

“am i wrong?” jeno raised an eyebrow questioningly.

after a slight pause, you said thoughtfully, “you aren’t. but the guys over here are… eh. plus, i have my eye on someone.”

“oh, really?” jisung asked you innocently, and you nodded. “duh!”

“who?” a chorus of seven boys asked you curiously, to which you chose to reply with a shrug. “come on, y/n, don’t leave your best friend hanging!” renjun said, pouting at you. the rest of you shuddered. “stop pretending to be cute.” mark said, disgusted, and renjun scowled. “i’m not pretending. i am cute, right y/n?”

that was unexpected. “huh?” you said, blinking rapidly. you were not prepared to answer such a question. “UM..” you faltered, trying to think of an answer appropriate enough.

“even she has to question whether to hurt your feelings or not, renjun. ouch.” jaemin said, poking him in the shoulders. thankfully, you were saved from the embarrassment of answering. “anyways, our point is, we can set you up with someone!” chenle said gleefully, and you shrugged.

“no, i rather like being single. no commitments, you see?” you assured them, and they rolled their eyes. “okay, fine, you bore.” haechan laughed, and you eight got back to your coffees and desserts, deciding to let chenle go broke for once.

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

“y/n, what was that back there?” jeno asked, running to catch up with you after the eight of you decided to go your separate ways. renjun lagged behind with the rest of nct dream.

“what was what back there?” you asked him, pretending to not know what jeno was talking about. “you not answering the very important question of whether renjun being cute was amazing or not?” he inquired. “nothing!” you answered, ignoring the very pointed question. “nothing, yeah, and all of a sudden i have a halo, y/n!”

“NOTHING, jeno.” you insisted, and jeno shrugged. “all i’m saying is if you don’t wanna ‘ruin’ the friendship or whatever, maybe you should experiment to see if he likes you back. if he does, who cares about ruining the damned friendship?” jeno advised, and you paused, running it over in your mind.

he wasn’t wrong. “see, this is the kind of time where i can count on you to give me great advice. you are an intellectual, jeno!” you vouched, and jeno dismissed it.

“well, what can i say? a scholar of love is present in front of you,” jeno jested, beaming. “thanks, jeno.” “don’t mention it, y/n!”

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

after finally getting to your dormitory with renjun, exhausted, you dropped your bags on the floor, plopping on the sofa while renjun offered to cook some instant noodles. pleasantly accepting the offer, you stretched out your muscles. grabbing the literature homework you had been assigned, you opened google on your phone, questioning it as to who virginia woolf was.

opening wikipedia, you started to write an essay on her past and her written works, typing furiously on your laptop. “here’s your makeshift snack, y/n!” renjun walked in, holding two cups of noodles in his hands. extending a hand out to you, you picked up your cup, smiling as a thank-you. “thanks, renjun,” you mumbled, engrossed in reading.

“what’re you up to?” renjun asked you. “oh, nothing, just researching virginia woolf,” you replied, closing the laptop. “right, the assignment. i’ll do it tomorrow.” “procrastinator.” you scolded lightly. “and proud of it!” he quipped, and you giggled.

“dolt.”

“back at you!”

laughing, the two of you enjoyed the spicy, finger-licking good cup of noodles. “renjun, what time’s dinner again?” you inquired, to which renjun checked the schedule you had been sent for the year.

“in an hour.” he said, looking extremely interested in his noodles, slurping them noisily. “i’m hungry, if you didn’t notice,” he added, looking at your disapproving look. “hey, renjun, i’ll let you in on a secret— I DID, YOU IDIOT.” you scoffed, and he smiled. “idiot.” “i know, renjun,” you smiled back.

“anyway, i’ll go get dressed, because i love fashion!” renjun said, sipping the tasty water of his noodles from the cup. before you could even process what renjun had told you, he had hopped off happily to change his set of clothes. drawing imaginary question marks around your head, you blinked, sighing.

weirdo. but the weirdo you love.

“HI!” renjun yelled, dragging the last syllable as he entered the room. performing a little catwalk, he spun around. “my dude… are you high on coffee?” “…maybe.”

déjà vu, you thought. “oh my god. renjun, do i have to ban you from coffee, the only thing holding your last braincell together?”

“NO!” he protested, quickly jumping on you out of pure instinct. “WH-“ you began, only to have your voice muffled by a certain renjun. “i’m sorry, i have no idea why i just jumped on you y/n…” he offered, in terms of an apology, and you gave him a Look.

“sorry?” he pouted, and you shivered. “NOPE.” “OKAY COME ON, ADMIT IT, I’M KINDA CUTE, RIGHT?” renjun argued, clearly annoyed at the lack of necessary response. “…fine, i think you’re cute when you don’t act like it!” “nice way to kill two birds with a single stone, y/n!” he answered good-naturedly.

“anyways!” you said, trying to cover up the awkward moment.

“i’m gonna sue spotify, y/n. wanna know why?”

“why?” you asked him, bewildered.

“because they didn’t name you the world’s hottest single!” he winked, and you went bright red. “what? thanks, i think, that’s funny, coming from you,” you babbled non-coherently.

“aw shucks, y/n, did you just blush?” he asked you, snickering. to maintain what was left of your dignity and secrecy, you shook your head, determined to google ‘how to not blush’ later. “no, of course not! it’s just pretty hot in here,” you bluffed, and renjun raised an eyebrow. “mostly because of me, am i right?” he laughed, and you were mentally inclined to agree. nevertheless, you shook your head again.

“no, renjun, stop flirting with me!”

“am i really flirting with you? or do you wish i was?” renjun countered, and you groaned. “stop confusing me!” you told him, putting a hand to your head, your brain being very, very confused while it processed.

mood.

“will you stop,” you voiced, in tears of embarrassment. “we’ll see!” renjun said, pecking you on the cheek. that wasn’t really unusual, but in the current moment, the action would go two ways. suggestive, and friendly. and your novice mind would probably take it the wrong way. you ignored it, rubbing your cheek fiercely, smiling at him in an incredibly fake manner. actor advantages, you believed.

believed, more like hoped.

“anyways, won’t you get dressed?” you were interrogated by the new, under-training fashion police sergeant, huang renjun. “what’s wrong with my hoodie?” you asked him, and he frowned. “everything,” he said enthusiastically. you could see by the sparkles in his eyes that he truly meant what he said. or those sparkles could be something else, but who knows. you may never find out.

you were pulled back to reality by the sharp inhale renjun took in. “here, i’ll help you decide something good.” he offered, and you accepted, following him in your closet. “what gave you the sudden interest in fashion?” you asked him, interested to know. “oh, that’s just random. it’ll be gone in a week or so, i guess!” he muttered, absorbed in the monotonous clothes you owned. “remind me to take you shopping for some bright, colourful clothes,” he said under his breath, finally pulling out a floral printed frock in a stunning shade of lilac.

“this. why have you never worn this.” he huffed, staring at you accusingly. “in my defense, i bought it last week, plus, you don’t make my decisions for me, renjun!”

“so you, y/n l/n, are telling me, huang renjun, that you won’t look gorgeous in this and choose to look like my grandma?” he asked you incredulously.

“firstly, your grandma is modern and chic? i didn’t know that! also, i never said that.” you stated, pushing him out the door. renjun slightly protested, but chose to stop fighting when you forced him out the door.

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

dressed in the gown he had selected for you, you were really wondering why he was making you dress up like this. confused, you dabbed on a bit of powder, staring at the reflection of you in the mirror condescendingly. yes, maybe you liked the vibe you had going on.

“IF YOU EVER- oh wow..” renjun began, changing track mid-sentence to gasp at your look. you grinned at him. “cat got your tongue, renjun?” “um, no, but yes.” “wow, ‘cause that made a lot of sense, oh english scholar huang renjun.” you said, your tone leaking sarcasm. “ha, ha, thank you, oh great stand up comedian y/n l/n!” he replied with equal amounts of sarcasm.

“you’re welcome, mr. huang!” you said, a little over-the-top, adding an accent and using amazing facial expressions. renjun bit his lip, trying to hide his laughter.

hint : he didn’t succeed.

he roared with laughter, and looking at him laugh made you laugh too. after around five minutes straight of the two of you laughing, you wiped the tears from your eyes, not caring that your perfect face powder application was completely destroyed. crying with laughter, renjun finally slowed down his laughter, sighing. “anywho, let’s drive in my car,” renjun said, grabbing you by the hand. a bit skeptical at first, you followed him anyway.

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

after half an hour of endless driving, renjun stopped. looking out the window, you realized he had taken you to your dream bakery. the most elegant place you’d ever seen, ‘dessertery’ was dimly lit with yellow lights, overlooking a spectacular garden. the nighttime vibes were highlighting the colours of the place, a monotone black with white, curvy lines all over it. you gasped in surprise. “oh my god, renjun, you’re so sweet,” you began, hugging him. taken aback, renjun patted you on the back, hugging you fully after processing. “you’re welcome, dear y/n.” he said, smiling cutely.

“come on!” he gestured for you to walk into the bakery, which also served savory food too. “have what you want, it’s my treat.” “oh, no, i couldn’t, renjun.” you stated, and renjun sternly looked at you, saying threateningly, “if you are going to pay, you could’ve come alone, so no. i will pay.” defeated, you slumped your shoulders in a show of disappointment. chuckling at your five-year-old antics, renjun grabbed your elbow, pulling you inside the magic filled with attractive aromas and lots of people.

“how did you even get a booking here?” you turned to renjun, who hummed, ignoring the question. “reserved in the name of huang renjun?” he told the receptionist, who nodded with a smile. “hello, mr huang! i’ll show you to your table.” following her, you walked past the display counter, where nearly hundreds of different desserts were on display for everyone’s mouths to water at. shaking your head to awaken yourself from your trance, you continued behind renjun, and the two of you were led into the backyard of dessertery. little fairy lights were strung around the trees, splashing yellow light on the tables. your mouth widening a little, renjun pulled back a chair for you, and you took your seat, still staring in awe at the scene around you.

the receptionist handed you a menu, and said, “have a nice time, you couple!” looking at the two of you blinking rapidly, the receptionist giggled and walked off. “oh.” renjun mumbled, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “thank you so much, renjun.” you thanked him. “not a problem for you, y/n.”

flipping through the menu, you chose your desserts, along with a main course — basically meaning some amount of junk food which you normally would refuse to have — and handed the menu to renjun for him to place his order. as soon as the waiter came over, you recited your order like it was sacred. laughing at your tone with his eyes crinkled, renjun placed his order too. the waiter smiled, nodding, and walked quickly.

“so, did i ever tell you how good that dress looks on you?” renjun asked conversationally. “no, so tell me now!” you replied with the same tone. “well, looks great, ms. l/n.” “why, thank you, mr huang!” chuckling, renjun shook his head, looking up at the sky. “even the moon doesn’t shine as bright as you tonight.” he muttered softly, but loud enough for you to hear it.

“well, no wonder the sky is so dark. all the color is in your eyes.” you retaliated.

“okay then, they say to only think about what’s pure and lovely. that’s probably why my mind always thinks about you.”

“are we seriously having a who-can-come-up-with-a-better-pickup-line contest?”

“maybe.”

“wow, are we really friends or something more?”

“oh,” renjun stared at you. you stared back. avoiding the very awkward silence, you switched on your phone, staring blankly at the wallpaper. luckily, the waiter decided to save you both from the moment by getting your food. you picked at your pasta, looking up to see renjun making eye contact. “anyways.” he began.

“yes.” you finished.

and just like that, you two were friends again.

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

“y/n, date him.”

jeno came up to you one day, and you stared at him suspiciously. “where’s this coming from?” you asked him sternly, and he looked back at you with equal intensity. “MAKE HIM JEALOUS, DO SOMETHING, I DON’T KNOW! IT’S SO ANNOYING TO SEE YOUR LOVEY-DOVEY EYES ALL OVER EACH OTHER. be selfless and think about the bitches back home, y/n!” you rolled your eyes at his little dialogue.

“you do know you’re the athlete because you can’t do drama, right?” you said sassily, and he raised an eyebrow. “you do know you’re the theatre nerd because i can throw you across the room right now without flinching an eye, right?”

“ooookaaaay, let’s not get violent here.” you hastily spoke up, and jeno laughed. “no guarantee.” he said mysteriously, and you punched him playfully. “you were joking, right?”

a blank silence.

“RIGHT?” you asked, slowly panicking, and jeno quickly answered, “yes, yes! of course, y/n.” a little too quickly for your taste.

“okay, now i’m just a bit scared. anyways, i’m scared to ruin the relationship.” “i can tell, y/n. but what kind of relationship is it anymore?” jeno asked you, and you were silent, deep in thought. “okay, not gonna lie, i see your point.” “i know.” he smirked, and you sighed irritably. “shut up, jeno.” “if i did, i wouldn’t be as fun!” “..okay, you’re right.”

“i know.”

“do you only know those two words fluently, or is it like you memorised them as a basic response-?” you asked him smoothly, and it was his turn to be annoyed. “why are we like this?” “i don’t even know, but BACK TO THE POINT.”

“right, go date him.”

“that’s not helpful my dude.”

“whatever, at least i figured out you both like each other. dumb-dumbs.”

“shut the fuck up. give me good advice instead of pointlessly insulting me.”

“insulting you is more fun, but sure. make him jealous, prove he likes you, then provoke him to ask you out, grow up, get married, have kids, watch them grow up, slap them for dating the wrong kind of people, watch their first breakup, watch their second, then watch them eventually get married, then watch your grandchildren, then just die.”

you were kind of scared of this jeno. “are you okay?” “alright, maybe i had too much coffee. i was dared to try jaemin’s coffee,” he admitted, and you slapped a hand to your forehead. “which bitch gave you the idea to do that? everyone knows no one can handle that coffee.”

“it was jaemin himself, duh!”

shaking your head disapprovingly, you turned to him, squinting your eyes. realizing a little too slow that you were analysing something about him, he imitated your expression, the two of you looking like a pair of monkeys.

“what’s going on in that genius mind of yours, y/n?”

“you seem like the hottie of the batch. everyone would be jealous. nice proportions, nice hair. you’re a good friend, and you won’t catch feelings because you’re already in love with ryujin. OKAY THEN.” you began in a low voice, and nodded privately, thinking to yourself.

“WELL, IF YOU’D BE SO KIND AS TO LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU’RE PLANNING WITH ME-?” he too began, and you raised a hand to inform him to stop. “fake date me, jeno! we can make renjun and ryujin both jealous!”

he paused, and thought about it. “sure, let’s do this shit.”

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

little did you two know that at the time, ryujin and renjun had already met up privately to discuss the very same matter but in a different perspective.

“okay, so, renjun. we all know you are in love with y/n, and she loves you. so i propose an interesting plan. how about you fake date someone to prove it?”

renjun stared at ryujin, nodding slowly. “and how does this so-called plan work? explain in detail.”

“date someone, make y/n jealous, provoke her, make her lose her shit and confess to you, then graduate, marry each other, get a super boring job, realize you both don’t love each other anymore, take a break, then realize you do still love each other, get back together, soon have kids, watch them face many heartbreaks and write songs about it, then finally fall in love, watch them get married, have kids of their own and look after them, buy your grandkids gifts and what-not, then die.”

renjun privately thought jeno and ryujin were perfect for each other. “okay, that was a bit too detailed.” ryujin shrugged. “you asked for it!”

“anyways. who do you suggest i fake date?” “me.”

ryujin casually began picking at her nails while renjun processed a bit. “okay. why?” “because. i need to make jeno jealous too. it’s not a want, it’s a need. we both have been flirting a bit, but i don’t know if he likes me back or not. so why not help ourselves! it’s a win-win.”

“why would you bring up winwin?” renjun asked accusingly. “I MEANT, WIN HYPHEN WIN. you know, fifty percent perfect profit for the pair of us.” renjun formed a comical ‘o’ with his mouth, and made a poker face. “alright. let’s do this.”

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

“HI BRO!” renjun called, searching for you in the dorm. “hey!” you replied, looking up from your laptop. “i have something to tell you.” “me too!”

“you go first!” “no, you.” “no, it’s fine, you go first.” “no, i’m fine, go first.”

“you know what? let’s roll the damn dice. even numbers, you go first, odd numbers, i go second.”

“ALRIGHT! oh. wait.” you said, and renjun laughed loudly. “okay. okay. odd numbers, me, even, you.” nodding, you opened google, searching for the roll the dice program. rolling it, an even number popped up. “oh. four. even. fine. jeno asked me out! i’m dating him right now,” you said as fast as you could, trying to rip off the bandage.

“oh, funny. i’m dating ryujin!” renjun said casually, and you nodded. “interesting, good for you!” you replied, equally casual. “right! happy for you too!” he smiled, and you smiled back. “i actually have work to do, so i’ll get to it.”

“right, me too.” renjun nodded slowly. you both stared at each other for a while, and renjun walked off, waving, towards his room. opening your imessages with jeno, you told him about what had just happened. he replied, saying that it was fine, and that he’d meet you the next day. wishing you a good night, he went offline, and you sent him a reply back.

this was already getting difficult.

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

it had been three days since you four had began fake dating the wrong people. much to your distaste, renjun had offered a double date, to which jeno had happily agreed. right now, you were stuck deep in an abyss of your thoughts while jeno had been prodding you to get ready.

“dude, you must look sexy.”

seeing a bright light in front of your eyes, you realized jeno had shined his phone’s too-bright flashlight in your eyes to make you notice him. “i know, but what do i wear?”

jeno began promptly laying out dresses for you to choose from, and you scrutinized each of them. you wanted to save the one renjun loved for a special occasion, so that was out of the question. you did not want to look too emo, so the entirely black one was out of the question too. jeno finally stopped after pulling out seven dresses in total, of which two were cancelled.

“i like this pink one, and the navy blue one.” jeno said, pointing out two and picking them up, placing them away from the others to highlight them. the pink one was glittery, and shone bright in the light of your room, the sequins on it shining too.

the navy blue one was your favorite. it was a simple dress, and that’s what you liked about it. it didn’t have any patterns on it, but still looked great on you. and that’s why you decided to go with it, and shooed jeno out to get ready.

jeno’s jaw dropped when he saw you come out of your room. “nice!” he exclaimed, and you smiled. “thanks, jeno. you look great too.” “i know, y/n,” he replied. and you laughed, shaking your head. “let’s leave? renjun will be leaving from ryujin’s place he told me.” jeno asked you.

readying yourself, you got on your toes, and got back to normal, trying not to show that you were nervous. “yes, jeno. let’s go.”

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

“and then, she went and said that he was a goat!”

renjun was currently filling in jeno and ryujin on all your embarrassing moments, and the other two weren’t exactly being kind. roaring with laughter at your foolishness as a six year old, who misidentified a man as a goat, jeno and ryujin were wiping tears from their eyes. “y/n, i had no idea you were so funny!” ryujin laughed, and jeno said, trying to hold in his laughter to speak clearly, “she still is funny, trust me.” “i can tell!” ryujin said, and continued cackling.

you knew renjun too well. he seemed to be painfully smiling, like he actually didn’t want to be there. oh, you were very close to the right answer, though. renjun did want to be there, but with a different date. the same went for each of you. if only any one of you had the courage to say that they didn’t want the same date, but wanted someone else. life would’ve been much, much easier.

but there you four were, dining on fancy food, when all you wanted to do was hug the people each of you loved. you, however, were desperate to know if renjun liked you in that way or not before you jumped to any conclusions and went and ruined your friendship. how smart, right?

you were starting to change your mind though.

just as the first course arrived, things had already started to become awkward. losing conversation ideas, everyone was on their phone, defeating the purpose of the so called ‘double date’. you, in fact, were a hundred percent convinced that this wouldn’t work. so you texted jeno.

you — 20:26 PM

This is getting sad.

The awkwardness I’m experiencing right now is undefeatable.

looking up from your phone, you saw the notifications on jeno’s phone, while he was digging in. he stopped mid-spoon, and responded to you.

jeno — 20:26 PM

I agree with you, but what do I say??

We can’t even admit anything. This is very depressing.

you — 20:27 PM

Alright then. I feel like if one of us doesn’t speak up, the awkwardness will only escalate. What now?

jeno is typing . . .

just before you received his text back, renjun had already opened his mouth to speak.

“okay, i cannot take this anymore.” he began. “we—“

he paused, and you coaxed him to speak up. “what?” you persuaded. “what are you saying?” ryujin prodded him, and he inhaled deeply. “we are fake dating.” he said as quickly as possible, as though it’d rip off the bandage without hurting. much to his surprise, yours and jeno’s reactions were less-than-shocked. “oh…” you and jeno chorused. jeno looked at you, and you nodded to him softly. “well, we are too.”

“oh my god, this is amazing news.” ryujin sighed with relief. “wow, go figure,” you replied jokingly, and ryujin laughed. “we should talk more, y/n!” she said, and you nodded. “here, type in your number, ryujin,” you handed her your phone, and she set up her contact, saving her nickname as ‘ryujin 😏’. not even questioning it, you mimicked the emoji, and she copied your expression.

meanwhile, the guys had been silently eating their appetizers, staring at the exchange between you two as though it was a tennis match, their eyes following you both. both of you turned to your fake dates, trying not to burst with laughter. the waiter, who was patiently waiting for someone to respond to his multiple questions about who wanted what, was looking a bit on edge.

“miss? would you please be so kind as to tell me whether you’d like the chicken or the greens as your appetizer?” he enquired with his voice hinting that he was either extremely tired of standing, or tired of you. “ummm, i’ll have the chicken!” ryujin said, and you opted for the greens.

the rest of the dinner went considerably well, although there was a lot of tension [friendly, of course] between you and renjun. you two were starting to have an idea that you loved each other, but there was still no courage in the both of your minds to say it out loud.

after dessert, and a delicious one at that, jeno went with ryujin, who had hit it off with her immediately, to drop her back home. that left you and renjun to go to your dorm together. the drive back was kind of awkward, but it was fine, you thought.

renjun took a deep breath. “y/n, are you an electrician? ‘cause you light up my days and nights!”

“RENJUN!”

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

the days flew by, and the amount of pick-up lines the two of you were using on each other were also flying by. in fact, you realized that the amount of times you had looked for pick-up lines had completely changed your youtube recommendations. the first thing that popped up was ‘how to know if he likes you or not’.

life was trying to tell you something.

you tapped on the sacred video, slightly worried. “HEY Y/N!” renjun’s voice called, and you jumped, quickly switching off your phone. “dude, you good?” he asked you, noticing your heavy breathing. “yeah, i’m great. not that you scared me or anything, renjun.” you deadpanned. “hey! no need to be sarcastic, you nincompoop.” he responded cheerfully, showing you a wonderfully decorated box.

“what’s that?” you asked curiously, grabbing the box from him. “a gift, since it’s your birthday week.” “wait, it is? oh, of course it is. i meant, for me?” you rambled, and he grinned cheekily. “who else, called y/n, lives with me in our dorm?” he began, gasping dramatically. “am i with a devil right now?” he slapped a hand to his mouth.

you rolled your eyes, grabbing your phone to open the camera.

“smile, bitch. you’re going on the hall of stupidity.”

he pursed his lips, saying threateningly, “if you don’t open that shit in the next two minutes i don’t know what i will do.” “wow, so threatened!” you said with a fake hint of fear. you began opening the present elegantly and delicately anyway, already placing facts in your head. it was about the size of your palm, and as you opened it, you realized it was gold.

a minimal gold chain had been fit into a box, on which the words ‘happy birthday week, y/n!’ had been engraved into. it had an opening (sort of) from which a single, pretty butterfly hung. you brought it to your eye, gaping in awe at the prettiness simply radiating from it.

“renjun! you shouldn’t have, how much did this even cost you?” you said, a few fluttery notes escaping among the syllables of the sentence. “the price doesn’t matter. i could afford it. did you like it?”

“um, obviously? does it not look like it? bitch?” you said, getting up to place the box on your bedside table. “not gonna wear it now?”

“no, i’ll wear it on my birthday. looks too radiant to wear it for no reason.”

“you are not ‘no reason’, you extraordinarily stupid person.”

“either way.”

“look, y/n, can i confess something?” he asked you, his voice lowering by a few octaves. “of course, what’s up?” you asked him, gesturing for him to sit on your bed. “okay. so. i may love you?” he asked questioningly. “is that a question or a statement, renjun?”

“fine. i will say something now. pay attention, okay? i love you. y/n l/n, i love you. the way you talk, your voice, your beauty, your hair, your vocabulary — which is dumb sometimes but whatever — the way you smile, your eye color, your taste in stuff, the way your eyes light up whenever you see your friends. and nothing can change that.”

your jaw dropped. “renjun.. i’m sorry, but we can’t, i’m scared.” you said, getting up. you didn’t even know why you turned him down when he didn’t even ask you out. you walked out the door, trying to make sense of what he and you had just said.

what had you done?

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

renjun didn’t say anything. in fact, he had completely ignored you. he did look a bit tearful, but you couldn’t even say anything. you couldn’t possibly blame him for something you turned down, right?

it was around two days before your birthday, the twentieth of march. all the music majors had a performance, wherein they had to perform live, in front of the whole university, songs they had composed themselves. you were there for renjun, although you both weren’t on speaking terms yet.

sighing, you walked over to the auditorium. renjun’s performance was the last, from what you understood of the programme the visual arts majors had made.

you were slightly getting bored of everyone’s performances. you had to admit they performed well, but they had composed the most boring songs possible. you were just about to stretch yourself when you realized it was a very shy renjun who had come up on stage. your eyes widened when you noticed he carried a guitar with him. he had once told you he had a fear of playing the guitar because he had embarrassed himself at music camp when he was ten. this was something new that you made a note to ask him later.

it then hit you that the two of you weren’t talking to each other.

“hi everyone, i’m huang renjun. i’m going to perform a song called my flower, which i composed on the guitar in the ‘a’ scale. it’s dedicated to my long time crush and best friend, whose birthday coincidentally happens to be the day after tomorrow. y/n l/n, this one’s for you.

oh, my flower,

thought i could protect you from the world

i’m sorry, my flower

you’re so pretty, the way you twirl

oh, my flower, wish i could help more,

i’m sorry, my flower, i know i’ve been a bore.”

he began his introduction in a low voice, scared. however, he cheered up when he realized that the crowd were clapping for him.

“i know, you know, it doesn’t take a while,

no matter what, you can always smile

i’m sure this is super cringe, please forgive me

this is my first ever song, i’m trying, don’t you see?

my dear flower, laugh the way you do

one day, i know my face will be blue

trying to keep my love a secret from you

i can’t take it anymore, my god, that’s true

oh, my flower,

thought i could protect you from the world

i’m sorry, my flower

you’re so pretty, the way you twirl.

oh, my flower, wish i could help more,

i’m sorry, my flower, i know i’ve been a bore.

and i wish one day you could see

all the things i’m trying to do,

for you

oh, my flower,

i love you so very much,

oh, my flower,

thanks to you, my heart’s in a crutch.”

the crowd was silent. then everyone got up, joining their hands together for the one and only huang renjun. the dreamies were whistling, and renjun stared at you.

the tears in your eyes were the only reaction he needed.

after going to the dormitory, you congratulated him awkwardly. the relationship between you two was a bit better, but you knew what you could do to fix it.

and that’s what you were going to do.

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

“hey, my favorite dudes!” you exclaimed the next day. you had specially requested chenle and jeno to meet up with you in private. “what do you want, y/n?” chenle asked, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “look up from that phone, and i’ll tell you what’s up.” you scolded him.

finally looking up, he surveyed the eager expression on your face. “tell us what’s up.” “i’m going to do something special for renjun. i was thinking of yelling the whole of the dormitories down, but anything that doesn’t require me losing my voice?”

“do it. lose your voice.” jeno said firmly. “i actually agree with jeno. it shows that he means a lot to you.”

“oh. okay. if he says that i didn’t need to, i will be coming after you. wait. and. watch.” you menacingly voiced, and chenle painfully smiled. “we know, y/n. don’t blow this.”

nodding, you left them to pay for their own bill, because you had miraculously forgotten your wallet.

“Y/N!” two voices chorused, exasperated.

──────────────────── [ ☆ ] ────────────────────

you — 6:34 pm

renjun come to the balcony kind of thingy

renjun — 6:34 pm

“RENJUN, I LOVE YOU!” you screamed, pointing at jaemin and jeno, who thrusted out a huge poster you had made with their help.

“I LOVE THE WAY YOU BEHAVE DUMB, THE WAY YOU GET NERVOUS WHEN YOU’RE ON STAGE, YOUR LAUGH, YOUR STUPID PICK-UP LINES, THAT SONG YOU DEDICATED TO ME, YOUR GUITAR SKILLS, YOUR SINGING, YOUR SMILE, THE WAY YOUR EARS GO RED SOMETIMES WHEN YOU’RE SHY OR EMBARRASSED.

THE CONCLUSION IS, I LOVE YOU.”

“I LOVE YOU TOO, IDIOT! I’D STEAL YOU ROSES RIGHT NOW.” he yelled back, running down. you hugged him and kissed him full on the lips. the rest of the students clapped, and some even whistled.

and so it was the day before your birthday, that is, the nineteenth of march, at six thirty-seven in the evening that you had the best boyfriend — huang renjun.

──────────────────── [📍] ────────────────────

199 notes · View notes

out-of-jams · 4 years ago

Text

War & Peace || jhs

↠ War & Peace ↞ “Your rivalry with Jung Hoseok first began at the tender age of five, right after you’d beamed a cardboard box of crayons straight at his forehead. He’d bled and it’d later left behind a thin scar that sliced clean through his right eyebrow. You should’ve felt guilty, but you hadn’t. Still didn’t.

He’d had it coming for trying to Compel you to hand them over anyway. And technically, you did hand them over. Just not in the way he’d probably wanted. At least, that was what you’d told the teacher after Hoseok had growled wildly at you from across the playroom table.

But you know what they say; all’s fair in love and war.”

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings/Genre: Alpha!Hoseok. Omega!Reader. Enemies to lovers. ABO dynamics. Explicit language. Fluff.Slight angst. Cliché spin-the-bottle scene. Pining. They’re both annoying idiots. Competition au(?). Bad puns. Cliche Jackson throwing a party (a party ain’t a party if it ain’t a Jackson Wang party).

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.

The room was abuzz.

You paused where you stood at the entrance to the Four Seasons’ Hotel ballroom. Fingers tightening around the small, black clutch bag in your hand, you let your eyes rove over expensive dresses and suits and quaffed hair and curls. At least the spaghetti strap, two piece off-white dress your mother had bought (and forced you to wear) fit the occasion quite well, so your inherent fear of accidentally standing out wouldn’t come to fruition.

Whoever had decorated the ballroom had pulled out all the stops. There were miniature chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, lights turned to a dim setting. Small-yet-cosy circular tables were spread out evenly, chairs for two either occupied or emptied. A man in a catering ensemble approached you, extending his tray of bubbly champagne. Normally you wouldn’t put alcohol of any kind into your body, but you’d make an exception just that once. You took one with a smile of thanks and swallowed a mouthful in an attempt to chase away your nerves.

When your parents had first approached you about attending the matchmaking event, you’d been wary. The events themselves weren’t rare; young adults who had yet to find a mate would go to them. They had a ninety-nine percent success rate when it came to matching you. However, you found the whole thing to be quite archaic.

It wasn’t that you were against love or finding a mate or anything like that, you just didn’t think that attaching yourself to another person for life should be so significant. You’d been too busy during college getting your degree to date anyone seriously. And you’d never felt the desire to, hadn’t needed to.

As an Omega, you were the lowest tier in the societal hierarchy. And as an unmated Omega, you were a rare commodity. It was expected for an Omega to be mated before they even reached their twenties. Something about needing to be taken care of or some other bullshit that you disagreed with. You could take perfectly good care of yourself.

But when you’d come home mateless after graduation to visit your parents before trying to find a job with your degree, they’d been concerned. Your mother, a fellow Omega, had sat you down and forced you to fill out the overly long, three hundred questionnaire for the matchmaking service. Of course, you’d rolled your eyes, but ended up relenting. You’d decided that you’d just go to the damn event, let the mysterious matchmakers do their thing, give some excuse to leave sometime in the middle of the thing, and then go home and tell your parents that you’d tried.

You should’ve known that it wouldn’t be that easy.

Glancing down at the dark red card the size of your palm that the woman manning the check-in desk had given you, you memorized the two numbers printed on it. As if you hadn’t looked at it a few dozen times already. Just in case. You didn’t want to be there, but you weren’t about to somehow accidentally embarrass yourself either.

The flared, lace skirt of your dress brushed against your legs while you made your way through the room, eyes scanning the number placards on the table in search of your own. Some of them already had couples sitting at them, engaged in conversation and hiding shy smiles behind dainty hands. Your heels click-clacked against the shiny marble flooring as you weaved between others who were still finding their seats.

Eight, nine, ten, you mentally counted in your head, passing by the white-clothed tables. Eleven.

Your feet halted and you glanced down at your card one last time before looking up. Table twelve was already occupied, leaving a single seat left.

“Wow,” you murmured through red painted lips. He looked up at the sound of your voice, soulfully deep brown irises alighting on your form. Dark hair parted perfectly to reveal the smooth, tan skin of his forehead curled above a single one of those eyes. Heart-shaped lips that appeared soft to the touch parted in surprise. “I know you almost failed fifth grade math, but I didn’t think you were still this bad at counting.”

"I—what are you doing here?” Jung Hoseok looked so utterly bewildered that it would’ve been endearing if it had been anyone but him. He subconsciously smoothed a ringed hand down the front of his midnight black satin tux and stared at you like he’d never seen you before.

“What are you doing here?” You avoided answering his question with a raised eyebrow.

“What does it look like I’m doing here?”

“It looks like you’re sitting at my table,” you gestured at the aforementioned seat with your flute of champagne.

“No, I’m sitting at my table.” Hoseok tilted his head, sharp jawline standing out and tiny dimples revealing themselves as he pursed his mouth. “It’s not my fault that you can’t read.”

“Excuse me?” A sound of indignation sprang from the back of your throat and you dropped your clutch on the table in order to flip around the tiny card in your hand. The number twelve was embedded on it in swirling, looping gold font. “Now move.”

He did not, in fact, move. He just sat there like an impressive impersonation of a statue. The only part of him that moved was when those espresso hued eyes of his widened in either surprise or shock, you didn’t know. Nor did you care. Or at least you hadn’t until he slowly lifted a hand to show you his own card with the number twelve printed on it.

And then you too, did the best performance you could muster at being frozen solid. As if the universe was attempting to prove that the two of you had, in fact, been matched together, your voices harmonized as you spoke at the same exact time:

“Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me.”

(Seventeen years ago)

Your rivalry with Jung Hoseok first began at the tender age of five, right after you’d beamed a cardboard box of crayons straight at his forehead. He’d bled, and it’d later left behind a thin scar that sliced clean through his right eyebrow. You should’ve felt guilty, but you hadn’t. Still didn’t.

He’d had it coming for trying to Compel you to hand them over anyway. And technically, you did hand them over. Just not in the way he’d probably wanted. At least, that’s what you’d told the teacher after Hoseok growled wildly at you from across the playroom table.

The kindergarten classroom had been packed with screaming, rambunctious toddlers. It was an important time in every child’s life — not because that was the age where friendships first began; it was when nature started to reveal itself. When the part of the brain in charge of scent glands that separated the Alphas from the Betas from the Omegas developed.

You’d been relegated to one of the tables in the corner with all the rest of the soft, floral smelling, shy Omegas. Until the green colored crayon you’d been using to smear across your paper in an attempt at drawing the vast forest outside ran out. The closest resupply of your writing instrument had been lying all the way across the room on one of the empty tables.

Of course, because fate was nothing but a bitch, your quick hands snatched the crayon box up point-two seconds before a pouting Jung Hoseok could. He’d looked at you with those gentle, chocolate brown eyes of his, and then the first words he’d ever spoken to you passed his heart shaped lips.

“Hey, give it!”

And yours to him. “No way! I got them first, loser!”

The rounded apples of his cheeks puffed up with a scowl, jaw clenched. If he’d been taller than you, maybe he would’ve been intimidating. But to you, he’d just looked like a fluffed up chicken.

“Well, you’re an Omega and I’m an Alpha, so you gotta do what I say,” his tongue fumbled over the larger words and he crossed his arms over his chest with a look that told you he thought he’d just won the battle.

“Make me,” scoffing, you leveled him with a glare and waved the box of crayons under his perfectly straight nose.

“Fine.” His eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. “Give them.” His dark irises flashed gold as he laced his words with the power of an Alpha Command.

If he were older and had more of a grip over his powers, perhaps you would’ve felt compelled. But the only thing that overcame you was annoyance. Your fingers tightened around the box; your arm cocked back. “Fine.”

And it went careening straight into his forehead with a crack! that had all heads in the room turning to look back. Sticking your nose in the air, you slipped your stolen green crayon into your dress pocket and skipped back to your table.

That was when your rivalry first started.

And the war began.

Eleven years later and the whole town knew of your blatant dislike for one another. It was difficult not to when the moment the two of you entered the same room, you were immediately at each other’s throats. Some of the older, more set-in-their-ways Alphas frowned upon your rivalry with Jung Hoseok. Though they were more annoyed at the fact that he never used his Alpha Compulsion to “put his mouthy Omega in her place” than anything else.

His. Hearing them call you his never failed to absolutely infuriate you. Like you were nothing other than a piece of property. Like you belonged to the one person in the world who you despised the most. Like you could belong to anyone at all.

Omegas were supposed to cow to Betas, and above all, Alphas. The hierarchy had been around since the beginning of time. Since Alphrina, the goddess of all mankind, had created the first Alpha in her image. They were the strongest of the Three, Betas coming in second and Omegas last.

If Hoseok had been like any other Alpha, then he probably would’ve long since made you submit to him. But he never had. Lisa, your childhood best friend and the town’s most popular female Alpha, had theorized that maybe he just didn’t know how to use his Alpha powers. But you knew better. His pride would never recover if he’d been forced to Compel you into listening to him.

Not even after you’d paid Jeon Jungkook a hefty sum to switch Hoseok’s shampoo bottle during the football team’s after practice shower with a similar one you’d filled with green hair dye back in high school. He’d stormed up to your locker the next day, cheeks aflame with rage and jaw clenched while he spat out (true) accusations.

But he’d had no proof that you’d been the one to make him look like a very festive Christmas tree, what with the already bright red strands of his hair stained with streaks of green. You’d thoroughly made sure that Jungkook would do it while the team was actually showering, so the soap and hot water would wash away any lingering scent of the culprit.

Hoseok had gotten you back, of course, by sticking a huge glob of chewing gum in your hair after you’d fallen asleep on your desk during history class. You’d cried for two days straight after your mom had to chop off your long locks into a shoulder length bob. And the cycle repeated itself with you taking revenge by stealing the janitor’s keys after school, and hiding a dead fish in Hoseok’s locker to decompose over the two week long Christmas break.

At least your rivalry had stopped anyone else from trying to mess with you due to your Omega status. Either they’d been too afraid of stepping on Hoseok’s toes, or had just been way too entertained by your antics, you weren’t sure. But you weren’t complaining, not when you saw how the other Omega’s in your school had been treated.

It hadn’t been good.

At all.

Suffice to say, maybe you would be somewhat grateful for Hoseok if you didn’t despise his existence so much.

You blamed your last weekend of your high school career for implanting the seed into your mind. For flip-turning your opinion of Jung Hoseok right upside down. Not that you’d exactly noticed it at first; it’d just kickstarted the slow sliver of doubt that began to fester.

Partying wasn’t usually your thing. You didn’t have anything against it, nor the people that chose to do so, you just refused to partake in anything that could alter your state of mind. Because being an Omega not in full control of yourself was a dangerous thing to be. But it was the end of mandated schooling and a very important milestone that deserved celebrating.

Which was the exact argument that Lisa had used in order to convince you to go with her and Jennie (a Beta and the most recent addition to your friend group) to the after graduation party. Jackson Wang’s house was unnecessarily massive, most likely due to both of his Alpha parents being on the city council. He’d somehow been able to convince them to take a weekend vacation and leave the estate in his (ir)responsible hands.

By the time you pulled up with both of your friends, the party was in full swing. Cars littered the curved driveway all the way down to the street below. (And seeing as how the Wang Estate was fifty acres, that was a long way down.) Music poured out from the opened front doors, heavy bass rattling the windows of Lisa’s Nissan.

You pressed your nose against the passenger side glass with a grimace. Fiddling with the overly tight dress that Jennie had forced you into, you sighed deeply.

“Oh, come on, Y/n, it’ll be fun,” Jennie leaned forward from the backseat to cheer encouragingly.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you argued and finally turned away from the steadily approaching mansion.

“You didn’t have to. You have that I-Don’t-Want-To-Be-Here face,” Lisa spoke up from the driver’s seat, eyes intently focused on finding a parking spot.

You snorted. “That’s because I don’t. Being surrounded by loud, drunk Alphas and Betas isn’t the most appealing way to spend my Friday night, thank you very much.”

“We already told you that we’re going to watch out for you tonight.” Lisa made a noise in the back of her throat when she finally found somewhere to leave her vehicle.

“Exactly. Remember what happened last time some asshole Beta harassed you?”

“You mean the time Lisa almost got arrested when she fought that guy in the McDonald’s line?”

“Yup, that’s the one.”

“I’m still mad I never got my McDouble,” Lisa sighed forlornly and cut the engine to her car.

“All you think about is food,” Jennie laughed, quickly scrambling out of the car before Lisa could turn around and swat at her leg.

“Well, she’s not wrong.” The only thing that saved you from your best friend’s wrath was the fact that you were faster than she was.

Inside the house was just as you’d expected: crowded, loud, so many smells and sounds that had your heightened senses almost crying from overstimulation. You followed Jennie and Lisa to the kitchen for them to make themselves drinks (and to snatch up a can of soda for yourself).

Somehow, somehow, your night ended up with Lisa shoving her tongue down some poor Beta’s throat, and you stuck sitting in a circle in the basement of Jackson Wang’s overly large house. Playing a game of spin-the-bottle with a group of people that you barely knew. Well, most of them anyway.

And you hadn’t intended to play at all, hadn’t had any interest in it, but one look at your mortal enemy’s shit-eating grin sitting across from you had made you stop yourself right before you bowed out. Because you knew for a damn fact that if you’d tried, he would’ve ended up saying something to try and embarrass you.

So instead, you reached out and watched intently as the beer bottle spun around and around and around and around. The green hue of the glass gleamed beneath the dim, blue lights in the basement tauntingly. Everything slowed down, your heartbeat thundered in your eardrums, the music faded into the background. You thought it’d never stop.

Until it did.

A hush fell around the group as you sluggishly trailed your eyes upwards and locked them onto your apparent make-out partner. Fate was a bitch and your life was nothing but a cosmic joke. Because of course, of course, clichés wouldn’t be clichés if they weren’t clichés.

And god you hated clichés.

“Ew no,” slipped out of your mouth unhindered before you could even think to form the syllables.

Directly across the circle, Hoseok raised a perfectly shaped dark eyebrow. (You hated he looked so good even when his hair was such an obnoxious and unflattering shade of red.) That annoying, self-assured smirk tugged at the corner of his coral hued, heart-shaped mouth. “Afraid?”

Everyone around the circle had fallen silent, choosing to sit back and watch the drama unfold instead of talking over it. Like you were some kind of live entertainment, their heads bouncing back and forth between the two of you. So when you scoffed, it was loud enough that every ear could hear it.

“I’m not afraid, I just don’t want you touching me because you’ve slept with so many people. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“Careful, you sound a little jealous there, L/n.” A second eyebrow jumped up to join the first and Hoseok leaned his weight forward. That insufferable smirk grew.

“Jealous?” Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “As if I’d ever be jealous of anything involving you, Jung.”

“It’s okay to admit it,” he shrugged casually. “If you ask me, I think it’s kind of flattering. Sad and a little pathetic, but flattering.”

“What would I possibly be jealous of? Didn’t you have an STD last month?” You shot back with an unamused snort.

He did that thing again where the apples of his cheeks puffed up and his mouth pursed. While that expression had made him appear very non-intimidating in the past, with puberty had come the sharpening of his jawline and the development of high cheekbones. Maybe if it were any other Alpha looking at you like that, your inner Omega would’ve been cowering. But witnessing someone pee their pants and then cry about it in the first grade tended to make it impossible to see them as menacing.

“That was just a rumor!” Hoseok glared, face beginning to pink beneath the stares of everyone in the room.

“That’s not what Sulgi said,” you hummed. “Yikes.”

“You—”

“As entertaining as this foreplay is to watch,” Jackson’s deep voice piped up, leaning back on his hands from where he sat between two girls you didn’t recognize. “I’d like to take my turn sometime tonight. So either kiss or go fight out in the parking lot, I don’t care.”

Hoseok’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, more than likely contemplating arguing with the party host (you knew he didn’t like being ordered around, especially by another Alpha), before a spark of mischievous amusement lit up his mocha colored irises and he turned back to you, head tilted. “I would love to move on, but L/n over here is too afraid to.”

Your lip curled. “I already told you that I—”

“Nervous then? I bet that you haven’t even been kissed before, have you?”

Even though he was correct, you refused to allow him to know it. So you’d never kissed someone before, who cared? People graduated high school all the time without locking lips with someone else. And it wasn’t like you’d never had the chance to—you’d had plenty of dating offers—you’d just never found any of them worthy enough to kiss. That was it.

Not that Jung Hoseok needed to know that.

So you lied.

“Of course I have.”

“Oh really.” It wasn’t a question. “Who?”

“That’s none of your business,” you sniffed.

Hoseok looked like a wolf right before it pounced on its prey: smug. “Then what’s the problem then? Afraid you’d like it?”

“Wow, I don’t know how you fit through the door with your ego as inflated as it is. Like I’d ever enjoy kissing you. It took Sulgi months to shut up about how bad you are at it.”

His haughty expression dropped from his face and his stare darkened at the blatant insult. You realized your mistake the very moment that the challenge sparked within his eyes. He stood slowly, gaze locked on your own as he stepped over the bottle in the middle of the floor. When he reached you, his hand shot down and grasped onto your upper arm, lifting you from your cross-legged seat and onto the soles of your shoes.

“Wha—” He cut off your indignant protest with his mouth before it could fully form.

The last thing you ever would have expected was for Jung Hoseok to kiss you, let alone softly. For his mouth to press against yours with just enough pressure to be labeled as delicate—like the tickling of butterfly wings. He trapped your bottom lip between both of his, slender fingers threading through the hair at the nape of your neck. You shouldn’t have let him touch the most sensitive part of your body. Shouldn’t have instinctively liked it.

Shouldn’t have let your eyes flutter closed and kissed him back. But you were too wrapped up in his strong scent, the warmth of his skin, the gentle exhaling of air as he breathed, the lingering taste of the alcohol from his emptied cup. One kiss turned into two, into three, into four. Until your hands came up to grasp the material of his shirt between your fingers.

Jung Hoseok kissed you like you’d always wanted to be kissed. Slowly and softly and warmly. When his tongue slipped between your lips and touched yours, it wasn’t with the roughness of someone trying to take control. It was a dance; one where he took the lead subtly and you willingly let him do it.

His hand on your arm found your waist and pulled you close, pressed your fronts together until there was no longer any space separating you. A sigh escaped when his tongue brushed against yours more firmly, more determined to have you melting and pliant beneath his touch. Until you had to swallow a whimper when he finally pulled away.

He didn’t go far, just enough to look at you down the slope of his straight nose, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy and mouth kiss-swollen. You hated him then, in that moment, more than you ever had before. Hated him for stealing your first kiss. Hated him for making you want to lean forward and pull him back until you could no longer breathe. Hated him for dropping his hands from your heated skin with a wink and that knowing smirk of his.

Hated him.

The rest of the game had been a blur after that. You’d sat back down between Jennie (ignoring her imploring expression) and a Beta whom you couldn’t even process the face of. You didn’t spin again, had been content to just sit next to your friend and sip at your almost empty can of soda.

And you hated, hated, hated yourself for noticing that Hoseok never took another turn either.

(Present Time)

You’d been content with the fact that you’d never have to see your rival again after that night. With high school finally over, you would be going off to college on the other side of the country and would finally be free. To say that you’d been ecstatic would’ve been an understatement. There would be no more biting comments aimed at you in the hallway, no more having to be paranoid about being the victim of another of Hoseok and his friend’s pranks.

No more Hoseok.

It had been a glorious, stress-free (to an extent) four years of your life. Both Lisa and Jennie had applied to and been accepted to the same university as you, so you’d split the rent three ways and moved in together. City life had been a difficult adjustment, a culture shock, but now you were used to it and absolutely loved it.

Which meant that fate had to come around and fuck things up.

Silence had fallen between both you and Hoseok. All around you, couples sitting at the other tables in the expansive ballroom were jabbering away, getting to know one another to see how compatible they were. Laughter and glasses clinking harmonized together with the gentle music playing from the hotel speakers hidden somewhere you couldn’t see.

You’d collapsed bonelessly into your seat after the shock of being matchmade with your mortal enemy wore off. Now you were just annoyed. At your parents for making you go to the stupid thing, at yourself for not lying on your questionnaire, at the universe for existing. At Hoseok for existing. There was a lot to process.

Obviously, the matchmaking service was flawed, false, fake, inaccurate. And you were glad that you hadn’t been excited for the event in the first place, because you would’ve been dead by now. Reason of death? Disappointment. How in the world someone could think you and Hoseok were compatible at all was a complete mystery to you.

Glancing up from where you’d been glaring at your still half full flute of champagne, you eyed your unwelcome companion. Hoseok was looking out into the crowded room, stare blank as his mind went somewhere you had no interest in trying to follow even if you could. Four years had passed since you’d last laid eyes on him and in that time he’d changed physically, but also still looked the same.

No longer was he the teenager who’d yet to grow into his cheekbones, though he still had those broad shoulders and large hands and muscular-yet-slim athletic build. He’d always been handsome—not that you’d ever tell him that, even if your life was at stake—and his looks had only matured. Hoseok was all angles and sharp lines and deep set eyes framed by long lashes that always made you secretly jealous.

Which only fueled your puzzlement.

“Why are you here?”

He blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts were running through his mind and turned back to you. “What?”

“Why are you here,” you asked slowly, tongue spelling out each of the syllables like he couldn’t understand you otherwise.

Hoseok’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we already had this conversation.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms. “I meant here as in this stupid event looking for a mate, not this stupid table.”

“Why are you? Already scared off everyone on the other side of the country with your annoying personality?” Four years later and he still had that infuriating smirk, that quirk of his lips that had your blood pressure instantly spiking.

“Are you here because you’ve slept with the whole town already?”

Humming, Hoseok tilted his head to the side in fake contemplation. “Your jealousy is showing again, L/n.”

“Your inflated ego is showing again, Jung.”

“Oh? If I’m recalling correctly, that’s exactly what you said years ago, right before you slobbered all over my chin.”

“Me? Me? Says the one who—”

“Could I have everyone’s attention please?” A woman’s voice cut through your heated response. Somewhere between the time the conversation had first begun and now, both you and Hoseok had gone from putting as much distance between the two of you as possible, to practically falling on top of the table to spew insults at one another.

With one last glare, you turned to look over your shoulder at the well-dressed blonde woman standing on the stage near the front. The material of her designer jumpsuit shimmered beneath the lights as her manicured hand held a microphone to her glossy, smiling lips. “Hello everyone! I’d like to welcome you to this year’s MateMaking—”

Hoseok’s quiet scoff echoed your own at the sound of the horribly unwitty play on words. His annoyed scowl also mirrored yours when you turned back to throw him one.

“—event! I can see that everyone has already found their mate-tastic partners for the evening.” She winked, earning a few light, nervous giggles from the crowd. “There are a few house rules that we must go over before we can officially begin. For starters, there will be no exchanging of partners. Secondly, a limit of two alcoholic beverages per person has and will be implemented. And last but not least, please make sure to enjoy yourselves! Now, onto the mate—” another wink “—event.”

“The grand prize for the lucky couple who wins tonight’s competition has been graciously donated by the Four Seasons Hotel.” She held up her fingers as she listed them, but you were too busy hanging onto her previous statement. “A free, one night stay in the penthouse suite tonight, an unlimited tab at the bar down the hall, and,” she paused in an attempt to build up the anticipation. “Eight hundred dollars cash.”

“Competition,” you questioned under your breath. What the hell did she mean by that? Wasn’t the whole event supposed to just be a glorified blind date? You threw a glance over your shoulder at Hoseok, who was too busy mouthing the words “eight hundred dollars” to pay you any attention.

“Now if you could all please leave your seats and gather onto the dance floor with your partner, we can begin.” The sound of chairs pushing back from tables echoed around the room and you watched as the people closest to the large opening in the middle of the floor started congregating.

Confused, you blindly rose to your feet and looked to see Hoseok doing the same. “What the hell is going on? I thought this was supposed to be about matchmaking?”

He blinked once, twice, before a laugh bubbled up his throat. “Did you not read the details of the event?”

“What details?” Your cheeks were slowly turning pink in embarrassment, you could feel it, and also couldn’t help it.

“You’re really telling me that you missed the giant, bold letters on the website?”

“What bold letters?” Weaving through the emptying tables, you tried your best to keep up with him on your shorter legs.

Hoseok tutted. “And you always tried to say that I was the stupid one.” He looked down at you once he finally found a spot on the floor that he liked, humor dancing across his face. You were just far away enough from the two coupled next to you that you couldn’t hear their conversations without trying to eavesdrop.

Annoyed, you smacked a hand against his arm and hissed, “Just tell me, asshole!”

“Owch.” He rubbed where you’d hit him, faking a grimace like you’d ever be able to actually hurt him. “Is that how you talk to someone you’re trying to get to help you?”

Your mouth opened to let out another string of character attacking profanities, but he halted them by holding up a hand. “This is a matchmaking event, but it’s also a competition. One that I’m not going to lose, not with that prize money on the line.”

“Oh,” you responded. Well, that explained some of it, but. “We.”

“What?”

“One that we’re not gonna lose,” you corrected him, mind already reeling with what you could use all of that cash for. “We win and split the money.”

“What makes you think that I’d want to split it with you?” A raise of his eyebrow.

A roll of your eyes. “Like you have any other choice. Do you see any other person you can impose your irritating presence on?”

A pause in the air. Pursed lips. Then: “Fine.”

“Fine.”

An agreement.

A temporary ceasefire just in time for one of the workers of the event to reach your side and gift the two of you with a bright green, inflated balloon. He walked off with the parting instructions not to pop it before making his way down the line and giving one to each couple he passed.

“The first stage of tonight’s competition,” the woman MCing (you were pretty sure she’d introduced herself, you’d just hadn’t been paying attention) addressed the crowd. “Is a slow dance to test you and your partner’s ability to be gentle with one another, both with the body and the heart. You must take the balloons that you have and put it in between your bodies.

“Whenever you hear the music change, you and your partner must step closer to each other. The last seven out of our ten couples that succeed in not popping the balloon or letting it fall to the ground will move on to the next round. Those of you who do not pass, will be shown to the bar across the hall to better get acquainted. Let us begin! Don’t be shy, everyone get into position.”

A few chuckles filtered throughout the room, balloons squeaking and strangers lightly conversing as they tried to follow the instructions. You looked up at Hoseok who looked back down at you with the medium sized balloon clutched in his hand.

He tilted his head to the side and wiggled the piece of rubber and hot air. “Are you going to come closer or not? Don’t pretend like you don’t want to touch me.”

“Trust me when I say that I don’t have to pretend,” you huffed, but stepped closer. One of his hands shot out to wrap around your waist, long slender fingers spreading across the whole expanse of the small of your back. You did your best to ignore the heat that bled from his body like a leech, and placed your left hand on his right shoulder.

With the balloon now firmly in place between the two of you, Hoseok took up your free hand with his just in time for the music to start pouring over the speakers. It wasn’t anything that you recognized—some indie song where the singer crooned lyrics about love or beauty or whatever. You didn’t care enough to pay attention.

“You better not step on my feet,” you spoke as the two of you swayed side to side, just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough for the slow dancing couples around you.

“Me? Step on your feet?” Hoseok gave you a look of disbelief. “Aren’t you the one who broke Felix Lee’s foot at prom?”

“No.” At the raising of his brows, you rolled your eyes and looked at some point over his shoulder so you wouldn’t have to meet his skeptical stare. “Okay, so maybe.” — he snorted — “But that had nothing to do with dancing!”

“You’ve always been a horrible liar, L/n.”

“And you’ve always been horrible at telling the truth, Jung.” The song changed into something a little more upbeat, one you thought you might have heard a time or two. Unfortunately, you had to step an inch closer to the man steadily guiding you around the dance floor.

A pop! resounded from the other side of the room as the first couple was eliminated. Squeaking from the balloon cushioned between both of your chests had your conversation pausing for a moment before it picked back up.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know what it means.”

“Believe it or not, L/n,” Hoseok began, “But I would never claim to know what goes on in that cluttered mind of yours.”

“I—wait,” you narrowed your eyes. “How do you know who I went to prom with?”

His mouth opened and closed, obviously ready to swing at you with another comeback before your question caught him off guard. “What?”

“How did you know that I went to prom with Felix?” Another change of the song had you automatically taking another step forward. “I thought you didn’t go to prom.”

“How did you know that I didn’t go to prom?” Hoseok fired back, avoiding the question.

“Oh, please,” you took a breath through your mouth and immediately regretted it when his strong, husky scent invaded your senses and lingered on your tongue. “If you were there, you would’ve been up my ass all night.”

“Now who’s the one with the inflated ego? Everyone was talking about how you’d stomped on him with your ogre feet the next day of school.” He didn’t make eye contact when you looked back at him, his gaze trailing over your head.

You raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s the horrible liar?”

“I’m not lying.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t care.”

“Liar.”

“Truther.”

“Truth— what — what even is that?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“Which is?”

Hoseok’s lips pulled back into a grin, tiny dimples popping into place and white teeth kissing the air. “A truther.”

“You’re so annoying,” the words were supposed to sound annoyed, but you couldn’t help the amused upwards twitch of your mouth.

“I don’t think you have any room to talk, sweetheart.”

You blinked at the pet name. That was new. “Sweetheart?”

Hoseok didn’t respond right away. He just stared down at you past his perfectly shaped nose, dark eyelashes framing brushing the apples of his cheeks. And for the first time in as long as you could remember, you realized that you couldn’t read the thoughts lingering behind his softly bright eyes. Silence lingered for one moment, two, and then his heart shaped lips parted and—

Pop!

You started, jerking back in surprise and Hoseok’s grip on you was the only thing that prevented your balloon from falling to the floor. Pop! Next to you, a couple let out noises of disappointment as they watched the remnants of their popped balloon scatter beneath their feet. They must have frightened another pair of people in the center of the dance floor because theirs popped as well.

“And that concludes our first round!” The MC spoke out over the crowd. “Congratulations to those who have made it though. Now let’s see if your luck persists during round two!”

You looked at Hoseok and he looked back, previously open expression dropped. No words were exchanged, but you already knew that the conversation would be dropped.

Hoseok’s back was warm from where it pressed up against yours, the chairs you sat in doing nothing to stop it from seeping into your skin. In your hands was a tablet, screen displaying the game that the two of you were about to play. The goal was to “defuse a bomb” by following the manual filled with instructions. Which sounded easy in retrospect, but seeing as how the only way you could get said instructions was by Hoseok reading them off the packet in his grasp.

You weren’t allowed to look at the manual, and he wasn’t allowed to look at the tablet screen. And somehow, some way, you were supposed to “defuse the bomb” in five minutes. The MC had said something about testing your ability to communicate with one another, blah, blah, blah. All you knew was that there was no way you were going to lose the stupid competition.

Even if you had to deal with Hoseok’s frustrated grumbling.

“Just tell me which wire I need to cut, Jung!” Or perhaps it was you who was doing the frustrated grumbling. But eh, semantics. The tablet screen was displaying a section of the “bomb” that had four wires criss-crossing one another and you were only allowed to “cut” one of them.

“I already told you,” Hoseok grunted. “The blue one.”

“There’s two blue ones!”

“Then cut the one that’s more blue!”

“They’re the same color you idiot!”

“Stop yelling, I’m trying to read!” He huffed, the sound of paper turning accompanying it. Around the room, the noise level was a cacophony of people talking over one another. The closer the five minutes got to being over, the higher the voices rose. “It says, ‘if there is a red wire—’”

“I only have two blue’s and two white’s!”

“Cut the first blue wire then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, L/n.”

“Fine.” A pause as you tapped on the screen and waited for it to do something. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why would I lie—oh wait, no, there’s a little x on the screen. Okay I think we’re good with that one.” You didn’t even have to look back to see Hoseok’s face to know that he was rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Now it’s showing a square with four different symbols inside it. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Hold on.” He shuffled his papers in search of the next set of instructions. “Okay, it says ‘always press symbols higher in the column than lower in the column.’”

“What does that even mean?”

“How am I supposed to know? Do I look like the game designer?”

“You’re an Alpha, aren’t you supposed to have great leadership skills or something?”

“What does that even have to do with this?”

“Just give me the damn instructions, Jung!”

“You’re so pushy. No wonder you’re still single.” Hoseok didn’t give you a chance to respond to his jibe before he continued. “Push the symbol of the pitchfork first, then,” he halted for a second, more than likely trying to find his next words before continuing. “Press the one that looks like a pregnant letter T.”

“A what?”

“I know you know what I’m talking about!”

You scrutinized the symbols before going with the one he described, not that you’d ever tell him it was pretty accurate. “Now what?”

“Next is the one that looks like a football goal.” (“God, you’re such a jock.”) “And then push the last one.”

Your finger tapped the screen and a noise escaped your throat when all of the panels on the “bomb” turned green and the timer stopped counting down. “Oh, hell yes!”

“What? Did we beat it?” Hoseok’s head tilted in your direction without him actually having to look back at you.

“Fuck yeah!” Okay, so maybe you were shouting a little too loudly and maybe all of the other couples who had yet to finish the game were giving you looks, but it wasn’t your fault that you were the first team to win.

“Yeah?” Hoseok finally turned to face you, torso twisting in his chair in order to do so. His face was lit up in excitement, the adrenaline of trying to complete the game sparking to life in his beautifully expressive brown eyes.

“Yeah!” It was unusual for an Omega to be competitive, but you couldn’t help your inherent desire to win. If you were to analyse it, a therapist would probably say that it was more than likely due to growing up competing with the man who sat at your back. (But you weren’t a therapist.)

You weren’t sure who went for it first, who moved, who decided to cross that boundary. But one moment you were looking up at his face, and the next your nose was pressed into the junction between his neck and shoulder. Hoseok’s arm was wrapped around your upper back and both of yours were loops around his neck.

The celebratory hug didn’t last long, just enough for his scent — gentle and earthy like petrichor right before it rained — before the both of you pulled away like you’d been electrocuted. An awkward silence followed the accidental physical contact and you weren’t sure where you were supposed to look. But it wasn’t at him.

And you definitely did not miss the feeling of being pressed to his chest.

(Or maybe Hoseok was right and you were a terrible liar. Even to yourself.)

The second round had eliminated a majority of the remaining contestants. Now all that was left were you and Hoseok, a petite woman with a contrastingly tall man, and two average height men. Since your team had come in first place during the last round, you were relegated to nonsensically going last in the final one. With the previous eliminated couples allowed back into the ballroom, you had quite the audience.

Sitting in another chair in the middle of the dance floor, you fiddled with the whiteboard and marker in your hands. You were facing Hoseok so the two of you couldn’t cheat by looking at what the other person was writing. The MC stood between and a little behind both of you, lips pulled up into a smile as she held a stack of cards in her hand.

You’d only ever seen this game played at the weddings of family members you’d gone to over the years, so why they’d chosen to have to (what they thought) complete strangers play it was a mystery to you. Something about “getting to know one another” and “testing compatibility” bullshit and the couple who got the highest answers correct was the winner.

Whatever.

When the MC asked her first question, you were ready.

“Okay, let’s begin! First question, write down which one of the two of you that you believe owns more clothes than the other.” Holding back an eye roll, you quickly scribbled down your answer with the dry-erase marker at the same time that Hoseok did. “Now show us your boards!”

You turned yours with a flick of your wrist, Hoseok’s name written across the surface in ink. It came as no surprise at all that he’d also penned himself down; he’d always been on top of all of the trends in the fashion world so you knew for a fact that his closet greatly exceeded yours.

“Would you look at that!” The MC crowed. “Already so in sync!”

(Unbeknownst to you both, your faces mirrored the same grimace as you erased your boards.)

“Second question: who do you believe is the most stubborn?”

That one took a bit more thought, your eyes flickering up to watch as Hoseok easily scrawled on his board. You already knew what he was going to write and you wanted to win, and you’d do whatever it took to do so. Even if it meant admitting something that wasn’t true.

At the MC’s cue, your boards flipped around to display your name written down on both of them. You glared. The crowd aw’d. The MC squealed at how “you were on the same wavelength.”

“Who’s most likely to cry during a movie?” Hoseok.

“Who do you think is the smartest.” You (much to your surprise that he wrote that down).

“Who has to have the final word during an argument?” You. That one took a little longer to decide with the two of you eyeing each other over the tops of your boards.

“Who got better grades in school?” A snort and the sound of your marker dragging across the board to scribble your own name down.

“Who’s the better dancer?” Hoseok, of course. Who could forget him dancing in the school hallways early in the morning before people even deigned to enter the place?

“If you were to become a couple, who would wear the pants in the relationship.” That question had you glaring and fingers cramping as you dug the tip of the marker into the board. Both was scribbled down on each.

“How about this one: who do you think is the better kisser?” The time in Jackson Wang’s basement popped to the forefront of your mind. It’d been years, but you could still remember the feel of Hoseok’s lips moving against yours and the taste of him on your tongue. You paused, marker hovering over the board before you took a deep, silent breath and wrote your answer down.

That was the first question that the two of you got wrong. With his board displaying your name and yours displaying his, all you could do was stare. Hoseok’s mouth was pressed into a line, not one of his angry ones, but the one he would unconsciously do whenever he was thinking hard on something. You weren’t sure what it was, nor did you have the time to try and figure it out.

“Aw, the first question they’ve gotten wrong. Or did they get it right?” Cue a wink from the MC and a few chuckles from the crowd. “How about we get a little more serious with the final question, hm? Who do you believe would be the first to fall in love with the other?”

You were positive that that would be the second question the two of you would get wrong, but you wrote your answer down anyway. When the cue came to flip them over, you felt your heart stutter. Lips part in surprise. Breath catch in your throat.

Hoseok looked at you with his lips pressed in that thin line, espresso hued, deep set eyes displaying an emotion that you’d never seen before. Never thought would be aimed at you. The whiteboard clutched between your hands shook as you read his over and over and wondered at what it meant (and if you were going to lie to yourself again).

Hoseok was written down on both of your boards, much to the delight of the onlookers.

The MC announcing that the game was complete and that you and Hoseok were the winners was a blur. The cheers from the crowd were a blur. The way the MC held both of your hands as she congratulated you and gifted you with your prizes was a blur.

Hoseok’s refusal to look at you was the only thing that was crystal clear. His back, his broad shoulders cloaked in his black satin tuxedo jacket, the nape of his neck, were the only things you could see. You didn’t get the chance to even speak to him until the elevator doors leading up to the penthouse slid shut.

The MC had sent you off with the key and a wink and a promise that the aforementioned eight hundred dollars was awaiting the two of you in the penthouse suite. Silence engulfed the steel box as it ascended that was neither awkward, nor tense—just heavy. You couldn’t stand it. So you wouldn’t.

“Hoseok.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, back braced against the elevator wall.

“Why did you write your name down for that question?”

“Which one? There were dozens.”

“You still suck at telling the truth.”

A pause hovered in the air, the red digital numbers above the elevator continuing to count upwards. And then he spoke. “I was telling the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

Hoseok laughed breathily. Not of amusement, not of someone who’d found something particularly funny. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so all you could do was nod.

“I’d been wanting to kiss you since you threw that box of crayons at my head.” He turned to look at you, eyes deep and open and luminescent. “And I’ve been thinking about doing it again ever since that game of spin-the-bottle.”

Your mouth opened and closed, words stuck in your throat until you forced yourself to cough them out. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

He scoffed. “Why would I? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Hoseok.” The syllables of his first name were unfamiliar on your tongue, but you loved the taste of them anyway. “I’ve never hated you.”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. “Really.” It wasn’t a question.

“Okay, no, that was a lie,” you mumbled. “I didn’t hate you until after that kiss. But it was only because I’d never wanted it to end.”

“What are you saying?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” You shot back without any heat.

“Maybe,” he hummed, lifting a hand to brush against your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his nose brushed yours. That was the only warning you got before he captured your mouth with his. Hoseok’s lips were just as soft as you remembered, his kiss just as slow, taste just as intoxicating. You involuntarily sighed into his mouth when his teeth caught your bottom lip and tugged.

“I love you,” he breathed into the crevice of your neck.

You sighed. A soft, gentle thing that had the corners of his mouth ticking upwards. “I love you too.”

A pause and then:

“Even though you’re annoying.”

Hoseok’s laugh shook both his frame and yours and you couldn’t help the giggle that harmonized.

tagged: @kotaevln @ladyartemesia @alana-ba @lifegoesondotcom @ardoren @awsome-small-k @chimchimsauce @jjamsbangtan @ohheyitssj @bewitch-me @lovetic @veronawrites @lilacdreams-00 @clarissalance @daydreambrliever @unicornbabylover @taestannie @forever-once-gone @outrofenty @hoseokslefteyebrow @1am9root6 @btsmylife21 @fireheart2003 @iv-bts

#bts #hoseok #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #magicshopnet #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #bts fic

885 notes · View notes

heyitssmiller · 4 years ago

Text

Clandestine

It’s here! The Sweater Weather/Coast to Coast Spy AU has officially begun! Thanks to everyone who’s asked questions/thought of ideas/showed excitement for this!! As always, characters belong to the lovely @lumosinlove! And thank you, @donttouchmycarrots for proofreading this!

Here’s the Clandestine Masterlist

Chapter One

Remus Lupin was being followed.

He hadn’t been out in the field for years now, but some habits would always stick with him. Surreptitiously glancing over his shoulder as he walked down the street towards his flat, listening for falling footsteps or sudden noises, and – most importantly – trusting his gut.

He could feel eyes on the back of his head and knew from experience that he wasn’t just being paranoid.

He took a few seconds to think about it, then grabbed his phone, pretending to be oblivious, and called Potter before slipping his phone back into his pocket and keeping his steps even and casual. Sure enough, his follower tried to take advantage of his supposed slip in focus and grabbed his arm. But Remus knew it was coming and caught the assailant by the forearm, using their forward momentum to pin him to a nearby wall.

“Why are you following me?” Remus demanded, breath clouding in the cool night air before he recognized his attacker. Dark curls, dove-gray eyes, high cheekbones.

Sirius Black, a prominent member of the Snakes, the Slytherin mafia. Sirius Black, who was actively being hunted down by the intelligence agency Remus worked for.

Sirius Black, who wasn’t even trying to fight back or break free. For some unknown reason, he was in Gryffindor - where an entire intelligence agency was trying to take him and the organization he was a part of down - and yet he seemed completely calm. Nonchalant, even. As if this were just a walk in the park on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Remus narrowed his eyes at Black. “What’s going on?”

Black reached into Remus’ pocket, pulled out his phone, and ended the call to Potter. “Not here. Do you have somewhere quiet we can talk?”

Remus arched an eyebrow. “Yes, but I’ll need to call that guy back. If I don’t he’ll panic and he won’t hesitate to shoot on sight if he thinks I’m in trouble.”

That wasn’t necessarily true, but Black didn’t need to know that.

After quickly calling Potter back and explaining what was going on, he hung up and led the way back to his flat. He knew that was a better option that going back to Gryffindor Intelligence. If he felt like this put him in danger, he could move pretty easily. It’s not like he had many belongings to begin with. Uprooting the agency would be next to impossible.

“If people end up breaking into my house after this, I will hunt you down.”

“Yeah,” Black scoffed, kicking a rock farther down the sidewalk, then kicking it again when he caught up with it. “You’ve done a great job of that so far.”

“And yet you’re here for some reason. That can only mean two possible things.”

Black had to abandon the rock as they took the stairs up to Remus’ flat. “Oh? Do tell.”

“One, this is a crazy scheme to slowly kill off Gryffindor Intelligence one by one and, for whatever reason, you decided to start with me.” Remus fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his door. “Or two, which is more likely, you need our help. The only question I have left is why the great Sirius Black is stooping to ask us for help.”

He closed the door behind them and watched as Black took in his surroundings. It wasn’t much: a ratty old couch, a coffee table, warm brown-toned walls, and too many dying potted plants.

He really needed to remember to water those.

“I ran away from the Snakes and I can help you take them down once and for all.”

Remus blinked at the suddenness of that statement. This… this could change everything. They might actually be able to take the Snakes down, after years of trying and failing. He had so many questions. What changed to make him want to leave? Why now? But none of those seemed to matter at that moment. There was only one question Remus needed to know the answer to immediately.

“What’s in it for you?”

Black shifted on his feet. “My brother…” He sighed, refusing to look at Remus. “He’s still there. And he’s innocent in all this – as innocent as he can be, in a situation like that. I need you to ensure that you can get him out safely before we take them down.”

“I’m sure something can be arranged.” Remus agreed. He knew of Regulus, of course. It was his job, after all. And he didn’t seem as innocent as his older brother was trying to paint him out to be. At the end of the day, though, it didn’t really matter. Letting Regulus go free, guilty or not, would be a small price to pay for taking down one of the biggest mafias in the country. “What’s your plan?”

For the first time Remus had ever seen, Black smiled. “It’s all in the flash drives.”

Remus called Pots and Moody over; this was too much for him to deal with on his own. James he trusted with everything - it didn’t even cross his mind not to call his friend. He was probably dying of curiosity after that phone call, anyways. Remus wouldn’t have been surprised if he was already on his way to Remus’ flat before he got the call. And Moody could sniff out a liar like no one Remus had ever seen. If Black was lying - about any of this - Moody would know.

James opened the door then, making a beeline for Remus and dragging him into the kitchen to talk to him in private. “Alright, Loops?”

“I’m fine.”

Pots relaxed, but only slightly. “So he just... showed up?”

“Tried to grab my arm on the way home.”

“So you brought him back to your flat? I mean, I know you voted for him as the most attractive in Criminal Choice Awards, but come on, Loops.” He said, referencing the game they’d played with the rest of Gryffindor Intelligence over New Year’s while outrageously drunk.

“First of all, we don’t talk about that game. That was a fiasco and should be considered top secret intel. Second of all, what else was I supposed to do? He said he could help us take down the Snakes. I couldn’t just let an opportunity like that pass us by.”

“Ok, fine.” James agreed reluctantly. “We’ll hear him out, but I can’t promise we’ll do anything else.” He then turned to walk back into the living room and glared at the stranger in the room. “Black.”

“Potter.” Black said with a taunting smile. “How’s the kid?”

“Don’t you dare – ”

Moody walked into his flat with his gun already drawn and aimed at Black. Remus sighed. “Is that really necessary?”

“You can never be too vigilant.” He mumbled, not taking his eyes off Black, who just grinned and sent Moody a sarcastic wave.

“If we’re going to get this done,” Remus interrupted, still clutching James’ arm in a firm grip to hold him back. “We need to work together. So stop antagonizing each other and let’s get to work. Black, you mentioned flash drives?”

Black nodded. “Riddle keeps all the information about the Snakes on seven separate flash drives. I could tell you some of the information, but there’s too many groups and people that I don’t have memorized. If you want to catch all the members and informants and organizations under the Snakes’ control, you need those flash drives. As soon as you try to take the Snakes down, they’ll all scatter and you’ll never find them again if you don’t already know who you’re looking for. Do you have coffee? It’s quite late and this is bound to be a long conversation.”

“I don’t drink coffee.” Remus lied, although he could tell Black saw right through him. “Keep talking.”

He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, leaning back on the couch to get more comfortable and staring up at the ceiling as he continued in a bored tone, “He keeps the drives in different locations. One he keeps with him at all times. One’s in a safe in his office, and two are with his most-trusted men – Bellatrix and my brother.”

“And yet your brother is innocent?” Remus asked skeptically.

Black glared at him, all sense of nonchalance gone. When he spoke, his voice was deadly. “He’s done more in terms of taking the Snakes down than you have. We’ve been trying to destroy them from the inside for years, but there’s only so much two people can do.”

Remus understood now why people were so afraid of him. That piercing gray gaze was chilling.

“Ok, fine. Where are the rest of the drives?”

Like a flip had been switched, Black reverted back to casual as if nothing had happened. “There’s three in separate safes across the city – one’s in the police station, and two are in safety deposit boxes in different banks. That’s seven.”

James met Remus’ gaze. “Winter? He’s the best at cracking safes.”

Black grimaced. “And there’s our biggest roadblock. The Snakes know who you are.”

“What?”

“All of your active agents, the ones who have tried to take the Snakes down previously, they have files on.”

Moody looked like he was about to have a stroke. Black shrugged. “Their informants are no joke.”

“So what do you expect us to do, if we’ll be recognized as soon as we step foot into the city?” Remus demanded, running a list of their agents through his head and eliminating nearly all of them one by one.

“Surely you have some agents who haven’t gone up against the Snakes yet.”

Remus blinked. “You’re joking. This is your grand plan? That eliminates about ninety-five percent of our candidates. And those five percent left? Maybe two percent are trained and ready to go out into the field. This is a huge op - we can’t just send anyone.”

“You got a better idea?”

“Hang on,” James said, and Remus groaned. He could see that glint in his eyes. The glint that meant he had an idea brewing.

Nothing good ever came from that glint.

“We can send O’Hara.”

“See? We already have a candidate!” Black cheered, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Remus bristled. “Who’s O’Hara?”

“We recruited him right after he graduated from Harvard last year. He’s got a near perfect memory, and he’s really good with people. He normally does stake outs or reconnaissance and the occasional honeypot.”

“He’d be good for this,” Moody gruffly added. “He can charm the pants off of just about anybody. Makes it easy to get what you want.”

“I think Tremblay would be a good fit, too.” Remus chimed in, thinking it through. They’d work well together. Finn might drive Logan insane, but they’d get the job done. Hopefully. “Bring in some extra muscle just in case things get dicey, which they always do with the Snakes.”

“He hasn’t worked a Snakes mission before?” James asked.

Remus shook his head. “He’s been back and forth between here and Beauxbatons, remember? Since he’s fluent in French.”

“Can he crack open safes?” Black asked impatiently.

“No,” James said, but he was still smiling. “But we know someone who can.”

Remus thought about it for a second, then turned to gape at James when he figured it out. “James, you can’t be serious.”

“Why not? He’s a perfect fit! And the only other person besides Winter who can consistently crack a safe.”

“He’s a kid.”

“He’s not that much younger than O’Hara or Tremblay, and you’re fine with sending them.”

“He’s never even been out in the field before!”

“Winter says he’s almost as good as himself.”

“He’s inexperienced, and he’s going to get himself or one of the others killed.”

“Ok, so then what do you suggest?” James demanded, throwing up his arms in frustration. “Do you know anyone else who could do it?”

Remus stared at him at a loss, much to his chagrin. They’d never had to worry about this before - Winter did all their missions when they needed to break into something. They’d never needed anyone else before.

Now it seemed like their biggest operation to date would be in the hands of a rookie.

After a beat of silence, Moody spoke up. “I agree with Potter. He’s our only option, if the rest of our agents are compromised. We can talk to Winter in the morning, see if he’s ready for this.”

Remus sighed, but didn’t argue.

“I’m sorry,” Black said. “But who are we talking about?”

James grinned. “Nut.”

“That’s his name?”

“Oh my god.” Remus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

***

Leo Knut (it’s pronounced newt, thank you very much) sat at his work station with twelve different locks in front of him, along with his pick, rake, and tension wrench. He took a deep, steadying breath and started his timer before instantly getting his hands on his first lock.

Insert tension wrench. Use the pick to find the binding pin and set it. Set the rest of the pins. Turn the tension wrench and…

The lock clicked open.

Leo quickly set it down and picked the next one up, repeating the same steps and singing along quietly to the song playing on his phone.

“All I want, all I want is you, your violet disposition, my unsound intuit – aaah!” He shouted when someone suddenly sat down on the bench next to him. “Fuck, Winter.”

Kasey raised an eyebrow. “You need to pay more attention to your surroundings when you’re on the job. Also, you’re tone deaf.”

“Thanks.” Leo muttered, reaching over to stop his timer and turn his music off. “Why are you here so early? Aren’t you usually asleep right now?”

“Yeah, but I got a call from Loops.”

Leo, always one to keep his hands busy, began messing with another lock. “You got another job?”

“No,” Kasey said, drawing out the vowel. “But you might.”

Leo laughed. “You’re kidding.” After a few seconds of silence, he looked back up again. Kasey’s face was dead serious. Leo set his lock and tools down. “You’re not kidding. What the hell? What’s the job?”

“You’d be going after the Snakes.”

Normally, Leo appreciated being direct and straightforward.

This was not one of those times.

“As in the mafia? Those Snakes?”

“Yup.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yup.”

Leo knew of the Snakes, of course. And he knew that Gryffindor had been after them for years, which meant it was a big deal. So why were they putting him on the job and not Winter? He had experience in pickpocketing tourists in the streets of New Orleans and opening locks. He’d only started cracking safes under Winter’s instructions eight months ago. Why him?

“Is Loops insane? This would be my first job!”

“It was technically Pots’ idea.”

“Oh. Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“Nut – ”

“That’s not my name – ”

“This is big for a first job.”

Leo fiddled with another lock, listening to the soothingly repetitive sound of pins setting. It was familiar, solid ground.

This, though, would be uncharted territory.

“I know.” He said anyways, trying to settle his nerves.

“You think you’re ready for it?”

Leo looked down, collecting his thoughts before speaking. “I’ve got to prove myself somehow, right? What better way to do that than by taking down one of the biggest gangs in the country?”

Kasey laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m from Louisiana – it’s in our blood.”

“Okay, you crazy Cajun. You’ve got your first debriefing at 10:30. Please don’t be late your first day on the job.”

“Who am I working with?” Leo asked, tilting his head. “I mean, I’ve got to have partners, right?”

Kasey just smiled. “Trust me, Nut. You’re going to love them.”

***

Logan and Loops were the only ones in the briefing room so far.

And it was awkward.

Obviously Logan knew who he was – everyone knew his story – but they weren’t talking. The briefing room with the almost-hilariously large table was completely silent besides the occasional rustling of paper or the sound of the air conditioning turning on again. Logan couldn’t remember ever talking to the handler before. Maybe briefly, at that disastrous New Year’s party.

God, that party.

Logan steadfastly refused to think of the New Year’s party.

That is, until a familiar face walked through the door.

The redhead looked up, doe-eyes widening as he recognized Logan. “It’s you!”

Fuck, he was even more attractive now that Logan was sober.

Logan forcefully pushed aside hazy memories of laughing too loud at a story the redhead was telling, cuddled up on the couch with red solo cups in their hands and an almost-kiss as the clock struck midnight that Logan had wanted more than anything. He smiled faintly instead. “It’s you!”

The agent sat down excitedly next to Logan, eager eyes peering out at him from behind tortoiseshell glasses. “How’ve you been? Guess we’re partners now, huh?”

“Guess so.” He said faintly, the word fuck rattling around in his brain on an endless loop.

“I don’t think I caught your name at the party.”

“Oh. Logan. Logan Tremblay.”

“Finn O’Hara.” He replied, holding a hand out for Logan to shake. He then looked over to Loops. “We’ve still got a few more coming, right?”

He nodded reluctantly. “Unless one of you knows how to crack a safe, by any chance.”

Logan snorted, then shook his head. He wasn’t good at small, delicate things like that. Bashing heads in and upper cuts, though... “Nope.” He said simply, leaving it at that.

“Absolutely not.” Finn agreed.

Loops sighed. “That’s what I – ”

The door slowly opened to reveal a tall, blond boy with messy hair and cornflower blue eyes. He looked at the three of them, seeming a little nervous. “Uh, hey. I’m Leo – is this the right room?” He asked in a softly-accented voice.

“Yeah, come on in.” Loops said, which made Leo smile and –

Dimples.

Logan quickly shifted his focus back to Loops as he began to talk again. “Knut, meet O’Hara and Tremblay. They’re your partners for this mission. We have one more person coming before we can get started,” He glanced down at his watch. “But apparently he’s running late.”

“Oh, Lupin, you almost sound concerned.”

Logan’s head shot up at the voice. Sirius Black strode through the door, giving Loops a flirty wink before looking at the three of them. He grinned. “So which one if you is unfortunate enough to have the last name Nut?”

Leo sighed, while the other two fought to keep their laughter at bay. “It’s pronounced newt.”

“Not anymore. You can’t expect people to pass up a nickname like that, kid.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“What? Nut or kid?”

“Both.”

Black just grinned again. “Not a chance.”

“Are you done harassing our operatives, Black?”

“Why? Are you feeling left out?”

Loops glared at him, but his cheeks turned slightly pink. “Why don’t you start debriefing them instead.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

“Buzzkill.” He muttered, but threw himself into one of the chairs. “You might want to write this down – I’m only saying it once and I don’t have any of it in files or anything.”

Logan couldn’t decide whether he should be impressed or repulsed by the lack of professionalism. He looked over at Nut, who was already waiting with a pen and notepad, clicking his pen repeatedly. Logan gritted his teeth and tried to tune out the noise. O’Hara was just sitting back in his chair, content to listen apparently. Logan settled for somewhere in the middle and grabbed one piece of paper and a pencil.

“Alright, here’s the deal. I’m sure you know who I am: Sirius Black, ex-member of the Snakes, blah blah blah. You get it. Well, I’m here to help you take the Snakes down. All the evidence we need of importing drugs, trafficking, laundering, bribery, blackmail – Christ, this list is long. You get the picture. Everything illegal they’ve done, the evidence is on seven flash drives. We need you to get all seven and get my brother out safely before we can officially take them down. Easy enough, right?”

“This is going to be a long op,” Loops cut in, making meaningful eye contact with the three of them. “I’m talking weeks to months here. We’ve got a lot of intel we still need, a lot of planning to do. And it’s not going to be easy. If you don’t feel like you’re up for the task, speak up now.”

Logan sent a surreptitious glance at his new partners. O’Hara looked excited at the prospect of a mission like this. Nut still looked nervous, but his eyes were determined, focused.

They all stayed silent.

“Perfect. Then let’s get started.”

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #clandestine

319 notes · View notes

onechicago-upsteadrhekker · 4 years ago

Text

I’d go black and blue (to make you feel my love) - Upstead one-shot

I’m an hour late for posting on Valentine’s Day but better late than never right??

I wrote this for the @upsteadofficial Love Song Prompt Challenge! It’s probably a little different from a typical V-Day fic but what can I say? I apparently love angst and hurting my own feelings.

Also a HUGE shout out to @mashleighh! Thanks for listening to my ramblings, checking my stuff and always making things better❤️❤️

I hope you all enjoy it!

Read on AO3

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Hailey watched Jay slip down the hallway dodging the various cops coming in and out of the run-down house before he turned the corner and disappeared from her view.

Blinking, she tried to push down the urge to follow him. She had a job to do and she’d told Jay she would cover for him, but the text Jay had just showed her mere seconds before settled uneasily in her gut.

Jim. I need your help. Please come over.

“Hailey!”

She gave a start, turning to Kevin who had clearly been calling her a few times, a puzzled look on his face as he tried to get her attention. Realizing she was still standing in the middle of the busy hallway, she moved off to the side with Kevin to let forensics pass.

“You okay?” Kevin asked, his eyes following a couple of patrol officers passing them before turning his gaze back on Hailey, “I called your name like five times. Where’s Jay? Sarge wants to know if you found anything from the security footage.”

Whatever Kevin had just said didn’t register; her eyes still trained down the hallway Jay disappeared through. Sliding her gaze back to her coworker, Hailey gave his chest a distracted pat already moving towards the front of the house, “I need to go. Will you cover for me?”

But before she could leave, Kevin gently grabbed her arm, “Hold on. What’s going on, Hailey?”

She turned back to him, sucking in a breath as she debated over how much she should tell him.

“It’s nothing serious,” Furrowing her brow, she shook her head, “Not yet anyways, but I need to go make sure Jay doesn’t do anything reckless.” She saw Kevin opening his mouth to say something, but she cut him off, “Kevin. Please. Just do this for me, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

Hailey flashed a small, reassuring smile at his concerned expression before she took off in the same direction Jay had a few minutes ago hoping that for once, the sick feeling in her gut was wrong.

Her headlights lit up Jay’s truck as she quickly pulled over to park behind it, turning off the engine to sit in the dark for a couple of seconds as she decided what she should do.

It was obvious he wasn’t in the truck and the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right wouldn’t leave her alone. After a brief debate in her head over whether she should go undercover or not, the over-cautious part of her won out, quietly opening her car door and tucking her gun into the back of her waistband.

Hailey definitely didn’t want Angela Nelson to find out who Jay was and her by association, but she wasn’t about to enter a situation blind without him and not have a firearm.

She crept up the worn stairs and cautiously peeked into the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jay doing nothing but repairing a broken appliance.

If that was the case, she could then creep back down the steps, shake her head in annoyance for overreacting and never tell him that she’d followed him, but as soon as she saw the front door slightly cracked from where it had been kicked in, her heart sunk, knowing that she was right to worry.

Swallowing hard, she ordered herself to get it together so she could get Jay out of whatever mess his big heart got him into. She was a cop; she knew better than to jump to conclusions without evidence.

But then the part of her that quietly dreamed dangerous dreams and lingered on forbidden hopes also knew all the scenarios running through her mind were very real possibilities

The house was deathly quiet, and it made the hair stand up on the back of her neck as she carefully swung the door in and edged into the living room as quietly as possible, her hand never straying far from where she’d hidden her gun.

Hailey was barely a few feet inside when she heard the distinctive click of a safety being flipped off followed by cool metal touching her temple, “Make a move and you die.”

Before she could react, she was pistol-whipped in the back of the head. Her last conscious thought to dump her star and pray that Jay was still alive.

When Jay came to, the first thing he noticed was that his hands were tied behind his back, the second was that he was in some sort of basement and the third was that he wasn’t alone.

His head was pounding, and his vision was blurry, but he would know that blonde hair anywhere.

At first, he thought his mind was playing cruel tricks on him. He hoped his mind was playing cruel tricks on him because why would she be here?

God, she shouldn’t be anywhere near here. Not like this, not laying on the cold, hard floor, unmoving.

He blinked a few times, her facial features partially hidden by blood-matted, blonde hair coming into focus.

His heart stopped and his breath shuttered in his chest. His worst nightmare just came alive right in front of him because it was Hailey. Passed out and tied up a few feet away, out of his reach.

A million questions ran through his head of how, why and who but the most prevailing one was if Hailey was still alive.

Desperate, Jay tugged on his restraints, ignoring the pain it caused his shoulders and wrists. Squeezing his eyelids shut as he strained away from the pole he was tied up to and towards Hailey’s still form.

He had to get to her.

Tears that had nothing to do with the physical agony he was in sprang to his eyes as he realized there was no way he was getting out of the binds he was in. The steel chains were trussed behind his back and around the pole in such a way that he didn’t have much slack if any at all.

Just out of reach. A cruel twist of fate, mocking him. Reminding him that she was always just out of his reach. That she was there with him but not in the way he truly wanted.

Except now, in this moment, it wasn’t metaphorical. And god if that didn’t anger him even more than his cowardness in telling Hailey how he really felt about her.

Because there was nothing he could do. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and he needed to put pressure on her sluggishly bleeding head wound but the damn chains wouldn’t budge. He trained his eyes on her upper body, watching intently.

Was she even breathing? God, he couldn’t tell.

“Hailey!”

She was floating in that state between restlessness and unaware, not sure where her dreams stopped and reality started.

“Hailey!”

Jay’s voice wasn’t uncommon in her dreams, but he wasn’t saying her name in the husky manner that she’d come to assign to her night visions.

“God, Hailey! Please do something--say something. Anything! Please…”

Why was he being so loud? And why was her bed so hard?

“Please, just let me know you’re alive.”

It was the sound of his voice breaking that brought her back to the present.

The text message. Angela Nelson. Following Jay.

Jay. His voice. He was alive, thank god.

A sharp pain shot through head when she tried to open her eyes and that’s when she remembered getting knocked out. She moaned, trying to take stock of her injuries over the pounding that slowly surfaced to accompany the harsh stabbing. Her hands were bound in front of her and her ribs hurt from an injury she doesn’t remember receiving.

“Hailey! Oh, thank god!” She heard Jay croak out followed by a murmured, “She’s alive. She’s alive,” Clearly talking to himself.

And that’s when she realized he must have thought she was dead.

Oh, Jay.

He must be tied up far enough away from her to not be able to check for a pulse. Knowing that if he were able to move, he would be right there next to her.

She redoubled her efforts to open her eyes so she could at least see him and reassure him that she was okay. Maybe figure out where they were and ask if they could manage an escape or if they should sit tight, knowing that Jay had probably already run all the possibilities through his mind.

Groaning, she forced her eyes to open and she found herself thankful for dim lighting, “Jay?” She managed to rasp, trying to figure out exactly where he was in relation to her.

“Yeah, I’m right here Hailey.” He paused, and she could almost hear the way his jaw clenched in frustration at not being able to move, “Can you come over here? I just need—I need you over here. Next to me.”

If they weren’t in such a dire situation, Hailey might have downright swooned at hearing those words fall from his lips after she’d recovered from the shock. As it were, her heart was beating a little too fast in her chest and that feeling in her stomach might just be borderline butterflies.

Clearing her throat, she answered, “Just give me a sec.”

She slowly stretched each of her limbs as much as she could with her hands tied in front of her, carefully checking what hurt and what didn’t before she even attempted to sit up. Once she was satisfied that she wasn’t majorly injured, Hailey turned so that she was lying flat on her back which instantly caused her head to spin and her stomach to churn.

Letting out a low groan, she closed her eyes and willed herself not to be sick as the world slowly stopped spinning.

“You good?” Jay’s worried voice cut through the dizziness.

She sucked in a deep breath and decided it was best not to lie about her condition, “Yeah. Just feeling a little sick. I’m like ninety-five percent sure I have a concussion.”

Before he could respond, Hailey forced herself to sit up, using her abdominal muscles since her hands were tied in front of her. If he said anything to her after that, she didn’t hear it, white noise flooding her eardrums as she desperately tried not to pass out.

The comforting words of “Breathe, Hailey. Just breathe,” reached her as she started to become accustomed with sitting upright, finally feeling confident she could open her eyes without seeing stars.

She was facing Jay, and the first thing she noticed was the blood coating his hairline and running down his neck. His lip was a little bloodied and his eye was slightly swollen, and it made her stomach clench in a way that had nothing to do with her head injury.

Gingerly, she scooted herself over to his side, grateful he was only a few yards away and angered as she realized that the way he was tied up meant he didn’t even have an inch of slack.

When she finally maneuvered herself so she was sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning her head on his shoulder. She told herself it was because she was still dizzy, and while she knew that was part of it, she knew she craved the comfort of being physically connected more.

And if Jay resting his head on top of hers was any indication, then he needed that physical touch just as much as she had. Silently reassuring themselves and each other that they were here. Together. Alive.

After a few minutes, Jay broke the silence, “What are you doing here Hailey?”

She couldn’t help the humorless uptick of her lips at the irony of the situation, “Well, I had a bad feeling, so I pinged your phone and followed you in hopes of getting you out of trouble.”

Glancing up at him, she gestured half-heartedly to the basement they were in, “You can see how well that turned out.”

When he didn’t say anything, Hailey lifted her head so she could get a better look at him. Careful eyes roamed over his slightly slumped form, checking him more thoroughly for injuries.

Now that she was closer to him, she could clearly see the beginnings of a black eye and an obviously split lip. The blood from his hairline mingled with blood that seeped from a wound on the back of his head, running sluggishly down the slope of neck and into the collar of his shirt.

She was relieved to not see any blood lower down on his shirt or pants, so she concluded that the most damage had been made to his face. His head injury did concern her slightly but he seemed pretty lucid so she figured it couldn’t be that bad.

Hailey knew it could be a hell of a lot worse, and that thought was what prompted her to raise her bound hands and gently touch his face in the pretense of checking his wounds but really, she was just reassuring herself that he was okay.

A lump formed in her throat when she thought about what she could have woken up to.

Shaking the thought away, she dropped her hands, sighing, “What happened, Jay?”

She felt more than saw his frustration. At himself, at the situation--she wasn’t entirely sure, but she had a pretty good feeling that it might be both.

“I got to Angela’s house and when I knocked, there wasn’t an answer, so I kicked in the door. The next thing I knew I was being hit in the back of the head with a pipe or something and then I woke up here.”

He tilted his head back, resting it on the beam he was tied up to. His eyes fluttered closed and she could see his throat working, “God, Hailey,” He turned to her and she was slightly surprised to see tears swimming in his eyes, “When I saw you lying over there, not moving. I-I thought my heart had been ripped right out of my chest. You scared me so bad. I didn’t know why you were here—I didn’t even know if you were alive.”

The way he was looking at her felt dangerous and she couldn’t help but think that they had been here before. Not even four months ago, standing in the breakroom when the threat of being torn apart was looming over their heads. When she was afraid to really look at him; afraid of what she’d find in his eyes if she did.

But today, right in that moment, when they were tied up and unsure of what the future held, she looked. She looked him right in the eyes and she clearly saw what he’d been telling her every time she’d caught him looking at her from across Molly’s and in every knowing glance they shared in the bullpen.

In the way he always checked with her silently before busting down a door, telling her without words that he had her back. In the way he told her he trusted her only using in his eyes.

And now. He looked at her like she was the very breath he needed to breathe. Like the world could crumble and he wouldn’t even blink.

He was looking at her like he was just realizing what love was; his eyes telling her that he loved her.

He was opening his mouth to say something. She wasn’t sure what—it might have even been those three little words, but before he had a chance to get it out, there was a commotion from the floor above, breaking their gaze.

They were suddenly brought back to steel chains and dirty basements, reminding them of the danger they were in. If they didn’t figure out a plan, their great love story could be over even before it had the chance to begin.

“Do you know why we’re here?” Hailey asked a little shakily, drawing back when she realized how close she was to Jay’s face.

Blinking, he did the same and she could almost see the spell fully breaking as he slipped back into level-headed detective.

“From what I gather, Angela helped some friend of hers steal some drugs. The people who she stole them from didn’t take it too kindly; she called me and now we are here,” He said it in the weary manner of one who had been there and done that way too many times.

And sadly, they had, but this time it was different because they were the ones caught in the crossfire.

Hailey sighed, wincing slightly from her bruised ribs, “Where’s Angela?”

Jay shrugged, “She was here when I woke up. She’d been shot in the side, passed out. The two guys who have us carried her out of here; said something about dropping her off at a hospital because they didn’t want any unnecessary blood on their hands. And besides, it was pretty clear she wouldn’t be able to give them any information. Not in the condition she was in.”

Sighing himself, he turned his head towards her, “I don’t what they ended up doing with her, and frankly I don’t care at the moment. I’m more worried about getting us out of here.”

That wasn’t like him to just disregard someone he’d been trying to help—or anyone for that matter—for his own gain, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he really meant he was more worried about getting her out of here.

He was always putting others before himself. Her especially now that she thought about it, and she knew it was just another way of him telling her he loved her.

As soon as they got out of this mess, they needed to have a talk.

“Alright,” She nodded, “So what’s the plan?”

Jay’s heart swelled. Those words, the sure look on her face, the absolute trust she held in her eyes. She was looking to him for guidance, entrusting him to get them out of this without even one ounce of hesitation.

The love he felt for her only seemed to grow with each passing second and he was tired of hiding it. He’d intended on telling her, showing her exactly how he felt, but then he was reminded of the situation he’d dragged her into and the need to protect her outweighed anything else.

And it was because he loved her so much that he needed her to be safe. If anything happened to her—

He knew there was no coming back from that.

Once they got out of here, he was going to tell her everything he’d been harboring in his heart for what felt like ages. He was going to lay it all on the table; that she was it for him and even though he was terrified at the thought of losing her, he was going to work his ass off to make this work. To show her that they could do this.

He knew he had made mistakes in the past, especially regarding his love life and he knew that being together and working together had its fair share of challenges, but he wasn’t about to let her go. Not when he finally found the girl he knew he was meant to be with.

The sound of a heavy steel door clanging shut snapped him out of his thoughts and if he subconsciously tried to inch in front of Hailey despite his restraints, she didn’t call him out on it.

“They don’t know we’re cops, and you know nothing,” Hailey heard Jay rapidly whisper to her before turning back in time to see their two captors appear at the bottom of the steps.

The taller of the two made a beeline straight towards them and Hailey could feel Jay tensing up, using his broad shoulders in an attempt to shield her. It didn’t do much good because the next thing Hailey knew, she was being jerked up, a gun pressed to her temple.

“You are going to tell me right now where those drugs are,” The man’s words were harsh, his breath was heavy on her ear and she could smell the vodka on him.

Jay looked panicked but in control as his jaw clenched in barely restrained fury. She couldn’t help but notice how hot he looked, and she immediately kicked herself for even thinking it under these circumstances.

“She doesn’t know anything,” He practically growled, “Let her go.”

Vodka man brandished his gun menacingly towards Jay before returning it to the side of her head, “She was at that house! There was a gun in her waistband! She knows something!”

Hailey kept quiet, trying to weigh the risks of attempting to knock him out but she decided against doing anything while the other guy was lurking in the shadows. With Jay tied up and unable to move, she knew she wouldn’t be able to take both of them down, especially while tied up herself.

The words that fell out of Jay’s mouth next made her heart beat wildly, and not in a good way, “I’ll tell you all I know, okay? Just take me and leave her alone!”

But that was a lie. He didn’t know anything, and she knew once these guys figured that out, there was no telling what they would do to him. He flashed her a look, pleading with her to be silent, to let him do this for her.

She didn’t want to, but she knew that the best chance of their survival was to do what Jay was asking. So, she stayed silent, glaring when Vodka Guy threw her down and unchained Jay from the pole, leaving his arms bound before hauling him up.

Hailey watched as Jay was shoved towards the steps, his eyes never leaving hers until he was out of her sight.

A series of muffled cries suddenly broke the relative silence she’d been sitting in for the past hour and it took all of her might to not scream out his name as she desperately fought with the chains wrapped around her wrists and feet. There were tears brimming in her eyes and she could feel her heart shattering.

They were low, guttural shouts filled with pain and she could only imagine what they were doing to him to make him sound like that. Jay was the toughest person she knew, had endured things beyond her comprehension and hearing him like that scared her.

And knowing that he was in pain for her and that there was nothing she could do about it made her physically sick.

But more than that, she was livid at the people doing this to him. How dare they touch a hair on his head? How dare they do this to him? That this was to be his payment for doing something so kind, so good in a world filled with hate.

Jay was a good man—a great cop—with a golden-heart that wouldn’t let anyone stand in his way of what he thought was right and that was what she loved most about him.

She loved him. And she wasn’t afraid to admit any more.

If this whole experience had taught her anything it would be to not hold back. Life is short, and she knew that. She’d been in similar spots before and had these same profound revelations about how precious life was, but today felt different.

Because the truth was, he had her heart, completely and irrevocably. He had it before she even had the chance to say no and the way she loved him made her question whether she’d ever truly loved anyone before.

She’d been scared before. Falling in love with another partner; just falling in love in general. It was risky and scary and honestly downright terrifying. But what she felt for Jay, she was starting to realize was worth the risk.

Life wasn’t without risks, and experience taught her that a lot of the time she ended getting hurt when she took them, but right here, right now, listening to Jay literally telling her and showing her how much he loved her in every scream, she knew the potential of what they could have wasn’t pointless or without reason.

It was the whole damn universe.

And if someone asked her right here and right now, she would give up her spot in Intelligence, her career, her life, everything—all without a moment’s hesitation, and she would do it all for Jay.

Being thrust into this situation with him has removed any old inhibitions and the lines that were being carefully walked had been completely eradicated.

The whisperings of her heart that had once told her she should give it a try, that he felt the same were now roaring inside of her with words of “I told you so.”

And it was ripping her heart apart.

After all, they say actions speak louder than words and right now, Jay was screaming.

It was silent now, and it had been for a little over an hour. Hailey was starting to think she’d rather hear Jay be in pain than sitting in the quiet, wondering if he was unconscious, bleeding out, or worse, already dead.

The only thing that had kept her from going totally down the rabbit hole of worst-case scenarios was attempting to get out of the chains she was in. She was grateful that she hadn’t been tied to the pole as Jay had been, giving her the mobility to scoot around the floor in hopes of finding something that could help her out of her restraints.

She was done waiting for the team. She needed to get them out of there as quickly as possible even if she didn’t know exactly how she was going to go about it yet.

A few minutes into her search, she’d found a file and she’d been diligently sawing back and forth at the weakest part of the rusty chains for last hour or so. It seemed to be working, and she felt like she was finally getting to a point where she could just break them by applying some outside pressure.

The sound of a door banging shut caused her head to snap up and she quickly hid the file in her back pocket. What she saw then she knew would be haunting her dreams for years to come.

The nicer of their two captors had Jay’s arm slung around his shoulder, practically dragging him down the steps before he deposited him in a heap beside her.

“What did you do to him?” Hailey couldn’t help but gasp out, already moving to shield Jay protectively.

He didn’t say anything, and she could see the remorse in his eyes as he headed back up the stairs and out the only door to the basement. As soon as he was gone, Hailey turned to Jay, fighting back the tears at seeing him in this condition.

There was significantly more blood in his hair, his lips were split in multiple places and she was pretty sure he had two black eyes, but that wasn’t what looked the worst. His shirt was torn, and she could see significant burn marks from a taser dotting his chest along with what looked like shallow cuts from a knife.

“Jay,” She whispered brokenly, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him, “Jay, babe.” It fell from her lips effortlessly and she didn’t even think twice about what she had said as she moved to use her body weight to break her chains.

As soon as she could use her arms and legs, she knelt beside him to cradle his face and used the pads of her thumbs to stroke his cheekbones, “Hey Jay. Look at me, baby. Look at me.” Not waiting for a response, she quickly started going over his body to check for other injuries all the while murmuring his name over and over again.

This time she gasped out a sob, all the air leaving her chest as she rucked up his shirt and found the distinctive welts from being whipped covering his torso and back.

“Oh my God, Jay,” She cried softly, wanting to provide him with some kind of relief but afraid to do anything, not wanting to cause him any more pain, “What did they do to you?”

She was surprised when he moaned, not expecting a response as he let out a raspy “I’m fine”.

Hailey couldn’t help but let out a watery chuckle, her hands going back to carefully frame his face as she caught a glimpse of those vibrant green eyes she loved so much, “Only you would say that in the condition you’re in.”

“Kev called undercover. The team’s close,” Even talking seemed to cause him pain, but he powered through knowing she needed to know this, “Found the drugs. They’ll be here soon.”

It was spoken brokenly, but she got the message, and she couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. There was no way she would be able to get him out of here by herself with him so injured.

Why did he have to be so adamant about her not knowing anything? He didn’t know anything either, but he’d somehow kept their captors from really harming her.

“Hailey,” Jay practically wheezed, catching her attention as he opened his eyes to find hers, “I can’t sit like this. It-it hurts too much.”

She barely managed to stop from crying again, biting her lip as she willed herself to stay strong for his sake. For him to admit he was in pain she knew he must be in a lot of it.

“Oh God, Jay,” Hailey swallowed back another wave of tears as she helped him move in a more comfortable position. She ended up half cradling him, his head resting on the swell of her breast and a protective arm around his shoulders to keep his back up off the ground.

She ran a gentle hand through his still miraculously styled hair, rocking him slightly and in all honesty, at the moment, she felt more like a woman sick with worry over the man she loved than a badass cop looking out for her partner.

Hailey’s not sure if she’s ever cried this much in her entire life or worried so deeply.

“What were you thinking Jay? Why would you offer yourself up like that?” She whispered to fill the silence, a couple of tears escaping on their own accord.

His gaze found hers. Strong, steady and certain in spite of all the pain, “I wasn’t about to let them hurt you. Not on my watch.”

Jay shifted in her arms, wincing slightly, “It’s my job to protect you, Hailey. And that doesn’t mean I don’t know you can protect yourself because you can—you’re a freaking badass, but it’s more than that,” Pausing, he reached up to tenderly brush away her tears with the pad of his thumb before whispering, “it’s because I love you and I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt if I can prevent it.”

Before she even had a chance to respond, the tell-tale sound of the metal door shutting prompted Jay to move faster than she thought possible with his injuries. She scrambled up after him, but she could tell he wanted to keep her behind him in an attempt to protect her.

If it was anyone other than Jay, Hailey would balk at the notion, but she knew that’s just who he was and how he operated. It was how he protected the people he loved. She knew it wasn’t some caveman idea that she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself. So, she stayed behind him, letting him do what he does just as he let her be the badass she was any other day.

Except for this moment when she was terrified, worried about Jay who by all accounts shouldn’t be standing.

“Where’s our father!?” The drunk one exclaimed angrily, stomping into the basement, “You said your people were getting our drugs and now my father’s not answering my calls!”

He was focused on Jay and Hailey’s eyes were drawn to the pipe she’d found when she found the file, cursing at herself for not bringing it with her to Jay’s side. It was only a few feet away; if she could just get there before their captor noticed, she’d be able to knock him out.

His reactions were slow because of the alcohol in his system so that’s what she was banking on, but she also knew it made him more dangerous and unpredictable.

The gun pointed in Jay’s face made her nervous and she was hoping to get out of here without either of them getting shot but if someone had to take a bullet, it was going to be her for going for the pipe.

It happened so fast. There were two loud pops and suddenly Jay was on the floor in front of her.

She could vaguely make out Adam calling her name as he dashed across the room, knocking Vodka guy’s gun out of his hand but all Hailey was focused on was Jay, on the ground, bleeding. She dropped to her knees, hands immediately going to the gunshot wound in his shoulder and yelled at Adam to call an ambulance.

Kim was suddenly in front of her, kneeling at Jay’s other side and Hailey looked up, her hands still keeping pressure as tears welled in her eyes. Meeting her friend’s gaze, she whispered out brokenly, “He just took that bullet for me.”

“What the hell, Will?” Hailey exclaimed in disgust, pissed off about the entire situation.

The red-headed doctor looked about as exasperated as she felt and part of her felt bad about the harried look in his eyes, but she was getting anxious and he wasn’t cooperating with her, so she didn’t feel too bad.

“Hailey, it’s against hospital rules,” Will stressed for what felt like the one-hundredth time. He shook his head; and he thought Jay was stubborn.

If possible, the frustrated look on Hailey’s face grew as she crossed her arms, somehow looking very formidable sitting cross-legged in the middle of a hospital bed wearing nothing but a hospital gown.

“Rules are overrated,” She stated through a clenched jaw.

Will’s eyebrows rose, “Uh. Not gonna lie. It’s a little alarming to hear that coming from a detective.”

She just glared harder and Will was starting to realize he had nothing on a pissed Hailey Upton.

He wasn’t sure if they were engaged in a battle of wills or what, but he was afraid of what she might do if he broke their gaze and looked away. He was honestly a little afraid to blink.

He’d gotten to know Hailey pretty well because of her partnership with Jay, but he wasn’t quite sure he realized just how fierce she could be until this moment.

How fierce she could be when it came to his brother.

Will had always noticed the concern and the protectiveness she’d had when it came to Jay’s injuries on the job. He’d thought the nature of their jobs was the reason for this but over time he’d started to wonder if it was because there was something more there.

Today, he stopped wondering. It was clear there was something there and when Hailey turned her head to conceal the tears welling up in her eyes, he wondered what exactly went down between her and his brother in that basement.

She turned back to him, the determination and love clear in those glassy blue eyes he knew his brother had fallen for, “Will, I have to be with him.”

Still, he hesitated, “Hailey…”

And just like that, the angry pissed off look was back on her face despite the tears in her eyes, “I’ll have you know that I can make your life a living hell, Will Halstead.”

The threat was clear in the way her jaw was clenched but he could see her resolve starting to waver and he just didn’t have the heart to argue with her anymore, hospital rules be damned.

His head dropped in a resigned nod, “Alright. You win,” The relief that wafted off of her was palpable and he couldn’t help but give her a small smile even as he tried to look stern, “But, you have to take it easy because you’re a patient too. Also, if I get fired, I’m blaming it on you.”

If there was thing Hailey Upton was capable of, it would be getting her way when she wanted it.

Maybe it was all that time spent manipulating suspects in giving her the information she needed or maybe it stemmed from wheedling sweets and trinkets and whatever the hell else she wanted out of her older brothers when she was a kid, but usually, when it came right down to it, she was always able to convince people to hand her the requests she’d made on a silver platter.

And that’s how she found herself sitting on her own hospital bed that had been rolled into Jay’s ICU room for the foreseeable future.

As soon as the nurses that had transported her from her room were out of sight, Hailey very carefully got out of her bed, maneuvering around the IV going into her hand and gently slid in beside Jay. He was asleep but she knew from Will that he had already been awake, asking for her first thing as he came out from under anesthesia.

She was extra cautious to not upset the various lines running from his body and to machines monitoring his vitals as she settled in bedside his warm body, gently resting her head on his uninjured shoulder.

Hailey didn’t know how long she’d been laying there when she felt Jay shift, his voice slightly horse, “You know, I might start enjoying hospital stays if they mean I wake up next to you.”

Lifting her head, she blinked back tears for what felt like the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours. He was staring at her like she was his whole world, and he was just realizing what life was.

She wanted to kiss him. Was planning on it, but first she had to know, “Jay, why on earth would you take that bullet for me?”

Hailey was pretty sure she knew the answer. She was pretty sure it’s the same answer she would give him if she’d just taken a bullet meant for him, but she needed to hear it and not when he was laying on a dirty basement floor, writhing in pain.

She wasn’t sure laying on a hospital bed in a hospital right after he’d been shot was any better but it’s what they had, and he seemed pretty coherent for someone who had just had major surgery.

“Because I love you,” He said it so simply, so matter of fact and she marveled at the way it was so easy between them now.

And all it took was being kidnapped together.

Something happened between them while chained together in that basement. Something they had both been fighting for a while now and maybe it seemed sudden or rushed but Hailey knew in her heart of hearts that she and Jay were meant to be together.

Love wasn’t something you forced. It was something you had to wait for, maybe even had to get hurt along the way to really understand, but she now knew it was worth the wait.

“I love you too,” She almost whimpered before kissing him.

It wasn’t lusty, but it had an almost frantic urgency about it as they both silently acknowledged they could have very easily not had this moment.

He kissed her like he thought he’d never see her again and he told her yet again with his actions that he would follow her to the ends of the universe and to the very last of their tomorrows.

She knew they still had a lot to talk about. The things he especially went through in that basement, but she knew that could wait because they were alive and that was enough.

Because there was no doubt in either of their minds now.

They were right where they belonged.

Leave a comment! I’d love to know what y’all thought!!

#upsteadlovesongs2021 #chicago pd #hailey upton #jay halstead #upstead #fanfiction

87 notes · View notes

chipper9906 · 3 years ago

Text

Heal The Cracks Within My Heart - Chapter 4: Glimpses

<- - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR LOKI SEASON 1 EPISODE 6 ‘FOR ALL TIME. ALWAYS.’

Pairings: Loki/Sylvie

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 9,907

Overall Word Count: 42,032 (In Progress)

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (4/?)

Chapter Preview:

Loki was pretty sure Sylvie was making fun of him. Probably around ninety percent sure, if he had to give a figure. Or… or maybe more seventy-five… sixty-five… fifty-fifty? No, what was he thinking? He was just getting into his head, is all. Of course Sylvie was just joking around with him. Clearly he wasn’t supposed to take what she had said seriously.

…Right?

“Uh… so, just to be clear-,”

“Oh my God…” Sylvie’s drawn-out groan cut him off. “You’re supposed to be a master of lies, both in telling them and detecting them! You’re telling me you can’t pick up on a little sarcasm?”

Link To Fic

Click Below To Keep Reading

Sylvie was glad that Loki didn’t laugh at her comment in the self-deprecating way she had partly been expecting him to. For a few seconds, he didn’t even react at all, taking the time to absorb her answer and realize that she wasn’t lying to him – or trying to make what would have been a cruel joke. He makes no effort to hide the soft smile that hitches at his lips, eyes holding a warmth directed towards her that was almost overwhelming. There were times like these in the small moments of peace they found together where Loki bared himself to her, practically holding out his heart for her to take, and she always felt that bolt of fear that she would break it the moment she reached out for it.

Loki reaches out for her hand, and she lets him take it - lifting under her hand and pulling it up to place a tender kiss on the back of her hand. It was strange, only having used her knuckles to throw punches, and now experiencing the sensation of his lips on an area that was only used to violence.

“Thank you,” Loki said, voice brimming with genuine gratitude. His gaze rested on hers, bearing deep with an intensity that set her already over-heated skin alight.

Sylvie cleared her throat, forcing herself to break away from his gaze and pretend to brush away bits of sand and dirt that weren't actually on her clothes. Loki watched, partly in amusement but also in some confusion as she stood from the wall, only to drop back down on the floor directly in front of him.

“Teaching time,” Sylvie answers his unspoken question, crossing her legs underneath her. “Since you managed to conjure up that shirt, I’m assuming you’re up for it. Or, ‘have enough focus’ for it.”

“I… I think so,” Loki replied, pushing himself up a little straighter. “Although, I have to warn you: I’ve never actually taught anyone magic before. I’ve only ever been the, uh… the student.”

“Then we’ll both teach each other,” Sylvie offered. “I can give you some more tips for enchantment, if you’d like. In return, I want to know more about your powers. It seems our mother had a lot to teach me that I never got to learn.”

“There’s a lot,” Loki warned her.

“Examples?”

“Well, there’s conjuration, for starters,” Loki began, pushing down on his pointer finger with the finger on his other hand, counting to ‘one’. “Conjuration is… tricky. There are two main methods of conjuration I use -- one being more like ‘teleportation’ than conjuration. See, with that method, I’m simply grabbing something from a location where I know it already exists - though there’s nothing simple about it - and manifesting itself where I am. Say, for example, I had a dagger stored on some shack on the other side of this planet. I can use my magic to will the dagger to rearrange its atoms to a new location - such as in my hand.”

“Sounds easy…” Sylvie says, sounding daunted by the idea.

“Takes practice, just like any other magic,” Loki assured her. “There were a few times the item I was summoning arrived… not quite as it should. Other times I’d mess up the location completely. Ended up with the dagger materializing in my hand.”

Sylvie cringed at the image that came to her mind, still able to feel the faint sting across her palm from his dagger metaphor not long ago, knowing that doesn’t compare to the entire blade going through your palm.

“The other form of conjuration is, unfortunately, just as difficult - perhaps even more so,” Loki continues. “I’m afraid we’re rather limited to what we can conjure. Simple object mostly, that are only compromised of a few materials.

“Like clothing, and bandages, and blankets, and daggers…” Sylvie lists the items she’d seen him create from thin air.

Loki hums in confirmation. “Precisely. Bits of cloth, really. Simple weapons, such as my daggers, are possible as they’re not much more than… metal. Start adding too many parts and it gets too complicated, too complex to materialize. If there were no limits, well…” Loki cut himself off with a huff of laughter. “I could have just created a Tem-Pad whenever. Or an infinity stone. Anything.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Probably a good thing there are limits then,” Loki says with a knowing smirk.

“So… is that what you did back on Lamentis?” Sylvie asks, getting a confused frown in response. “Back when we trying to sneak onto that train headed towards the Ark. You changed your clothing to blend in with the guards?”

“Ah,” Loki realized what she was referring to. “No, that wasn’t conjuration. That would be a different power.”

“And you say you’re not a magician…”

“I prefer the term ‘Sorcerer’,” Loki corrects her. “You have the potential of these powers too, you know.”

“We’ll see,” Sylvie said, not sounding all that confident. “Come on, then - what else can you do?”

“Hmm… Well, there’s Astral Projection?”

“And what do you use that for?”

“Deceiving, mostly,” Sylvie nearly jumped out of her skin when his voice came from right beside her. She whipped around to face the direction of the voice, blinking in surprise at… Loki. Another duplicate of Loki, who looked identical to the one still sat against the wall, looking rather proud of himself for his magic.

“Sometimes gets confused with Illusion Casting - which is what I did back on Lamentis to alter the appearance of my clothing,” The other Loki faded away as the real Loki waved down at himself and - with another flash of magic - he was dressed head to toe in the deep blue guard uniform from Lamentis, ridiculous helmet and all. “Which is also what I used to create the fake dagger back on the train. And is… the same power we saw us - old us - use to trick Alioth.”

“Right…” Sylvie murmured quietly. “I’m guessing you’ve never been able to recreate the entirety of our home in an illusion?”

“Not quite,” Loki admitted. “But I can use it to alter my appearance rather convincingly.”

Loki backed up his statement by seemingly shape-shifting into a man she had never seen before, dressed in a uniform of distractedly bright blues, reds, and whites. “This pretty face belongs to one Captain Steve Rodgers - more commonly referred to as ‘Captain America’. He was one of the plucky heroes that managed to bring my army down in New York.”

There was nothing on him that Sylvie could see which would give away the illusion – no haziness to his form or fuzzy edges. There was no other word for it but to call it downright impressive. Although, her answer quickly changed to ‘creepy’ as Loki altered his appearance once more, and she came face to face with… herself. It was unsettling, to say the least, to stare back into her own eyes that technically weren’t her own, getting more and more creeped out by the minor mannerisms in her movements that Loki had managed to learn and use so quickly in his replication of her.

“Nope, too weird,” Sylvie has to look away, made all the more uncomfortable when his laughter at her discomfort comes out in her voice. “Give me back the original you.”

“As you command,” Sylvie’s grateful to hear him speak in his voice again, cautiously peeking at him out of the corner of her eye, relieved to see the face of the Loki she knows.

“Never do that again…” Sylvie asks of him, looking almost queasy at what had just happened. “It’s bad enough I have to look myself in the eyes in reflections; I'd rather not have to stare myself directly in the face, thank you.”

“You know, there was a variant of us that looked almost exactly like me back in The Void,” Loki tells her.

“And… is there any particular reason he wasn’t with the other versions of us you introduced me to?”

“Well, he was…” Loki tried to find the best way to put this. “…Rather an idiot, I suppose.”

“So, when you said exactly like you…?”

“Ouch,” Loki placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “I guess you could say he was me - if I’d never learned my lesson. There were… at least a dozen versions of us all congregated in one place, which went about as well as you could expect. A fight broke out; the alligator version of us bit off the other me’s arm-,”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Never even knew I could scream like that...”

Sylvie’s head reared back in surprise, wondering exactly how much mischief Loki had managed to get into in the short amount of time he was in the Void before she and Mobius had run into him.

“What did you want to start with?” Loki asks her, experimentally stretching out to see how much pain would blossom from his wounds. The pain is still sharp and evident, enough so for him to wince and quickly stop his stretches, but it’s bearable.

“I think it might be worth for the both of us to be able to use conjuration,” Sylvie answers. “Especially if you’re going to be insistent on throwing yourself into danger every chance you get. I’ll probably be materializing bandages in my sleep…”

“With you as my carer, I know I have nothing to worry about,” Loki counters, shooting her a cocky smile as he offers out his hand once more for her to take. She places her hand in his, though raises a brow in questioning.

“Keeping skin-to-skin contact with you helped immensely when we were sharing our powers to enchant Alioth,” Loki answers. “Thought it might help with this, too.”

Sylvie nodded, his answer making sense in her mind - along with that annoying whisper in her mind that told her she didn’t need an excuse from him to hold his hand when she knew full well that she wanted to.

“Close your eyes,” Loki instructs her, and she does so. A sense of calm washes over her the second she does, keeping her grip tight around Loki as she sinks into that still, tranquil river of peace. “You can feel your control over your magic within, can’t you? Feel the opportunities it can provide? Feel the possibilities of the known Universe under your command?”

“Yes,” Sylvie answers automatically, keeping her eyes closed firmly shut.

“Picture the object you wish to manifest. Make it as real in your mind as if it were in front of you,” Loki continues with his teaching, his voice smooth and soothing as it washes over her. “Grab hold of that magic brimming within you. Remember that it is yours to control, to bend it to your will. You need to start encouraging your magic towards that picture in your mind, manipulate it into the object you desire.”

Sylvie’s brow was creased into a deep frown as she dredged up every bit of concentration she had, focusing it all towards the task at hand. The few beads of sweat that ran down her face from her hairline were not entirely from the sweltering heat of the cave, resisting the urge to wipe the drops away.

She heard Loki’s sharp inhale of surprise, but didn’t dare look at what he was seeing just yet. She let the sound of him fade away as background noise, doing all she could to ensure her first attempts at conjuration were at least somewhat successful. Loki’s hand in hers was not of the distraction she thought it’d be, rather acting as an anchor to keep her focused whilst simultaneously providing her with a reassurance; a way of him saying ‘I believe in you’ without him actually saying it.

She didn’t know if it had worked. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to look. She knew that, chances are, her first attempt at conjuration was unlikely to end the way she was hoping to. But that didn’t mean she wanted to see that with her own eyes.

“Sylvie,” Loki’s voice doesn’t give away how he’s feeling, the tight squeeze around her wrist being the only thing that snatched some of her focus away. “Sylvie, open your eyes.”

His words mirror her own from not too long ago, and she knows they hold the same pride she felt towards him on that day, as she got to witness him branching out his magic in a way he hadn’t done before. It’s this that gets her to slowly peel her eyes open, looking down to the small space between them to see if she had managed to manifest what she had envisioned.

And… there it was. It might not have been the exact same size, and maybe the color was slightly off from what she remembers, but… it was her boat; the little model that seemed a lot bigger when she was just a child. She knows that, technically, it’s not her boat - having long been pruned by the TVA along with everything else in her life. Yet… she had made it. She had willed it back into existence.

Loki watched her silently as she gingerly picked the model boat up from the ground, cradling it in her hands as she looked to her creation. She turned the model around to get a good look from every angle, inspecting the boat thoroughly for anything that would give away it being a first-time conjurer's creation.

“Not bad, huh?” Sylvie asks him, voice thick with emotion as she holds the boat out for him to take. Loki takes the boat from her hands with great care, knowing that - whilst it was only a replica - was the only physical thing she really had from her childhood, and from the life that had been taken from her.

“Not bad at all,” Loki agrees with a smile so full of pride that it makes her heart hurt, holding out the boat like he’s inspecting it - except he only has eyes for her.

"Not sure why I chose that," Sylvie says, taking back the boat when Loki carefully offers it back to her. "It just sort of... popped into my head."

She shoots him a sheepish smile, placing the toy boat down on the ground next to her. "Okay, your turn."

"My turn?"

"With learning," Sylvie clarifies. "Anything else you want to know about enchantment? Practice it?"

"Well, yes but..." Loki started, confused. "...But practice on who?"

Sylvie raised an eyebrow at him like the answer was obvious.

"You?" Loki's voice pitched up in disbelief. "You're going to let me enchant you?"

"I'm going to let you try," Sylvie returned with a playful smirk.

Loki glanced down to her extended hand nervously, delicately taking hold of her wrist. Back when they had enchanted Alioth, it had felt more like... like Sylvie was doing most of the work. She was the one to make that bridge between themselves and Alioth, whilst he sort of... did what he could do in the background, extending out his magic towards both her and to Alioth. He hadn't been too sure what it was he was looking for, his magic reaching out and searching through the mess that was Alioth's thoughts and memories.

"It's easier to search by my emotions, rather than just randomly selecting through all my memories," Sylvie tells him. "We attach our emotions to our memories; they stick out like a post-it note atop each one. It's useful when, for example with that hunter from the TVA, where I'm trying to... manipulate their memories. I sifted through the happy memories I could find, then forced myself into her memory, trying to blend in with her life."

"Why happy memories?" Loki asks.

"Keeps them placated," Sylvie answers. "They're more likely to accept changes - such as that hunter believing she knew me back on her normal life on Earth."

"...What would happen if you used bad memories?"

"Well... It'd be like a form of torture, I suppose," Sylvie gives him a somewhat concerned look. "Not many people want to re-live their worst memories."

"Oh, believe me, I know..." Loki says bitterly, shuddering at the memory of his repeated cycling memory with Lady Sif.

“If you’ll let me, I can show you,” Sylvie offers. “Afraid you’ll have to take down the walls in your mind, though. Even I can’t get through your defenses.”

What Loki found odd was that… the idea of Sylvie searching through his head didn’t worry him. He knew he had an extensive record of memories stored up there, and he knew full well that a lot of them featured his not so finest moments. But… it’s Sylvie. If anyone were to understand the things he did and the reasons he did them, it would be her. And besides, she said she would be looking through his good memories, right?

“Go ahead,” Loki gives her permission with a small nod of his head. Sylvie removes her hand from his hand, raising her fingers up to the sides of his temple, like she had tried to do in Lamentis. As her eyes slid shut, so did his, waiting for the moment he would be thrust into his own mind to relive his memories.

He could feel her presence in his mind. She was rummaging around, carefully sorting through memory after memory. It was unsettling that he didn’t know what it was she was… feeling from him? Feeling the emotions attached to his memories? He simply didn’t know where in his life she had jumped to, and to what ‘happy memory’ she would bring to the forefront.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Loki opened his eyes, expecting to see Sylvie sat in front of him, as she was before. Except now, he was standing upright instead of leaning against the cave wall, Sylvie stood next to him. Gone was the stifling heat, the unbearable dry air, and landscapes of nothing but sand. It had been replaced by a gentle and welcoming breeze that whistled through the trees surrounding them, soft dirt under their feet, and a perfectly reasonable temperature around them.

“Come on, Loki!” A young boy with a mop of blonde hair yells as he runs by the two of them, some of his finest clothing having been dirtied up – which would more than likely earn him a scolding once he returned home. He held a wooden sword in his hands - no more than a child’s plaything - but he held it like it was his most trusted weapon. “We need to advance before they retreat any further!”

“Thor…” Loki whispers in disbelief, the memories of this day rushing back as he watched the… well, the memory unfold.

“The cowards!” Another high-pitched, young child’s voice comes from somewhere within the trees. Loki watched as his younger self hurried over to his brother's side, he too holding a child’s weapon in his hand. Although, unlike his brother, his weapon was much smaller, thinner, and easier to conceal.

His love of daggers had started at quite a young age.

A touch against his hand distracts him for a moment, glancing down to see that Sylvie had slipped her hand into his, their fingers sliding together in a perfect fit. She watched the two children play with a warm smile, reminded of the mischief she and her Thor would get up to when not under their parent’s watchful eyes.

“You were a cute kid,” She leans closer to tell him, and before he can say or do anything in response, she looks him up and down with a criticizing eye. “What happened?”

“Oh, very funny,” Loki deadpans with a light-hearted glare. “I grew into my looks, thank you very much -- not out of them.”

“Don’t need to tell me,” Sylvie responds slyly, appreciating the way it made him close his mouth with an audible clack of teeth, looking caught between a feeling of embarrassment at her agreement, and that overly cocky sense of ‘Damn right’.

Whatever fake battle his younger self and younger brother had created in their imagination seemed to have reached its peak, the two boys ferociously swinging their wooden swords through the air and pretending it was slicing through the bodies of countless enemies. A part of Loki yearned to go back to those simpler times when his only worries were of what imaginary monsters needed to be slain, back when he was sure he would grow up defending Asgard until he breathed his last, ready to take arms against the Frost Giants if the need ever arose.

Finding out that he was one really threw a wrench into the plans…

Loki blinks, and all of a sudden he’s back in the cave, like they had never left it. The sudden shift in surroundings was disorienting, and he needed to take a second to come back to himself, and back to reality.

“That was an abrupt ending,” Loki commented, rubbing a hand against his forehead as he felt the lingering traces of Sylvie’s magic slowly dissipate.

“It was supposed to be a happy memory, you know,” Sylvie says, much to his confusion.

“What do you mean? It was a happy memory.”

“You didn’t look it,” Sylvie says, and he finds himself taken aback not only by how much he apparently put his emotions on display, but on how well Sylvie was able to pick up on it. “I don’t know what you were thinking about, but that memory certainly wouldn’t stay happy for long if you kept that train of thought up.”

She was right, and he knew it. Even now, he could already tell that the memory was tainted - no longer the pure and innocent moment captured in time that it had been.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd rather you didn't try to manipulate my memories," Sylvie says, tapping a finger to the side of her head. "We'll just go with simple enchantment for now. Just... do the same as I did for you. Enter my memories, and show them to me. Try and find a good one, if you can."

Loki swallowed nervously, slowly raising his fingers up to her head. He knew it was no small thing that she was so willingly offering her most vulnerable side to him, giving him the opportunity to view any and all memories that she has. And yet, when he placed his fingers on the sides of her head, she did not flinch away in a desperate bid to escape him. They both once again let their eyes fall shut, and like a searching hand did Loki’s magic reach out towards her mind.

He could tell what she meant before with the whole ‘wall’ thing. Hers was just as impenetrable as his, bringing his magic to a standstill as he reaches it. There’s a moment of hesitation - although, really, it feels more like a moment where Sylvie was gathering herself together - before the wall all but crumbles away at his touch, and he delves deeper into her mind-

Too much. It was too much, all at once, surrounding him until it engulfed him. He had no idea how Sylvie was able to pick through all those different emotions when they are all just there, screaming for his attention. Disembodied voices surrounded him, and there was no chance of him making out what voices they were as they all congealed into one unidentifiable mess of noise.

Something good. That’s all he had to find, wasn’t it? Surely he can do that. He makes an effort to filter through everything around him, and the very first thing he comes across that shows even the slightest hint of being somewhat good, he grabs hold of.

And… immediately wishes he hadn’t.

To say he was shocked still was an understatement. Wherever they were was almost too dark to make out, barely able to detect that they were stood in some… shack, maybe? He didn’t know. But what he did recognize were the noises, and as soon as he heard them, he knew exactly why a memory like this would fall somewhere in the ‘good’ category. Loki could feel the intense flush across his face at the needy, breathy moans he could hear from the two bodies writhing together atop what looked like a less than comfortable bed. Then again, it wasn’t like they were using the beds for sleeping...

His mind incessantly reminded him that one of those naked figures moving on the bed was Sylvie, and he was caught off guard by the bolt of lust that shot through him whilst, simultaneously, he had to deal with a whole other mess of emotions: Shame, at witnessing such a private moment; embarrassment, at knowing he had been caught witnessing said moment by the person whose privacy he was betraying, stood by his side with an equal expression of shock. But what caught him most off guard though was the burning, overwhelming feeling of jealously that over-powered all the others, irrationally hating this unknown person. It shouldn’t be them who were allowed to run their hands across her body. It shouldn’t be them who were permitted to see every inch of her skin. It shouldn’t be them who got Sylvie to make those soft sighs of pleasure that made his mouth run dry.

He wasn’t sure if it was him or Sylvie that ripped them away from the memory. It was probably a little of both, the two of them hurriedly shoving each other out of the proverbial memory door, tripping over each other to get out.

Loki sat wide-eyed, staring un-blinkingly at Sylvie. He had ripped his hands away from her as soon as they had come back to themselves, waiting for his racing heart to calm down. They could only gape at each other for a good few seconds, neither one knowing what to say or how to react to what had just happened.

“I--I- I’d like to apologize…” Loki takes the first step, his words coming out in an awkward stumble of speech.

The pure panic on his face would usually be enough to make Sylvie laugh if she wasn’t still working through her own embarrassment. She pointedly refuses to look him in the eye, staring at a particularly interesting piece of wall behind him instead. “Suppose I should have expected that might have been a possibility…”

“I wasn’t searching for, um -- that,” Loki tries to defend himself, but it only makes his face flush brighter. “I didn’t know what memory I had found, only that it seemed to be a good one - which admittedly, it, uh… seems like it was?”

“It was… pleasant…” Sylvie forces out through the shame that wanted to keep her mouth firmly shut. “Um… how much exactly did you see?”

“Not much,” Loki answers, and it was the truth. “It was too dark to see much of anything. I mean, I knew that since it was your memory that it was… you, on that bed. But I didn’t see it was you.”

Sylvie nods, apparently accepting his answer. She clears her throat awkwardly, trying to shake off the last dregs of embarrassment that were intent on lingering. “Good. I’d rather not have that be the first time you see me like that.”

Loki’s wide-eyes stare somehow got wider, not expecting for Sylvie to bounce back from her embarrassment like… well, like that. It wasn’t exactly like he could take what she said and interpret it in any other way than what she was hinting at.

“Okay - let’s try again,” Sylvie said, giving Loki a serious case of conversational whiplash.

“I… what?”

“Enchant me again,” Sylvie clarifies, shuffling closer to him. “Only, this time, if you could spend a little extra time selecting the memory, I’d appreciate it.”

“Are you sure?” Loki asks, voice filled with anxiety as he places his fingers on her head again. “There’s every chance I could mess it up again.”

“I have faith in you,” Sylvie assures him, and it’s all he needs to hear to delve straight back into her mind.

At least he was a little bit more prepared for it this time. It still felt like he was being squeezed in on all sides by every single memory her mind had procured, but now he knew what it was like, he didn’t feel the immediate panic that had him reaching for the first good memory he could sense. Loki forced his way through, letting all the different emotions attached to each individual memory wash over him. It was disheartening to see - or more accurately, feel - just how many of her memories were bad ones. The good ones, if you could even call them that, seemed few and far between, dull in comparison to all the terrible moments she’s had to endure. Still, he trudged forward, extending his magic to its limits.

There it was. Shining bright in the darkness of everything else, tucked snuggly away in a nice, safe spot away from all the bad. He wasn’t sure if she purposefully hid it here to make this more of a challenge for him, or if it was just where it already was. Loki reaches for the memory, and the memory seems to move towards him, eager to accept his touch.

The blackness surrounding him gives way to a flash of white, momentarily blinding him. Loki raises a hand to shield his eyes, rapidly blinking as he waits for his vision to come back into focus. When it does, he can only slowly lower his hand back down, staring out to what was in front of him in disbelief.

He recognized this memory. This bright, shining, happy memory. Because… he was in it. For most looking on the outside, the memory certainly didn’t look happy, what with the giant chunks of planet moments away from smashing into them and obliterating the moon that was under their feet. Yet, there was beauty amongst all this destruction; the purples and pinks of Lamentis’s sky created an almost dream-like atmosphere, the luminous colors reflecting in the still lake they had been sat by.

He could see himself, sat on that rock with Sylvie by his side. This had been what they both thought were going to be their last moments. It had been remarkable really that, in those last moments, Sylvie didn’t hold onto any grudges – him having admittedly been the one to doom them to this fate by accidentally crushing the TemPad.

“Do you think that what makes a Loki a Loki… is the fact that we’re destined to lose?” He hears the words Sylvie had spoken to him, just as beaten-down sounding as he remembered.

“No,” His past self asserts with all the confidence he has. “We may lose. Sometimes painfully. But we don’t die. We survive. I mean, you did. You were just a child when the TVA took you, but you nearly took down the organization that claims to govern the order of time. You did it on your own. You ran rings around them. You’re amazing!”

Loki didn’t realize at first that the wave of emotions that crashed into him weren’t entirely his own. Somehow, he was simultaneously re-experiencing the emotions he himself had felt in that moment, combined with not only the emotions he was feeling in this very moment watching it all unfold, but also getting the full brunt of Sylvie’s emotions, from where he was witnessing all this from inside her head.

The strength of it nearly took him off his feet. The sense of gratitude he could feel from Sylvie, just from him saying what he had said. And there was this… this sheer adoration towards him, his chest tight as it felt like his heart stumbled over a few beats. It might have been him, it might have been Sylvie, or it might have been both of them. Either way, it was… beyond reassuring to know now, that it had been the same for her. This very moment, as he watched her reach out and place a hand on his arm… it had been the moment he began to fall for her.

Funny that it took reliving a memory for him to be slapped with the realization that right here, and right now, he had fallen completely and utterly in love with her. Deep down, he probably already knew that. In fact, it was probably obvious to many, let alone himself.

He wondered if, by some miracle, that she felt the same in that moment. Truth be told, he doesn’t know how she feels for him now. He’s not completely blind; he knows there’s some semblance of feelings there. Question was… how far did those feelings run? Were they as deep as his? Would she ever tell him?

Would he ever find the courage to tell her?

“Our Nexus Event…” Sylvie said quietly from next to him, eyes still transfixed on the memory of the two of them

It wouldn’t be too long before the ‘happy’ part of the memory was interrupted by the entrance of the TVA, their workers storming in to take them prisoner once again. Loki wasn’t too sure whether it was Sylvie’s influence on her own memory, but it seemed… slower, like she was savoring every second of it she could. He could almost feel the warmth of her memory self’s hand on his arm - the first genuine touch of kindness from her - the moment forever etched into his skin.

The end of this world, and the near end of their lives, was almost…. almost beautiful to behold. Especially now, with everything slowed down: the shards of broken-up planet hurtling towards them so slow you nearly couldn’t tell they were moving, the picture-perfect lake in front of them as still and calm as can be - quite the difference to the chaos and destruction just above their heads, waiting to rain down upon them.

“You know, I spent many nights wondering what my end would be,” Sylvie tells him. “Different scenarios that could occur. Most of them were preparation, I suppose. Trying to make escape plans for every possible thing that could go wrong. I thought that, if the day came that something did wrong, and I couldn’t find a way out of it? I tried to imagine how much of a mess my mind would be. What would I think about, as my death approached? That I failed my mission? That my life had been for nothing? Would I spend those last moments thinking of my family - or at least, what of them I can remember?”

Loki watched Sylvie as she spoke, who had yet to look away from the memory versions of themselves. Although she wasn’t looking at him, she seemed to sense he was looking at her, for she gestured with a flick of her chin for him to pay attention. Loki followed her line of sight just as she blindly reached out for him, wrapping a hand around his forearm, just below the elbow. At that same moment, the memory version of himself had slipped his arm down until his hand met Sylvie’s, the two of them latching onto one another tightly as the deadly chunk of planet that had been looming ahead crashed into the surface of Lamentis, sending a blast of heat and debris towards them.

It was then, with Sylvie’s hand still wrapped around his arm, that he heard her voice in his head. Not of her current thoughts, no, but of the thought she had in those last seconds - moments before she was certain would be the last seconds of life. What caught her off guard though, as much as it had Loki, was that she too heard his thoughts. Their last thought - or so they had thought - rang out within the memory as clearly as if they had said it out loud. And the craziest part?

It had been the same single thought.

‘Finally…I’m not alone.’

Their combined voices echoed in Loki’s head as the memory faded away, and he found himself opening his eyes back in reality. His fingers were still held against the side of her head, and he found he couldn’t take them away as Sylvie opened her eyes, immediately focusing in on him. There was such warmth to her gaze, and it took him a moment to remember how to breathe. There were times, such as the moment they had just visited, or when they shared a blanket in the void, where she had given him glimpses of that warmth. He had seen it, hiding behind a layer of wariness in her eyes, valiantly trying to fight to the surface. It seems that, in this moment of raw truth, that it had won its fight.

Gods, he never wanted her to stop looking at him like that. If he wasn’t careful, she would become an addiction - one he knows full well he won’t be able to kick.

Oh, who’s he kidding. He became hooked on every essence of her long ago.

And he didn’t mind one bit.

Loki let one of his hands drop away as the other softly grazed down the side of her face, coming to a stop at the bottom of her chin. It was a bit of an awkward angle from where they were sitting - even if Sylvie had gravitated towards him throughout their little enchantment training session - and the bending of his body as he leaned towards him had most definitely sent a twinge of pain shooting through his side. He was pretty sure that the movement had torn the wounds open again, but as he tilted her face up and their lips finally met, he decided that this was worth bleeding for.

Their kiss broke for the briefest of moments as Sylvie pushed herself up onto her knees, her hands resting on his shoulders as she swooped back down to reclaim his lips with her own. The pressure of her hands on him pushed him back into the wall, the rough and cold surface of it against his back a stark contrast to the gentleness and warmth of her lips. Loki had found a way to bring out a soft side of her that she didn’t know existed, one she thought was buried down and would cause great embarrassment if she ever let herself be seen as so weak. But with Loki, it all just… came easy. She knew that he wouldn’t see her as weak - and she was completely right. From Loki’s perspective, the fact that she was able to display such a side of herself when she’s relied on nothing but toughness and cruelness to survive filled him with a sense of pride and admiration that he hoped he was able to express with every lingering tender gaze and press of lips.

Kisses had never been much of an expression of emotion for Sylvie. They had just been part of the process – a sensation that leads to more, something to distract her. Most of the time, they were rough and hard: clashes of teeth, red and puffy lips as they make haste to get on with it before the end of the world, the taste of iron in her mouth from a bite of the lip that had been a little too hard.

It was nice, to have this with Loki. No rushing, no ‘We’re here to do a thing, so let’s get it over with’. She could just… take her time. Appreciate the way it feels to have someone touch her in a way that didn’t send her into fight or flight, savor the way he held her – not like she was fragile, but something precious. She doesn’t have to kiss him like the world's about to end. She gets to kiss him simply because she can, because it’s what she wants, because he’s what she wants, because she lo--

Whoa. That thought had almost come too easily, ready to slip into her mind like it was something of common knowledge. It’s enough of a shock that she pulls away from Loki – but then again, the burning in her lungs and the way they were both panting as they break away from one another likely meant that there would have been a pause soon anyway. Loki’s pupils were blown almost all the way out, the blue-gray of his irises nothing more than a thin ring eclipsing the black holes trapped within his eyes. Sylvie wondered if her eyes looked about the same right now – at least, if the heat searing through her veins was of any indication.

Loki’s tongue darted out across his lips, swiping away the taste of her that lingered there. His lips had turned cherry bright and glossy, which was almost tempting enough for her to dive right back in, only for her racing thoughts to be brought to a calm as Loki spoke.

“I know that you’ve spent nearly your entire life alone,” Loki began. “But… it doesn’t have to be that way anymore. I can promise you: I’ll make sure you never have to feel alone again.”

Sylvie could feel her face soften at his nervous offer. “You can’t promise that. And that’s not me saying that you might one day decide you’ve had enough of me - which is something I could see happening.”

Loki opened his mouth to strongly argue against her statement, but Sylvie continued before he could get a word out beyond the deep frown etched onto his face. “I’m saying it because… there’s a chance you might leave me, not of your own volition. The life I’ve dragged you into - especially now with so many new threats out there that we don’t even know about… someone could take you from me. In a blink, you could be gone, and… and I’d be alone again.”

“There’s always that risk,” Loki pointed out. “I mean, it’s us. You didn’t drag me into this life. I dragged myself into it when I picked up the Tesseract that landed by my feet. And If I hadn’t done that? Then my life would have ended at the hands of Thanos anyway. If I had to choose between that, and spending the rest of my life with you? Well, let’s just say it’d be the easiest decision of my life. Hel, you could give me the choice of living a life of luxury on the throne of Asgard, or slumming it with you in Apocalypse after Apocalypse, and I’d still choose this path. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter what path is laid before me. I’ll only choose the one where you walk down it beside me.”

Sylvie’s jaw clenched hard as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. She was almost certain that Loki was the reasoning behind around seventy percent of the number of times she’s cried in her entire life. When you’ve lived a life running from an all-powerful organization that’s chasing you for not belonging in their carefully crafted universe, it’s not all too surprising that actually feeling wanted by someone was enough to open the floodgates.

“You’re an idiot,” She croaks out in an attempt at a joke. Although, she supposed it wasn’t much of a joke. Choosing her over a life of comfort seemed like a pretty stupid decision….

“That’s likely true,” Loki agreed with a wonky smile. “But if you’ll have me, then I’ll be your idiot.”

“Hmm… Such a tempting offer…” Sylvie says, smiling through the tears that still sat in her eyes. “I’ve only gone and spent over a thousand years of my life living completely alone, doing what I can to survive. And now, here’s someone sat in front of me who’s fought by my side, helped me outsmart the TVA to achieve the one goal I had set out to accomplish, had my best interests in mind even when I couldn’t see it myself, has thrown themselves into danger numerous times to protect me, and is now the one asking if I’ll have him?”

Loki stared blankly back at Sylvie. “…Yes?”

Sylvie’s lips flattened into a straight line, unsure whether to laugh or sigh at his uncertainty. It had at least helped to lessen the burning in her eyes. “Hmm… Nah. I think I’ll keep going on my own, thanks.”

…Right?

“Uh… so, just to be clear-,”

Loki’s lips pursed into an honest to God pout, crossing his arms across his chest with an in-dignified huff. He had already known, from Mobius’s little interrogation technique, that the skill-set he possesses in making him the Trickster he’s known as is often thrown completely out the window whenever Sylvie becomes involved.

Sylvie took pity on the sulking demigod, reaching down to place a hand on his knee. Loki’s eyes darted down to her hand, then back up to her, his frown softening by just the slightest. “Listen, Loki… What I was trying to say is that...”

Sylvie stopped with a heavy sigh, shuffling around until she was side to side with him once more. She leans back against the wall as he was, letting her head fall back until it softly collided with the wall as she closed her eyes. She figured it would probably be easier to say what’s on her mind when she can’t see the way his eyes were trying to burn into her soul.

“After everything that happened… I truly didn’t know how you’d react to seeing me. You know how I said I liked to think over different scenarios in my head? Try and prepare myself for every outcome?”

Loki nodded his head, and although she couldn’t see it, she took his silence as her cue to continue. “In nearly every scenario I envisioned… it never goes as I want. Maybe the Time Door wouldn’t take me to the same TVA I placed you in. Maybe I’d be arrested or pruned before I could find you. Maybe… maybe they had already killed you,” A lump formed in her throat at that thought. “Maybe, if I did find you, you’d refuse to go through that Time Door. Maybe, once you saw me, you’d run away. Or maybe you’d run towards me, and thrust your dagger through my chest.”

“I’d never-,” Loki tries to exclaim, but Sylvie raises a hand to stop him. Obediently, he falls quiet, though his mouth was still twisted into quite the grimace.

“I ran through the argument we’d have so many times in my head,” Sylvie continues. “A lot of shouting… a lot of tears… some of them would end in another clash of swords, others… you leave. And I find myself alone again. So when…” Sylvie forces her eyes open, glancing at Loki from her side vision. “When you ran to me, I was waiting to see which of those scenarios would unfold. But you did none of them. You wrapped your arms around me, and you were… you were happy to see me. Even with what I did to you, you were just…”

“Glad to see you were okay,” Loki finished for her.

“And I still don’t know what I did to deserve that,” Sylvie confesses, the two of them turning their heads towards one another. “I hadn’t been expecting it, and… I thought that, if I somehow managed to find you and you didn’t want nothing to do with me, then… then I thought that I’d be the one that was asking you if you’d have me – not the other way around.”

Loki exhaled softly from his nose, averting his gaze down with the beginnings of a smile. “Communication doesn’t seem to be our strong point…”

“Really not a fan of… feelings,” Sylvie spat out the word like it burned her. “They’re rather messy, aren’t they?”

“Hmm. And confusing.”

“Way too confusing. I mean, really, they seem to be more trouble than they’re worth.”

“No doubt about it,” Loki agrees wholeheartedly. “They get in the way half the time. How am I supposed to make clear-headed decisions when they’re always there?”

“So we’re in agreement?” Sylvie asks. “Feelings are stupid?”

“Oh, definitely,” Loki answers with a sly grin that forces a near-identical one from Sylvie, the two of them smiling at each other in the steadily darkening cave as this planet’s day came to an end. Loki’s grin slowly softens into a gentle smile, matching the tenderness in his eyes as he looked to her. “Glad I have them, though.”

“Me too,” Sylvie utters gently, unable to look away from his eyes on hers, admiring the way they almost seemed to change color as the cave’s lighting had gradually changed with the passing of time.

“Guess that makes us both idiots.”

Sylvie snorts at that, giving his shoulder a flimsy shove, making sure not to touch anywhere near his wound. Although his eyes don’t once stop expressing that never-ending kindness he always seemed to direct towards her, even Sylvie could see the bone-deep exhaustion that had begun to dull them. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had slept properly herself, outside of the brief nap she had sneaked in on the train to the Ark on Lamentis. Loki probably hadn’t slept in… well, she didn’t know - and after days, weeks, perhaps even months of running both with and against the TVA, jumping in and out of apocalypses, facing the ruler of the sacred timeline, and now getting himself hurt fighting actual space lizards… It was downright shocking he wasn’t conked out right this second.

Even demigods had their limits, after all.

“You should get some rest,” Sylvie expresses her worry both verbally and with her expressions, her brow creasing in a frown that only a mother-hen would sport - which she certainly was not. “I’ll take first shift; keep an eye out for any more man-eating reptiles.”

“You sure that’s safe?” Loki asks. “We still don’t know whether this is an Apocalypse.”

“That’s why I’m keeping watch,” Sylvie counters. “First sign of trouble, I’ll… Well, I’ll hope that this thing still works, first of all,” She gestures to the TemPad on her hand. “Besides, there hasn’t been any evidence that this is an Apocalypse.”

“Other than the TVA not showing up,” Loki points out. “Thought they only did that when we existed within Apocalypses?”

“We still don’t know how this whole ‘multi-verse' thing works. I don’t even know what kind of universe we’re in. What if this one doesn’t even have a TVA?”

“You don’t think the other TVA’s would work out a way to jump between universes?” Loki asks. “I’m sure some of them are already getting to work on pruning all those ‘unruly timelines’…”

“Oh, just lay down and get some sleep, would you?” Sylvie all but orders him.

“Yes, ma'am…” Loki mumbled, barely avoiding another annoyed shove.

Loki shuffled down the wall until he was flat on his back, staring up at the rocky ceiling that loomed above their heads. Now, with the once glaring sun that had been peeking through the cracks long gone - and the beginnings of the night sky now having replaced it -the temperature had slowly taken a nosedive. The hard ground under his back made it especially difficult to drift off, despite his body's desperate pleas for rest.

Then, even from beyond his closed eyelids, Loki could sense a bright burst of light appearing above him. Naturally, it startles him, eyes popping open in preparation for potential danger. Instead, he feels the comforting weight of a soft, warm blanket being draped over his body. His eyes dart over to Sylvie still by his side, seeing her watching him with a knowing smile as she twirls her fingers, conjuring the blanket out of thin air that was now laid comfortably over him. Loki pinches the corner of the blanket between his thumb and fingers, inspecting the new creation. The blanket was of a similar dark green to the one he had made, but the material had a heavier weight to it, along with being made of more of a wool type of material than the silk of his own.

“You looked cold,” Sylvie jokes. “Thought I’d return the favor from last time.”

“Made a few changes, I see,” Loki notes, running a hand across the blanket. “Seems we both enjoy the same type of color scheme, though.”

“Nothing wrong with the color of yours,” Sylvie said. “But c’mon - even you have to admit that it wasn’t the snuggliest of blankets.”

“And is that what you had in mind when designing this one?” Loki’s teasing grin as he looked up to her came through in his voice. “Ideal for snuggling?”

Sylvie’s glare came out weaker than she intended, trying - and failing - to ignore the heat that had rushed to her face. “Last time I do something nice for you…”

Loki’s responding laughter at least wasn’t a mocking one, the very definition of ‘I’m laughing with you, not at you’. For what felt like the umpteenth time since she’s met him, Sylvie looked away from him with a roll of her eyes, staring out into the dense darkness of the cave.

The moonlight seeping in above could only do so much to illuminate their surrounding, and her eyes could only provide her with so much information about what they could see before it became ‘nothingness’; the shadows and outlines of the cave blending together into one deep, dark, stretch of murky black. She could almost convince herself her eyes were closed if it weren’t for what felt like little weights attached to her eyelids that were trying to force them down. Sylvie hid a yawn behind her hand, as if fighting off those yawns would convince her that she wasn’t really tired.

For once in her life, the feeling of a hand wrapping around her arm didn’t have her reaching for her sword. She glanced down to the hand, then followed the arm attached to its owner, raising an eyebrow at Loki as he peered up at her. Loki answered her questioning look by gently tugging on her arm, which… didn’t entirely answer those questions if she’s being honest.

“What… are you doing?” She asks him, glancing between his hand and his face.

“What does it look like?”

“Kind of like you’re trying to pull off my arm?”

“What? No, I’m-,” Loki cut himself with a sigh, eyes narrowing as he looked to her, weighing out his decisions. Or, more accurately, the consequences of said decisions.

He seemed to make up his mind remarkably quickly, for the next second, the tug on her arm had become much stronger. Stronger enough that, with just one pull, she found herself being pulled down, all but falling into his side. She placed a hand on his chest, ready to push herself back up and ask him what the Hel he thought he was doing, when she froze at the feel of his blanket-clad arm sliding across her back to wrap around her, pulling her close to him and wrapping them both up in the blanket she had conjured.

“You were right,” Loki’s voice rumbles in his chest under her ear. “This blanket is snugglier.”

“A little bit more warning would be appreciated,” Sylvie tries to pretend she’s annoyed by his antics, whilst at the same time tucking herself closer to his side, resting the arm that had been trapped between them on top of his chest. “I’m supposed to be keeping watch, you know.”

“And you’re more than welcome to do that,” Loki mumbled sleepily, eyes closed and sounding like he was a few seconds away from dropping off. “Just make sure you wake me up in a few hours for my shift,”

“You don’t have to-,”

“Yes, I do,” Loki asserted strongly. “You need some sleep just as much as I do. And I know you don’t like letting your guard down, but… I promise I can keep you safe.”

Not long ago, Sylvie would have scoffed at anyone that said that to her. But Loki had said he could keep her safe like he truly believed it - enough so that she believed it, too. The battle wounds he’s currently sporting from their earlier skirmish were proof of that.

Loki’s heartbeat was calm and steady under her ear, its rhythmic thumps combined with the alluring warmth of his body heat making it particularly hard to fight off the drowsiness fogging her mind. It was with great amusement that she realized that, whenever she lightly brushed her fingers against his chest, she could both feel and hear his pulse picking up, pounding just a little harder below her head before settling back down to its usual rhythm.

“It’ll be your fault if I fall asleep on watch, and we’re murdered by scavengers that sneak into the cave,” Sylvie says after a few minutes, able to tell that Loki was still awake by the way his breathing had yet to slow.

“I’ll be sure to apologize profusely in the after-life,” Loki said, his large hand covering her smaller one atop his chest. “And I’m supposed to be sleeping, you know. That’s quite difficult to do when you’re quite literally playing games with my heart.”

Sylvie chuckled gently, the weight of Loki’s hand on top of hers stopping her from continuing her little amusing experiment. “Apologies, your majesty.”

“Just you want until it’s your turn to sleep,” Loki grumbled. “We’ll see how grumpy you get when I keep interrupting your nap-time.”

“Unless you want me to spring awake with a knife to your throat, I wouldn’t advise messing with me in my sleep,” Sylvie advised him.

“Duly noted,” Loki said with a long sigh, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “I had planned on waking you up with a morning kiss - you know, like a good prince should - but if you say not to…”

Despite his tiredness making it difficult for him to do much else than lay with his eyes closed, Loki had to suppress his laughter at the long stretch of silence from Sylvie as she absorbed what he had just offered.

“...I suppose it’d be good to try and break me out of that habit..”

Loki did laugh that time, the deep rumbling of his laughter vibrating throughout his chest.

“Well, if all I have to risk is a knife to my throat to steal another kiss from you? Then that’s a risk I’m more than willing to take. I’ve done it before, after all.”

Next Chapter - - - >

#sylki #sylki fanfiction #sylki fanfic #pro sylki #loki/sylvie #lovedagger #enchantricks

8 notes · View notes

poe30 · 4 years ago

Text

Summer Love: Final Part

SummarySummer Love: Julie’s older cousin comes for a summer visit from the east coast, unaware of just what she’s going to get herself into, while helping out. But she’s got a secret of her own, one she’s hid from most of the family, and it includes her 6th sense. Will she be able to help save the ghost band from their curse or will it all blow up in their faces? Especially when a summer love blossoms between one of the ghost boys and herself.Pairings: Ghost!Luke x Fem!Reader

~~~

The performance was much better than anyone could think of, everyone laughing as they walked towards the house, Julie excusing herself and headed towards the studio. [y/n] hummed lowly, assuring the other two she’d go check on her in a few minutes, letting Jules have a few minutes to herself, knowing what she was doing. Quickly, she had changed into something more comfortable, before making her way out to the studio, telling the two not to wait up for them. She couldn’t help but slow down, coming to a full stop when she reached the studio, her heart beating fast as she took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down, only to grow confused when she saw a quick flash of glow from inside.

[y/n] couldn’t believe what was happening in front of her. The boys were glowing, almost like they were coming back alive in a sense. Her eyes going wide, is this what they needed to defeat Caleb with? Tears slowly pouring down her face when she realized it was indeed the missing piece her friends and her were looking for.

“I feel stronger!” Luke couldn’t help but be excited, catching er standing by the doors.

“Group hug!” [y/n] didn’t know how she got dragged into the middle of the group hug, but she wasn’t going to complain as she held onto Luke.

“I wonder if this will work on Willie..” Alex couldn’t help but try to be positive, as the group broke off, Luke’s arms not leaving her waist, as he held her close. “It’s worth a shot, right [y/n]?” Alex had hope in his eyes as they turned to look at the girl. The expression on her face, made them unsure and quite nervous for her answer.

“Its not gonna have the same effect, there will be complications..” looking over at him, she couldn’t help but grin, “But, it’ll work. An, I’ll need your guys help to make it work.” her tone turned serious, all of them instantly agreeing, not knowing exactly how this plan would go off, and she knew if they would find out what exactly she planned, they would a hundred percent disagree with it. Grabbing her phone, she leaned back against Luke, calling Rex once more.

“Come on...answer you prick..” murmuring to herself as it continued to ring, before he finally picked up. Not even giving him the chance to speak, “Plan is complete, I found the final missing piece. Tell the others the plan is a go for tomorrow night at the spot.” Smiling softly as she shooed Luke away from kissing her neck.

“Are you serious? That’s great! I’ll let them know. Rest up Queen, you’ll need it.” Before he hung up, ignoring the little questionable looks from Luke. Reassuring him, that what planned usually took up a lot of energy. It was true to a point, she wasn’t fully lying to him, it would take up ninety-nine percent of her energy.

“Well the bands back, congrats guys.” changing the topic, as excitement filled the air once more. The girls hanging around a little longer in the studio before calling it a night, bidding the boys a goodnight as they headed into the house.

“Never thought my little cousin would have powers, let alone that one.” ruffling Julies hair softly, chuckling lightly, Julie couldn’t help but ask what she meant about that. Falling back onto [y/n]’s bed, she placed her bag next to the bed before joining her cousin on the bed,

“You have the same power grandfather did. We call it the ‘Light of Life.’ The name is pretty much self explanatory, not everyone can possess that power. Its rare and even rarer for two members of the same family to have it.” She explained, leaning back next to her.

“Now that the boys have felt the power, they’ll slowly become human again.” murmuring out quietly, as she sighed.

“That’s good though, right? They can finally make their dream come true.”

“Yeah in a sense, we both know they’re too stubborn to cross over at this point even with the opportunity in front of them.” Staying in silence for a little, [y/n] sighed, “Get some sleep Jules, we’re gonna need it for tomorrow night.”

~~~

[y/n] hummed lowly with the music that drifted from the radio, the boys in the backseat as Julie had called shotgun, the windows down as she drove them away from the ocean. Her bag by Julies feet, as her fingers tapped to the music on the steering wheel, but was actually to help soothe her nerves. Even with having done this before, it was still always nerve wracking for her. Turning onto a dirt road, she ignored the conversations that was going around her, her being too busy to calm her mind. Throwing the jeep in park, she sighed as she leaned back against the seat, turning the vehicle off.

“Don’t be alarmed if my friends talk to you, they can see ghosts like we can.” Grabbing the bag, the girl got out, shoving the keys in her bag as they made their way over to four others.

“This is Rex, Ray, Sasha and Claire. Guys this is my cousin, Julie. Along, with Reggie, Alex and Luke.” the [h/c] colored girl did quick introductions, knowing it’d be best to get them over with. Sasha and Claire dragging the girls a bit away, letting the boys make some conversation.

“So you’re the one whose stolen our precious Ice Queens heart huh?” The question more so threw the boys off, before asking what they meant about her, chuckling softly at the trio the two boys explained,

“She usually doesn’t open up to others and can usually come off as cold and distant, along with being blunt.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember she was like that when we all first meet. She even threatened to break our bones.” Reggie admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, as the girls came back over.

“Sounds like something she’d do. You wouldn’t be the first ghosts she’d done that too.” Rex chuckled, causing the girls to roll their eyes as Julie stood next to the band.

“Can we just get this over with?” [y/n] sighed, letting her shoulders sag in slight defeat. She was just ready to get this whole damn thing over with. The other four quietly agreed, before they all started walked to the clearing, Julie motioning the boys to follow them. The five of them placed their bags down once they’d gotten to the clearing, [y/n] grabbing a book out of her bag and handing it to Ray.

“Now Jules, you know what to do right?” her voice ringing softly throughout the open area, as her cousin nodded, letting out a small ‘yep’. Luke, on the other hand, could only take in the sight of [y/n] underneath the moonlight. How the moonlight casted over her form, her [e/c] glowed in the dark when she glanced back at the group. He had definitely just fallen even deeper in love with the girl.

“Alright let’s get this show on the road. You’ll have about a half hour to forty five minutes to get this done.” Ray told her as they finished setting everything up. Humming softly, she nodded,

“That should be more than enough, Jules come here, you three too.” Her voice was serious as they all walked over to her, the other four standing off a little bit in a square around them.

“Alright, Reggie, Alex, Luke, place one of your hands on my arms or shoulders. It doesn’t matter which. Jules,” She held out her hand, as the girl placed her hand in her cousins, letting their fingers intertwine.

“Whatever you do, do not, remove your hands off my body. No matter what happens, keep them there.” Once all three boys did what she told them, [y/n] took a deep breath, giving them all a nod. The four of them instantly begin, as she relaxed her body,

“Try and stay relaxed and calm. Don’t freak out.” She murmured to the four closest to her. Already feeling herself get a bit lightheaded, letting her eyes close as she concentrated. Feeling a bit lightheaded, she squeezed Julies hand, letting her know to start. Julie sighed, closing her eyes as she concentrated, her body instantly glowing a gold color, soon enough the four boys started glowing as well, as it slowly seeped through [y/n]. With a bit of pain, she groaned as she stepped out of her body.

“God, that never gets easier.” She murmured, her outfit completely different from her jean shorts and tank top with a flannel. She was now in black ripped skinny jeans, a gray tank top with a black leather jacket. Rubbing the back of her neck, she let it crack as the four gaped, glancing between both of her.

“Just remember, don’t let go. Ill try and be fast.” with a snap of her fingers, she was gone.

“What the fuck just happened…”

~~~~

[y/n] hummed, poofing into The Hollywood Ghost Club. Chuckling a little darkly, she let a small smirk over come her face as she slowly walked down the hall, her nails making a noise as she raked them against the wall. Many of the ghosts she passed, backed away, sensing the kind of power she had, before she spotted Willie among them. Giving him a friendly smile, she nodded, letting him know it was time. Willie didn’t waste time as he ushered the ghosts to where the others where. Letting them poof out one by one before only Willie was left.

“Callie’s in the dressing room behind the stage.” Giving him a nod, she let him poof out, making her way towards said dressing room. Giving it a small knock, she poofed in, not giving her any time to answer.

“Yohoo babe. It’s been awhile.” [y/n] smiled as Callie ran into her arms, her red hair flowing behind her as the girl latched onto her.

“How...how are you here..” She whispered out, not letting go of her friend, not believing she was actually in front of her.

“That’s not important, what’s more important is getting you out of here for now.” She whispered back to the girl, gripping her shoulder as she felt a power behind her. Smirking to herself,

“An, where exactly are you taking my bunny, little sparrow?” Calebs voice rang out behind them as Callie froze, before backing off of [y/n]. The [h/c] girl sighed, before turning to him.

“It’s finally nice to meet, Caleb Convington. I’ve heard so much about you.” The girl’s voice held nothing but genuine kindness, but there was something definitely hidden underneath her words, Caleb noted.

“Oh? I’m glad to know that, little sparrow. But, I’m afraid I don’t know who you are. Would you mind telling me?” He gave her a smile, not moving from his spot, getting a bad vibe from the girl in front of him, and the small smirk that etched its way on her face, proved his point.

“Oh, I’m no one special.” She shrugged nonchalantly, making sure to keep Callie behind her, glad she was staying quiet for the time being.

“Is that so? No mere ghost can usually get in here without invitation from me. So how did you get in sparrow?”

“Have you ever heard of someone called, Queen?” The words dripped off her tongue as Caleb felt a chill run through him as the name suddenly popped into his mind. He knew exactly who Queen was.

“I believe so, little sparrow. Do you have beef with her as well?” He cautiously asked, not knowing if the girl infront of him was friend or foe. The smirk quickly widened, as her eyes got a little darker.

“Me? Beef with someone with that power. Yeah no, I don’t have a death wish.” She waved her hand absentmindedly,

“Oh please, sparrow. She’s nothing to brag about. She won’t be able to harm you as long as you stay here with me.” He could finally feel the power the girl was giving off, and he knew that right then and there he wanted the girl on his side.

“Is that so? Glad to know.” Tilting her head to side lightly, she flicked her wrist, instantly sending him into the mirror, a dark expression covering her face. Caleb groaning when he smashed into the glass, giving the girl a glare as he got up, brushing off his suit.

“That wasn’t nice sparrow. If it’s a fight you want, I’ll gladly give you one.” He threatened, his staff poofing into his hand.

“Bitch please. Do you even know who I am?” Her voice held venom, “Let me fill you in on something sparrow, I’m your worst nightmare, and your reign ends tonight.” She spat, as the two instantly began to fight, throwing blows at each other.

“Callie, get out of here.” She ordered, blocking one of his attacks, as she flicked her wrist again, sending him flying through the wall and onto the dance floor.

“I’m not going to leave you here, [y/n]!” Calebs eyes widening at the name, as he slowly got up. He knew that name, it was one of the very few he feared.

“Don’t worry about me, ‘kay?” giving her friend a small smile, before Callie poofed out of there with Willie. Taking a deep breath, she knew she had to get this over with, she only had a few minutes left before her time was up. Silently stalking towards her prey, she forced him back down onto the floor, her power coming out full force.

“I see my name rings a bell. Too bad, I have to end things here and now.” Queen sighed, tilting her head as she grinned.

“W-what do you mean? You can’t get rid of me!” He tried to protest, not being able to get up under her powers.

“Wanna bet? They don’t call me Queen for nothing. Like I said, your reign ends here, Caleb. Your wife is pretty pissed at you too. Tell her I said hello okay?” She gripped onto his suit, bringing him up so his face was infront of hers, and was satisfied when she saw his eyes held a hint of fear in them.

Alright, Claire, Sasha. Time to wrap it up.

The girls hummed back as her hands slowly glowed a soft black, murmuring some ancient words, Calebs protests grew quieter and quieter before she finished the spell.

“Have a nice life in the afterlife. God knows you’ll be judged for the things you’ve done. Don’t worry, your little club will be taken care of.” Giving him one more grin, she watched as he grew more and more transparent before he was completely gone. Standing straight back up, she groaned, her head pounding as she poofed back towards the others. Blinking softly as she saw all the ghosts there, along with Callie. Letting out a shaky breath.

“Everyone listen up. Caleb is now gone, forever. You’re free from his curse. You now have the decision to make if you’d like to stay here on Earth or cross over.” Her voice rang out as the ghosts began to talk amongst themselves, Callie running up to her best friend.

“Callie, you have the choice to stay or go. If you stay, the club will be in your hands and you can run it however you’d like.” Giving her friend a painful smile, the pounding now worsening, as the group still touching her was worried and concerned.

“[y/n], you don’t have long, get back in your body now.” Rex’s voice rang out, as she sighed, gripping her head.

“Whatever your decisions are, talk it up to the other four, they’ll help you with your choice.” Was the last thing she said as she merged back with her body, her body instantly going limp, as Luke caught her. Her breathing was a little irregular and jaded as she didn’t move, her face being a little pale. Luke trying everything he could to get her to wake up.

“She’s not gonna wake up. She used up all of her energy, regular and spiritually. Let her have a few days rest and she’ll be back to normal.” Sasha came over, giving the girl a few head pats, humming softly, “Atleast three days before she’ll wake up. You four are more than welcome to stay with us till she wakes up.” She offered, walking off to help the other three with the ghosts.

~~~

The four of them ended up taking Sasha’s offer, wanting to be close to their friend. Luke haven’t leaving her side as he silently watched her sleep. Noticing, how her face had gained color again after the first day.

“I guess I can catch you up huh? I’m not sure if you’ll remember or not. But, your friend Callie, ended up taking over the Ghost Club, a few ghosts decided to cross over, the rest decided to stick around with helping Callie.” His hand grabbing one of hers, his fingers brushing against her knuckles. “Julie, she ended up helping your friends and was able to help Willie be like us. So Alex and him are over the moon.” He continued on, updating her on everything that has been going on the past few days. From news to the music they’ve been working on to help distract the group from what went down.

“Well.. I’m glad everything worked out then for everyone..” your raspy sleepy groaned out, giving his hand a small squeeze as his head whipped to her now awake. Her head was still thudding, just not as bad as before, as she slowly sat up. His eyes widened as she rose a brow at his weird behavior, before shrugging it off and taking the medicine that rested on the bedside table, washing it down with the water. He didn’t take no time in crushing her in a hug after she was done, taking her by surprise as she slowly wrapped her arms around him.

“Never, do that again.. please..” he whispered out, causing her to blink and push him back lightly.

“You do realize its my job right? Just usually never to that extent.” She thought, shrugging as she gave him a small smile, “I don’t usually go ghost much, Caleb’s case was an exception though that needed to happen. But I’ll try to tone down, worry wart.” She couldn’t help but reassure him, before feeling his lips on hers. Her eyes widening slightly, before she kissed him back,

“Good, cause I love you.. and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” his forehead resting against hers, her being able to see all the emotions running through his eyes, along with the gentle smile on his face.

“I love you too, Luke..” She hummed, giving him her own gentle smile back as she brought him in for another kiss. Maybe visiting her cousin was the thing she needed the most outside of her work for the summer. It was worth it in the end, and the others couldn’t help but agree.

*I know its been awhile since I've updated, between the writing, I've had some curveballs being thrown in my life, that I didn't expect to happen or even deal with. I'm sorry for making you guys wait for the final part of this story. I'll slowly be starting on proof reading the Reggie x Reader story I have planned, along with other stories I have drafted up as well.*

Taglist: @crybabyddl

#jatp x reader #luke patterson #luke x reader #Reggie #alex jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #x reader

8 notes · View notes

soyforramen · 4 years ago

Text

Kill Your Boyfriend

“A little girl wants revenge; a real woman moves on while karma does her dirty work for her,” Alice said primly as she set another bowl into the cabinet.

“Did you read that in Reader’s Digest?” Gladys asked sourly and shifted the steak on her face. A scowl be more apt, but it would only pull at the skin around her eye, and she’d had more than enough pain for the night.

She lowered it only for Alice to swoop in and press it further against Gladys face. This time Gladys did scowl, damn the pain. With a smug smile, Alice returned to emptying her dishwasher (oh how far she’d come from hand washing dishes in the back of the Wyrm; and yet Gladys hadn’t moved an inch). If it wasn’t for their shared history - intimate and professional - Gladys would have sucker punched Alice and taken the good silver on her way out.

“Platitudes are all well and good, but I’d say now’s the time for a reminder as to why men shouldn’t hit women.”

“It’s also a good time for you to think for once,” Alice snapped. The china dishes let out a scream as she slammed another plate onto the stack. She reached for a large butcher’s knife and shoved it into the block. (Eighty, ninety bucks easy for a slab of wood, Gladys thought. Bougie wood for the bougie, upscale lifestyle Alice had been scheming her way into since kindergarten.)

“If you go after him now -“

Gladys leaned back as the steak knife in Alice’s hand came too close to her face. She reached out and pushed Alice’s wrist down towards the kitchen island least this problem be solved by an inadvertent stabbing.

“-you're the only suspect,” Alice continued. “Keller will have you in handcuffs and behind bars -“

She held up a hand to keep Gladys quiet. Instead of saying every dirty little thing she was thinking - about Keller, handcuffs, and Gladys’ past indiscretions with the blonde woman - she let her smirk say it all.

“-and who would look after your son? His father in the ground, you in the pen. He’d be in foster care in a day.”

Gladys mused on this, wondering if it was too late in life to start writing country songs. She sucked on her teeth and winced. One of the back ones was lose, probably courtesy of when she’d been thrown against the bathroom sink. God damn FP and his alcoholic fits. It was one thing for a man to hold his liquor; it was another for him to pour it out onto his wife.

The Cooper kettle screamed (robin’s egg blue, polished and shiny as if it had never been used; 45 easy from Box and Keg, with coupon). Alice turned her attention towards it and began making the suburban equivalent of a shot of good whiskey. Gladys would have killed for a shot of anything right now, but PTA, Home & Garden Alice frowned on fun like mixing valium and alcohol. Serpent Alice would already have three prozac and a tequila sunrise ready for her.

“So what would you suggest, since stabbing him through the heart is off the table,” Gladys said. She turned the steak over and sighed at how cool the other side was.

Alice pursed her lips while she loaded the dishwasher full of pots and pans from the earlier family dinner. The one Gladys had crashed by knocking on the backdoor, blood streaming from her face, her eyes red and clothes torn, a sleeping child cradled in her arms. Before the in-laws could see, Alice had whisked her upstairs for a change of clothes and first aid. Gladys didn’t know what had been said, but it wasn’t more than a few minutes before Jughead had been laid down in the crib next to Betty, and she’d been taken downstairs and seated at the island, a hearty slice of apple pie a la mode set in front of her.

“Stay here a few days. Let it be known you’re out of the house and you’re not going back. Spread a few rumors about who F.P.’s been working with,” Alice said. “Maybe pick up a night shift at Pop’s.”

Her focus was on the caked on grease that defiled her pristine life, but Gladys knew the gears were turning in her head. Alice always was the schemer, the planner. She’d had her entire life planned out when reality sunk in that the Smiths weren’t in the same zip code as the Cleavers, let alone the same country. If one wanted a plan, one that wasn’t necessarily foolproof, but smart enough to fool ninety percent of the population, Alice Smith was that person.

There was one small hitch, though.

“Where am I going to stay in the meantime? The trailer park’s out, and couch surfing with a two-year old tends to get old real quick. Especially since most of my friends are more likely to have needles lying around than milk.”

Alice waved off her concerns. “Hal’s going on some retreat, Find Your Inner Masculine Self, or some other insecure ego trip for the next month, so the basement will be free,” Alice said. She let the water drain out of the sink and picked up two cups of tea. One she sat in front of Gladys; the other she took with her as she sat down at the island. “And I could always use some help with the girls.”

It was tempting. A stable roof over their head and three squares a day. More than F.P. ever provided them.

“What’s the catch?”

Alice shook her head, a coy smile on her face. “No catch. Only …”

Gladys raised an eyebrow. She set the steak down on the styrofoam container. “Only?”

“You let me help make F.P. disappear.”

“There a history there I should know about?”

Alice blew on her tea and took a small sip. Her eyes closed as she savored the flavor. Gladys’ question hung in the air, unanswered.

xxxx

Dead tired, feet aching, Gladys punched out from her ten hour shift at Pop’s. It hadn’t been terrible, pretending as if F.P. didn’t exist. She’d been acting as a single mother for the last year and it was easier when she didn’t have to pick up after him as well.

It was actually quite nice. Or at least, playing house with Alice was. While they’d both respected each others boundaries, there were plenty of times Gladys wanted to break them, and Alice didn’t make it easy. Whether it was a rekindling of old flames, or whether it was Gladys’ own complex about people who treated her kindly, it didn’t matter in the end. Alice was married (ten carrot ring, rose gold, priceless and worthless depending on who you asked), and disgustingly happy about it, and Gladys refused to take that from her.

She bid Pop’s a good night and stepped out into the humid night air. Right on time, Alice pulled up to the diner in her eyesore of a wood paneled station wagon (not even worth casing, it was so ugly). Gladys sunk into the faux leather seats and let her eyes shut, the smell of grease and burnt coffee staying with her even after they’d crossed the railroad tracks. Tonight, though, Alice took a left instead of a right.

Gladys cracked an eye open and watched the quaint brick work turn into tall, dark pines. She turned to Alice whose expression never wavered.

“Al?”

“Do you still want to go through with this?”

Gladys sat up in her chair and stared at Alice. She didn’t need to ask what she meant. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

“Alright then.”

Alice pulled off the road just outside of Greendale, the road lit by the light of a hole-in-the-wall bar. Rows of motorcycles lined the parking lot. The drunks had spilled out of the double wide building and were lounging around the porch, loud enough to wake the dead. While they waited for the party to die down, Gladys wondered how much time Alice had spent tracking his movements, how much energy she’d expended on this side project of hers.

Country rock whispered around them, punctuated with the hoots and hollers of men all too eager to spend their meager paychecks on booze and women.

“Why do you care so much?” Gladys asked. She didn’t expect an answer.

“About him? Or you?”

Gladys chuckled. Of course Alice would see right through her. She always had been able to.

“Both. Neither. It’s not like we parted on good terms. And I didn’t exactly keep up with the Christmas cards.”

Alice pursed her lips, her gaze still laser focused on the horde of people, escaping their own problems. These were the people they’d been raised with. In other parts of the country they’d be white-trash, rednecks; here they were blue-collar workers who’d been left behind as corporations moved overseas at the behest of ever growing profits. They’d been left to fend for themselves among the corpses of dying towns, unwilling to leave behind the lives their father’s had left them.

“There he is,” Alice said.

She shifted the car into gear and let it idle as F.P. swayed down the ramp and greeted everyone he passed. Gladys always said he’d be good in politics, if he wasn’t so easily swayed by a shot and an easy fix. Five minutes later and he was at his bike. It took him three tries to start it up, and she knew he was at least ten beers in. He roared out of the parking lot and the station wagon quietly followed behind.

“Now what?” Gladys asked as the darkness enveloped them again.

Alice was quiet, focused on her prey. The dashboard light illuminated the cab, casting eerie blue shadows around them.

“All right, surprise party it is,” Gladys said.

Bored, she put her shoes up on the dash. Alice swatted them down.

“I just had it detailed.”

Alice took a sharp breath in as the motorcycle came to a slow stop off the road. The station wagon passed it, and Gladys turned to watch as F.P. staggered to his feet. They turned right onto an off road, and Alice pulled over to the side. Calmly, she turned the engine off and stepped out of the vehicle.

The gravel crunched beneath Gladys’ plain white sneakers, loaned to her from Alice’s full closet, as she followed Alice around the car to the trunk. Gladys let out a low whistle at the sight. Everything from a crowbar to a battery operated jump starter to an emergency blizzard kit. Hal Cooper made sure to take care of his wife’s every on-road need.

Alice reached in, her grey cardigan riding up as she reached for the shovel tucked neatly in the back. Gladys took it from her and watched as Alice surveyed her options. After a moment, she picked up a tarp and an axe, the sharp edge gleaming in the brake lights. It lay naturally in Alice’s hands, another well worn tool in her arsenal of getting what she wanted out of life.

In the red brake lights, Alice looked like a macabre angel of vengeance. Grey cardigan, black cigarette pants, pearl drop earrings. She was dressed for a potluck.

It was that moment that Alice’s plan revealed itself, and Gladys couldn’t help but chuckle at its perfection.

Alice Cooper, helicopter mother of the year, had selflessly takin in a childhood friend after she’d been battered. Caring, kind Alice, who spent two Sundays a month volunteering at the homeless shelter, trying to get her friend back on her feet. Vicious enforcer of her HOA and PTA rules, Alice would turn in her own mother-in-law for rolling through a stop-sign, had picked up Gladys from work and driven off, presumably to take her back to the picture perfect lifestyle on Elm Street.

How on earth could anyone imagine that she’d let a dangerous person near her family, let alone aid and abet in a murder?

With a smirk reminiscent of the old Alice, the one Gladys would eagerly kill for, they stepped into the woods where F.P. was last seen.

“Let’s go kill your boyfriend.”

#parentdale #tw: domestic violence #gladys/alice #for halcooper #for introducing me to how perfect these two would have been

19 notes · View notes

blackrosesmatron · 11 months ago

Text

LB: I refuse to kneel to anybody

Evelynn (@everybodysenemies): Helo, lovely

LB: -on her knees like the good bitch she is-

#“Lying is. like. ninety five percent of what I do.” (Crack)#everybodysenemies [evelynn]#everybodysenemies #same happens when it comes to be called names and humiliated #if anybody else tries to do it #she will murder the person #if it's evelynn she is like; 'yes. mistress'

7 notes · View notes

captainamerivel · 6 years ago

Text

endgame

read part one , civil war , and part two , infinity war

a/n : the conclusion :) thanks for sticking by me on this short foray into the world of avengers fanfiction. i think i like it here. maybe i’ll still around for a little while. THIS INSTALLMENT INCLUDES MAJOR ENDGAME SPOILERS (there are actual endgame quotes in here and major plot points are here too). DON’T READ IF YOU’VE NOT SEEN THE MOVIE YET!

word count : 4.9k

tags : @batfam16

Steve watched in horror as you turned to dust before his very eyes.

“Steve?”

“Y/N?”

“Steve!”

Steve shot up out of bed, soaked in sweat. Just a dream, Rogers. It was just a dream.

His heart was beating too fast to even consider going back to sleep. It’d been three weeks since he’d watched you fade away, along with half of everyone else on Earth. He couldn’t cry anymore, couldn’t physically create tears after what had happened. Nothing hurt worse than watching you die right in front of him. There was nothing he could do about it then and nothing he could now. And that killed him inside.

He glanced over at the clock. 4:15AM. No one else in the compound would possibly be up right now.

Tossing the blanket from his body, Steve made quick work of getting up and changing into a new shirt. Heading down to the kitchen, he was surprised to find Natasha standing there eating a sandwich. She looked exhausted. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shook his head. “Bad dreams. You?”

“Same.” Nat let out a deep breath. “Carol’s still out there looking for Tony. She hasn’t checked in in days.”

“She’ll find him.” Steve poured himself a glass of water, sipping slowly.

“Steve, she’s been out there for weeks. We should prepare for – “

“Don’t say it!” His fingers tightened around the glass, causing it to crack. “She’ll find him, and he’ll know what to do. He’ll know how to bring everyone back.”

Natasha stared at her friend, tears welling in her eyes. “We’ll get her back, Steve.”

“I sure hope so.”

Everything reminded him of you. Not a day went by when you didn’t occupy at least ninety percent of Steve’s thoughts. Some days, he missed you so much, he couldn’t physically move.

He left the compound six months after the snap, going back to the apartment he’d had before you. All pictures of you were kept in a box at the foot of his closet; all except one. That one stayed in his wallet, although after a few years it had started fading, so he tried not to pull it out as much.

It got easier after a while. Day by day, month by month, it hurt just a touch less. Eventually it got to the point where he remembered you with only a dull ache in his heart. He never forgave himself though, never stopped blaming your death on his own failure.

“You’re pulling your punches, Grimith.”

Steve swung at the CIA agent in front of him and she ducked, landing a right hook into his abdomen.

“That’s better. Follow through.” She swung again, hitting his hand pads a few times before kicking one of his legs, forcing him to kneel.

“I’m so sorry!” She rushed, kneeling next to him as he grimaced in pain.

“Don’t. Apologize.” He took a deep breath, rising and offering her a hand. “Combat isn’t a fair trade off of blows. You see an opening, you take it.”

His alarm went off, alerting him that he had half an hour to get to his next appointment. “Same time next week?”

“You know,” She started slowly as Steve held open the rope for her to climb out of the ring. “We could always talk outside of training. Perhaps over dinner or drinks?”

Steve froze. This wasn’t the first time one of his trainees had expressed interest in him.

He gave Grimith a soft smile. “Thanks, but I try not to mix my personal life with my professional life.”

“Of course.” He could hear the slight sting of rejection in her voice. “Same time next week, Captain.”

He quickly unwrapped his hands, stripped and hopped into one of the gym’s showers. The hot water was soothing over his aching muscles. The gym had become like a second home to him. He threw himself in working out and training others; took his mind off the rest of the world. He felt bad for lying to Grimith, but he wasn’t fully ready to try and start something new. He wasn’t ready to move on from you.

Twenty minutes later, Steve was completely cleaned and across the street, setting up donuts and coffee for his group counseling session. People started trickling in slowly, and within just a few minutes, all of the seats were filled.

“Good evening, everyone.”

“Good evening.”

“Does anyone want to start us off?”

There was a thick silence as everyone looked around at each other.

“What about you Steve?” The man to his left, Anthony, asked. “We’ve been coming to these meetings every week for the past year and a half, yet no one’s heard your side of the story.”

Steve looked around, everyone seeming to be in agreeance.

“Okay.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat. “In 1945, I met a woman named Peggy Carter. She was amazing. Beautiful, smart, tough as all hell. But I laid down my life for my country and in doing so, secured the fact that we would never have a future together. When I was recovered and woke up in 2012, she was still alive, but she’d moved on. Got married, had children. She lived a full life and encouraged me to move on and do the same.”

Steve’s throat was getting tight, but he pushed on. “I never planned on falling in love after Peggy. I was okay with just defending the world until I died. Then, two years later, I met Y/N and my whole world changed completely. As cheesy as it may sound, she turned my whole life around. I wasn’t just fighting to make the world a better place. I was fighting to make the world better for her. Everything I did was for her at that point. But I screwed it up when I became a fugitive in 2016. I thought I was protecting her when I left, but I’d just unknowingly pushed her closer to danger.”

Steve stopped, willing himself to not cry. Anthony gave him a comforting pat on the arm. “You’re in a safe space, Steve.”

“Thanks.” Steve took a deep breath. “She fought next to me in the Battle of Wakanda. We had an agreement; She wasn’t supposed to die, and I wasn’t supposed to let her die. Thanos’ snap didn’t care about our agreement. She dusted right in front of me, and because of her enhancements, she felt it the whole damn time.”

He couldn’t help the tears at that point. “I keep wondering to myself, if I hadn’t let her, if she hadn’t been out there with me, would she still be here today?”

“You can’t think like that Steve.” The woman across from him held out a box of tissues, which he took graciously. “You said it yourself, Thanos wiped out half of all life at random. There’s no way of knowing if any of our choices had any influence on what happened. All we can do is move forward and figure out our lives one day at a time.”

Steve nodded. “She was a better person than I was. Compassionate, loving. Now, I’m just hoping to live a life that she’d be proud of.”

“And I’m sure she would be.” Steve looked over at Anthony. “You make a noble living, teaching self-defense at the gym. You never hesitate to help out those in need. You’re a good soldier, Steve, but more than that, you’re a good man.”

“Thank you.” Steve quickly pulled himself together. “Anyone else want the spotlight?”

Everyone shook their heads. “Then I guess we’ll call it a night. Of course, I’ll be here next Wednesday night at six if anyone thinks they still need help.”

There was a buzz of conversation as everyone got up to leave, saying their goodbyes. Steve made quick work of cleaning up, folding chairs and sweeping just to make the janitors' job a little easier.

Returning to his apartment, Steve pulled down the box of pictures and sat on the bed to look through them. With every photo, his smile grew. You sleeping, you hiding from his camera, the two of you kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower. He didn’t notice that he’d been crying again until a tear hit the laminated paper.

Every week, Steve’s life continued like that. Training five days a week, counseling every Wednesday, distracting himself with mindless work like repairing his bike. Day in and day out, Steve kept himself busy, kept himself moving to try and keep himself from giving up.

There was one week though that threw him off. Something just felt wrong, so after that Wednesday’s meeting, he took a detour and found himself at the old Avenger’s compound.

Natasha sat in front of a miserable peanut butter sandwich, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried not to have a full meltdown.

Steve propped himself against a bookshelf and looked at her with a heavy heart, “You know, I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem pretty miserable already.”

Nat looked up with a small smile. “You hear to do your laundry?” “And to see a friend.”

Talking to Nat was so comforting to Steve, a comfort he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in for years. It reminded him of simpler times, easier times when his biggest issue was an army of artificially intelligent robots. He was so caught up with her that he was genuinely startled when Scott Lang popped up on the security cameras.

Steve was on his feet in a second. “Is this an old message?”

“It’s the front door.”

Everything was happening so fast; Steve almost couldn’t process it all. One minute, Tony was slamming the door in his face, telling him that time travel was impossible. The next, he was being fitted for a suit that would be compatible with the Quantum Realm.

“Did you design her suits?”

Tony looked up from his sketches to where Steve was redressing himself. “The last one. She didn’t like my first designs.”

“What was wrong with them?”

Tony chuckled, pausing what he was doing to pull up a holographic closet. Suddenly, Steve was surrounded by suits that were all roughly your size. He immediately saw the issue. “These look the suits you’ve designed for me.”

Every single hologram had an almost exact replica of a suit Steve had worn. The designs were all mostly the same, red and white stripes wrapped around the torso with a giant start in the middle of the chest. “If she had worn these, she would have looked like me.”

Tony picked up the pain in his friends’ voice. With a sigh, he turned off the projection. “Y/N didn’t want the world to think she was trying to be a new you. The world already had a Captain America. She just wanted to help people.”

“She died thinking that I’d abandoned her.”

“Then when we bring her back, I’d suggest you inform her otherwise.” Tony tossed something at Steve, which he caught easily. “That’s the key to her room. You might want to take a look inside.”

Steve looked with confusion between the key and Tony a few times before quickly making his way to the elevator. It was only one floor and he knew he probably would have moved faster on the stairs, but he needed the time to calm the beating of his heart. Although it was still racing by when he got to your door.

He wasn’t prepared for what he saw when he stepped inside. At first glance, your room was plain. Grey curtains, black sheets, not much personalization at all. When he stepped in and shut the door, he noticed the giant world map all marked up with pins and yarn. There were clusters of headlines and grainy images of him scattered everywhere, with your trail stopping abruptly in the UK.

Steve couldn’t help by laugh to himself. “Oh baby, you were so close.”

Steve’s urge to fight was renewed as he opened your nightstand drawer and found a framed photo of the two of you. For the past five years, he’d always just assumed that you’d gotten rid of any trace of your relationship. Not once did he consider that you might not have completely moved on.

He slept in your bed that night.

This is going to work, Rogers. You’ll get her back. You’ll get everyone back. Steve’s heart was racing as he made his way up onto the time machine.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams; you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know, that doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we’re going to win. Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

“He’s pretty good at that.” Rocket whispered.

Scott raised his eyebrows. “I know right.”

Nat gave Steve a giddy, almost childlike smile. “See you in a minute.”

And just like that, they were off.

Everything happened so fast.

“Hail Hydra.”

“I can do this all day.”

“That is America’s ass.”

“You trust me?”

Director Margaret Carter.

Suddenly, there was only a thin pane of glass and some blinds separating Steve from the woman he’d once loved. She looked so beautiful and alive. Steve wanted so badly just to touch her again, to kiss her and let her know that he was okay; that he didn’t die that day in ’45.

But he didn’t.

Steve saw the small gold band on her hand and smiled. She’s happy.

Making sure the coast was clear, he gave her one last glance before slipping back out of her office and out of the building. For fear of being recognized, he hung back when he noticed Tony walking with Howard Stark, only giving him a quick thumbs up.

“You got the particles?” Tony asked as the two practically ran away from the army base.

“Of course, I got the particles.” Steve pulled him into the trees where no one could see them. “You got the cube?”

“What do you think this means?” Tony tapped twice on the briefcase in his hands. “Let’s just go home.”

Despite having just done it thrice in the past hour, soaring through space and time still gave Steve a slightly queasy feeling. He was relieved to land back in the compound next to Tony and Bruce.

Bruce looked around. “Did we get them all?”

Rhodey chuckled, holding up the power stone in its rock. “You’re telling me this actually worked?”

Steve noticed when Clint sunk to his knees, pain overcoming his features.

“Clint, where’s Nat?”

Steve had his shield up, protecting himself as Bruce howled in pain. He took a step forward.

“Bruce, are you okay?”

“Talk to me, Banner!” Tony took the same step up.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” Bruce hoists his arm up, struggling to snap his fingers.

There’s a wash of energy over the room and Bruce falls to the floor and the gauntlet falls away.

“Bruce!” Steve drops to his knees next to his friend but holds back from touching him for fear of causing more pain.

“Don’t move him!” Tony quickly iced Bruce’s burnt arm. Bruce held tight to Steve’s arm.

“Did it work?”

Thor was on his other side. “Worth a shot. It’s over. It’s okay.”

“Guys,” Scott called from where he was standing at the window. “I think it worked.”

Bruce opened his eyes in relief, smiling. That smile was gone in a split second when he saw the array of missiles fired at the compound.

CRASH!

For a split second, Steve felt like he’d been hit by a bus. Every muscle and every bone in his body ached.

“Come on buddy. Wake up.”

Steve gasped as his eye flew open. Tony was standing over his, looking worse for wear and holding his shield.

“That’s my man. You lose this again, I’m keeping it.”

“What happened?” Steve groaned as he stood and took the metal disk.

“You mess with time; it tends to mess back. You’ll see.”

The two made their way through the rubble to where Thor was staring at a sitting Thanos.

How is that possible? Steve thought angrily.

“What’s he been doing?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Where are the stones?” Steve strapped his shield to his arm tightly, standing up just a bit straighter.

Tony motioned to the mess. “Somewhere under all this. All I know is he doesn’t have them.”

“So, we keep it that way.”

“You know this is a trap, right?”

Tony never took his eyes off the titan. “Yeah. I don’t much care.”

“Good. Just as long as we’re all in agreement.” Thor took a deep breath and held out both his hands. The rumble of lightning was heard, and it struck him, delivering both Stormbreaker and Mjolnir and materializing his armor. “Let’s kill him properly this time.”

You could feel as every fiber of your being was stitched back together. Everything was moving excruciatingly slow, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, you were on your feet in the fields of Wakanda. You ignored the ache in your muscles as you start walking around, watching everyone pick themselves up.

“What the hell happened?” You turned to Bucky, who was observing the grounds just as you were. “Where’s Steve?”

“I don’t know.” You tapped the communicator in your ear. “Steve? Tony? Can anybody hear me?”

“I can.” Sam was lying on his back, wings extended. You held out a hand to help him to his feet. “I hate to be the one to say it, but I’m pretty sure we died.”

King T’Challa stood next to you. “I think he is right.”

“Then that begs the question. How the hell are we alive now?”

Your mask materialized over your head. “T.A.D.A.S.H.I., call Tony.”

There were a million things happening in front of your eyes, but you focused on the top corner where your A.I. was searching. “Madam, it would appear as though F.R.I.D.A.Y. just sent out a distress signal. The War Machine suit sent out the same signal. Shall I respond?”

“Yes. Where are they?”

“They are outside the compound in New York. It seems there’s been some kind of explosion.”

“We’ve got to New York!” You rushed, mask disappearing.

“Look.” You turned to where Bucky was pointing. There were gold spark floating mid-air, and they were popping up all over the field. Slowly, you moved towards the one closest to you as it expanded. Your gun was drawn when a guy popped his head through.

“Let’s go.”

“Who are you?”

He rolled his eyes. “My name is Doctor Steven Strange. I’m, for lack of a better term, a wizard. Right now, Thanos is about to kill your friend, Captain Rogers. Any more questions.”

You gave him an incredulous expression. “Why should we trust you?”

“Are you being serious right now?” You nodded. The portal expanded ever further and there, standing next to him was Peter.

“Kid!” You rushed through, wrapping your arms around him in relief. “You’re okay!” He hugged you back. “I mean, technically I’m in space, but sure I’m okay. Although the wizard says that Mr. Stark is in a lot of trouble right now so we should probably go help him.”

You held onto him for just a second longer before releasing and turning back to Dr. Strange. “Alright, let’s go.”

You watched in shock and disbelief as all of the portals in Wakanda expanded and Strange’s head ducked into them to give the same spiel. There was a crackle on your communicator and suddenly the destination on the other side of the portal wasn’t Wakanda, but rather the destroyed building where Steve was facing Thanos alone.

“Idiot,” you muttered fondly. Turning back to Peter, you spoke quickly. “When we get out there, you stay close to me. I cannot – I repeat, cannot – lose you again. Got it?”

“Got it.” He gave you a weary smile and a thumbs up.

“Cap, do you copy?” Sam’s voice was clear. “Cap, can you hear me? On your left.”

Strange expanded all the portals and Steve watched as everyone he could possibly think of stepped out. You waited, giving him a small smile when his eyes finally found yours.

I’m sorry, he mouthed.

You chuckled. I forgive you.

A giant burst through the rubble, Hulk, Rhodey and a raccoon hopping out of his hand. Everyone lined up as Thanos’ army did the same.

“Stay close kid,” you reminded Peter, moving forward.

“Avengers…” Steve called, holding his hand out. To your shock, and quite honestly arousal, Mjolnir flew into his grip. “Assemble!”

Your mask was back on and you were charging the battlefield. “T.A.D.A.S.H.I., keep an eye on Pete for me.”

“Yes ma’am.” A small window popped up on your screen that mirrored what Peter was seeing, caringly labeled ‘nanny cam protocol.’

“Pepper, do you have eyes on Tony?” You called.

“Yeah, but I’m a bit preoccupied right now!”

“Pete!” He popped up in front of you. “Find Stark!”

You shot and stabbed your way through groups of aliens. The wounds you acquired were an afterthought as all of the anger and frustration was finally being released. Before you could think about it, you were fighting next to Steve.

“Fancy running into you here.” You joked, shooting the thing that was running up behind him.

“I’m so glad to see you.” He smiled. “I love you.”

You were about to say it back when he wrapped his arm around you, holding the shield over your heads as shots rained down.

“Thank you, Captain.” You shot around his head. “I love you too.”

Your happiness was short-lived as you heard Pete call for help.

“Hey Queens, catch!” Steve threw Mjolnir, Peter’s web snagging it and Pepper catching him midair.

“Madam, the extra legs on the Iron Spider suit have been severely damaged.”

“Shit.” You pulled away from Steve, mask on. “T.A.D.A.S.H.I., take me to him.”

The raining fire seized, and you ran as fast as you could, killing mindlessly. When you got to him, he was curled up in a ball around the Iron Gauntlet.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You knelt next to him, suit building a shield on your back. “T.A.D.A.S.H.I., what’s going on? Why did they stop shooting?”

“Something has just entered the atmosphere, Madam.” You both looked up to see a glowing light whizzing through the sky and straight through Thanos’ ship.

“Danvers, we need an assist here.”

The light came at you fast, blinding you for a minute as she landed on the other side of Peter. He looked to you and then to her.

“Hi. I’m Peter Parker.”

“Hey, Peter Parker.” She gave him a warm smile. You have something for me?”

You helped him to his feet, and he handed off the Gauntlet. “That’s got to get to that brown van over there.”

The three of you looked out across the field. Peter’s eyes were bloodshot, exhaustion taking over his features.

“I don’t know how you’re going to get it through all that though.”

“Don’t worry.” Okoye stepped up. “She’s got help.”

One by one, you were surrounded. Wanda, Shuri, Pepper, a woman on a flying horse, plus a handful of women you’d never seen before.

“You’re done, kid!” You said as you marched with them. “Stay down!”

You fought alongside a woman with green skin and red skin, keeping as many aliens away from Peter as you could.

“He’s got the stones!”

You froze, looking up as Thanos fought Carol. Not again.

He knocked her off, securing the gauntlet on his wrist and raising his arm. “I am inevitable.”

He snapped.

Nothing happened. Tony was kneeling in front of him. Raising his right arm, he gave Thanos a smirk. “And I. Am. Iron. Man.”

Thanos’ army began decimating. The aliens advancing all turned to dust just before they could reach you. Your heart blossomed with relief. It’s over.

“Madam.”

“What is it, T.A.D.A.S.H.I.?”

“Mr. Stark’s vitals are dropping rapidly.”

“Tony?” You rushed to him, Peter hot on your trail.

Steve caught you before you could kneel next to him. There were tears in your eyes as you processed his burnt arm and pale skin. You turned, crying into Steve’s shoulder at the sound of Peter’s voice.

“Mr. Stark, we did it. We won and you did it, sir. I’m sorry. Tony.”

You forced yourself to pull it together, wiping your eyes quickly and pulling him close to you.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Pepper whispered. “You can rest now.”

“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn't always roll that way. Maybe this time. I'm hoping if you play this back... it's in celebration. I hope families are reunited. I hope we get it back, in somewhat like a normal version of the planet has been restored, if there ever was such a thing. God, what a world. Universe now. If you told me 10 years ago that we weren't alone, let alone you know to this extent... I mean, I wouldn't have been surprised. But come on, you know. That epic forces of darkness and light that have come into play. And for better or worse, that's the reality Morgan's going to find a way to grow up in. So, I found a private area to record a little greeting in case of an untimely death on my part. Not that death at any time is ever timely. This time travel thing that we are going to pull off tomorrow... it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of all this. But then again that's the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. What am I tripping for? Everything is going to work out exactly the way it's supposed to.”

Tony’s hologram rose from the chair he was on and bent over, meeting his daughter’s terrified eyes. “I love you 3000.”

You couldn’t help the tears that streamed down your face as the message ended. Steve rubbed a comforting hand over your arm, holding you close as a few tears of his own rolled down his cheeks.

“I’m going to get some air.” You whispered to him, slipping out of his arms. You were careful not to make any not any noise as you stepped outside and took a deep breath. The lake provided a nice layer of background noise, allowing you to sit on the front steps and cry freely.

You didn’t notice when Steve came out and sat next to you.

“They were the best of us,” he said softly.

You nodded, leaning into him. “It’s not fair. All Nat and Tony needed was a good family. They finally got that and Thanos just snatched it away.”

“Y/N, if I’d—”

“I know.” You cut him off with a sad smile. “If you’d gone up there with her, you would have jumped. Without a second thought.”

You reached up and stroked his cheek. “Your overwhelming amount of love for others is why I fell in love with you.”

“I’m so sorry for what happened all those years ago.” He bowed his head in shame. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I should have just listened to Tony, but I wasn’t thinking.”

“You can’t beat yourself up for that anymore, Steve.”

“I saw Peggy.” You pulled away from him in confusion. “When Tony and I were trying to get the Tesseract in the seventies. I was hiding out and saw her through a window. She had on a wedding ring and as soon as I saw I knew. We were never meant to be together.”

“What do you mean?”

“Since Thanos’ first attack, I’ve been thinking about destiny and fate and what it all really means. I thought that Peggy was the love of my life in ’45 and when I woke up, I thought that fate was just playing some cruel game with me. Then I met you and I thought, ‘Is destiny giving me another chance?’ Of course, I blew it with the Accords, but going back and seeing her married and running SHIELD, it made me realize that even though I loved her and always will, you are my destiny. You always have been. I don’t want to go back and try to fit myself into the life I assumed I’d have. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Build a house, start a family, grow old together. I thought I wanted all of that with her but seeing her just made me realize that I want it with you.”

“Steve, I—”

He cut you off quickly. “You don’t have to give me an answer now. I love you and I will wait for as long as you need me to.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity or doubt, but there was none. Smiling, you leaned in to peck his lips.

“Aren’t you like 105? Can you even still have kids?”

He laughed, pulling you as close as possible. “We’ll find out.”

the end.

13 notes · View notes

mollymauk-teafleak · 6 years ago

Text

come home with me (chapter one)

Ao3 | ko-fi

Bren Aldric Ermendrud has lived with Trent Ikithon as long as he can remember, suffering under his tuition for years, turning him into the strongest wizard possible- and the most miserable young man in Rexxantrum.

Until the circus comes to town, with one Mollymauk Tealeaf as it's ringmaster. And Bren sees a way to a new name, a new life and a chance at happiness.

An AU based on the story of Kvothe's parents from The Kingkiller Chronicles

For Bren, life had become all about small acts of rebellion.

They could never be much, he had to conserve what little bravery he had, sheltering it in cupped hands like an anaemic flame wavering and flickering dangerously at every breeze. But every so often it would flare and skip, a strengthening heartbeat, and Bren would slide the change from an errand run up his sleeve rather than turning it over with the goods he’d been sent to buy or he would borrow a book from the city library he knew wouldn’t be approved of, tucking it in his coat, feeling its edges press against his chest like a stab of thrilling guilt as the rest of his selection were turned over and inspected and approved of when he got home. Sometimes it was even as small as waiting until the last possible second to begin his chores, letting his thoughts wander, letting the day be his for as long as he could before he had to remember that his life wasn’t his own.

And sometimes, when he was passing the door to Father’s office and heard, for the first time in years, an unfamiliar voice, he would stop in his tracks and listen.

A small act of rebellion. Never seen, never thought of, never acknowledged by anyone but him, spent sparingly like a last clipped copper penny. But as long as he still had those to give, there was something to live for.

So Bren stopped and he listened.

He knew every single person in the small borough of Rexxantrum that Father was in charge of. He knew the bakers and butchers and grocers who would come to plead that they couldn’t pay the taxes and leave more unhappy than they came, he knew the crownsguard and constables who gave him bribes, he knew the other archmagi with their sonorous voices and quivering hands.

But this voice was new. It was rich and smooth and full of life, it was like music. The more Bren heard of it, the more eagerly he pressed his ear to the crack in the heavy oak door, like a plant aching towards sunlight.

“We are a registered troupe, Mr Trent, I can assure you of that,” the voice said, confident and sprightly, like everything was an amusing joke, “Not one ounce of trouble in the five years I’ve been in charge.”

“Be that as it may, we are a different people in Rexxantrum,” Father’s voice was low and gravelly, instantly making Bren’s heart kick with fear as he recognised the subtle signs of anger, the signs he’d been trained to hear and respond to, to do whatever he could to make them go away.

But the voice didn’t know the signs. It bulled on.

“My circus is for all people, Mr Ikithon. All people crave a little excitement every now and then, a little break from their hard working lives. In exchange for a pitch in the main square and ninety percent of the show intake, your folk can have a night of magic and frivolity.”

“Drinking and debauchery, you mean,” Father’s voice was a whip, smacking down the other and outside the door, Bren flinched, “And please do not call what you do magic. What I do is magic. You are speaking to one of the archmages of the Cerberus Assembly, sir.”

“I am fully aware of that. And you can call me Mr Tealeaf. Or Mollymauk, I don’t mind.”

Bren’s heart crashed to the floor. Couldn’t the man hear the danger in Father’s voice? Didn’t he realise he had to back away and do it quickly, beg forgiveness?

“Be grateful I am deigning to refer to you as sir at all,” the reply was chilly, the end of every word bitten off, “Your circus may go elsewhere. We have no place for your kind in Rexxantrum.”

There was a long pause. Bren knew he should turn and walk away as fast as he could, move on and forget what he’d heard, go on with his day. Father would be furious if he saw how little work he’d done that morning and what he’d do if he found him listening at the door didn’t even bear thinking about.

But he didn’t. So he was there to hear the soft chuckle and scrape of a chair as Mr Tealeaf drew back and replied, still bright as summer grass though there was an edge to his words that hadn’t been there before.

“Thank you, Mr Ikithon. I’ll be sure to write to Baron de Rolo and ask him to take your fair city off the rotation.”

This new pause was shorter though heavier, weighing like a ton of lead.

“Baron de Rolo?” Father sounded like he was about to explode. Though Bren was no longer afraid. This mysterious stranger had an unseen shield.

“Our patron,” the smile was obvious in his voice, “Though its more his lovely wife who funds our pursuits, she’ll be most upset to hear we’ve been barred from the capital of the Empire. The lady Vex’halia, of course you must know her, seeing as you’re an archmage and all. Our writ of performance is right here, affixed with the seal of Whitestone…” a rustle of fabric and paper, “…as you would have known if you’d asked to see it. It’s the law to do that for all travelling performance troupes, just so you know.”

This pause was all iron, a bitter taste in the mouth.

“One night,” Father practically snarled, “That is all. Then you leave.”

“That’s all we ever asked.”

Bren started as he heard Father’s chair scrape across the carpet. The spell broken, he he straightened so fast there was a stab of dizziness in the base of his skull and his heart lurched like it was getting left behind, barrelling to the end of the corridor and making himself look very busy pulling some books off of the hall bookcase, hoping it wasn’t visible at this distance that it was a completely random assortment, not some volumes to help him write his latest essay.

He couldn’t help his eyes sliding to the opening office door. Father was the first to step out, always in his ceremonial robes, face long and lined and hard. The man who followed was so different, so out of place here in the town house that it was like two completely different artists with completely different sensibilities had been forced to share the same canvas. He was fabulously dressed, in a long coat of plush, plum velvet that forked at the end and whose dagged sleeves revealed long arms decorated in ink and gilded metal; high waisted trousers in the same colour scheme with a split pattern, stripes on one side and diamonds on the other and long boots of supple, soft black leather. Under his arm was a hat, tall and proud, a true showman’s hat. Though quite how it was going to fit over horns that size, Bren had no idea.

A tiefling. An honest to goodness tiefling, here in Rexxantrum.

No wonder Father had a face the colour of a storm cloud ready to burst.

With a smile that said he fully understood the affect he was having on the archmage and was enjoying it intensely, the tielfing swished a long purple tail and swept the hat onto his head with a grand gesture, revealing the fact it had two cleverly concealed holes for his horns.

“You should come to the show, Mr Ikithon,” he flashed a set of sharply pointed incisors, reaching into a cavernous sleeve to pull out a piece of gold paper, holding it out to Father, “Give yourself a night off. See what the Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities has to offer.”

“Thank you,” Father said stiffly, pointedly taking the ticket and immediately letting it fall to the carpet, as if it had never been between his long, white fingers. He made no move to retrieve it. Neither did Mr Tealeaf.

“No, thank you, sir,” the tielfing smiled and started down the stairs, “We’ll cause not a spot of trouble, you’ll see.”

Though in that moment, as he turned, his eyes- drop cut rubies with no pupils- rested lightly on Bren, there at the end of the corridor. Immediately, he felt his cheeks go red, which Father always snapped at him to control as it looked ridiculous with his auburn hair and made his freckles stand out. But the tielfing didn’t snap or look vaguely disgusted. He just smiled and winked, swift and careless, before disappearing down the stairs in a swirl of velvet.

Struck silent, Bren watched with his mouth slightly open, stirrings in the pit of his stomach.

“Bren Aldric Ermendrud.”

Father’s voice was sharp and dangerous and it rushed at Bren with a horrible, sickening certainly that he was about to face the weight of all the built up fury and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

“Close your mouth, boy,” Father snapped, striding down the corridor until he was bearing down upon him. Even though Bren was twenty five and had grown taller than Father ever would, he still managed to make him feel an inch off the ground by sheer force of will.

“You look like a fool,” he knocked the books from Bren’s arms with a hard, sharp shove, “What do you think you’re doing, standing here gawking when you should be working?”

Bren stared down at his feet, biting his lip hard, “I’m sorry, Father.”

There was a long, horrible moment of silence as Bren looked at the scattered books, lying there like limp, dead birds and prayed Father couldn’t read his thoughts, couldn’t see those stirrings inside him.

Maybe even if he couldn’t see them, he could sense the shadows of them, for he snarled, “If I hear of you having anything to do with those deviant circus folk, I will punish you more severely than you have ever known. Am I clear, Bren?”

“Yes,” he managed to choke out, fear making his voice frail and shaky though he knew that was the desired effect.

Though his hands seemed aged, they moved faster than lightning, tightening around Bren’s chin like a vice and jerking it upwards so he couldn’t help but stare into those red tinged eyes.

“Yes what?”

“Yes Father.”

After Father had turned back into his office and slammed the door shut, leaving only his harsh command to pick up those books ringing in Bren’s ears, he stayed still for a while, eyes closed, , shaky fingers pressed to his neck, counting his heart beats. If he got to ten, he would be okay. He just had to get to ten.

Ten heartbeats came and went and Bren could breathe once more. He started to gather up the books, straightening any bent pages, brushing dust from the covers. He let the simple task inflate until it took up every ounce of space in his head, focused utterly on it, allowed no other thoughts inside.

That was the best way to survive.

But then a glint of gold caught his eye. The ticket Mr Tealeaf left had become caught in the fringes of the hall carpet, looking a little forlorn, like a butterfly who’d forgotten how to fly. A few steps brought Bren close enough to read the embossed printing on its surface.

The Fletching and Moondrop Travelling Carnival of Curiosities. Admit One. All are welcome!

Before he knew what he was really doing, the ticket was in his hand. Then it was in his pocket.

More thoughts pressed in on him and he fended them off as best he could, drowning them out by reading the titles of each book aloud, carefully ordering them by author then by colour, shifting them around on the shelf.

All the while the ticket stayed in his pocket, feeling far heavier than a little piece of foiled paper should.

“Straighten your shoulders, boy. Your feet need to be planted firmly on the ground, how many times do I have to tell you?”

Bren shifted his stance in accordance with Father’s barked instructions, though he’d always felt more comfortable on the balls of his feet where he could change direction more easily.

The ground was cold and hard underneath him, the air chilled. But they had to practise in the basement, there were far too many expensive, important things to break in the rest of the manor.

Magic was dangerous, Father had always drilled that into him before all else. It was only permitted within tight boundaries, under strict rules, compartmentalised and categorised and controlled. Using it carelessly, without understanding, that was for carnival hucksters and hedge wizards, people made to squeeze pennies out of ignorant country folk.

People like Mr Tealeaf, Bren supposed, thinking guiltily of the ticket still in the pocket of his trousers, neatly folded with the rest of his work clothes up in his room.

As he’d dressed for practice, into the loose half trousers and shirt that left him free for movement, Bren made a decision. He’d tear up the ticket as soon as he could, throw the pieces out of his window. Already he was working on three different knots of stress, each one a different scenario where Father discovered he had the ticket and none of them ended well. The risk simply wasn’t worth it. Small acts of rebellion were one thing but outright foolishness was another.

But he’d already been late for practice and hadn’t had the time yet. But he would destroy it. He would.

“We will focus on Evocation spells today,” Father announced, pacing at the other end of the cavernous basement, “Your last essay on that particular subject was poor. Let’s see if something a little more direct will help you see sense.”

“Yes Father,” Bren nodded, holding his hands ready in front of him, mind already flickering through the motions necessary for the main spells he knew.

“Now, I want to see some improvement from our last spar,” Father continued, taking no note of how ready his charge was, how he had dropped into the right stance without needing to be asked, “The last time you were slow to react. It made you clumsy, there was no elegance to it. And-“

His last words were lost to a roar as a burst of fire erupted from his hands and flew towards Bren, straight and furious as a thrown dagger. Bren yelped, all his readiness evaporating as the fire engulfed him, burning where it touched, scorching his skin an angry red before disappearing as its energy ran out.

Raw and tingling, nerves frayed and stinging with the injustice of it, Bren lost his composure, “I wasn’t ready! You gave me no warning!”

“And neither will your enemies, boy,” Father replied simply, letting loose another plume in his direction.

This time Bren dodged, rolling, skin screaming where the rough stone floor scraped against it. As soon as he could, he countered with a thunderclap, making it reverberate through the floor so even if it hit, it would do no more than throw Father off balance. But he couldn’t even manage that. Father simply stilled the vibrations with a blast of his own, the exact frequency to fizzle it out into nothing. And then it was the horrific screeching energy of an eldritch blast, the one that made Bren’s ears ring. Somehow he managed to throw himself underneath it, cowering until it past.

“Like I said,” Father’s voice cut through the screeching as it bounced around the space, “Clumsy. Sloppy.”

Bren covered his face, breathing heavy. It was so unfair. Father did everything he could to break him apart, to knock him back. For him, sparring wasn’t about learning, it was about punishment. Bren didn’t feel like a student, he felt like a punching bag.

It wasn’t fair.

In that instant, all the anger, all the fear, all the emptiness years of it had hollowed out inside him was filled with something Bren couldn’t name. In the crackling, ozone stinking wake of their spells, he stood, held out his hands and let that something fly from him as he spoke a word he couldn’t recall afterwards. Not the simple spheres that had been thrown before, a sheer wall of flame erupted in the space, roaring its fury as soon as it appeared. For a moment, Father was awash in a bright orange glow.

And he looked terrified.

Bren wavered, uncertainty flooding back into him as the wall exploded out of existence. While the heat washed over him, not even leaving a lingering heat, it struck Father full in the chest, making him stagger and fall back with a cry of pain. Bren cried out with him.

The dungeon was filled with a smoke that reeked of sulphur, hanging heavily in the hair like clumps of fine gossamer. When Father stood, his clothes were singed, his hair was in disarray and there was an angry red mark lancing across his face.

Bren was already at the door, scrabbling at the handle, when Father caught him by the collar and dragged him back.

Though he knew it would only make it worse, at the unbridled fury in Father’s eyes, he desperately babbled out, “I’m sorry! I didn’t…I didn’t mean…”

The backhand hit him harder than any spell, knocking his head against the wall.

As the pain rang through him, a less sensible part of him cried out, “I don’t understand! You want me to be a powerful wizard, why do you hurt me every time I beat you-“

A force lifted him and pinned him to the wall, forcing his jaw shut.

“Don’t you dare,” Father rasped, still smoking slightly, “Don’t you dare utter those words. You are nothing, do you hear me? You are garbage. You are worthless. I am doing everything I can to nurture the miniscule scrap of talent you have and you should be grateful I am wasting my time on a pathetic boy like you. Understand?”

Bren nodded frantically, wincing as the press continued, achingly slow but relentless, caught between the implacable force and the cold stone wall.

And then it was gone. He fell to the floor, wheezing and crying, only able to nod over and over and pray it would be enough.

“Clean yourself up. There will be no dinner for you tonight,” Father snapped, turning and marching away.

Bren was still crying as he staggered to his room, lurching for his bed like it was his last island of safety. He pressed his face to the pillows to muffle the sound, knowing Father would be disgusted to hear it, and gave himself over to the storm inside him.

He knew he’d just performed a fantastic piece of magic, far above anything he’d done before, but there was no joy in it. Just a bitter ashy taste.

All he’d ever wanted was to be as strong a wizard as he could be, learn everything, read every book, find a safety and security in magic he’d never found anywhere else. But it was never going to make Father proud of him. It was never going to make the sharp words, the slaps, the strikes hurt any less.

Bren had never wanted to be somewhere else, someone else so much in his entire life.

That was when, for the second time in the same day, a glint of gold caught his eye.

The ticket was jutting out of the pocket of Bren’s abandoned trousers, like it was trying to wriggle to freedom. He could still read half of it, upside down but still, black niello letters etched into the gold.

All are welcome!

Bren tucked the ticket into his latest banned book, slipped it into his ratty old coat, the one Father didn’t let him wear. He swung it around himself, hood up, tucking his distinctive red hair into his scarf. Everyone in the district knew Archmage Ikithon’s red haired ward.

The night air was cold, reproachful, as he opened his window. But Bren didn’t stop, he didn’t even pause, he had to move before Father stopped stewing in his anger and put up the wards around his room to stop him going to get food. Out there was music and light and colour, out there was the furthest thing from in here that there could possibly be.

Out there was Mr Tealeaf, who’d looked at him and smiled kindly.

That’s what he needed right now. So that’s where he went.

#widomauk #critical role #cr fic #circus au #rothfuss au #the kingkiller chronicle #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #trent ikithon #abuse tw #cr: caleb #cr: mollymauk #cr: wildemount campaign #cr: campaign 2

22 notes · View notes

geeky-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Pieces of Echoes Chapter 2 Preview

Read chapter 1 on AO3/ FFN :)

Thank you to @stjohn27 for being such an awesome sounding board and prereader. ♥️

********

I shouldn’t be alive, unless it was for a reason.

Like a mantra, Tony’s mind replayed the thought over and over as four strong hands pushed his head and torso back under the water, holding him in place until his body jerked and shuddered, his lungs screaming for relief.

I shouldn’t be alive, unless it was for a reason.

Out for four or five seconds, just barely long enough for Tony to clear his lungs of enough of the filthy water to inhale a quick, waterlogged breath, the muffled screams of his son lying only a few meters away piercing his heart like bullets.

Is this the reason?

It has to be.

“Peter?” Tony gasped through his heaving breaths, his face and torso still dripping wet as he crawled over to Peter’s cot, pressing his forehead down against Peter’s cheek. The boy’s chest still sounded like he was trying to breathe through several layers of cheesecloth, and Tony felt his hands curling into fists, his dirt-caked fingernails digging into his palms. “It’s okay, buddy. See? I’m still here. It’s okay.”

Slowly, Peter curled his right arm around Tony’s neck, holding him in place with what little strength he still had as Tony continued to cough up the water from his lungs. Whatever their captors had shot into Peter’s arm may have taken care of the boy’s fever, but he still was as weak as a newborn kitten. “You were screaming, Dad!” Peter choked out. “It sounded like they were trying to drown you!”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Pete,” Tony said, glancing sheepishly up at Yinsen, who only shook his head. “They were just… teaching me a lesson.” And providing me with the exact way to break us out of here.

“But are they gonna come back?” Peter cried. “What’re they gonna do when they come back? Are they gonna do it again?”

Tony shook his head, shuddering as streams of freezing cold water snaked down his back. He probably should’ve dried himself off a bit before crawling over to Peter, but he couldn't take listening to the boy’s panicked cries for one more second. Peter needed to save all of his strength for their escape.

“When they come back,” Tony murmured as he stroked Peter’s matted hair. “I’m gonna give them a list of supplies that I need. And once I have everything, I’m gonna build something that’s gonna get us out of here, Pete. So I need you to try and rest as much as you can. I need you to try and get as strong as possible because once I’m done building what I’m gonna build, we’re gonna get out of here. Okay?”

Peter’s chin started to shake. “But there’s nothing but desert and mountains out there, Dad. How’re we gonna escape?”

“You know Rhodey’s out there looking for us right now, buddy,” Tony said, even as his belly swooped in fear. It was quite likely that their captors hadn’t left any of the soldiers alive after the attack, which would mean that Rhodey—or anyone else, for that matter—would absolutely not be coming to rescue them.

But Tony couldn't afford to think like that, especially not for Peter’s sake. Peter could always see right through the masks and facades Tony put on as part of his public persona, and there was no way Peter would try to get better if he at all suspected that there was no hope of rescue.

“Rhodey’s out there looking for us right now, buddy,” he said again. “So you just concentrate on trying to get stronger, okay? Don't worry about me.”

Peter inhaled a raspy breath, his skinny chest rattling under Tony’s ear. “Uh huh. But can I help you build what you’re gonna build? I wanna help you.”

Tony hesitated. Even in his weakened state, Peter was still smarter than probably ninety-eight percent of the rest of the humans on the planet, and Tony would definitely welcome another pair of eyes to check things over. “Yeah, bud, I’ll let you help. But you gotta do exactly as I say, all right? Do you promise?”

His dry, cracked lips stretched into a weak smile. “Yeah, I promise.

The full chapter will post on Monday, February 11th. :)

#pieces of echoes #geeky writes #superfamily fanfiction #iron dad fanfiction #iron dad and spider son #superfamily #superhusbands #tony stark #peter parker #steve rogers #iron man au #chapter 2 preview

30 notes · View notes

shalebridge-cradle · 6 years ago

Text

The Big Night Chapter 3 (Party Night)

(I just think they’re neat.)

Ugh.

Veronica hides with her head under the covers, unwilling and unable to face the world. She doesn’t have the words to describe how she’s feeling – maybe ‘cold’ or ‘weak’ would do, but it all sort of boils down to a generalized sort of… ‘ugh’.

The only useful thing she’s managed to do today (and calling it ‘useful’ is a stretch) is that she’s managed to turn off her blaring alarm and get some peace for a few minutes.

Shame she can’t do anything about the car horn, currently being used to its fullest extent outside her window.

“Goddammit, Heather,” Veronica groans into her pillow. Her parents should be well and truly up by now – why aren’t they putting their foot down? Why aren’t they going outside and doing something, anything, to let them know they heard her? Of course, the last time either of them demonstrated any sort of courage was when the paperboy broke the window in the front room, and that was five years ago.

Mercifully, the aria of impatience ceases when Chandler gets tired of laying on the horn. Veronica hears a car door slam, the clicking of heels on asphalt, then concrete. A muted “Veronica!” sounds from outside. It’s a lot nicer than the alternative.

Veronica shuffles over to her bedroom window, still wrapped in the five blankets forming her cocoon, and opens it just a crack.

“Keep going, Heather. I’m staying home.”

Heather doesn’t skip a beat. “Window open. Get out of the way.”

Veronica obeys. One perfectly polished shoe comes flying through the window, the other knocks over Veronica’s desk lamp. After a bit of scraping and scrabbling, Chandler climbs through to examine her girlfriend.

“You look like shit.”

Ah, yes. Heather Chandler, well-known for her bedside manner.

“Aren’t you just the fucking romantic?” Veronica grumbles.

“That’s a compliment.” Is it? “You’re still beautiful. You at your lowest is still miles ahead of everyone else’s. Now…”

An arm on her shoulder, one behind her knees. Veronica squeaks as she’s lifted up off the ground and deposited back in her bed.

“You stay there,” Chandler commands, “I’ll make you soup. Don’t. Move.”

That last part is fine with Veronica – staying upright was overrated, anyway. Provided adjusting the blankets doesn’t count as moving (Christ, she’s freezing), she’s completely content in following Heather’s orders this time.

She snuggles back down into her bed, dozing off again, until she smells the scent of chicken soup placed on her bedside table, and feels a warm weight on her legs.

Okay. The soup, she expected. Not the other part.

With almost all of her remaining energy, Veronica sits up just enough to see what that is. It’s Heather, of course (Veronica should stop being surprised about this), lying down on the end of the bed, keeping Veronica’s calves pinned down.

“What are you doing?”

Heather doesn’t look over. “I’m helping.”

“How?”

“Keeping you in bed.”

There were many ways that could be a problem. Veronica focuses on just the one, though. “You need to get to school.”

“No. You’re sick.”

“Your education is more important.”

“Bullshit. You’re a better use of my time, and you know that.”

Veronica sighs. “That’s sweet, Heather, but I promise you I’m not dying. You can come back after school, and I’ll still be here.”

Chandler groans, but at least she bothers to think about it for a moment. Maybe she’s considering Duke and McNamara – while they certainly won’t be lost without her, Heather always thinks they will be.

“If you do die,” she says, looking pointedly at Veronica, “I’ll be hunting your ghost down for eternity. Got it?”

“Aye-aye, captain.”

Two hands on her shoulders, and Veronica lets herself fall back onto the pillow. Heather presses a kiss against her jaw. Veronica lets her eyes flutter close again.

“Good girl,” she mumbles.

She hears Heather pause at the window, trying to hold in a squeal. “… Just eat your soup before it gets cold.”

“You sure about this?”

This might be the first time ever that Heather hasn’t wanted Veronica at a party. They’re in Heather’s car, doing some last-minute checks on their makeup, when Heather turns off the lights and asks the question.

“I promise you, Heather,” Veronica just manage, “I’m fine. It looks like it was just… food poisoning, or something.”

At the very least, that’s what she thinks it is. She and her parents were sick as a… well, sick as a dog for three days, then up and about like nothing was ever wrong. As much as Heather worries, Veronica is telling the truth about this.

Besides, she likes parties. Once you got past the social status benchmark to be invited in the first place, they’re great. People laugh with each other, not at each other, and there’s always something wild to talk about in the days to follow. Just avoid the members of the football team who were complete jackasses, and you were golden.

Heather searches Veronica’s face for a sign of dishonesty that isn’t there. “You really sure?”

“Positive.”

Heather frowns, considering, then she leans in.

It’s a slow, languid kiss, Heather’s red velvet lips soft, undemanding. Veronica isn’t sure why this is happening, but she’s eager to reciprocate. While it seems like it could go on forever, Heather pulls back and the moment ends.

“If I get sick in the next few days,” she warns, “I’ll know you’re lying.”

“Maybe you should try again. Y’know, to make sure I’m telling the truth.”

Heather hums. “Tempting, but we’re already late. We need to get in there while we can still be fashionable about it.”

Unsurprisingly, the place is packed when Veronica and Heather walk in. Whose house is this again? Might be Dan’s, Veronica vaguely remembers, from the Junior State of America. Generally a good host, but not destined for Congress.

She watches the sea of faces turn towards them, and it’s like a switch is flicked – the chatter, previously murmurs that came in waves, rises into a surge of sound as every single person’s decision to come is validated by Heather Chandler’s presence.

Veronica still doesn’t understand why Chandler has so much power, but goddamn does it feel good to be caught in that aura of awe.

Let’s see, who’s here tonight… ugh, Kurt Kelly is, and from the blush on his face, probably drunk already. Dennis, surprising. Some hipster dork, a dude in a trenchcoat, Country Club Kids, yeah, that made sense, but Veronica couldn’t trust herself to have a conversation with them without sarcasm …

Betty?

“So she accepted my bribe,” Heather mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Veronica guesses that McNamara pounced on the chance to do a makeover once again – at the very least, she’s sure Betty wouldn’t have bought that silver dress. The makeup’s subtle, a bit of blush and a touch of eyeshadow, and the glasses were gone. Hopefully she has contacts, Veronica thinks to herself, Betty’s super short-sighted. Maybe that’s why Duke is with her. Being her guide dog that can also hold a conversation.

Just as that thought is about to go further, Veronica almost gets tackled to the floor by flying display of affection.

“You came!” McNamara exclaims as she releases her hold around Veronica’s waist. “You’re alive, and you’re here, and you came!”

“Yes, yes, and yes. So is Betty, if my eyes don’t deceive me. Your handiwork?”

McNamara grins, an affirmation. “She’s having a lot of fun! She even had Heather’s drinks for her, what with Heather driving and all. It’s a two-drink minimum, Betty said, but that doesn’t mean Heather has to have them herself.”

“And Heather let her?”

“Uh-huh. Besides, it’s Betty first popular kid party. She should celebrate!”

Oh, Christ. Betty’s going all out for this – Veronica’s ninety-nine percent sure her old friend hasn’t even touched alcohol before tonight, then four shots all at once? Good little Betty Finn?

She glances over to Betty’s corner again. She doesn’t look drunk at all. Maybe her tolerance is higher than expected.

“Hm. Maybe I should have your drinks for you, too,” Veronica smirks.

“You know I need at least one to get through this shit,” Chandler shoots back. “Besides, you shouldn’t be having that much. It’ll… slow down your recovery, or something.”

“Whatever, Mom. I won’t drink too much if you don’t. Deal?”

Chandler sighs. “Deal, I guess. Go. Be free. I have to socialize - go spare yourself the agony.”

Veronica’s totally fine with that.

She has a thirst she needs to sate.

“So, since none of us were stupid enough to drink water out of a pawprint, there had to be another reason. Then I think back – that goth kid was making some pretty vague threats a few weeks ago, mumbling something when we walked past. Maybe that was more than just posturing to the other witch wannabes.”

Betty listens with a polite smile. Before tonight, she hadn’t even considered what type of drunk she was. Well, maybe ‘drunk’ isn’t the right word – she thinks she’s mildly tipsy, nothing more, but ‘Zen Drunk’ had a nice ring to it. She finds she does not care when she really, really should. Anyone could overhear this conversation, and yet Betty cannot bring herself to worry about anyone out of the loop catching on.

Besides, she likes seeing Duke this comfortable. Whenever Betty sees her at school, she always looks as nervous as Betty feels. Now she’s in her element, eyes bright as she goes on about something she’s confident about, and neither of them could be any happier.

Of course, that’s when they get interrupted.

Heather Chandler stands over the two of them, the dim lighting making the glare more intimidating than it has to be.

“I need to speak with you,” she says to Betty, “the designated driver can stay here.”

Duke opens her mouth, about to speak, but Betty cuts her off. “Sure. Where to?”

“Follow me.”

They clamber up the stairs, and Betty has a little time to think. She was sure she saw Veronica earlier. Good to know she was getting over her illness, but Betty can’t help but feel a twinge of hurt that she didn’t come over to chat. Later, she supposes. She’ll track Veronica down before the party’s end.

Chandler leads her to an alcove near the stairs. Again, Betty should be at least slightly concerned that this werewolf (and yes, Duke told her it’s Chandler as well) has her almost up against a wall. Cornered by a predator, not a single care given.

“What do you know about Veronica?”

Betty blinks. “A lot of things, as it happens. Why?”

“I think she’s hiding something from me. It might be a politeness thing, but there’s been something wrong with her lately, and I need to find out what it is.”

Now, Betty’s nowhere near an expert on how popular people conduct things, but this feels like a breach of privacy. Veronica seems to like Chandler, but Betty’s not so sure if it’s really reciprocated. What if Chandler’s trying to get dirt on her for some nefarious purpose? Not that she wouldn’t mind seeing Veronica more, but not at the cost of Veronica’s social life.

“You’ve apparently known her since before either of you could walk,” Chandler goes on, “and like hell I’m gonna ask her parents, I don’t wanna look at her baby pictures or anything…”

Someone, too tall and broad-shouldered to be the topic of conversation, appears at the top of the stairs.

“Heather, there’s -”

“I’m talking. How many drinks did Heather give you for you to forget the one thing you have going for you-”

Too late. Kurt Kelly, Quarterback, wraps his arms around Chandler’s waist. Chandler goes still – not tense, not like she’s afraid (Betty’s pretty sure Heather Chandler knows no fear) - almost like she’s waiting.

“Red,” he begins, full of confidence he shouldn’t have, “red is the color of… passion. ‘S the color of fire, an’… an’ heat, an’ other things that are hot. Red is the sex color, an’ you, Heather Chandler, are all those things. Yeah.” Kurt looks down at her expectantly, a lopsided grin on his face. “You into it yet? Poems are s’posed to work.”

Chandler keeps staring straight ahead. “Betty, is there anyone else behind me right now?”

Betty checks over Kurt’s shoulder, then shakes her head.

Chandler nods in understanding, face blank. Then, she whips around, shoulders hunched over in decidedly unladylike fashion, and her voice is so low and guttural that Betty can barely make out the words.

“FUCK OFF, DEADBEAT!”

Betty doesn’t know what Kurt sees, but from his expression it might have made his heart stop for a second. He forces a pathetic little scream from his mouth as he tears his arms away, before running as fast as his wobbly legs can carry him.

Chandler turns back to Betty, face as perfectly made-up as expected and with a similar air of nonchalance. “Anyway, I don’t want anything to come between us. Is there any huge life-changing secret that Veronica’s hiding from me?”

“I don’t think so,” Betty replies. “Even if I did know something, it’s a secret for a reason. If she thought it’d be a problem, she’d tell you herself.”

Chandler narrows her eyes, but manages not to tear Betty to shreds for that little slight. Then she sighs.

“I just want to do this right.”

Betty raises her eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”

“Being… I won’t say nice. Open with people,” Chandler mutters, almost lost over the voices coming from downstairs, “and since I’m not, Veronica isn’t, I think. I want her to be okay.”

“And you don’t think she is.”

Chandler nods.

Al-righty then.

There are a lot of directions this conversation could go. There’s also the problem of missing context – is this a friend thing, or something else? From this admission, it’s clear Chandler likes Veronica, but does she like-like her?

“I can’t answer those questions for you,” Betty admits, “and if Veronica isn’t telling you, it’s probably personal. She’s kind of private, I’m sure you’ve noticed. Maybe let her know how it makes you feel if it’s causing you that much pain.”

Chandler considers this for a moment, then nods again. “Thank you.”

Betty is uncertain how to feel about getting gratitude from this particular person. Luckily, she doesn’t have to respond – Duke and McNamara are coming up the stairs, walking slowly, carefully. Duke catches Betty’s eye, and Betty can see the relief wash over her.

“Hello Heather, Heather,” Betty begins, and there’s a sharp inhale as all three Heathers are caught in the act, “as you can see, I’m still in one piece. Thanks for checking up on me.”

“Why does everyone think I’m gonna murder someone?” Chandler complains.

“Are you okay?” McNamara asks, “Kurt said your face was all freaky.”

“I am physically perfect at all times, Heather, you know that. We need to find Veronica. We need to talk.”

A gasp. “Are you breaking up? No, wait, are you getting married?!”

“No, of course not. We’re gonna have a heart-to-heart.”

“Emotional vulnerability? You? So you are getting married,” Duke quips.

“Shut up!” Duke cowers at the sound of Chandler’s snarl, but she’s still got that grin on her face. “We move. Now.”

Veronica honestly thought she was better. Now she’s not so sure – not that Chandler cares about that distinction. Maybe it’s the heat in the air, the sting of alcohol and the oppressive B.O. whenever some dudebro with no concept of personal hygiene wanders too close. It’s weird, not worrying that Chandler will be mad. Veronica’s more worried she’ll be disappointed – Veronica isn’t sure why Heather doesn’t use that tactic more often, it’s way more devastating than any scream of rage.

The bathroom’s a welcome break, though. Veronica splashes some water on her face, careful to avoid her eyes, and takes a long hard look at herself in the mirror above the sink. She supposes she’s a little pale. Just a little. Hard to tell with the makeup and all. It’s more how she feels, really, sort of… empty…

Her eyes flick to the closed door, just for a moment.

Well. That’s only half-right. Her reflection’s eyes flick to the door, Veronica herself just stared in horror.

Mirror Veronica uses her head to gesture towards the door again, raising her eyebrows in a silent request for Real Veronica to turn around.

… You know what? Fine. This might as well happen. Veronica turns, and it’s only then she notices the faint knocking at the door. With slightly shaking hands, she turns the knob and opens the door a crack.

Round, colored shades and a military jacket. Oh, yeah. Tracey, the, uh, young entrepreneur. Not a person usually seen among the popular kids, but nonetheless provides a service that gets her a place at the table. At least it’s not Heather.

Veronica opens the door all the way. “Sorry, I was just on my way out. Go on in.”

“Um, actually, could you help me for a sec? I don’t have both hands available, but I need to put a bandage on.”

“Sure thing,” Veronica says without thinking, “did Dan tell you where they were?”

“The cloth ones? Yeah.”

Tracey holds out her hand.

Oh.

Oh shit.

Honestly, Betty expected werewolves to be better at hunting.

It might be because they’re human-shaped, at the moment, sauntering down the corridor like Betty’s seen them do so many times before. Certainly not acting like there’s any urgency, can’t let people know they care about things.

Oh, wait. McNamara has stopped in front over a half-open door, eyes wide.

“I don’t think it’s anything,” she says, like a liar. “Do you smell that?”

All three of her followers sniff the air. Chandler’s brow furrows further, but Duke shakes her head.

“Nothing,” she says, “then again, not the full moon.”

“That’d be a whole other set of problems,” Chandler grumbles.

“It’s… well…”

In the bathtub, with Veronica’s jacket over her like a blanket, lies Tracey, grey and lifeless.

There’s a moment of tense, fearful silence.

“Welp, Tracey’s dead,” Chandler says, suddenly and strangely professional, “Heather, help me hide the body.”

Duke stares, alarmed. The way Heather Chandler says it, a casual tone marred by the quick, snappy way the words come out is jarring.

“This. This is why people think you murdered someone,” Betty deadpans.

Chandler ignores her. “Well? The longer we wait, the more likely someone else finds out. Move.”

McNamara steps up to the plate. Slowly. Eventually.

When Tracey’s body is about six inches off the floor, she groans. McNamara drops her, startled, and suddenly Tracey’s definitely awake and… well? No, Betty decides, that’s a reach – but she’s alive, if somewhat pale.

“Now a lotta things hurt,” she whines.

“Heather, get her a towel,” Chandler commands, “if Tracey leaves the room like this, people are gonna think she’s murdered someone.”

Betty isn’t sure who Chandler is referring to with that last bit.

“What happened?” she asks.

Tracey screws up her face, wiping off the semi-dried blood on her arms. “I remember this part. I was talking to Rachel about this party I went to, where one dude jumped from the balcony into the pool, and when I said it, I did-” she mimes slamming down, hitting her bandaged palm down onto the edge of the tub, and just manages to stop herself from screaming in pain. “There was a shot glass there. It broke when I slammed my hand onto the table.”

“Why do you have to be so violent when you tell stories?” Duke queries.

“I just get really into them, okay?! Anyway, Dan said there were bandages in the upstairs bathroom, so I went up, and Veronica was in there.”

“And she helped you.” Chandler doesn’t phrase it like a question. To be fair, it’s probably a given.

“No, she was acting all freaky. When she saw my hand, her eyes just…” Tracey places two fists on either side of her face, then spreads her fingers wide with a little ‘pchoo’ noise.

“Her eyes exploded?!”

“No! The black part, they got all wide all of a sudden. Then… I dunno. Can’t remember.”

That’s the second least encouraging thing that could possibly be said. The first would be that Veronica did something terrible to Tracey, and that she did remember. Ignorance is bliss.

“Okay,” Chandler responds after a moment, “leave, then.”

“…This room?”

“No, the state. Yes, I mean this room. Go. Git.”

Tracey looks pleadingly at Betty, hoping for someone to explain… pretty much everything at this point. But Betty doesn’t know where this is going, either, so she shrugs, and Tracey stumbles out without another word.

Silence, again.

Betty examines the three Heathers. Duke looks like she’s trying to figure something out, McNamara hasn’t had any idea what’s going on since they got into the bathroom, and Betty’s never seen Chandler look so devastated.

“So,” Duke says slowly, “vampire.”

“Vampire,” Betty echoes. Werewolves existed, she knew that. It’d be narrow-minded to presume there weren’t other supernatural creatures as well.

…How did she come to that conclusion so quickly? ‘Oh, well, my best friend’s a vampire now, I guess’ shouldn’t be Betty’s first thought on the matter, and certainly not the last.

“How?” she adds, weakly.

“Well, that depends. Has she rejected the Orthodox faith lately? Apparently that’s a trigger.”

Chandler breaks out of her funk long enough to snap, “Ninety percent of world would be vampires if that were right, Heather. Pick a reason that isn’t mind-numbingly dumb.”

“Let me think…” Duke pauses, the counts out the reasons on her hand. “Practiced sorcery, born out of wedlock, pretty much anything jumping over her open grave, eating the meat of a sheep killed by a wolf, or being a natural redhead. Any of those work for you?”

Chandler touches her hair for a moment, then shakes her head. “No. Doesn’t change my plan, really. I still have to find her, to get answers. Heather?”

McNamara perks up. Chandler grabs the jacket, throws it a lot more gently than the last time Betty saw her do so.

“Track her.”

“What?”

Chandler sighs. “Like those bloodhounds do in cop shows. You’ve got the best nose, and time is short.”

McNamara stares.

“Sniff it, then see if you can follow the smell,” Duke explains.

“I know that part. It just feels weird. Sniffing people’s clothes. It feels wrong.”

“It’s fine if you do it for a good cause,” Betty reasons, “this is a good cause, isn’t it?”

McNamara thinks for a moment, then nods. “This a good thing. I’m good, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you’re a very good girl. Now, off you go.”

Why are they looking at her like that?

Okay.

That explains a lot.

Yeah, it’s kind of out-there as an answer, but Veronica should have never been skeptical about it. She knows there are stranger things than this out there.

Oh, fuck her sideways. What’s gonna happen to that relationship now? Don’t werewolves have this thing going on with vampires? Are they gonna hate each other now because of instinctual speciesism?

Veronica groans. She has to hide, let everything calm down a little before she jumps that hurdle. She knows Tracey was still alive when she left, but she’ll have to go back at some point to get her coat. Not now, though.

Veronica tests the handle on the first door she finds. Open. She presses her ear to the door. No noise from inside.

She opens the door. Some sort of guest bedroom, bereft of any signs of life (though someone has been in here before, the sheets are all fucked up). Bonus, some sort of closet on the far side. Perfect.

Well, if she’s… like this, now, maybe she can hide a little better.

Veronica closes her eyes, concentrates for just a moment - oh fuck this is the wrong choice -

No, no it’s fine (it’s not, none of it is, but she needs to focus more than ever). If – if she just gets on the ceiling, all of her on the ceiling…

How the fuck does this work?

Apparently, the trail leaves to what looks like a guest bedroom – at least, if the complete lack of character is any indication. The only sign the place has been used at all are the bedsheets, all twisted, hanging off the edge of the mattress like a rope. Betty wonders which one of the former occupants was trying to escape.

McNamara does a quick sweep of the room, checking under the bed, behind the curtains, in the closet.

“Not here.”

“She was in here, though. You smell her.”

McNamara nods. “She isn’t here now, though. Now it’s just bats.”

Duke stiffens.

“Bats.” Chandler repeats.

“Yep. In the closet. Bats.”

“Plural?”

“That’s why she added the ‘s’ at the end, yeah,” Duke mutters. Chandler opens her mouth, but slowly closes it again, waiting.

McNamara opens the closet door again, and points.

…Yeah, those are bats. Hundreds of the little guys, hanging off the walls, on the ceiling, chilling on the empty clothes hangers. A thousand beady black eyes watch them intently, fearfully.

“I mean, it makes sense,” Duke murmurs beside her, “conservation of mass, and all. It’s either this, or one huge bat, and that’d be worse.”

McNamara considers it for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, that’d be scary. These are cute.” She pauses. “Wait, what?”

“It’s Veronica,” Chandler says, voice hollow. Betty almost feels bad for her.

“…No, don’t like it. Too many eyes. How do we put her back together?”

“How do we get her out without anyone noticing?” Duke adds.

Both good questions. Even the heavily inebriated knew a colony of chiroptera don’t belong in some dude’s guest room. Maybe - they’re small enough that a few could go in a handbag, maybe if they take a few trips they could get her to the car… but what happens if Veronica wants to go back to normal, and half of her is outside and the other half’s in here?

Ever so slowly, Chandler reaches out and gingerly pries one of the bats off the closet wall and holds it in her palm. It gives a timid squeak, barely audible.

Chandler stares.

Then, with one careful finger, she gently pats it on the head.

Betty lets out a soft ‘oh!’ at the same time the bat squeaks in surprise.

“You’re still cute. Just in a different way,” Chandler murmurs to it, then looks up, eyes sharp. “The pillowcases. Take them off, we’ll use those.”

So many questions answered in so little time. Veronica has terrible taste in women.

Betty jumps into action – for Veronica’s sake.

Veronica comes to consciousness tucked up in a bed. Two eyes. Hands. Legs.

Something’s on her legs. That’s fine. That means they’re there.

“Heather?”

Chandler’s voice is soft, and sounds like it’s from her usual position. “Yeah?”

“Am I in your house, or Dan’s?”

“Mine. That’s what we agreed to. Heather and Heather took Betty home. They’re safe.”

Okay. That’s good. It’s all okay. Heather’s here, and everyone’s where they’re supposed to be.

“Heather, I think I had too much last night.”

Heather makes a noise Veronica’s tired mind can’t describe. It sounds nervous.

“I think… I dunno, maybe someone slipped something into my drink. I imagined some weird shit. I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?”

“…No. We… we, uh, smuggled you out of there.”

Oh. Wow. Heather Chandler, stumbling over her words. Has that ever happened before?

Veronica swings herself up, opening her eyes and regretting it when the sunlight stings her face. Heather is watching her, fidgeting with the hem of her robe.

“Veronica, I know a lot of things happened last night. Some life… life? Yeah, life-changing stuff got shoved your way. I just want you to know I still love you, and I’ll be here no matter what you are.” She goes to take both of Veronica’s hands, but decides against it after getting a glance at the left one. “No, that-that’s fine. This is fine, you’re fine.”

Veronica follows the gaze down, to the limb that Chandler’s lying about. Well, where the hand should be, anyway. Like, some of it’s there, but two of her fingers and part of her palm are just… not. There’s just a little bit of black fog keeping Veronica from seeing the inside of her hand.

Huh. So it wasn’t a bad trip. That’s a shame.

…

……

………

WHAT IN THE FLIPPITY FLAPPITY FUCK IS GOING ON WHY CAN THE TURN INTO MULTIPLE ANIMALS DOES TEN PERCENT OF HER HAVE RABIES NOW IS SHE DEAD OR UNDEAD OR WHATEVER WHAT’S GONNA HAPPEN TO HER AND –

Heather grabs something off the end of the bed, shakes it. Something falls out, and she grabs it and shoves it onto Veronica’s hand. The missing digits return to their rightful place.

“I missed one,” she pants, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it’s just they’re very small, I thought it was a crease in the pillowcase-”

Veronica cuts her off with a wordless, questioning scream.

“Yeah. Yeah, I feel that. Few questions – you can nod or shake your head if you can’t talk. Okay?”

Veronica needs a second to rein in her panic, but manages to nod.

“Okay. Thank you.” Heather clears her throat. “Are you a natural redhead?”

What? Heather knows that isn’t true, though it makes Veronica forget about her existential crisis for a moment. She shakes her head.

“And you haven’t been in a grave… were your parents married when they had you?”

Veronica nods.

“Do you feel particularly strongly about the Orthodox church?”

Shakes her head.

“Are you a sorcerer?”

“Where are you going with this, Heather?”

“We’re doing some diagnosing,” Heather explains. “Are you, though?”

“No.”

“Okay, I think this is that last one… have you eaten sheep recently?”

Veronica thinks for a moment. “We did have some lamb pâté about a week ago. It’s usually made of beef, and Mom wanted something different, but not too different. I think that’s what gave us…”

Ohhhhh. She gets it now.

Heather sets her jaw.

“The pâté,” she growls. The way that sentence is said almost demands “my mortal enemy” be tacked onto the end.

“It’s bullshit, but it makes the most sense of the options you gave me.”

“You should sue.”

“What? For vampirism? Don’t think that’ll hold up in a court of law.”

Chandler scowls, but submits to Veronica’s superior logic. Then, her face goes blank.

“Veronica?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you hate me?”

This has been a rollercoaster of a morning. It goes from calm, to panic, to jokes, to this – and Heather Chandler has looked so very worried this whole time. It’s not a face she should wear, in Veronica’s opinion.

“Of course not,” she coos, reaching out to take Heather’s hand (Heather lets it happen). “I still feel the same way about you, I promise. Do you hate me?”

“No!”

“Then it’s all okay. Well… no. Everything’s okay between us. I still have a lot to figure out about everything else.”

“I’ll help with that.”

Veronica smiles. “Thanks, Heather. For everything.”

“Expect nothing less than perfection from me. C’mere, Countess Chocula.”

Veronica lets herself be pulled forward into Heather’s arms, relaxing into the touch. The nickname would definitely need to go sooner rather than later, but they’re gonna take this whole thing slow.

One night at a time, and they’ll figure it out.

#the cradle will write #the big night

10 notes · View notes