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bluerose5 · 2 years ago

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A New Chapter (Part 3/3)

Finally, it's here! The wedding has arrived, and this chapter is much longer than the others so just a heads up! Thanks so much for reading, and this is my last piece planned before we head into Inquisition so expect the time skip there. Hope you enjoy! 🥰

Pairing: Darrian Tabris/Zevran Arainai

Word Count: 7,162 (i swear this word count snuck up on me 😂)

[First Part] [Prev]

You can also read here on ao3!

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Antonia informed them that they would leave as soon as she gathered her crew.

Until then, they were welcome to board the ship and get settled in. Zevran, being more familiar with the vessel, led the way while Darrian and Barkolomew followed close behind.

After they climbed aboard, Ser Pounce-a-lot finally showed his face again. He squirmed his way out of Darrian’s bag, scanning the area with those big, inquisitive eyes.

His paws hit the deck, and he sauntered up to Ser Bark. With a swipe at the mabari's legs, the pesky feline managed to get his attention. They sat and stared at one another for quite a bit, silently communicating something far beyond Darrian’s and Zevran’s comprehension.

Eventually, they came to some sort of unspoken agreement. Ser Pounce-a-Lot wandered aimlessly around the ship with Ser Bark remaining vigilant at his side.

Darrian watched them, soon shaking his head in disbelief.

"Those two are way too intelligent for their own good," he muttered.

“You got that right,” Zevran chimed, “but they know how to look after each other. Let us leave them to their own devices, yes?”

“Fine by me,” Darrian said, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “But if they end up staging a mutiny, I’m blaming you.”

“Oh, please,” Zevran snorted, “as if my handsome troublemaker could resist a good, old-fashioned rebellion.”

Darrian beamed. “Touché.”

“At least they would have fun while doing it.”

“True enough. And I, for one,” Darrian claimed, “welcome our new pirate overlords.”

“Their reign is inevitable,” Zevran deadpanned.

Darrian stared at him, his gaze fond and affectionate.

But then, something… more crossed his expression in a flash, there and gone before Zevran could pin down what it was.

“Are you o—”

“Alright, crew!” Antonia called out, her voice piercing through the air with the authority of someone who knew how to wield it. A chorus of groans rang out, but she quickly put an end to that. “Get your asses moving, yeah! Man your stations. I don’t want to see anyone slackin’ off, you hear?”

“Aw, boss!” one of her men complained. Slowly but surely, the entire group shuffled their way onto the ship. “I thought we still had one or two more nights on leave.”

“Well, you thought wrong, Thomas,” she stated. “A job came up, so we got places to be and things to do.”

“We couldn’t have at least waited ‘til morn— Ow!” Another sailor came up behind him and smacked him lightly aside the head, earning a glare in response. “Sage, now, what you go and do that for?”

“Quit your bellyachin', boy," Sage scolded. "It's not the captain’s fault that you lot blow all your coin every leave, getting drunk and chasing skirts. Guess you'll just have to sail through the hangover."

Grumbles surfaced amongst the crew yet again, but Antonia was hardly done.

Both Darrian and Zevran watched the spectacle unfold before them.

"Tell you what," Antonia said, "do your jobs, do them well, and drinks are on me when we dock in Llomerryn."

All of those pitiful grumbles instantly transformed into hearty cheers. The crew started to disperse, but Antonia's voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Before you go," she interrupted, "let me not forget." She pointed towards Darrian and Zevran, and all eyes turned to them. "We have some very important guests aboard our ship, seeking passage away from these lands. Now, you don't have to like them, but you damn well better treat them with the same respect as you treat me. Otherwise, you'll be answering to me; and trust me, none of ya want that."

Pressing her hand to her chest, she glanced around at the crew, making it a point to meet their eyes.

"Remember who you're representing. Now, go," she said, dismissing them with a wave of her hand. "As you were."

There were a few whispers and stares from the crew, but most of them ignored Darrian and Zevran for the moment, rushing to their positions to get to work.

Sage stopped to speak with them on their way to see the captain.

"Well, well," they drawled, hands on their hips. "Zevran Arainai."

"Hello, Sage," Zevran greeted, the corner of his lips quirked up into a familiar smile. "Long time, no see."

"You got that right. Didn't expect to see you today." They cast an appreciative yet curious glance in Darrian’s direction. "Especially not with company."

"I like to keep people on their toes," Zevran joked.

"As if I expected anything less." Offering Darrian their hand, Sage grinned. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sage. I'm Captain Antonia's quartermaster. Her second-in-command aboard this beauty of a ship."

Darrian took their hand in his, only to have it brought up to their lips. They pressed a kiss upon the back of Darrian’s hand, tossing him a lighthearted wink.

"At your service," Sage hummed. "Now, if either of you need anything, please come find me."

Releasing Darrian's hand, Sage gave them a playful salute as they turned on their heel, making their way over to Antonia.

"Wow," Darrian teased, "what a charmer."

"What can I say?" Zevran remarked. "That's pirates for you."

Over the sounds of idle chatter, Darrian listened to Antonia shout out commands to her crew.

Before long, the ship was easing its way out of the docks and out into the open sea. More and more of the crew rushed about with each passing second, so Zevran wound his arm around Darrian’s waist to guide him out of the way.

He led them to a more secluded, quieter area of the deck that saw less foot traffic.

Together, they leaned against the side of the ship, staring out into the horizon.

The waters, even darkened by the remnants of night, glittered like a freshly-polished gem.

Silence settled between them, but it was a peaceful silence, free of any awkwardness or tension.

There, they stood, side-by-side. They drank in the sight of the ocean, listening to her waves crash against the hull of the ship.

A gentle breeze carried with it the sharp tang of salt. The scent clung to the air, lingering on the back of one's tongue.

After getting his fill of the view, Darrian glanced over at Zevran, watching his assassin stare out into the distance.

His expression was surprisingly serene, content even.

The lines of his brow soon smoothed out. All of the tension in his body slowly but surely melted away. Stiffness turned pliant, and his lips curled up into a genuine smile, a smile filled with joy yet devoid of any of his usual bravado.

For once, Zevran seemed happy.

And the sight of him took Darrian’s breath away.

Darrian’s heart raced. His head spun.

He could barely tell up from down or left from right.

Nothing made sense anymore, and yet it all did.

Darrian watched as the wind combed its fingers through Zevran's hair, causing several blonde strands to fall into his eyes.

Instinctively, Darrian reached out to brush them back behind his ear. Zevran’s eyes slid closed, and his lips parted around a shaky breath.

He leaned eagerly into Darrian’s touch, savoring the warmth of Darrian’s skin against his.

Zevran tightened his grip upon the ship’s siding, his skin stretched tight over his knuckles.

Rough, calloused fingertips traced along the curve of Zevran’s cheek. They trailed over his jaw and followed along the line of his neck, stopping only when they encountered the fluttering of his pulse.

Darrian lingered, swallowing thickly.

The instant Zevran’s light brown eyes fluttered open, Darrian froze.

Zevran trained his gaze on Darrian, effectively pinning him into place.

All Darrian could hear was his heartbeat, pounding loudly in his ears.

In an attempt to calm his nerves, he took a deep breath. In through his nose, out through his mou—

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling through.

"Marry me," he blurted out, eyes wide when he realized what he had done.

Zevran stared at him, mouth agape.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, I, er—" Darrian stammered, at a loss for what to say. "I got something for you!"

After he stumbled for a moment, his face lit aflame with a blush, Darrian eventually shoved his hands into his bags. He rummaged around in a hurry, laughing sheepishly when Zevran cocked his head to the side in question.

"I swear, it's in here somewhere," he chuckled. Not that the tremor in his voice was doing him any favors. “I’ve been thinking about giving it to you for a while now, but it felt like one thing after another kept interrupting us, and—and well…”

He trailed off, the tips of his ears twitching ever so slightly. Not really detectable, unless someone knew to look for it.

That ‘someone’ being the one person in all of Thedas who knew him better than most.

Zevran quickly intervened before Darrian could work himself up into a panic.

“Amor, please,” he said, placing his hands upon Darrian’s shoulders. “I’m certain that, whatever gift you got me this time, I’ll cherish it as much as the others. Do you truly doubt that?”

No, not really.

What Darrian doubted was whether or not he would even accept it in the first place, given its significance.

But Darrian Tabris was never one to let fear hold him back forging his own future.

It was with that in mind that he found the necklace. He pulled it out of his pack, holding it up on display between them.

In the ship's warm glow of torchlight, the light from the flames bounced off of the metallic chain. It was crafted from a rare form of silverite, touched by the very presence of the Fade itself. Veins of magic wove their web through the metal, glowing a bright green that cut through any lingering darkness.

The veins of green trailed down towards the necklace's pendant, or perhaps they originated from there. It was hard to tell for sure, but there was no denying that the pendant was the source of whatever magic was at play.

The shard of emerald was rough and uncut, infused with an essence akin to veilfire.

Within its surface, there was an elven rune embedded, but its exact translation had long been lost to time.

Zevran reached out, his fingertips hovering close to the emerald before they retreated back to his side.

"What is this?" he asked. His tone demanded an answer, even if his words wavered.

Darrian shuffled in place.

"It is a necklace," he explained, "imbued with the magic of the Tabris bloodline, dating all the way back to our time in the Dales and maybe even before that. Sort of like a phylactery, I guess, but minus the blood magic."

"Minus the fun, you mean," Zevran joked.

Darrian couldn’t help but smile at that.

"It only works for those who have the key to unlock its power, though. A magical phrase passed down through the generations." Watching the chain sway within his grasp, Darrian averted his eyes away from Zevran, suddenly timid in his approach. "It is meant to guide its wearer back to the person who gave them the necklace. It glows brighter the closer they are."

When Zevran didn't immediately respond, Darrian continued to ramble.

"That day you met my father, he gave me more than just my mother's dagger. While you were getting ready for supper, he had given me this, said that he believed it was time to pass it on. My mother had given it to him when she proposed, just as my grandfather and his partner had given it to my grandmother before her." Darrian reached up to touch the jewel dangling from his right ear, caressing the earring with the utmost reverence. "And I would like to give it to you."

"You would?!" Zevran asked, stunned by the idea itself, yet he couldn’t deny how his heart pounded with excitement. "Darrian…"

All at once, Darrian decided to take a leap of faith.

"Did you mean it?"

Zevran blinked at him, caught off guard by the intensity with which he spoke.

"Did I mean what, exactly?" he countered.

"When you gave me the earring," Darrian answered, lowering his voice to allow themselves the illusion of privacy. "You agreed that it was a token of affection, but when I suggested that it sounded like a proposal, you said, 'Not unless you wish it.'" He opened up to Zevran, leaving himself exposed and vulnerable in the process. "Did you truly mean that?"

Of course, when confronted so directly, Zevran took a more defensive approach.

"And if I did?" he asked, answering the question with one of his own, but that was fine.

Darrian made it this far. He wasn't going to back down without getting an actual answer.

With the necklace wrapped up in one hand, he cupped Zevran’s cheeks with both. Leaning his forehead against Zevran’s, Darrian took a deep, bracing breath.

He whispered into the space between them, "Tell me, then. Would it be foolish of me to ask if I could take you up on that offer right about now?"

"For a proposal?"

"For that, yes," Darrian said, "but for the chance to marry you as well."

"You're serious?" Zevran had to be sure because he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Right now?"

"Yes," Darrian laughed, delighted yet nervous at the thought. "But not because of traditions or because it's what's 'expected' of a couple in our position." Settling his hands upon Zevran’s waist, Darrian pulled him close. "I want to marry you because I want the entire world to know that I am yours in every way possible, and that —if given the chance— I would choose you over and over and over again."

"You're really serious," Zevran breathed, more so a statement than a question this time.

He wrapped his arms around Darrian’s shoulders, unable to look away for even a second.

"I really am," Darrian assured him. "But like I said, perhaps it's foolish to even ask. After all, we don't have to label our relationsh—"

Darrian instantly fell silent when he felt Zevran press a finger against his lips.

Zevran flashed that soft, perfect smile at him, sending a flush of warmth throughout Darrian's chest.

"Well, by all means, if it is foolish to do so," Zevran whispered, closing what little distance was left between their bodies. "Then let's be foolish together."

It was a promise and a challenge, all wrapped up into one.

Every fiber of Darrian’s being screamed at him not to let go, but he had to, if only for a moment.

Zevran huffed when Darrian released him, annoyed by the interruption of such a blissful exchange.

Thankfully, his face lit up with understanding when Darrian twirled his finger around in a slow, purposeful circle.

"Turn around," Darrian instructed.

For once, Zevran was more than eager to do as he was told.

Following his lead, Zevran turned his back to Darrian.

If that in itself wasn't the ultimate sign of trust, then Zevran didn't know how else to express that he trusted Darrian with his life.

As soon as Darrian’s fingers reached out to brush his hair aside, Zevran felt a shiver travel down his spine. Goosebumps spread out across his skin like a wildfire, in spite of the heat that coursed through his veins.

Carefully, Darrian moved the necklace into position, then clasped it into place. The pendant fell down, settling over the center of Zevran’s chest.

Its gentle glow pulsed in tandem with his heart.

Unable to resist, Darrian’s fingers traced lightly along the outline of his throat.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss right beneath Zevran’s ear. He whispered the phrase to him to unlock the magic within the gem. Darrian's words were quiet, meant only for Zevran's ears.

When Zevran repeated the phrase under his breath, it acted as the key, activating the spell that laid dormant since Adaia's death.

A surge of magic rushed through the necklace. Green light flowed freely, concentrated both around and throughout the emerald.

Zevran appraised the gift, his expression indecipherable.

Then, without warning, he turned and grabbed Darrian by the hand.

"What are you— ah!" Darrian yelped as he was hauled off. His surprised shriek cut off into laughter, smothered by his amusement. "Zevran!"

A passionate determination guided Zevran's steps, leading them up towards the helm of the ship.

Darrian dragged his feet a little, enough to delay their approach.

"Wait," Darrian said, breathless from all the excitement. "So, we're really doing this? Right now?"

Zevran smirked at him.

"What happened to all of your spontaneity, mi amor?" Zevran teased. "Not getting cold feet already, are you?"

Darrian snorted, adjusting his grip to squeeze Zevran’s hand in his.

"Are you kidding? Not in the slightest."

With Zevran leading their charge, they continued on to where Sage and Antonia were busy discussing their most recent updates together.

They glanced up when the couple neared their location, their curiosity piqued about their intentions.

"Antonia!" Zevran called out before they could even reach them. "Marry us!"

She stared at him as if he had sprouted three heads and started flying.

"Excuse me?" She narrowed her eyes at them, hands on her hips but head held high. "Sorry, fellas, but this captain is far from interested in being tied down."

"Oh, trust me, I know." Zevran rushed to correct himself. "I meant, will you officiate our wedding?"

"A wedding!" Sage gasped, clasping their hands together as they beamed in delight. "How romantic. I love weddings!"

"Any reason for a pirate to celebrate, right?" Darrian joked.

Sage grinned, shrugging playfully. "Guilty as charged."

"Now, wait a minute," Antonia interrupted, glaring at the others. "I haven't agreed to anything yet. Zevran, what makes you think that I know the first thing about conducting that sort of ceremony?"

"Does it matter if you know how?" He laughed. "We are all playing this by ear. It need not be perfect, so long as the result ends the same." That was how he saw things, at least. "Plus, we are going to Rivain, are we not? Llomerryn? They recognize any such unions conducted by a ship's acting captain."

"And how do you know that?" Antonia asked.

"I've had to crash a few weddings over the course of my career," he answered, which was explanation enough.

"If Rivain recognizes the marriage as binding," Darrian continued, "then the other nations of Thedas would have to as well."

"I don't know," she sighed, trailing off uncertainly. "It has been a while since I…"

In the blink of an eye, Zevran summoned another pouch of coin from thin air. He tossed it to her, watching her expression instantly light up when she caught it.

The purse weighed heavy in her hand. Always a good sign.

Tightening her grip upon it, Antonia's tune quickly changed.

"On second thought," she stated, holding her arms out wide in a grand gesture, "what are friends for, am I right?"

"Of course," Sage agreed.

"Always the opportunist," Zevran grumbled, although with no real heat behind his words.

Antonia brushed off his comment, undeterred.

Without warning, she clapped her hands loudly together, startling them into action.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" she snapped. "Let's get going, yeah!"

"Ugh." Sage grimaced, wrinkling their nose in disdain. "Captain, you're not seriously letting them get married in those rags, are ya?"

"Hey," Darrian protested, "what's wrong with our clothes?"

"'What isn't wrong with them?' is the better question," Sage countered.

When they reached forward to pinch at the fabric, Darrian swatted their hand away.

"You know," Antonia said, eyeing them both in contemplation. "Sage is right." She paused, sniffed pointedly at the air, then shielded her nose with her hand. "Plus, you both smell like wet dog."

"Ah, yes," Zevran stated, "the Fereldan perfume of choice."

"Well, we will have none of that here," Antonia huffed. "If we're doing this, then we're doing it right, and we're doing it in style. Let it never be said that Captain Antonia does not know how to throw a party aboard her own ship."

"Do you have any spare clothes then?" Darrian asked, eyebrow raised in question.

Sage and Antonia exchanged a meaningful look, then burst out into laughter, holding onto one another for support. Their shoulders shook, breaths trembling through every laugh.

"Did you hear that, Sage?" Antonia snickered. Thumping her hand against their chest, she jabbed her thumb in Darrian’s direction, her expression filled with mirth. "He asked if we had any to spare."

"A real riot, that one," Sage said.

"He really is," Antonia remarked, soon returning her attention to her guests. "Commander, I assure you. We are a band of thieves and smugglers. Of course, we'll have something in store for you. I won't even charge you extra, considering how generous you've both been to us."

"What a relief," Zevran mumbled, "or were you planning on bleeding us dry this whole time?"

Antonia ignored him in favor of asking her own question, peering at them closely.

"Are you two exchanging rings, or…?"

Darrian shook his head.

"Don't have any at the moment," he explained. "Perhaps in the future, maybe."

"Well, then, I'll improvise!" she announced, surprisingly boisterous, considering how reluctant she was to participate at first.

Then again, it was as she said before. If they're going to do it, then do it right. It was rare for Antonia to perform any ceremonies or rites, but she would proudly embrace her role with open arms.

The excitement in the air was contagious. It spread without restraint.

Strolling up to the couple, Antonia didn't even hesitate. She grabbed Zevran by the hand and started to drag him away.

"Sage, get the Commander ready. I'll handle our charming Crow here," she instructed. "Tell Thomas to alert the crew. The cook, the minstrel… We'll make this wedding one to remember!"

"Shall we open some of the casks?" Sage questioned.

"As if I would deprive my lovely crew of good food and drink." With a mischievous wink, she shooed them off with a wave of her hand. "Now, get to it, my dear. Time is of the essence."

While she ushered Zevran to her luxurious cabin, Sage led Darrian to the crew's quarters. There, they found Ser Bark fast asleep underneath one of the hammocks, but Ser Pounce-a-lot remained wide awake, chasing after lights and shadows alike.

Once Sage showed Darrian where to bathe, Darrian used his magic to gather moisture from the air to fill the tub. He heated the water up to a boil to cleanse it before lowering the temperature to a less scalding degree. Sage left him to it, departing to retrieve his outfit and to assign the crew's tasks as Antonia ordered.

Darrian made quick work of his bath, but that unfortunately gave him plenty of time to get lost in his nervous thoughts, pacing back and forth throughout the room.

It felt like a lifetime before Sage finally returned.

They came with arms filled with fabric. One by one, they passed Darrian each article of clothing, assisting him to get dressed as necessary.

Pulling his hair back into a ponytail, the dark brown strands fell loosely over his shoulders. The sides were shaved down into an undercut, Sage taking the time to form a couple of braids.

After the entire ensemble was complete, Sage led Darrian to a hazy mirror in the corner of the room.

Darrian brushed his hands down along the length of the outfit, smoothing out any wrinkles that he could find.

Beneath the bold, purple tunic, Darrian admired the satin sleeves of his undershirt. The golden fabric matched that of the sash tied loosely around his waist, accentuating his body's subtle curves.

Gold, metallic accents popped against the darker colors. Ornate leaves framed each button that lined the upper half of the tunic, catching the light at an angle that drew attention to the finer details.

Black pants framed Darrian’s legs, his look complete with a pair of stylish leather boots.

Tugging at his sleeves, Darrian turned to and fro in an attempt to look at himself from all angles.

As soon as he approved of his appearance, he nodded resolutely to his reflection, steeling himself for the ceremony to come.

By the time they emerged, the sun was peeking out over the horizon, watching them from afar.

Word traveled fast around Antonia’s ship, so it came as no surprise that the festivities were already in full swing. While the helmsman attended his post, the others didn’t waste any time at all before breaking open the casks. They roared with laughter and song alike. They belted out the crudest lyrics, horribly offbeat from the musicians’ tunes.

It was wild and chaotic, and Darrian couldn’t remember the last time he’d been surrounded by that many people having so much fun.

He couldn’t help but to grin, following after Sage in search of the others.

Good thing they didn’t have to search far.

Although, no one was safe from Antonia’s theatrics.

She kicked open the door to her cabin with a loud bang, all but sending it flying off its hinges.

Strutting out onto the deck with her head held high, her chest puffed out with pride, Antonia opened her arms in welcome. Her crew fell silent, all eyes on her, ever attentive.

“Well?!” she yelled, holding up her leather flask in celebration. “Shall we have a wedding then?!”

An uproar of agreement met her ears. Everyone raised their drinks to her, and they all took a swig at once.

Darrian continued to shove his way through the crowd. His heart pounded, relentless, threatening to split open his chest from the inside out.

Eventually, he broke free from the others.

At that very moment, Zevran emerged from the captain’s quarters. He stepped out of the shadows and into the light, stopping Darrian in his tracks.

Darrian stood there, dumbfounded.

His lips parted in awe, barely able to catch his breath.

He thought to himself, If ever there was an elf worthy of worship, then Zevran was it.

Even time itself seemed to stop to take note of his beauty.

Surely, it transcended anything in this world or even the next.

Draped in dark red robes, Zevran wore the longer piece with pride. Even if it wasn’t an exact fit, it flattered his figure all too well. It was clearly a complimentary piece to Darrian’s outfit. The same decorative leaves trailed down the center of Zevran’s chest, his curves emphasized by a golden sash that was wrapped neatly around his waist.

Yet it managed to come across as much grander, more elegant, than Darrian’s did.

Swirls of gold embroidery formed patterns along the sleeves and chest.

A cape, crafted from the finest velvet, rested over his shoulders. It rippled from the sea’s gentle breeze, formed from a brighter shade of red with more embroidery to match.

His hair, the longest it had been since they met, was pulled up into a loose bun. A decorative comb kept it in place, covered in an array of rubies and garnets.

He glowed with a radiance that put the sun to shame.

Before Darrian knew what he was doing, his feet led him forward.

He stopped before Zevran, staring at him with a reverence unlike any other.

Zevran made eye contact with Darrian, both of them unable to look away.

Darrian reached out at the same time Zevran did, their hands finding each other with ease.

Antonia's voice rang out, but not even she could break the spell they were under.

"My friends, brethren, and crew," she greeted, "we join together on the dawn of a new day to bear witness to the union between Darrian Tabris and Zevran Arainai. Though some of us may not know them well, we bestow upon them wishes of support. May their ventures prove fruitful, and may their beds never grow cold."

She wagged her eyebrows at the crew, who whistled loudly in response. Zevran and Darrian spared her a chuckle, closing the distance to rest their foreheads against one another.

Clearing her throat, she continued, "May the gods bless their marriage in the years to come, and may they know eternal peace through their love for one another."

One of her crew lifted their cup in agreement and shouted, "Hear, hear!"

"Hear, hear!" the others echoed.

Antonia smiled and lifted her flask as a show of unity.

"Now, if no one here objects to the union of these two souls, let us hear them swear their intention to each other. Marriage, to many, is binding. A promise to one another and to themselves. Zevran Arainai, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Darrian Tabris in marriage?"

"I do," he breathed.

Antonia nodded, then turned to Darrian, but he had eyes for one person and one person only.

"Darrian Tabris," she repeated, "do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Zevran Arainai in marriage?"

"I do," he stated, unable to get the words out fast enough.

Antonia smiled.

"With your intention to marry confirmed before all those gathered here today, I now humbly request that you exchange your vows."

Of course, she would have them come up with their own vows, unprepared as they were.

Then again, it wasn't as if any of their ceremony was rehearsed beforehand. All things considered, it was going better than Darrian ever expected.

After an awkward enough pause, Zevran chimed in.

"Ah, that is our signal, yes?" He chuckled, in spite of the tremor in his voice. "Well, how shall I start, when I have already sworn myself into your service long ago? How do I pledge even more of myself to you, when all you have to do is say the word, and I will give you everything I am? Hmm… perhaps I shall add onto what has already been promised to you."

His expression gentled. Reaching out, he cupped Darrian’s cheeks, traced his scars…

All at once, he took Darrian’s breath away.

Zevran swallowed, his voice thick with emotion.

"Darrian, I promise to remain yours for the rest of my days. Whether that be as your friend, your lover, your…" He took a deep breath, his disbelief still apparent, even now. "Your husband." Once more, Zevran found his flow, running with it as best he could. "I promise to love and treasure you. To always keep you in my heart, no matter how far apart we are. I promise to recite more dirty poetry for you—"

Darrian released a watery laugh at that, eyes stinging slightly as tears threatened to gather.

"—and I vow to bring your life as much fun, excitement, and love as you have brought to mine. Wherever life takes us, let it always bring us back together."

"Always," Darrian agreed.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed a kiss to Zevran’s lips, passionate yet brief.

Antonia was having none of that, though.

"Hey!" she scolded, wagging her finger at them. Her crew snickered in the background. "It's not time for that right now! Finish your vows, lover boy, or I'll make you do it from the other side of the ship."

Darrian spared her a sheepish grin.

"Sorry." Tugging at his collar, Darrian stood tall. Zevran watched him with a mixture of fondness and amusement, patiently waiting. "Uh, right, my vows!"

"Any day now," Sage teased, but Darrian ignored them, drowning out everything but his thoughts.

As if it was easy to condense how he felt for Zevran into so few words.

Nevertheless, he would try.

"I—" His palms grew slick. The world started to spin around him, but they were in no rush.

If anything, Zevran's presence kept Darrian grounded.

When he gave Darrian’s hands a reassuring squeeze, Darrian started over and tried again.

"When I was conscripted into the Grey Wardens," he said, "my life as I knew it was over. Whether it had been by the gallows or the darkspawn, my fate was decided then. I was a dead man walking, living on borrowed time. For so long, I found fleeting moments of joy through friends, family, and others, but the joy rarely remained, not as it should. Everything felt temporary."

He tightened his grip upon Zevran’s hands, but Zevran didn't flinch or complain, not even once.

His attention remained focused on Darrian. Everything else simply melted away.

"But then…" He paused, taking a second to steady his breathing. "Then, I met you, and I find it ironic to this day that the same man who was sent to kill me ended up being the one who taught me how to live again."

A wide variety of emotions flitted across Zevran’s face, but Darrian couldn’t take the time to pick apart each one, needing to work through his vows before he lost his momentum.

"You taught me how to enjoy life, how to be me again. And for that, I can never repay you," Darrian declared, "but I promise that I will spend every second of every day, loving you like no person in this world has ever loved another. I swear to you that, no matter what obstacles we may face, I will fight to be by your side until I draw my last breath. We'll laugh, we'll cry, we'll kiss, we'll fight. But I want to experience it all with you. The good, the bad. The pretty, the ugly."

As soon as Darrian saw the first tear slide down Zevran’s cheek, one of his own broke free, and then another…

"Zevran." His voice cracked, but he forced the words out, needing them to be said. "I promise that —in a world filled with so many temporary, fleeting moments— my love for you is permanent. In time, that love might change and shift as we as people do, but it will be love for you all the same."

Zevran nodded eagerly in understanding, beaming up at his Warden, tearful yet euphoric.

There was no coming down from such a high.

To both love unconditionally and be loved unconditionally in return.

For someone who thought such a thing impossible, there was no better feeling.

Antonia swiped deftly at her eyes. Not even she could deny the impact of their words, waving Thomas forward as she spoke.

"With your vows exchanged, we acknowledge your commitment and loyalty to each other. In place of rings, we bring forth a portion of bread, which you both shall partake of as a symbol of your union. Here."

Taking a slice of bread from Thomas, she made a show of breaking it in half into smaller portions before giving a piece to each groom. Its aroma was sweet yet fragrant, filling the air with the warm smell of cinnamon and sugar.

"Darrian, hold your piece up like so and repeat after me," Antonia instructed, assisting as needed. "With this offering."

"With this offering."

"I promise to provide for you. To nourish you in mind, body, and soul as your partner."

"I promise to provide for you," Darrian swore. "To nourish you in mind, body, and soul as your partner."

"May this offering symbolize good health and prosperity in our days to come."

"May this offering symbolize good health and prosperity in our days to come," Darrian repeated.

Antonia gestured between them.

Thankfully, Darrian picked up on her meaning relatively quickly, offering the bread out to Zevran. When it brushed against his lips, Zevran parted them, wrapping them around the flaky treat.

Once he pulled away, he let the tip of his tongue brush against Darrian's fingers with a coy smirk.

Darrian chuckled, whispering under his breath.

"Behave."

"As if you'd want me to," Zevran replied.

"Ahem." Antonia narrowed her eyes in warning. "Zevran, present your offering to Darrian and repeat after me."

After going through the same exchange, Zevran followed Antonia's lead word-for-word. He only dared to switch things up on the last line, but Darrian didn't expect anything less.

"May this offering symbolize good health and many sweet, sticky evenings in our days to come," he announced, beyond proud of his revision.

Darrian snorted loudly while Antonia grumbled, dragging a hand down her face.

"You know what," she stated, "close enough. Eat the damn bread, Warden."

"More than happy to," he laughed.

Leaning in, he stole the other half from Zevran’s fingers. He parted with a playful nip, savoring the sweet before swallowing.

As soon as he finished, Antonia concluded the ceremony with grace.

"By the powers vested in me, and through your love for one another, I now pronounce you husband and husband." She didn't even skip a beat, glancing pointedly at them both. "You may now kiss your groom."

Zevran didn't even give her a chance to finish before he was stretching up on his toes, yanking Darrian down by the fabric of his tunic as their lips crashed together.

Darrian froze for a brief second, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides, but he quickly regained his composure after he processed what had happened.

He adjusted the angle, sealing their lips into a heated kiss.

Wrapping his arms around Zevran’s waist, he swung him around into a dramatic dip. Zevran caught on instantly, adapting to the new position with ease.

Not once did their lips part, both of them deepening the kiss. Their eyes slid closed, tasting sugary sweetness upon each other's tongues.

Over the roaring applause, a whole symphony of whistles surged through the crowd, but there were just as many sobs and sniffles sprinkled throughout.

"I promised I wouldn't cry!" one of the pirates bawled, loudly blowing their nose into another's handkerchief.

It took a moment for the newlyweds to part, but they eventually ended the kiss.

As Darrian drew Zevran up into a warm embrace, Antonia turned to her crew.

"I now present to you—" She paused abruptly, snapping her fingers at the couple to get their attention.

Darrian realized a second too late that they never discussed the whole name situation, or if they even wanted to change them, truth be told.

Before Darrian could reply, Zevran took it upon himself to answer for them.

"Mr. and Mr. Tabris!" he exclaimed.

Antonia glanced at Darrian, who simply nodded in agreement.

With a shrug, she echoed the sentiment.

"I now present to you, Mr. and Mr. Tabris!"

The crew broke out into a rush of activity then. The strongest among them effortlessly lifted the newlyweds up onto their shoulders, carrying them around as the music started up once more.

Alcohol flowed freely, and the cook had prepared a feast fit for a king. Everyone indulged to their heart's content, having no intention of stopping anytime soon.

The sounds of a fiddle, an accordion, and a flute filled the air, occasionally accompanied by a minstrel's voice.

Their dances grew livelier by the second, filled with stomps and claps that coincided in time with the music.

Even Ser Barkolomew and Ser Pounce-a-lot joined in on the havoc, chasing each other around the deck with barks and hisses.

By the time Darrian was released, he stumbled about, overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of excitement. Between all of the twirling and the nerves, he could barely keep his balance.

His vision blurred, head spinning.

It became increasingly difficult to ignore the rocking of the ship. How the waves shoved them about.

Holding his head, Darrian grumbled in discomfort.

Why couldn't everything just stand still for a second?

Of course, a familiar bottle of liquor was shoved into his face at the most inopportune time possible.

"Want a sip, amor?" Zevran offered, but the very sight of alcohol —no matter how mild the brandy might be— made his stomach churn. Zevran caught a glimpse of his expression, brow furrowed in concern. "Darrian, is something wr—"

In the blink of an eye, Darrian was all but hanging over the side of the ship, emptying the contents of his stomach into the sea.

Zevran was at his side in an instant, holding Darrian’s hair back from his face.

"Was it something I said?" he joked.

Darrian groaned.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No need to apologize, my dear." Zevran stroked his free hand along Darrian's back. "Although, you owe me a dance as soon as you're feeling better."

"Of course," Darrian sighed.

Closing his eyes, a cool spray of saltwater washed over his clammy face.

It was a welcome relief, albeit a brief one.

Turning his head to the side, Darrian peeked one eye open to peer over at Zevran.

"Zev."

"Yes?"

"I have a question for you."

"Is it a dirty question?" Zevran teased.

Pulling himself up to his full height, Darrian replied instinctively, "No." Then, he paused, amending his statement. "Well, yes, actually."

"Is that so?" Zevran asked, his curiosity piqued. He leaned against the side of the ship next to Darrian, their elbows bumping lightly. "By all means, do share, mi amor."

Darrian chuckled.

Lowering his voice, he whispered between them, "By chance, do you have any smallclothes on underneath that robe of yours?"

Zevran barked out a surprised laugh, then answered, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Oh, I would," Darrian said, "hence why I asked."

"Tell you what," Zevran offered, "you go get cleaned up and give me that dance you promised me, and I'll take you to a nice, shadowy corner of the ship to give you your answer."

"Sounds like a plan."

And yet, neither one of them budged an inch from their current position. They both stood there, bathed in the morning's light, and looked out over the horizon.

Darrian focused more so on the sky than the ocean's rhythmic waves. He watched a dazzling array of orange and blue play off of each other, beckoning the sun up higher into the sky.

Zevran’s hand found Darrian’s, their fingers lacing together like it was second nature to them both.

"I love you, Darrian Tabris."

It was one of those rare moments where Zevran said it first. Not out of a lack of affection, Darrian knew, but out of a long, deep-seated fear of what those words could mean for him.

Darrian learned early on to cherish those moments, to cherish how Zevran boldly claimed in so few words that their relationship —their love— was stronger than that fear.

Darrian glanced his way, only to find Zevran already staring at him.

Their eyes met; and for an instant, nothing else mattered in the world.

With a deep breath, Darrian told him, "I love you, too." He paused, reminding himself of the change. The thought alone brought a sunny smile to his face. "Zevran Tabris."

And while they might not have a sunset to ride off into like in the stories, they did have a sunrise to watch from a distance.

Together, they could welcome a start to a new day.

Hopefully, the first of many to come.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #male warden #darrian tabris #zevran arainai #original characters #zevwarden #bluerose writes

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

Text

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3 and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist :

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

///

Harry hates clubs.

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours.

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit.

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife.

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor?

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter.

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation.

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you.

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now.

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department.

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT.

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame.

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite.

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving.

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize.

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results.

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well.

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it.

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static.

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire.

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does.

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work.

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.”

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.”

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd.

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.”

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.”

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering.

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.”

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.”

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.”

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist.

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.”

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move.

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt.

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam.

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance.

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.”

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground.

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer.

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really.

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized.

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?”

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember.

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more.

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in.

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional.

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since.

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.”

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least.

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.”

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.”

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?”

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.”

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.”

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.”

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.”

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?”

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.”

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident.

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one.

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger.

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges.

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection.

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly.

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together.

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect.

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now.

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.”

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.”

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.”

“You’re going to hell.”

“I’m already there, mate.”

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.”

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night.

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough.

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.”

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.”

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.”

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.”

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!”

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles.

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.”

“You’re older than I am!”

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal.

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?”

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle.

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned.

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?”

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps.

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend.

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device.

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious.

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does.

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.”

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.”

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.”

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.”

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?”

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?”

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?”

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.”

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.”

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face.

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open.

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation.

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.”

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.”

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return.

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.”

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.”

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.”

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.”

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up.

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.”

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake.

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown.

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable.

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him.

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk.

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world.

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs.

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is.

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now.

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.”

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile.

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it.

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie.

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly.

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste.

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke.

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way.

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here.

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight.

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause.

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing.

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him.

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass.

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection.

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface.

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything.

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.”

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for.

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.”

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night.

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him.

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer.

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding.

When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind.

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner.

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault.

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come.

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes.

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...”

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears.

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own.

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested.

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.”

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job.

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known.

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city.

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life.

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit.

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class.

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again.

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move.

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film.

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity.

And that’s exactly what she’d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions.

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house.

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree.

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria.

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand.

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them.

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.”

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken.

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs.

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger.

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats.

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor.

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.”

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought.

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life.

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail.

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb.

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?”

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.”

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.”

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.”

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.”

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?”

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.”

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human.

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.”

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room.

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly.

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.”

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile.

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.”

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised.

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.”

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.”

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach.

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.”

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give.

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath.

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.”

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.”

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.”

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks.

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs.

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge.

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.”

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?”

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.”

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again.

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke.

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.”

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.”

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning.

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil.

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.”

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name.

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done.

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight.

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.”

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.”

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.”

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night.

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer.

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had.

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.”

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys.

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell.

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them.

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately.

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.”

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suite43 · 3 years ago

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this was a commissioned peice of writing for @princemai . If you're interested in a commission, dm me!

Adjusting to life after the war was never going to be easy. How do you coexist with the people who've been trying to kill you for millions of years? It didn't take a nihilist to think that the peace wouldn't last.

Bumblebee counted himself pleasantly surprised that, well, something seemed to last. Peace wasn't the right word, but at least it was less "endlessely killing each other" and more "the entire universe hates us and we can't really blame them". But for the most part, these days, things were peaceful.

That didn't mean it was easy.

You wouldn't call it easy to wake up next to the closest thing you'd ever had to an arch-nemisis wrapped around you. You wouldn't quite know what to do with the fact that as much as he hates to admit it, he's afraid of the dark. And you wouldn't blame yourself for waking up sometimes afraid that you'll find a knife at your throat.

It wasn't easy. But it was peaceful, more or less. Because when Starscream kissed him in that way he did almost every morning, gentle and still half-asleep, Bumblebee could nearly forget he'd ever thought of the mech next to him as dangerous, and a part of him would wonder why it hadn't always been like this.

But then they get up, and the day would go on, and even though there's peace now, there's a lot of history, and Bumblebee can't help but feel like they're both just waiting for everything to turn sideways.

Bumblebee wants to trust Starscream. And he does, on some level at least. Immensely so. Enough to have trusted him with the fate of the universe. But every argument, every time the banter hits just a little bit too close to home, every time Starscream slips back into a crueler, more violent version of himself, Bumblebee wonders to himself if maybe this is it. After all, it wasn't really that long ago that they were shooting at each other.

Starscream has the same thoughts. Obviously, he won't admit it, but it's easy enough to see through his acts once you know him well enough - When did Bumblebee start to know him well enough? How the hell did that happen? It all feels so fast - But sometimes when there's a certain tension in his wings and his fingers curl up ever so slightly and his eyes shoot around, planning his escape, Bumblebee knows that Starscream is just as scared as he is.

It's not always like that. There are moments when they're alone where it feels like none of that matters. They sit together on their couch and they're quiet as they both do their own thing, and Bumblebee shifts to lean against Starscream's shoulder and Starscream wraps one arm around him, his hand idly tracing small circles on Bumblebee's plating, and it just feels right. Bumblebee feels more safe there than anywhere in the universe, curled into the side of one of the most dangerous people in the universe. In a moment like that, he'd tear his spark out and put it in Starscream's hands if he asked him to.

But... It wasn't that long ago that he watched people he loved die at those hands. Those same strong, clever hands that slotted perfectly into his like they were built that way, like everything in their lives had led them to this specific touch. Bumblebee wasn't a big believer in destiny but sometimes everything would line up just so, and if he'd been slightly more of a romantic he'd've called them soulmates.

It was this confusing blend of love and hate, of forgiveness and grudge and grief and adoration that didn't make sense at all and yet when Starscream knows exactly what to order him when they go out it makes perfect sense. And, somehow, it works out.

They've never really talked about... well, whatever this is. It's clearly a relationship, at this point. It's hard to argue for 'just friends' after that many rounds of... well, you know what. It's equally as hard after catching each other after god-knows-how-many nightmares, after thousands of late-late-night conversations, after the way that making each other laugh became the easiest thing in the world, after the way that they would whisper sweet complements between each other like a secret because it was far too embarrasing to say loudly.

So yeah, it was a relationship. But "open, honest communication" was not exactly in Starscream's skillset, and, well, Bee wasn't really sure he wanted to talk about it either. Putting a name on it felt. Dangerous. Like it'd ruin it. There'd be too much pressure, too much commitment, too much... truth. It felt like confessing something that he wasn't ready for.

It was one thing to sleep with Starscream. It was another to, say, kiss Starscream. It was a third thing to literally sleep with Starscream, to trust the second-least-trustworthy person on Cybertron to be with him at his most vulnerable. But to be dating Starscream? To introduce Starscream as his partner? As his conjunx? That was a world of different things that Bumblebee was absolutely not prepared to handle.

What was he supposed to say? Oh, by the way, this is my conjunx. He's killed more people than my brain can even comprehend, but he also saved the universe that one time so it's totally cool now, don't worry!

But he loved him, and that was the problem. He loved Starscream so much, and he wanted everyone in the universe to know about the funny, thoughtful, brilliant person that he loved with all his heart.

And didn't it mean something that Bumblebee had seen Starscream at his absolute worst, and still decided that loving him was worthwhile? It wasn't like Bee was just flailing at the whims of his emotions, he chose to be here. Well, not the first time, that had just kind of happened. But after that, he'd chosen to stay, because loving him seemed worth the trouble of hating him, right? And Starscream was getting better, and that was a good thing.

And who was he worried about knowing? The handful of people Bumblebee would've bothered to tell if they did get married already knew the situation, and it wasn't exactly like either of them were really public figures anymore. The government job Windblade had gotten to keep Starscream busy was mostly just paperwork, and aside from the odd job here or there Bumblebee didn't do much. He'd basically retired. So they weren't going to be the talk of the town or anything. Besides, it's kind of old news, there'd been rumors of them doing something together pretty much since the second the war ended. It wasn't true then, but by now the scandal had kinda worn off and it was more of a "yeah, no shit" kind of gossip.

Still. A decade or so of closeness didn't really feel like long enough for a lifetime commitment, especially after what, four million years of hating each other beforehand?

But... Life is shorter than you expect it to be, right? They'd both died once over the course of this whatever-it-was. And the second time, they really had thought it'd stick, and Starscream sorta-haunting him from another dimension or whatever seemed like it was a permanent commitment, and that didn't scare Bumblebee at all. It sounded nice, not having to be alone again. This was like that, except he could be alone, sometimes, because neither of them could walk through walls or locked doors anymore so all he had to do for some privacy was tell Starscream to politely fuck off for a bit, which was a plus, right? Way more pracitcal.

"Can't we talk about this in the morning?" Starscream complained, eyes half shut, snapping Bumblebee out of his train of thought.

"What?" Bumblebee asked, confused.

"I don't want you to propose while we're drunk and you're rambling, idiot," Starscream was laying in Bee's lap, nuzzling his face into Bee's stomach plating. They were holding hands. When did that happen? "We can talk about it later."

Oh, shit.

"How much of that did I say out loud?"

"I dunno, you talk a lot. You're keeping me up."

"Shit. Sorry."

"S'okay. Your voice is nice."

"Oh." It was quiet for a minute.

"It's okay if you hate me. I get it," Starscream said.

"I don't hate you," Bee responded, blinking a few times, trying to shake off the feeling of spinning. "I like it when you're here."

"But you kind of have to hate somebody a little to love them, right?" Starscream shifted, staring up at the ceiling, head still resting on Bee's stomach. "I mean, it's hard to be with someone all the time. Especially when you're stubborn and stupid, and you do stupid obnoxious things and I hate it. But if you weren't those things I hate, you wouldn't entirely be you. And I don't just like parts of you, I like you, and I can hate things you do while still knowing that it's you, and I love who you are. Even when we piss each other off. It's still you. Right?"

"Do you think i'm stupid? I'm not stupid."

"You're missing the point."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing so much. I hate it when you apologize." Starscream's hand squeezed his a little tighter.

"Oh... uh. sorry."

"You make me feel... like..." Starscream just kind of trailed off.

"Yeah, I know. you too... uh. I mean. you make me. uh. you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"This is good, right?"

"Mmm, it's gonna feel shitty in the morning, but right now it's good."

"What about after tommorow?"

"I don't know. Ask me then."

"Hm."

"I don't have a plan, Bee. That's not normal for me. But I don't need you to tell me it's going to be like this forever, because it probably won't be. Things don't work out like that for us. But right now, for the first time in my entire life, I'm genuinely satisfied. Can we just enjoy that? I don't know how to be happy, Bee. I don't know how to handle it. But I'm trying to make this work. We can go back to shooting each other tommorow if that's easier for you, but right now, I'm happy."

"Yeah? Yeah. Me too. God, I'm happy," Bumblebee pulled their joined hands up, pressing a kiss to Starscream's knuckles where they intersected. "I'm happy that you're happy. I want you to be happy."

"I know," Starscream said. He muttered something else, but it was quiet and slurred and Bee couldn't quite make it out. In his head, Bee imagined it was something along the lines of I love you.

#the prompt was 'so why arent bee and starscream conjunxed' and i got to go from there #it was interesting! this is pretty stream of conciousness so i hope its interesting to yall as well!#red.doc #starbee #maccadams

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

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The Melody Lives On

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Seeing Spencer after so long apart makes past feelings come to the surface again.

A/N: Hey heyy 🥰 this is my third fic for my 1250 follower celebration!! It was based on a request that @imagining-in-the-margins passed along to me- if you want to see a photo of the original request it’ll be on the follower celebration Masterlist! It’s got vague references to the prison arc and is also inspired by Grey’s Anatomy 🥰 Thank you to @lexieshuntingsstuff for getting me back to realizing how much I love Grey’s 😊 Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy, and requests are open!

Warnings: Nothing I guess- unless vague references to the prison arc bother you

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.2k

“Dr. Y/L/N to conference room A please. Dr. Y/L/N to conference room A please. ” Came through the intercom. I was sitting in the hospital cafeteria munching on crackers while reading a book that I honestly wasn’t paying that much attention to because of how dead tired I was. I couldn’t stifle the groan that escaped me, I didn’t want my first break in what seemed like forever to be cut short.

Besides the fact that my bones and muscles ached I willed my body to move out of my chair despite it’s very prominent protests. There was a line of attending that led outside the conference room, I guess I had been the only one they had forgotten to get the memo out too.

Karev then came up behind me with just as much of a quizzical look on his face as mine and the rest of the attendings- I guess no one knew why we were here.

The only hint that the rest of us got to what was going on inside was when Arizona left the room and said it was some sort of FBI interrogation before she scurried off back towards peds.

As the line dwindled down to just me and Karev with Meredith in the room my mind started to wander to the person that I knew that happened to be in the FBI. Well- I guess I didn’t know him anymore, it had been a decade plus since I had seen him.

Of course said person that I happened to be thinking about happened to be in the room.

As soon as I saw his fluffy hair memories came flooding back. He looked so different now, more mature. But, I could clearly tell who it was; it was Spencer.

We had met just as I had been starting my first year of college. At first I had assumed he was the same, a freshman. Then I had learned that he was actually already on his second PHD- which had been in mathematics if my memory serves me well.

I had admittedly gawked at him at first like so many had done to him as well when they found out about his vast valleys of intellect that seemed to go on forever. When I had asked him to tutor me in my own mathematics course it was for the sole reason of bumping up the grade I had let slip. That was until I had gotten to know the sweet boy who was almost a man, though his baby face definitely did try to fight that fact. Guilt had immediately cropped up within me once I realized how much of a fool I was to not want to get to know him deeper than just the ‘child prodigy’ that everyone knew him as. He was one of the nicest people I had ever had the pleasure to come across, plus his bountiful knowledge made conversations with him extremely riveting to say the least. I remember apologizing to him profusely that first night, that was the first time I had gotten the chance to see the true extent of how sweet his kind eyes could be.

What had first been a simple somewhat feigned friendship to get a good tutor turned into the closest friendship that I had ever had. That close friendship had eventually turned into a romantic relationship one that in my opinion rivaled any of the great classic love stories.

Unfortunately, fate is rarely kind to lovers and what had once been sweet turned sour. It wasn’t any one of our faults, I knew that. But, my blossoming career as a surgeon led me to get an internship in Seattle while Spencer was led to the front steps of the FBI.

Every time I thought back on it I bitterly laughed at the irony of us both being led to Washington, though they were different ones that were on the other sides of the country. I had no animosity towards Spencer and the last time I saw him neither did he. But, the memories stung painfully when looking back on them. They stung even worse when I was faced with the sight of the man who had stolen my heart more than a decade ago and had yet to give it back.

His hair had grown out since I had last seen him, it now curled more around his ears and was much fluffier. The color of his soft curls would make anyone obsessed, mousy brown that shined a little bit of a burnt caramel when the tops of his curls hit the light. He had taken to letting his curls run wild which I had always liked to see when he would wash his hair of the gel he used to religiously put in.

A new addition along with his curls was the scruff he had begun to let grow out a little. When I knew him growing out his scruff a little would’ve been a completely foreign concept to young Spencer. I remember him always complaining about how scratchy it felt when he even let it grow out a little. The scruff also used to seem jarring on his younger face, looking out of place on his boyish face. Now his face definitely suited the scruff.

He had changed a lot indeed, but underneath it all I could still see the Spencer I knew. His eyes held a darkness now that matched well with the fluffy curls and scruff. The darkness that deepened his eyes was attractive for sure, but I wondered what had made the sweet boy become so dark. There was a part of me that wanted to know this Spencer as well, even with the darkness, despite the fact that I hadn’t really known him in so long.

His eyes had been piercing right into my own as I took the sight of him in. Those dark eyes felt like they were reaching right into my soul and hooking their claws in deep to draw me right back into him. Though I can’t say I minded much, being drawn back into Spencer’s warmth sounded like something we may both need.

“Dr.?” One of the men that was in the room with Spencer spoke up to get my attention. They must have been talking while the both of us had zoned out looking at each other.

The older man that spoke to me looked like he may have been a bit too old to work for the FBI. If I didn’t know that Spencer worked for them I would’ve thought Arizona had been pulling our legs when she told us what this was for because Instead of acknowledging the other man I turned back to face Spencer and spoke softly,”It’s good to see you, Spencer.”

“You too.” His voice croaked and was hoarse when he replied. His coworkers looked extremely confused with what was happening, especially the woman with blonde hair that was eyeing me up and down. Though in her position I didn’t blame her, I’m assuming nothing had ever been shared with his coworkers ever since he had joined the FBI about someone that had been in his life all those years ago.

The group of us stood at an awkward standstill for a minute, I was unsure if I was supposed to say anything. I fidgeted a bit uncomfortable with a bunch of eyes fixated directly on me before Spencer decided to speak up to break the tension, “Um- well Y/N- there was a suspect that came here a few weeks ago to possibly find some people that would um- be suitable victims for him.”

I pushed my reminiscing thoughts of Spencer out of my mind just so I could properly answer their questions before hopefully snagging a minute away with him to talk. I wouldn’t lie, seeing him after all these years made my feelings flicker in a way I hadn’t felt in so long. And, it was really nice to hear him say my first name again. He was really the only one to ever make those butterflies in my stomach swell and sparks fly. I had even resigned myself to never feel those wonderful feelings of blossoming love again.

But, perhaps fate had decided to give us a second chance, realizing it had been too cruel to us by pulling us apart.

When the questions ended, which unfortunately I had really been no help to them- the only people that would’ve been able to help with the victims were probably Meredith or maybe Bailey who had been in contact with the poor people who had ended up as victims.

I moved to shuffle out of the room, though I purposefully lingered in hopes of Spencer pulling me aside to speak privately. I didn’t want to do it myself, he was on an important job after all.

My heart skipped a beat when I felt his fingers tentatively wrap his fingers around my wrist. Even from just a soft touch it was evident that his hands were not the same hands that I remembered. They were the same shape, his fingers were just as long and nimble and his palms were just as all encompassing, but there was something different in the way they felt. They felt rougher, covered in more calluses then I would think possible on him. The hands I remembered were baby soft as if they had been untouched by the world. Maybe the calluses were just from him handling the gun I saw strapped to his side, or maybe it was the same thing that had made the rest of him harder.

Even though he was an obviously harder- more damaged man compared to the one I knew I still wanted those callused hands to stroke my cheek again.

The yearning to be with him again had already flickered into a roaring fire just from seeing him with my eyes again and with one soft touch. I didn’t care in the slightest how much the world had changed him. The world had battered and bruised him, probably quite literally from my guess. I wanted to get to know this Spencer, even with the bruises he still filled my stomach full of butterflies and sparked my feelings into a roaring fire exactly like he had done so before.

I turned to face him, a little nervous that he’d tell me that he never wanted to see me again despite the fact that I knew he’d never say that to me no matter how much of a changed man he was.

“Do you want to get a coffee while I’m in town, maybe so we can- um catch up after your shift?” His voice was so soft, almost meek, giving me a little taste of what Spencer had been like and who he still was at his core.

“Yeah I’d like that, Spencer, just have one more surgery and then I’m yours.” His two coworkers that he had come with were giving us both looks like they’d be interrogating Spencer on the ride back. Yeah he definitely had never said anything about me judging by their looks I now cared to look at. I couldn’t blame him, the memories had been painful to look back on myself. But, seeing him now made them tinge with a little bit of sweetness instead of growing more bitter with time.

I pulled out my phone that was in my white jacket pocket and asked, “what’s your number?”

I had his old number memorized by heart easily even after all these years. It was as if I had taken a small portion of Spencer’s eidetic memory just so I could hold onto a number that after over ten years is surely not usable. He gave me his new number with a distinctly D.C area code with a sweet smile on his face. As I left the room to scoot over to the surgery I was due to perform I was sparkling with anticipation- I could almost taste the coffee already.

As I started my last surgery of my long shift, someone turned on the music playlist that I always had on a loop during my surgeries. A song that reminded me of Spencer was the first one that came on the shuffle. It wasn’t one that reminded me of the Spencer I once knew, but the new version of Spencer I had just met.

I focused in on the task at hand just as I always did. Cutting with pristine precision, I worked quickly but diligently. I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, but I wouldn’t skimp on my work. In the back of my mind I was still giddy like the schoolgirl I had been when I had first met Spencer. I couldn’t wait to get that coffee with him- I wondered if he still liked a gallon of sugar with it. Our first song had ended, but the melody lived on- maybe the melody was strong enough to start another.

—-

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tomtenadia · 3 years ago

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A Little Braver - Chapter 15

It’s Monday and as promised the new chapter of the adventures of east station is here. This one is angsty. Our Aelin is dealing with the aftermath of her nearly death at the airport fire. She tries to be brave but fails.

Oh, yeah, Dorian is a cinnamon roll.

CW: PTSD, panic attacks and language.

The gif as a header is silly. it was just to lighten the mood before the chapter. it was desk job and fire and the scene in the IT CROWD where Moss deals with a fire on his desk is hilarious.

Hope you will enjoy.

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

The following morning Aelin was, for once, the first one to wake up and she felt giddy. The doctors had given her the all clear to go back to work. It was desk for duty only and had recommended to take it easy for the first week back. She was excited at the idea of wearing her uniform once more and be back with the rest of her squad. She had missed them all. Their banter, their company.

She looked at Rowan still asleep and giggled. It was so unusual for her to wake up before him. Had it been his day off, she would have let him sleep but he had to go to work as well so she had decided to wake him up in a special way. She got off the bed, walked to his side, then took a step backward and finally jumped and landed on him.

“What the heck?” he roared, grabbed her and turned in a very swift motion caging her in between his arms with his body towering on her.

“I am your new alarm clock,” she smiled looking up at him.

“Worst alarm ever.” His legs trapped hers as well so that Aelin was fully blocked under him.

“What if I was am naked? Still a bad alarm?”

His hands sneaked down her body and Aelin was getting ready for them to make her a happy and satisfied woman, but they stilled and a moment later he started tickling her.

She whimpered and tried to wiggle free from his grasp but Rowan was relentless and she was now screaming for him to stop and shaking her head wildly, blond hair flowing everywhere.

“Rowan, please.” She shouted when she reached a point in which she could not take it anymore.

He finally stopped, realising he had punished her enough but never moved away from her.

“Enjoying the view, captain?” She mused at his strange expression.

“You are stunning,” he whispered dropping a kiss on her lips “you have no idea, but when you smile you can seriously give a man a heart attack.” His voice now gruff with lust.

She looked down at his strained briefs and grinned “not just that apparently.”

Aelin pulled up on her elbows and begged for a kiss “we can have some morning fun in bed, or we can use the shower and save some time.”

A second later she was airborne and Rowan was carrying her to the bathroom “I love the way you think, captain.”

The shower took much, much longer than they had planned. Both of them were now running around the bedroom grabbing pieces of clothing to get ready to go to work.

“Totally worth it.” She told him while pulling up her jeans.

He leaned over while tying his tie and kissed her “so, so worth it.”

“How do you feel?”

“Giddy, to be honest.” She confessed ignoring the pang of nervousness that she had been feeling since the day before. She wanted to go back, but deep down a part of her was panicking at the idea, but she had not mentioned that to Rowan. He would fuss unnecessarily and she was done staying at home and be a patient.

She took a deep breath and wore her hoodie.

“Are you going to finish as normal tonight?” Rowan turned to her, while wearing his jacket.

“Yes, I will be doing a normal nine till five for now. Aedion knows. A part from paperwork I am useless.”

He heard the pang of sadness in her voice and walked to her to hug her “you will go back. You just need to be patient, Fireheart.”

She sighed and her arms went around his waist to steady her “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to drive you?”

“No,” replied Aelin shaking her head “no, I will be fine,” but from the tone Rowan knew she was not. Something was nagging at her and he feared she was putting a mask on. He sighed and blamed it on his crazy need to fuss about her.

Together they left the house and he accompanied to her car. And that alarm bell rang again in his head when he noticed the smallest hesitation in her.

“Text me, call me if you need anything.” He kissed her, cupping her face in his hands “I love you, captain.”

“Of course, who wouldn’t?” She gave him a tight smile and kissed him back “I will see you tonight.”

Aelin had been driving for a good ten minutes when she pulled over and got out of the car and on the pavement very quickly, feeling sick. Leaning against the car door, she felt her heart racing madly in her chest and she felt like she could not breathe.

“Are you okay, miss?” Asked a passerby noting her distress.

“I am okay.” She managed breathlessly “thank you.”

Slowly she moved back in the car and sat back at the wheel but did not move. Just closed her eyes and waited for the queasiness to pass. One long deep breath after the other and she started regaining a bit of sanity and eventually started the car and drove to work.

She left her car along the pavement as usual then got out and took a step onto the apparatus floor. Both engine and truck and the ambulance were still there. She took another step then froze and noticed her hands shaking. What was wrong with her?

The yard was empty but she knew the crew was going to be on shift, they were probably all having breakfast together as they were used to do when they started a shift in the morning.

She looked at the trucks and almost fell sick again. A part of her wanted to turn around and run and she almost did it if it hadn’t been for Brullo’s cheery voice “cap,” he shouted, walked to her and crushed her in a bear hug.”You are back, we missed you so much.” He let her go and grabbed her hand “come on, we are all in the kitchen having breakfast. This is going to be an amazing surprise.” Aelin nodded and followed him. Her heart racing in her chest so much it hurt.

Once in the kitchen the noise that erupted as soon as she stepped in was deafening,

Everyone ran to her for a hug or to ask her questions, Ress gave her back her captain hard hat and she tried very hard to smile, to look happy while instead the emotions were too much for her to bear. She pulled away joking that she needed to breath and for some reason she had to fight tears from falling.

“Hi guys.” She did her best to sound as steady as possible.

Aedion got to her side and ruffled her hair and her mind remembered that he was the one who found her almost dead in the inferno that had been the airport crash.

She felt sick again. This was all too much.

“I am back,” she said, giving them a tight smile her.

Aedion seemed to notice her distress and pulled her closer in a hug “finish your breakfast everyone, then you know your duties for the morning. It’s Aelin’s first day back. Let the woman breathe.”

Aelin kissed Aedion on the cheek “thank you, I missed you all, but that was a lot.”

“We have plenty of breakfast, would you like some?”

She nodded. She and Rowan had been too busy having fun that it had been too late for him to make breakfast, something he had complained about quite loudly. He was very strict with her meals and always made sure she ate. He had been incredible and since he had started living with her she had fallen for him even more. They had even stopped fighting. They bickered, but that was fun. She thought about him and in that instant she realised that his arms around her would be the only way to calm the panic rising in her. He grounded her.

Aedion passed her a plate with some breakfast and she took a bite, ignoring the protests of her stomach.

Once it was just the two of them Aedion finally took the courage to speak to her “are you okay?”

She knew she would struggle to lie to him “you know you can talk to me, right?”

Aelin stood “I have a lot to catch up to,” and walked away, ignoring Aedion completely.

Once in her office she slammed the door shut and walked to her desk. It was covered in mail and few notes from Aedion. He had been acting captain while she had been off. She turned on the pc and spent a good hour going through all her emails.

Marcus had sent her a few articles about the incident at the airport and had highlighted the parts about her. One of the articles had an aerial picture of the disaster and as she saw it, she stood and moved away from her desk. Her breath became laboured and dizziness and nausea came back. She went to the sofa and sat down, taking her head in her hands. In that instant she heard someone knocking at the door and stood quickly “come in,” she said trying to sound herself.

Lysandra’s head popped in “hi, you. Can I come in? Are you busy?”

Aelin motioned to join her on the sofa.

“How does it feel to be back?”

Terrifying. Aelin wanted to say “a bit overwhelmed, there is so much I have to catch up that I don’t know where to start so I am just sitting on the sofa and hope work will complete itself.” Good, let’s put her usual swagger on.

“Aedion tried to keep everything as you left it and did as much as he could. He hated it. He kept saying that the place behind that desk was not his. We all missed you so much, but he is the one who missed you the most and not just because of the acting captain thing.”

“I missed you all as well.” At least she didn’t have to lie about that.

“How is it going with the captain? Is he still living at your place?”

Aelin nodded “yes, we are fine. We even stopped fighting. He is wonderful and he helped me a lot.”

Lysandra smiled “so you two are shacking up officially?”

“We haven’t discussed the matter, to be honest.”

“But you are happy with him.” Asked Lys tenderly, who was very happy to see her friend letting her fears aside.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Lysandra clapped her hands “don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.”

Aelin rolled her eyes “too early for that, don’t you think?”

Lys was about to reply but dispatch alarm went off calling for the ambulance “that’s my clue to go.”

The woman stood and disappeared through the door and Aelin sighed heavily then ran to the bathroom and was sick. She sat on the cold floor for a good ten minutes, her head against the stall’s wall. Then she heard voices, left the stall, washed her face and tried to act normal to avoid suspicion.

“Hello, captain” Ansel’s cheery voice reached her.

“How are you doing?”

“Amazing. I am due to go and help Luca with training in a moment. The kiddo has his exam in two weeks.”

She felt a smile reach her lips “that is wonderful news.”

“The whole squad has been taking turns helping him with training. We are positive he will crush it. He got really good.”

“Good, just… look after him once out there.”

Ansel patted her shoulder “always. We always look after each other.” And the woman winked at her and walked away leaving Aelin alone once again.

Aelin splashed her face with cold water and walked back to her office determined to get some work done.

She was in the middle of finishing some report when someone else knocked at the door and Dorian appeared “hi, you.”

Aedion had told her how broken he had been when they thought she was a goner.

Her hands started trembling again but she hid them under the desk.

“Good morning, chief. I was not expecting you.”

“I just wanted to pop in and see how you were.”

“Your emails and reports are what’s gonna kill me.”

For a moment she noticed a flicker of pain flash in his eyes “just ignore them.”

Aelin shook her head “emails and reports are the reason I am at work today. That’s all I can do for the foreseeable future.”

“You know why.” He said softly.

“I know chief,” she said in a harsher tone than what she wanted “it doesn’t cancel the fact that at the moment I am useless as a firefighter and replying to emails and finalise million of reports is all I can do. Guess they don’t teach you that at the academy.”

He moved a step to her “Aelin, I know how you feel just now. I have been there myself and I hated every minute of it.”

Aelin sighed and calmed down. During his time as captain at west he got badly injured and after he got back to work he had been assigned on desk duty for three months. She was still a candidate at his station but remembered how miserable the man had been.

“How are you? Mentally. We do have support if you are struggling.”

Aelin run a hand through her hair. She knew. The counsellor had already been in touch with her. It was protocol for them to go through counselling and help in case of a traumatic incident.

“I am fine.”

“Aelin, you almost died.” He said through gritted teeth.

She stood “I know. I was there. The roof collapsed on me. I was the one who almost asphyxiated in that bloody inferno. I know.” She snarled at him.

“Have you spoken to the counsellor?”

“Not yet.”

Dorian sat down in front of her and Aelin was annoyed at the fact that he was going stay longer than she hoped.

“Aelin— ”

“Don’t” she stopped him “don’t use that patronising tone with me, chief. I know the rules. I will make an appointment with him.”

“So,” he continued, enjoying himself “how is it going with your captain?”

“Fine.” She replied, leaning back in her chair and twinning her hands under her chin.

He smirked “are you friends already?”

Aelin rolled her eyes “as if you don’t know that we are more than that.”

He raised his hands in a yielding gesture “just checking. You and Aedion did a good job with the airforce. I had Commodore Salvaterre singing the praises of the two of you.”

Aelin’s mouth fell open “Lorcan. That Lorcan actually praised us.”

Dorian nodded.

Aelin texted Rowan very quickly. His reply came back within seconds: are we talking about the same man?

She showed Dorian Rowan’s reply “see? Rowan can’t believe it either.”

“Well, he did.”

Aelin shrugged “fine, I’ll believe you.”

“Good,” he finally stood “I’ll leave you to your emails. Just please talk to the counsellor, okay?”

“Yes, chief.”

Dorian smiled at her and left and Aelin let out a very long breath. She was finally alone again and hoped no one would go in her office again. She loved them all, deeply and she missed them but she felt so out of sorts that even interacting with them was getting difficult.

The dispatch alarm went off again and this time it was for engine and truck. She stood and quickly went to where they were parked and from a corner looked at her team go away without her. Once they were gone she leaned against the wall and sobbed so hard that she ended up sitting on the floor for a moment. Then she stood and slowly walked away. She reached the room where they kept all their gear and walked in, finding it empty as the guys were on a call and her gear was the only one present.

With one hand she touched her new jacket. Her old one had been damaged in the fire. It smelled wrong. That was the first thing she noticed and it was pristine, with no marks, and she hated it. With her fingers she brushed the letters at the bottom saying captain Galathynius. She sat in a corner and hugged her legs to her chest and hid in the empty room for a while. Then all of a sudden she stood and ran back to her office, grabbed all of her belongings, switched off the computer and all the lights and ran back to her car.

Fifteen minutes later she was back home, very quickly she got to the closet she shared with Rowan, grabbed her blue duffel bag and started shoving clothes in it. Then grabbed a few other items from the room and ran outside back to her car.

A moment later she started driving north, not having an idea where she was going. She just aimed for the mountains. She needed to be away from everything. She had tried to be brave and go back to work, and ignored the truth in front of her. She was not ready. She had been stubborn and convinced herself and probably the doctors as well that she was, but the whole morning had been the proof that she had gone back too early. In reality she had been terrified since the moment she had left the house. The station had reminded her of what happened at the airport. Reminded that hers had almost been the next funeral. That the bell had almost rang for her.

Tears began flowing and eventually she had to pull over, the tears not allowing her to see the road properly. She was not okay and she felt lost. Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt like she was going insane.

Eventually, Aelin went back to driving and remembered that Lys had once mentioned holiday cottages in the mountains. She pulled over again and took out her phone to search for the place. Once she got it she set her sat nav and went back to driving. She arrived half an hour later and was impressed by the location of the place. It was in the heart of the Staghorns mountains and it felt like the most peaceful place on Earth. Once she was better she definitely had to take Rowan there.

She parked the car at the guest car park and got inside the reception, got herself a cottage for a week and drove to her allocated house. It was perfect.

She parked the car, grabbed her bag from the trunk and walked in.

The cottage was all in wood and was gorgeous. She noticed the fireplace and flinched at the massive fire hazard. Her bag landed on the floor and she then curled on the bed. The next thing she did was to switch off her phone.

Aedion and the squad got back to the station over an hour later and the first sign he had that something was wrong was that all the lights were off. Aelin was supposed to be there. He jumped off the truck, gave some orders to the two teams and walked to Aelin’s office. Once in he noticed it was empty “Aelin?” He called.

“Why all the light were off?” Asked Lysandra joining him.

“Aelin is not here.” He replied quietly.

“I thought she was staying until five.” Added the woman.

Aedion kept walking around the station as if in search of a clue of her whereabouts. He went to check the captain’s private quarters but they were empty.

“No sign of her anywhere,” said Lysandra joining him again.

Aedion took out his phone and tried to call her. He looked at Lysandra and shook his head.

“What if something happened?” Lys whispered. They were keeping the news to themselves for now. Let the other think she had gone home early.

“Ae, she was not okay. I spoke to her and she pretended to be fine but I saw the mask. She was just putting her usual bravado for us.”

Aedion sighed heavily “I know. She avoided talking to me and Dorian told me the same thing. She is not well and the fact that she is gone worries me immensely.”

“You are her cousin, dammit, you should have pushed her.” Lysandra said through gritted teeth.

“You know better than me that it doesn’t work with her.”

Lysandra groaned in frustration “call the captain. Call him and see if she is there.”

Aedion pulled his phone out of his pocket once again and called Rowan.

“Hello Lieutenant.”

“Captain…” he took a deep breath “I was wondering if Aelin is there at the base with you.”

“No, why would she? She told me she was going to work.” Rowan’s panic rose a notch.

“She was here this morning, but when we came back from a call, she was gone. I thought she came to see you.”

“Are you telling me that you have no idea of where she is?”

“Yes, captain.”

Rowan swore “I will be there in fifteen.” And he hang up.

Aedion looked at Lysandra “he was not happy.”

“Fuck.”

Rowan marched into the fire station not long after. Aedion directed him to a quiet area of the station and Lysandra followed.

“Where is she?” Asked Rowan as soon as they were away from everyone.

“We don’t know. She is not here, but she was when we left.”

Rowan started pacing back and forth nervously “was she okay while she was here?”

Aedion shook his head “She didn’t tell me but I know she was not well. I tried to talk but I had no luck.”

Rowan leaned against the table, hands on the wooden surface “She is not. She has been suffering from nightmares and panic attacks. She is not sleeping well either.” He explained “I suggested plenty of times to talk to someone, you guys have counsellors, right?”

Aedion nodded.

“I told her to delay her return to work by a week. She was giddy this morning, but I could feel there was something wrong, it bugged me the whole morning.” He ran a hand through his hair “I should have told her to stay at home. I just believed her.”

Aedion placed a hand on his shoulder “She does that. She did the same after Sam died. She put up a wall and pretended she was fine. Fooled us all until she just broke down completely.”

“Well, I would like to avoid for her to break down this time if possible.” Rowan growled back. All the signs were there and like an idiot he had believed her. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the universe.

“Any idea of where she could have gone? Any friends anywhere else?”

Aedion shook his head.

Rowan grabbed his phone and tried to call her and desperation hit him when it did not connect “Aelin it’s me. Pleas call me when you hear this. I beg you. Where are you? Everyone is worried. I love you.”

“I’ll go home and see if she is there or if there are any clues of where she could have gone.”

“We are still on shift until tomorrow morning, keep me updated, please.” Said Aedion with a broken voice.

“I will. And you will let me know if you have any luck or think of any places she might be?”

“We will,” said Lysandra, grabbing Aedion’s arm.

Rowan nodded and disappeared.

Twenty minutes later he was at their place, but the house was empty. He walked around the house but it looked exactly like they had left it in the morning.

“Where are you?” He whispered.

He opened their closet and in an instant he noticed something missing: her blue duffel bag.

“Shit.” Some of her clothes had gone as well.

He grabbed his phone.

“Captain?”

“I think she is gone.” Rowan’s voice was filled with deep panic.

“I thought we established that.”

“No, Aedion. She left. Her duffel bag is missing and some of her clothes are gone too. She must have come home and packed because they were here this morning.”

“What do we do?”

Rowan sat on the bed, his head in his hand, while with the other he held the phone “I have no idea.” He felt useless and in utter fear.

“I think it’s bad. She did not flee after she lost Sam. She was broken but never left. Whatever it is, we need to find her soon.”

“How?” Roared Rowan “How the fuck am I supposed to find her if we don’t have any idea?”

“I don’t think we can until she wants to be found.”

Rowan wanted to scream.

He was going insane.

***

It was four days later and Aelin was sitting on the cold floor of the bathroom sobbing loudly. She just had four days from hell. The nightmares had been relentless and she was now so scared of falling asleep that she had stopped sleeping altogether. She had started surviving on coffee but that had the horrible side effect of increasing her panic attacks.

Slowly she tried to stand, she washed her face and made her way back in bed. The last panic attack had left her a wreck and she felt like she was losing her mind.

Her stomach growled but she could not eat. She had bought some meals to heat up in the microwave, but she was struggling to keep food down.

She ignored the pangs of hunger and curled under the blankets, shaking like a leaf.

She woke up an hour later with a terrible scream leaving her lungs. She sat in bed and patted her body, realising she was not on fire. That was the recurring nightmare. Her body on fire, the flames engulfing her as the ceiling collapsed on her over and over again and the horrifying smell of her skin burning. And then the feeling of suffocation. She would always wake up gasping for air.

Slowly she calmed herself down and her breathing went back to normal. She was drenched in sweat so she stood and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

Once under the jets she let herself relax and think of happy memories. Of happier showers she had shared with Rowan. And then guilt hit her. She had left. She had just disappeared. No notes, nothing.

He must be going insane. It had been four days and she could picture him mad with grief.

She should have never left. She should have accepted his help.

Gods, she missed him so much. The tears came back in force and leaned her head against the wall. She felt so, so lost.

Aelin sat down in the shower floor and pulled her legs to her chest and cried until she felt spent and exhausted and had no tears left to shed. Eventually she found the strength to leave the shower wear clean clothes and sit back in bed.

With trembling hands she grabbed her phone and switched it on. A barrage of notifications hit the device. She read all the texts from Rowan. There was no fury from him, just love and support and a plea to come back to him. Her chest felt tight in pain. She had let him down so much. How could she face him again? After all his support since she woke up in a hospital bed how could she flee from him instead of begging for his help? A help she clearly needed. She had lied to herself. She was fine, she had told herself over and over again. But she was not. Not even remotely close to it.

She listened to her voicemails from Rowan and Aedion and her cousin sounded far more furious than Rowan.

She started typing a message to Rowan but stopped and started a few times. What could she tell him? I am a mess, why bother with me? She shook her head and deleted the message again.

Then she had her answer.

I am sorry.

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #aedion #Throne of Glass series #Lysandra #dorian havilliard

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jae-canikeepyou · 4 years ago

Text

| kismet | j.jh | part two

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

word count: 10k+

summary: his parents sends him for a month long vacation to the country side to meet his other half, which so happens to be you. and alternatively, your beloveds asks of you to be in your best behaviour while he’s around. disliking how things turn out, you both come up with a pact with each other before your two families gathers together for christmas eve dinner.

genre: arranged marriage + bad 1st impressions

a/n: this is not proofread and i apologise for any mistakes :p here’s the next one and i hope you look forward to the final soon! enjoy reading! ~j

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| part one | part three (final) |

it was another morning johnny saw you and jaehyun arguing at a distance by the stables. be it inaudible yelling or actions that seemed exaggerated, this time it was a sight that was a little worth seeing. so he walked closer to hear this quarrel.

“you didn’t check the horses’ conditions yet? it’s been a few days and i told you to memorise the schedule!” you flipped through pages roughly that they nearly tore. “it’s your job! you’re the ‘vet’!”

“what? you never gave me any schedule to begin with!” jaehyun groaned then sat back on the hammock to rest and you were trying to get him back up on his toes. “and what if i just want to take a day off today? you can’t force me!”

“check the animals jaehyun. that’s an order.” you sighed, writing down notes to keep updated with the stocks and materials. “i have some things to do—”

“like what? practicing and riding?” he asked and you didn’t answer. “thought so. you rarely do things around here and you still brag about how accomplished you feel.” he scoffed and laid back down on the hammock. “i’m the one doing the work..” he mumbled until it was inaudible for you.

ouch that hit the mark. johnny could see your cheeks bubbling up and eyebrows narrowing at jaehyun’s comment. of course he wouldn’t know that because you usually do not deal with the hard work around the farm. the only job you work hard for was horse riding. you had a reputation to hold as you were the daughter of a renowned family.

jaehyun took a huge inhale as he swung himself like a mother did to lull a child. he sung to annoy you even more and with the ruffles from the papers in your hands, johnny could tell his friend was satisfied making you mad. you bit your hairtie between teeth, tying your hair up into a high ponytail and rolling up your sleeves until the elbows.

he was indeed a huge man, you grabbed the edge of the cloth and pulled him as high as you could. he fell miserably to the hard soil. “ow quit it y/n!” he stood up to dust the impossible dirt from his pants. “you’re just sensitive because what i said is actually true! i’ll get back to work if that’s what you’re worried about.”

he fixed his coat and head straight inside the stables.

you crossed your arms and tried your best to hold your changing expression. “talk about sensitive! you can’t even withstand heavy workload!”

“mentally i can but i’m not physically ready! i didn’t sign up to be your pawn so stop acting like a queen and actually help out!” he grabbed the hay and scattered them in the horses’ place.

the audacity- the fall from three days ago still had an impact on you. “didn’t you hear what i said? i have things to do! now continue that. i have to answer this call..” you sounded irritated and soon your voice sounding further away the more you spoke. jaehyun saw you answering the ringing phone, taking it from you.

before you could, you were draped on his shoulder as if you were a towel. “i won’t take that as an excuse, y/n! you’re coming with me!” he forcibly took the phone off your hands and threw it far.

defeated and exhausted to talk back, you tapped his back because fear was slowly consuming you due to your shoulder pain. “you’re buying me another phone! put me down jaehyun! my back still hurts!” you hit his hips and expected he wouldn’t listen but,

he did as you were told.

“you’re forgetting your condition number one!” jaehyun pointed his temples as anger became visibly seen on his face. “you said ‘you’ll do the work for me and with me’, and they go together!” he threw a small sack of hay to you.

“you’re being an ass because i invaded your day-off!” you stomped to the next horse.

“tsk, i don’t think i can continue this with you! you‘re ruining my well-being every single day!”

“the jeong jaehyun can’t stand arguments?” you tilted your head in frustration and nodded at his silence. “thought so. this is part of the pact you suggested and i’m just simply following it! so if there’s anything, you’re the weak one here!”

from afar, johnny was taken aback behind the fences.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the kitchen was quiet, the grandfather clock ticking away time and as each second passed, so did your patience. daylight met its end. it was day 14 and your mother asked you to give jaehyun the lesson he wanted to have— bread making. you forgot about it, and jaehyun probably did too because despite staying over for ‘vacation’, every day you either saw him with his friends goofing around the barn or him superglued to his school work.

yet now you were close to smashing his face into the mountain of flour he carefully, and slowly built. mark did a better job despite being clumsy. you can handle clumsy, but you couldn’t handle people with top perfection in their ego, a.k.a., jaehyun.

his dimples were hollowing as he looked intently at the numbers on the scale, waiting for that specific and exact digit to appear with a spoonful of melted butter. “oh my g- you’re wasting time!” you grabbed the spoon and put everything into the bowl. “0.1 or 0.2 grams makes no difference! hurry up and mix the dry to the wet ingredients!”

“i was nearly done with the measurements but you had to dump everything in there!” still he stirred them in a bowl with a whisk anyway. “you’re the impatient one!” he carried the bowl and placed it between his arm and waist, subtly asking johnny to film him.

“uhm what do i do after they’re incorporated?” mark interrupted the heated conversation. so far he was careful and observant with your every move. “do i knead it?”

“after twenty minutes.” you smiled at him. this was great; mark actually made your day at least, a lot better than jaehyun did. “resting it will let the flour hydrate. the milk will be absorbed and the gluten will relax too.”

mark snapped his fingers as he tore a plastic wrap to place on the bowl. “that makes it easier to knead right?”

for a moment you felt like a proud mom. “mhm, you’re learning! you’re originally not my student today but you’re doing a better job than—”

the bowl jaehyun was using fell to the floor. to make it worse it was upside-down, that meant all work done had gone to waste. the dough wasn’t close to incorporated. “..him.”

“crap.” jaehyun swore under his breath. his lashes slowly lifted. “my bad. i don’t mind starting again. i can handle my next batch.”

and though they were pretty, your disappointment came through your sigh. “goodness jaehyun. things are never right with you. i’ll clean this up. we ran out of eggs and milk so you have to go to the farm and get some.” you pulled mark’s arm aside as you began to clean. “mark you can chill for a while.”

jaehyun untied his apron and went out with a bucket, mumbling and complaining to himself at exasperating you were so early in the morning.

johnny then followed him. the pact he heard lingered in his head and thought this would be the right time to ask. “i can do the milking myself john.” he opened the gate to the cattle.

“i know. but that’s not why i came along.” johnny put his camera aside. “you and y/n.. made a pact?” with that question out and jaehyun dropped the bucket, johnny figured that what he heard days ago could be true.

“what?” jaehyun turned on his heel, confused, trying not to sound or look surprised. “why would i make a pact with someone so ill-mannered as her? she’s not worth my time or even interests me.” he affirmed with subtle shaky eyes. “the only pact i know is this marriage our parents put us into.

johnny thought for a while, looking at jaehyun who grew clueless the minute passed. he guessed he was wrong. “n-nothing. i’m probably hearing things. or jumbling scenarios because i’ve been watching too many movies this holiday season. i’m sorry dude.”

deep inside jaehyun let out a sigh of relief, but anger was starting to boil at how careless you were for slipping out. he continued to milk the cows and retrieve a couple of eggs before hearing you call them from the house. “oh my g- she’s screaming again-” he scoffed and tried to walk faster. “i can’t just run i might spill the milk bucket!”

“there’s this thing called speedwalking!” you yelled. “try doing that!”

“you always argue with her. aren’t you both tired?” johnny took huge leaps to escape the cold.

“she isn’t, i am. imagine the amount of stress i get the moment i open my eyes in the morning.” jaehyun vouched and shivered at the thought of it.

johnny opened the door and the warmth met their skin. “sure but when you do bump heads, there’s always a smile on your face after you state your point. i never seen you in a good mood since you and sue broke up. i can take that smile of yours a sign.” johnny noted what he’d been seeing.

“it’s a victor’s smile. it means i win the argument.”

they both entered the house and to find you still teaching mark. jaehyun placed the bucket down and rested on the sofa after being told he could use the kitchen once you were finished. trying to keep warm, jaehyun gave small glimpses of you as he wondered when it would be the right time to tell you about what johnny told him. and because he felt johnny tailing him from behind, he wanted your lesson to be over quick.

“i’m thinking it’s a sign that you have feelings for y/n.”

jaehyun batted his lashes. “no no no. i don’t fall in love that easily. there’s nothing attractive about her and i told you i’m not marrying someone like her, with bad attitude and all—”

“and still you tease her for fun? that’s like a cover-up to hide how you actually feel. you may not see that but in another’s eyes, it means something.” johnny clicked the buttons on his camera, rewatching the videos he took.

“are you throwing the ‘i tease her because i like her’ kind of ego? you know i argue with her because i hate her.” he hissed, flipping his laptop open to double check his reports.

the blonde hair boy shook his head with a growing grin of disbelief. “i’m not. my point is, it wouldn’t hurt to try to know her for who she is.” johnny’s lips flatlined when his eyes trailed to your approaching figure. “who knows maybe she’s trying as well and never really got the chance to- yeah i know y/n he’s all yours now.”

unfolding your arms you playfully hit his back with pressed lips. “shut it johnny. just help the baby lion with the cleaning, he’s not really good at it.”

you sat on the sofa, circling your shoulder to ease the pain before leaning back. “ugh. kneading the bread made it worse.”

with the frequent complaints coming from you, he couldn’t concentrate proof-reading his work. it made jaehyun unzip his coat, fishing something from inside and handed a box to you. bothered with how you hesitated to get it, he grabbed your wrists and placed it on your palms. “take it. it helps me a lot too whenever i cram.” did he just.. smile? it was subtle but you were sure he did.

a swarm of guilt started to form at the pit of your stomach. it wasn’t that you thought he partially blamed himself for the fall at the barn house, but because he actually cared when the fall wasn’t even the ultimate reason why your shoulder suffered in the first place. he had no knowledge and still doesn’t. and it was kind of frustrating to think you couldn’t begin that topic.

your heart now was experiencing somersaults. you asked yourself: why? sure he’s handsome and got built, but at this moment why are you all flimsy and speechless? “so you do have a heart for people.” you opened the box of the patch’s packaging.

“i was expecting a ‘thank you’ but i guess with that you’re taking back your words.” he grinned as he typed on.

you snorted as you put your legs up. “hmpf, aren’t you assumi- ow.” you touched your forehead where the pain stung.

“shut up, i’m reading.” jaehyun stressed in a low voice.

“reading what?” you scooted in closer, and jaehyun surprisingly let you see what it was rather than snapping at you. you squinted at the screen and nodded. “equine studies..” you read out softly, that seemed to be a report he worked on in his early years. “isn’t it mandatory for you to study it?”

jaehyun’s scrutinizing gaze caught you off guard, making you clamp your lips to keep quiet. he sighed and continued to read as if you didn’t exist. “i thought you weren’t interested in my field of study.” his brows drew together at your curiosity despite remembering how you did say it clearly.

quickly you tear the patch’s plastic to break the awkward silence you brought upon and let out a soft chuckle of shame. “i’m asking because it’s equine related and i wanna learn. plus i’m too tired to pick up a fight with you so teach me everything you know.”

“i don’t even know if you’d get it in one night- fine. it’s mandatory but i only learnt the basics. i’m not specialising in it or anything so don’t expect much.” jaehyun stared at the screen yet feeling your presence so close kind of pressured him, and he didn’t know why.

“basics like checking the heart, respiratory rate, temperature and hydration status?” you hugged your legs together after placing the patch behind you. “hm.. that’s kinda simple.”

jaehyun clicked his tongue. “that’s the general checking for an animal’s condition, used for emergency access and such. we were given an understanding of veterinary anatomy—”

“which includes learning principles in developmental anatomy in gross, microscopical and ultrastructural levels. learn all these then you can focus on organs to give a physical and radiological diagnosis with the physiology and anatomy as bases—” you finished his sentence, soon shutting up as you got carried away.

his mouth agaped in shock and in strangeness of your interest. he checked your forehead to see if you were in the right mind. “did you read it out from a book or something? and what’s up with you and scientific terminology? you’re supposed to be hating on big words.”

you wondered why his comment hurt you. did he assume you were uneducated? at this point you thought deeply that secrets were meant to be kept. and they were only to be revealed by two ways; one was heard by others, and two was at your will.

“why are you so quiet now?” he laughed, scrolling down at endless of documented pages. “are you experiencing brain fart after that long sentence of sophisticated vocabulary?”

this was far from assumption. this was plain mockery. and it hurt. you hit him on the arm a little more violent and forceful than the usual, and bite back your lips. “it’s not because i’m dumb. i know these because i’ve been there.” you stood up and grabbed the box he gave you. “thanks for this anyway. good night.”

“hey you don’t have to hit me!” jaehyun paused for a second, he had difficulties processing your sudden outburst. he mumbled to himself, “why is she offended when i’m the one who got hit..”

mark happily came out of the kitchen with a freshly baked bread in his hands. “y/n! i’m done with the bread and it smells soooo good- jaehyun, where is she?” the younger one put down the tray.

he sighed and gestured confusingly. “i don’t know she probably went to sleep.”

“man i wanted her to try it.”

“she can try tomorrow. anyway i’m gonna take a shower.” jaehyun turned off his laptop and headed straight to the bathroom.

but before he could have his relaxation, hendery stood against the opposing wall with arms crossed. “can we talk?” he tilted his head, asking to sit at the veranda with him.

they sat at the table set with hendery pouring cups of hot tea. jaehyun took it in his hands, eyes meeting your childhood friend’s as he brushed his hair up. “i kind of wanna tell you something. it’s not my position but i feel like you deserve to know.” that made jaehyun’s mind questioning more. “i overheard you and y/n talking.”

jaehyun frowned at the very recent event, something he found rude from your action. “yeah? she reacted so much and hit me just because i teased her a little. might’ve taken it too seriously but she should know i was joking about her not knowing-”

hendery looked at the dusk distance. “m’lady loves animals more than anything, and for a long time veterinary science is something close to her heart too.”

jaehyun gulped in full on revelation. that was why you reacted. he realised the reason why you hated him in the first place wasn’t only because he was the one you were to marry, but because he was the person who was currently studying the course you’ve always wanted to take.

“she was supposed to take it in college but due to unfortunate circumstances she couldn’t continue. there’s family issue and she had an accident-”

what accident? jaehyun for the first time in other’s eyes, showed worry and curiosity. and his raise in brows cause hendery to realise he missed out an important detail.

“ah you haven’t met mr. y/l/n yet, right?” hendery asked as he sipped on his tea. “he’s busy right now because he’s always out of town but he’s the one y/n’s having issues with.”

“i’m guessing her father opposed to the idea of her becoming a vet?”

hendery shook his head. “he didn’t oppose. in fact he allowed y/n once we graduated high school. she got enrolled to the first semester and was doing well until she had little time to no practice for her semi-finals at cross country at all. mr. y/l/n is a horse riding coach so he’s especially strict with y/n. let’s say their arguments started from there.”

though he didn’t ask parts of your personal life, hearing all these news stunned jaehyun. there was only one thing he wanted to ask: what caused your accident? “how did she do with vet science?”

“she managed and had no fails.” hendery had a brief proud smile. “sadly mr. y/l/n didn’t find it impressive, because he really thought his daughter would be an equestrian like him. y/n hoped he’d be understanding but yeah anyway, you get the gist from there.”

“if it ever crosses her mind, we’ll see if she does. i’ll head inside for a shower. thanks for letting me know.” jaehyun had his palms on the knob, turning around one last time to confirm something. “was the accident, bad?”

“not as life threatening, but it was enough to traumatise her.” hendery picked up the plates and cups. “she.. still hasn’t recovered.”

he stared back at the young lad’s expression, and he could tell hendery has been looking after you ever since. maybe it was better if he hadn’t asked.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you still shook your legs after hendery warned you of your decency and image, saying that that action was his pet peeve. but really, it was just an excuse to save himself from you due to the fact he said that shaking legs while thinking wasn’t ladylike at all. you couldn’t keep yourself in one place, pacing back and forth in the barn with marg eyeing you since it already been long you did so. “sis.” she cleared her throat and you stopped being jittery with biting your fingers. “what’s up with you?”

“nothing.” you lied, an uneasy feeling began to build up in your chest as the man you despise gently held the horses’ manes. “i’m fine, just thinking.”

jaehyun did the final checks for your horses’ health conditions and to be brutally honest not only did you find him surprisingly quiet, he was rather kind and collected for four days now. he even taught you some veterinary related topics in which you were surprised he was willing to teach. maybe he took your subtle request when you wanted to learn anything he knew about equine medicine. perhaps he wanted a break from all negativity when it came to you. in fact he did mention he couldn’t continue arguing anymore.

and in those four days it got you thinking about the pact. you had a week left and you weren’t sure if you convinced your family or jaehyun’s friends enough to call off the marriage. yes you’ve been at each other’s nerves for small arguments and there were times you forget about it too because the way you both fought was so natural. however today was just too quiet, like he was stopping the fights on purpose and for what reason exactly?

marg slid next to you when you went out for fresh air, nudging you by the waist with hers. “obvious again.”

“w-what?” you widened your eyes, earning a sly grin from your sister. “obvious about what?”

“your heart is on your sleeves. i can see it. the others might do too. so tell me, do you like jaehyun?” she crossed her arms, her grin widening when you began to be jittery again.

“ha?! no!” you stuttered and lied, and you knew marg’s claims hit the nail.

because not only did the past four days of not talking with jaehyun had a toll on your pact, but it definitely had on your heart. there were a total of four things you discovered about him.

1. jaehyun was a fast learner. he learned to clean horse hooves, saddle them and even did carpentry in one day.

2. he had humour but no one really acknowledged it, and appeared a little dorky to you.

3. his dimples were actually cute and has a vampire smile.

4. he really did have a heart for people too. you saw how he helped out your family whenever you were absent.

sometimes these traits softened you, and sometimes you wanted to at least be his friend. but you weren’t close to being one because the pact clearly prevents you to and in the end, it was better off that way. marg held your shoulder. “i know you fight a lot but that’s when the developing starts.” she paused, looking back at the barn. “jaehyun seems alright but you’re really being too obvious.”

“again, obvious about what? i hate it when you’re so vague stating your point.”

“if you wanna talk with him just do it.” she turned around a little to see the said man removing his gloves. “i noticed you’re both distant. it’s been four days so i’m guessing you’re not used to not fighting him. you tend to miss whatever you both stopped doing.”

you pinched her cheek. “do you even know how mentally draining it is to reason out with him?” you darted a gaze at her before a weight was put upon your head. it wasn’t that long for you to realise it was jaehyun. gosh how irritating. you even recognised the perfume he wore.

“i know exactly how that feels, marg.” jaehyun winked at her. “can’t mess with this one,” he messed your hairdo. “she’s feistier than most animals i’ve encountered.”

his giggle of pride echoed in your ears and you thought you were able to tolerate his reply but no. whether he was doing his part for the pact or not, whether he was enjoying this or not, he became more of a jerk the longer he stayed here.

“i’ll leave you two to talk. the light in y/n’s eyes changed when you arrived- ah!” she held her arm as you pushed her aside, and she was proudly walking away with what she had done.

jaehyun shoved his hands in pockets as he gestured you to follow him into the barn. it was only the two of you now while the rest surveyed other parts of the land with hendery. he held jet’s reins, usually your horse would react whenever strangers would. not to jaehyun, shockingly. you bit your lips in wonders what this man had in his mind.

“i just checked him like you taught me. he’s dehydrated.” he pinched a part of its skin close to the mane. “you practiced this morning right? didn’t give him water?”

“i gave him enough.” you unlocked the gate to jet, soon petting him. you couldn’t help but feel immense awkwardness. “did his skin snap back?”

“not as fast as i expected but he needs a little more fluids to keep the levels normal.” jaehyun wrote down numbers before handing your notebook to you, and you thought today was going to pass again without progress for the pact. “i’m gonna walk around for a bit. later.”

“hey.” you called out perhaps a little too rudely and instead of talking things through. he stopped in his tracks. “setting the vet thing aside, aren’t you being too quiet right when we have a week left? it’s been four days and by now some of them might notice the sudden silence. did you forget about the pact?” you asked, not knowing why you were fuming all of a sudden.

maybe it was because he was only staring at you. or that marg’s obversation was slowly getting to you and convincing that her hunch about you was right. “you’re a jerk when i met you but you’re even more so nowadays.”

jaehyun turned around with pursed lips, he didn’t like how you always assumed, especially giving him nicknames in which his friends also have gotten used to calling him those. “me? a jerk? i’m doing all i can to stop this marriage because we both know how it feels to be controlled.”

his answer only made you laugh. “ha you don’t know anything about me, jaehyun. if you’re actually doing something why haven’t you done anything then? you’re being careless-”

he brushed his hair & wore his cap backwards. “it’s not about if i’ve done something! y/n it’s about what you did!” jaehyun pulled you to a corner in caution if anyone heard him. “you were loud and careless! last week johnny asked me if we made a pact because he heard you mentioning it! i assure you he has a mind i still couldn’t understand and he’s probably trying to connect the dots now-”

“wai- you’re saying he knows about it and you’re only telling me now?!” you slammed jet’s gate, your eyes fixed him. “you could’ve told me right then and we could’ve solved this as soon as possible! how much do you think he knows?”

jaehyun slowly rubbed his face, shook his head and shrugged shoulders. “i don’t know! but you know what happens when he figures out we’re arguing for show? he’ll tell everyone we did that because we’re against this marriage! and in the end? we’ll be stuck with each other for life-”

“ugh don’t even tell me about it i couldn’t even stand the sight of you!” you wrapped yourself more in your coat, stomping straight outside and ignoring his reactions towards you.

“why are you like this when it’s clearly your fault?!” he quickly grabbed your shoulders to forcibly turn you around. “i’m telling you and you’re so reactive about it?”

you pointed at his chest. “no! it’s your fault for not telling me sooner!”

“oh so now it’s my fault? y/n look at yourself! can’t you see that someone impudent like you can cause troubles even for a slightest bit! you’re at fault!”

impudent?.. this was all too familiar and nostalgic.

jaehyun then closed his eyes at the stinging pain in the groin. “ugh what the hel-”

“you deserve that-”

right when that felt good and you wanted to hit him more, you were yanked backwards by a force. you fought back the arms restraining you. “y/n stop!”

“let me go wong kunhang! this jerk needs a lesson!” you growled in his arms, shimmying your body through them.

hendery reminded you of your shoulder and soon you stopped. “i’m sure that kick was enough for a lesson and calm down, will you?”

“jae you alright?” johnny helped him up. “hope it’s not too injured because you still need that for reproduction-”

“seriously? now’s not the time.” jaehyun glared at him then to you, you were now like deer in the headlights with his stare. “this is why i can’t stand you.”

mark, hendery and johnny looked at each other trying to figure what had happened. “what were you two arguing about?” hearing hendery ask, you tugged on your coat once he let go of you. “we heard her yelling that she couldn’t stand the sight of you and then you’re both blaming each other.”

you hesitatingly looked down to your boots, avoiding their curious gazes. fidgety as you knew you were, you tried not to respond. they heard from that far of our conversation.. oh my go-

as if jaehyun could read your mind, he cleared his throat. “it’s nothing. y/n’s just stubborn as usual. she doesn’t want to admit her fault when i told her jet’s dehydrated. guess she didn’t want to look irresponsible.”

“classic y/n.” your cheeks suffered from hendery’s squeezing palms. “how many times do i have to tell you to behave? c’mon you’re better than this.”

jaehyun sighed in relief that they were convinced with his reasoning.

jet’s snout poked your arm and exhaled, you cursed under your breath for not locking the gate. “then you should know why i’m like this.” you reiterated with a flat smile. “i’m gonna go to the bar for a drink. don’t bother me.”

“oh then we’re coming with! mark! you’re driving!” johnny pulled the boys into jaehyun’s car. “this hurt dude needs cheering up after you nearly ended his career for having kids.”

“maybe it’s better off that way?” you grinned with a tattling tone.

“i hate you so-” jaehyun barked before his voice was shut off by the car door. his expression became funnier with how the vehicle muted his voice.

jet and cash trotted slowly to let the car go first, hendery rode ahead of you as you followed him. beside the roadside was fields of green, laying flat with new flowers that have yet to bloom. by now the horses were galloping alongside the car, you could feel jaehyun shooting daggers at you. the joy to horse ride diminished when you took a glimpse of him pointing at you, sliding his clenched fist from left to right and pointing at his chest.

you’re dead to me. he spoke with his eyes. and you could hear his annoying voice in your head.

you flicked the reins to ride faster, passing hendery and cash. reaching the bar first would make you feel better and it would at least let the neighbourhood know you weren’t hanging out with boys like him. you soon unmounted yourself from jet and led him to an area where he could stay.

the bell chimed and you raised your hand for a simple mocktail. funny how you told the boys you’d be here for a drink yet didn’t plan to get drunk. you sat by the bartender’s while you saw them entering and sat at one table by the window. honestly you could’ve went elsewhere instead but this bar was the closest from home. and right now you really needed to clear your mind.

to clear your mind from jaehyun because you knew he’d be the death of you.

—

and how you ended up on the same table with them was too hazy for you to recall.

“i was like, singing my heart out at one karaoke place after i was rejected from the coffee shop i applied to. then the girl of my dreams had appear while i was all sweaty and sloppy and i was shirtless! it was really-” johnny spoke too fast for you to hear and curled his fingers remembering it.

“second hand embarrassment was too much at that point.” jaehyun chuckled and sipped on his glass.

“but john, you got her to say yes even though you’re high and wild.” mark raised his palm for a fistbump.

mark turned to you. “y/n what’s something you couldn’t forget?”

you smiled slyly towards your childhood friend and hendery’s panicked face resurfaced with begging hands. you feel yourself going tipsy but went for storytelling anyway. “this previous halloween i forced hendery to dress as rapunzel because i wanted to dress as pascal.”

mark let out a contagious laugh which had everyone giggling too. you brought out your cracked screen phone which jaehyun broke and showed a picture of you on a piggyback ride with hendery. the said man cowered himself from the compliments and while you continue to keep him in the spotlight. jaehyun found it unbelievable that you were quickly switched from cranky to giggly when drunk.

“here’s the awesome part,” you slurred your words with hiccuped breaths. “around nine guys asked me to ask for his number and i gave it to them! he was that hot! i could never compete!”

jaehyun oddly cackled out loud and you all turned heads to him. “of course you could never! i mean look at you!”

his friends raised brows as jaehyun was enjoying this a little too much. perhaps taking advantage of your drunken self. “you dress weird and your hair’s a mess. you’re always rude and sometimes smelling like a horse. by the way that’s such a turn off to guys like us. like do you even bathe-”

you were definitely tipsy but you understood his words clear enough to feel a wave of emotions blanket over you. forgotten memories began play in your head and began to sulk.

“yeah i know i’m like this and so what if i’m plain and ordinary?” you whined and the boys held their breaths.

“my parents think i couldn’t take care of myself after i dislocated my shoulder at cross-country.” jaehyun heard you.

“because of that they started to pair me with accomplished men they think could give me a better life. so i misbehave every time they bring a suitor over.” you propped elbows on the table and glared at jaehyun. “you’re the fifth and before you arrived i lied to mom and dad that i recovered, hoping they’d stop and leave me alone but nope! they think you’re the one-”

hendery managed to catch your collapsed body from falling. he let out a soft laugh. “mhm, she spills a little too much when she’s drunk-”

you covered his lips and did several clicks of your tongue. “i’m tipsy! not drunk but tipsy! are you spilling tea about my life to that jerk?”

he scoffed lightly. “of course not! i didn’t tell him anything.” he lied.

you pinched his cheek. “i doubt it. you’re a talkative donkey! they should cast you to be part of shrek musical next fall!” you giggled and tried to keep yourself awake from all that drowsiness. your eyes dropping to slumber.

“m’lady.” he fixed you on his side and you were now carried on his back. “jaehyun doesn’t know a thing.” he cooed, giving jaehyun a wink to zip his mouth shut regarding the topic.

small sobs began to bubble out from you, you clung onto hendery. “ah jaehyun? you know that jerk called me impudent? he said i always cause troubles but what choice to i have? i don’t want to be betrothed!” you wailed and mark and johnny raised brows at jaehyun as soon as you said it. “hendery he called me impudent! he’s just like dad and i hate them both!” you leaned on his shoulders.

“but do you really hate jaehyun?” johnny smirked as he enjoyed how open you were compared to being sober. jaehyun noticed where this was going and tried to stop him but the tall lad shushed him when you spoke.

“yes!” you slurred with a lopsided smile and narrow brows, which looked strange as they couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing.

“i hate him because he’s so prideful! ‘jeong jaehyun, veterinary medicine student’ my butt. i should’ve been one too but daddy said no.” you pout, soon knocking out. “i hate how.. handsome that jerk looks-”

your friend hopped slightly and quickly got out of the bar so you wouldn’t cause a scene any further. “i’ll bring her to my place, it’s just a block from here. you guys can go ahead.” he told the guys to call it a night. “i’ll take jet and cash to my stables at home. see y’all tomorrow.”

they got on the car and started the engine. jaehyun read the atmosphere among them, he fixed the front mirror and saw mark and johnny with questioning looks. “what?”

“did you really call y/n impudent?” mark played with the buttons of the window.

jaehyun stepped on the pedal to head to your place. his friends bombarded him with what if’s and was too tired to respond. but just to shut them up, he replied.

“i was angry when i said that. i didn’t really mean-”

“do you think she meant it when she said you’re handsome?” johnny asked to cut off the weird vibe lingering while mark propped his fists to rest.

“she’s drunk. not like she can remember it anyway.” jaehyun clenched on the wheel.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you woke up in hendery’s bed with a tray of breakfast on his desk table. you slid it towards yourself to eat when a folded paper fell from underneath.

i saw jaehyun at the grocery store earlier, he asked me to pass this breakfast to you. also! he said he’ll be at the barn’s loft. now go meet him. ~hendery

great, he pissed you off yesterday and he was the last person you wanted to see today. what was his plan now? he prepared breakfast and yet what was the use of eating the meal when it has gone cold? you tied your hair to a top bun and wore your glasses, quickly grabbing your coat, onto to jet’s back and went to the barn.

the sun’s heat was enough to make you warm on the way there. jaehyun swung his legs while he waited. he stared at the ground when a shadow appeared, you stood at the entrance asking him to come down.

he did that, but there was a different air around him. it was the same air as those four days of silence between the two of you. “at least you’re not late.” he slid his palms into his back pockets.

“did you want to talk to me about something?” you asked with a slice of bread in your mouth. he nodded with intense eyes. “then make it quick. i have to make my rounds-”

“i’ll go with you.” jaehyun suggested and you choked on your bread.

“what?” you gulped on the huge piece stuck in your throat and stopped him from walking. “why not tell me now?”

he pulled you to jet’s stall and pushed your back to mount on the saddle. “‘cause it’s better if they don’t see us talking normally when we’re supposed to be at each other’s throats.”

he’s definitely up to something..

jaehyun rode a bike, leading you and jet through woods and up on a hill where its summit towers part of your family’s lands. from here you could see your house and tiny figures you assumed were his friends. you haven’t gotten a clue why jaehyun was being nice again. and if he was, why today? why bring you all the way here to have this conversation? you couldn’t think of anything at all and maybe you should’ve eaten the meal he prepared for you.

when the winds blew, jaehyun spoke in a soft voice. he was awkward, you could tell that, but what he did was something you didn’t expect. he leaned back with his palms on the grass. “i’m sorry i called you names.”

hm.. you better be.

that apology alone pierced your heart, in a good way. if he was tired from all the negativity and endless banters, so were you. it had been fifteen days after all. maybe this was a cool break before continuing with the pact. “which ones?” you copied his position and counted your fingers one by one. “there’s ugly.. shorty.. lazy ass.. a no brainer-”

“i didn’t call you tha-” he paused, his lips forming an ‘o’ until he pursed them together seeing you mimic him on his laptop. “right. i implied it when you wanted me to teach you equine studies. anyway the bottom point is, i’m sorry for calling you impudent.”

you chuckled, but to him it sounded more of a scoff. “haven’t heard that in ages. never expected i’d hear that again.” you looked at him, he did too, there was a stare down before you spoke again.

“but yeah. i guessed you did that to fulfill your part for the pact. the guys were probably nearby and you thought of that to spark up the conversation. are we done?”

jaehyun rested his arm on his knees. “no that’s not what i meant- i’m being sincere here.”

“okay? then tell me what’s on your mind. you brought me up here. it’s gotta be something worth my time.”

“i feel like the pact just brings the worse out. and whenever it does, i don’t feel myself anymore. like this is not me.”

he picked up a dandelion, letting the wind take its soft pieces. he wished his feelings weren’t easily swayed like the flower’s petals. he knew he was easily hotheaded, stubborn and mr. perfect, but should he always be like these?

“then who is the real you?” you caught some flying pieces of the flower before looking back at him for answers.

“a studious douche who got his heart broken by his ex.” he shrugged and waited for your bicker, but you sat there with shocked eyes and struggled to find what to say. “yeah, in case you’re still surprised, i do have a heart for people.”

“i heard you.” you flicked his temple.

he held back fists from hitting back. “hey why’d you hit me?”

“it’s my way of being affectionate.” you laid on the grass and while he copied, you thought that jaehyun had a point, how the pact seemed a good approach yet with deteriorating results.

“by being violent?” jaehyun moaned as he asked. “ever thought that a pat in the back would be better?”

you glared at him. “let’s continue what we’re doing with another condition.. no personal or evil intentions whatsoever, or maybe a slight hint that we’d start dissing. we’re doing this for ourselves and..” you cleared your throat. “..helping out a friend.”

it made total sense, because he knew how much of an effect it did when the purpose of the pact was done unconsciously and naturally. he let out a tight and breathless sigh between his lips. “i’m your friend? after calling you all that?”

“i just needed something to describe you. would calling you a douche make you feel better after you apologised?” you stood up and headed downhill.

“well you did call me ‘handsome’ last night.” jaehyun singsonged and carefully walked down the stoned steps.

you froze at how stupid and blabbermouth you could be whenever you went to the bar. “i don’t remember, since i’ve been studying the things you taught me.”

“you can ask the others if you think i’m lying.”

“y’know what? i take back the condition i said.” you quickly hopped on jet to head back. “don’t bother me!”

“what do you mean studying? you’re planning to pursue vet sci? hey!”

“yeah.” you made jet walk in circles around the confused man, and your one-word response had jaehyun confirming you already decided to tell your father about it.

and it’d be on christmas eve too.

—

for almost half an hour marg couldn’t contain her feelings after you told her what had happened. marg squealed and you quickly covered her mouth since the door wasn’t entirely closed. she squeezed the pillow and hid herself behind it.

“he apologised?! such a gentleman! i mean mark didn’t really tell me the details but jaehyun really felt guilty?” she put the pillow down and crawled next to you on your bed.

as to why she reacted this way remained unclear to you, you figured it was probably she watched too many rom-coms with johnny in the past few days. “i admit, it was considerate of him to do that. but it doesn’t prove he’s already a good man.” you fixed your files and past researches of veterinary science. “sometimes an apology isn’t enough.”

your sister nudged you in a force causing you to stumble in your stance. “ey you’re too mean. him apologising is already enough of a sign that he’s a good one, and raised well.”

“i don’t know marg.” you slumped on your bed. “my head’s hurting because of him.”

she raised a brow and gave you a teasing look. “by thinking of him or he just couldn’t get out of your head?” she kicked her feet to escape your balling fists.

“why are you reacting if it’s not true?!” her giggles grew in volume as she brought out her phone record your reaction.

“get out of my room!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

jaehyun walked around the mart in response to yet another order from you. it had to be a day before christmas eve too. he should be feeling the very essence of christmas and because of you, he didn’t. people who happened to pass by him swore they saw a walking corpse, while some sensed a spreading dark cloud hovering above him.

his demeanour quickly shifting and changing as if the clouds blocked his rays of sunshine. he was mumbling to himself and those who stood close by took careful small steps away from jaehyun, for he sounded like he was enchanting a spell.

he thought about it a lot— whether it there’d be a difference between the two of you if you hadn’t taken back that condition. because now that he was controlled like a pawn again, he wasn’t going to back down or lose to you. at least for the past few days since then he saw an improvement. you weren’t as violent, not a single word of hate from you nor were they intentional. it was obvious you were helping out. a small smile managed its way to resurface until he saw a reflection of himself looking like an idiot. jaehyun, you’re a fool. you shouldn’t be feeling this.

ignoring his subconscious, he turned a heel at the next grocery aisle when a voice attracted attention, at least to him it sounded like hendery. hearing your name from an unfamiliar man’s lips had him peeking secretly at a distance. “i suppose y/n’s behaving well with jaehyun?”

“better than everyone expected.” hendery followed him with hands deep in pockets. “aside their petty arguments, she gets along with him, mr. y/l/n.”

“that’s good to hear. i knew the jeong’s would never fail my expectations. their son is in vet school, yes?”

the mentioned name chilled him to the bone. he wasn’t to supposed to be feeling in this manner yet the very presence of your father already had gotten his shoes glued to the ground. hendery nodded and continued to walk along with him. “i hope he doesn’t encourage her about it too much. having y/n marry him would keep her quiet about ever continuing vet school.”

jaehyun’s back grazed the products he lightly leaning upon and stood still in his thoughts. he wasn’t the type to eavesdrop on others, let alone your family issues. although he was briefly told about your rocky relationship with your father and couldn’t hear much of the conversation, he shouldn’t care or meddle with it but.. did mr. y/l/n really think that?

and he remembered how you told him you’d pursue veterinary.

he fished for his phone with certainty that he would tell you what he had heard. he nearly dropped his phone when it rang and your name appeared as the caller. staring at it for a while, never in his life had he ever hesitated before— given that he was a straight forward person, he wanted to tell you.

and he didn’t know why he decided to keep his mouth shut and stayed behind, instead of doing the opposite. hendery noticed him beside the hundreds of chocolate chip buckets. “oh jaehyun!” he greeted, making your father turn his head around. “come here!”

jaehyun pressed his lips for being caught, steadily and unwilling to go them. he wished that now would be the appropriate time to be walking on super glue, he really didn’t have the mood to talk to your father. it wasn’t the right time as their conversation about you would probably escalate from there.

“hello mr. y/l/n, i’m-” he greeted, unknowingly staring at him longer because you were his carbon-copy.

“i know you’re jaehyun and i’ve been updated enough that i wouldn’t have to be physically at my residence to know your good qualities.”

“glad to know someone’s giving you the correct information.” jaehyun smiled, subtly gazing straight at hendery with more pressure on the tone of the name. hendery then clamped his lips to a close, regretting he should’ve minded his words carefully.

mr. y/l/n nodded with a chuckle— even hendery rarely saw him doing so, ever. and this only proved that there wouldn’t be a better groom fit for you other than the son of his childhood friends. “i like your personality. mind joining me for tea?”

jaehyun read the situation, and what your father was up to. he had to listen for another half hour even though he felt his phone continually vibrating then stopping. he knew it was you, but how could he answer when the person you grew to hate was with him at this moment? one word from him through a phone call would make you go berserk.

anyone could see that jaehyun was fighting a mental dilemma. for anyone it would be an easy question to answer; free food, you’re in. his future father-in-law asked for company, sure why not. jaehyun felt like he only one answer, and it had to be a correct one. he gulped and though he eyes wavered, he agreed anyway. “i don’t mind, but y/n would probably be moody if i don’t return immediately.”

“mhm, no worries. i won’t keep you long.” mr. y/l/n said, and jaehyun didn’t know why he had a small heart attack on what possibly could follow.

he lead him to a restaurant, hendery nudged the troubled-looking dimpled man. “sorry dude. he likes snacking on things but i’ll try to divert his attention so you can go to y/n asap.”

—

the relieved sigh didn’t last long when looked up from the ground. jaehyun spotted you crossing arms with a slight worrisome look. your fingers then pointed at the kitchen window and it looked like his soul left his body and his footsteps on the ankle-high snow. the curtains indoors brushed to one side with his parents facing back from the windowsill at the upper balcony.

his heart was beating his chest as if it wanted to go out. he planned to tell you what he and your father talked about, but in that previous hour he missed out your text messages and calls— not knowing they were that important. now he knew why they were.

you took his phone and clicked on the lock button, he didn’t check your means to reaching him. they were still in the lockscreen. “i know you’re a seenzoner but you shouldn’t ignore important calls! i was calling you an hour ago because your parents came so suddenly. did you know about their change of plans?”

he gave you other paper bag and made his way inside. “no they were supposed to arrive tomorrow.” to you jaehyun seemed grumpy for doing groceries, but it was obviously not the case when kept looking elsewhere. he bit his inner gums in question as to why he was venting out his irritation at you instead of the revelation that was told to him.

you followed him in and began bring out the items to set the remaining food on the kitchen island. something told you not to go overboard with the planned argument you had in mind, but you couldn’t handle the way he was acting now, as well as giving you the sudden silent treatment. behaving this way was such a wrong timing and you decided to cut the silence before it made you feel worse than you already were. “you good?”

“y-yeah.” he tilted down to take a quick look at you while realising lately how you hadn’t been sleeping well. the puffiness under your eyes was proof. he cleared his throat. “uh, i should be asking you but have you been studying.. lately? or have you been staying up all night?” he asked, changing the subject.

he twitched at your outburst excitement with your palms rested on his arm, shaking it vigorously. now that he reminded you, you gestured him for a whisper. “i found another way to stop this marriage without us hurting each other.”

what? his eyes grew big.

“aren’t you hurting me now?” he cleared his throat, referring to the reddening spot on his skin from your grip. he knew what you meant. he knew you’ve been sitting in your bed the whole day, reading e-books and going over past lectures documents.

“if i tell my dad that i’m pursuing vet school again, i think this time he’d let me. i’m confident because i do have a degree in equestrian sport science. imagine the benefit if have a degree in veterinary?” you opened a carton of milk to drink. “i wonder if my credits’ still applicable?”

“you sure you wanna do that?” jaehyun held the top your head, gripping it as if it were a basketball. “it’s gonna take you years to finish.”

“scared to have a competitor in the field, jaehyun?” your voice challenged him.

he wasn’t scared at all, he loved competitions as well as proving he could do things. but, he was scared for you. he knew the outcome of all this because it was already planned out. he was told by your father during tea break before he arrived here.

chills slowly went down your spine with that one, subtle, short silence from him.

“i’m not scared. it’s just that..” you shot up your head at his remark. he trailed off and shut his lips seeing your parents enter the living room with his beloveds.

“just what?” you stared at him with a long hum.

he had to lie and keep his opinions to himself. “are you able to take on hard words in that tiny brain of yours?” jaehyun scoffed, leaning in closer to provoke an argument with his hands patting your head.

“hey! you’re insulting my height, not my brain!” he heard your innocent whines as if they were precious— too precious that he wanted to protect you than to fight you; just for tonight.

and for the first time he was laughing sincerely at you.

week three had you imagining things, that he would look at you so differently. instead of horns they’d be halos, softer looks than tensed ones, and most of all you wonder what changed him within a day. it was confusing that he would show another side of him, then go back to what he was when you first met him.

but tonight? his possibility of change soon went void.

during dinner, whether or not it was right, that choice you made became one of the two things you regret to do and say. your father said his ultimatum in a low voice by the hallway, isolated from everyone enjoying the celebration.

“dad, please. i’ve done what you want. i think it’s time you’d allow me to do what i want.” you kept your head low in all hope this would be your final time to ask. “i’m successful as an equestrian, i hope to be more so as a veterinarian. please let me continue. i don’t want to get married yet-”

“still holding onto it, y/n?” he scoffed and took quick glances at his surroundings. “i’ve done everything for you to be known, raised you to be the best rider out there-”

and he too, held with the same stupid reason. “no dad! i raised myself to be the best because heavens knows how much damage it’ll cost me if i failed you-”

“this is the last time i saying it, you’re never going to be one.”

“but dad! you know how badly i want to be a vet-” you whined and hoping you wouldn’t cry because you promised yourself you wouldn’t.

“y/n you’re marrying jaehyun solely for that reason!” he whisper-yelled, making your heart squeeze tight because you could see how your complaints have pissed him off. “he seemed to be agreeing with me after i invited him for tea.” he fixed his hair.

w-what did he just say?..

he loosened the top button of his shirt; his gaze still scared you like it did that night. he held his temples to reason out with you. “discipline yourself tonight. i do not want hear anything from you about this matter ever again.” the impact of his tone shattered you. not only your mood but with how you perceived jaehyun as a whole.

you couldn’t remember much afterwards, anger roamed around your head and as much you kept your composure, jaehyun has a sharp eye. you’ve been quiet since coming from the hallway, hours have passed too since your father called you upstairs.

“are you alright?” jaehyun leaned on the refrigerator while you took some fruits from it. figured that you were completely ignoring him, he grabbed your favourite sweater to snap you out of your clouded feelings. “are we doing the pact now?”

it was getting suffocating being next to him. the audacity of what he did disgusted you. “hey tell me-”

you shut the fridge’s door with much force, held your breath and went to the sink to wash them. “i’m not doing it. and what’s there to tell you? just because i opened up to you that doesn’t mean we’re already close.” you coldly answered with a irritated look.

jaehyun was abruptly taken back, his hand let go of your clothes. “why are you’re suddenly like this?”

you began washing the apples as well as peeling their skin. “you’re not born yesterday, jaehyun. this is my usual self.”

“no y/n, i’m not talking about-”

“what the hell is your deal?” jaehyun could hear you mumble even with the loud blasting of holiday playlists.

“i just want to know if we’re starting the argument,. it seems like you’re doing your part-”

“you knew all along, didn’t you?” the sound of peeling almost excruciating to your ears but nothing more than his reaction to your question. ‘that my dad would refuse my plead.”

painful as it was, his expression changed. he was colder than the snow outside, heartless as a predator and unresponsive like a dead man. he just stared at you straight, acknowledging it with soft wavers of his brown orbs.

and that alone was enough to break you to pieces.

#jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #nct 127 #jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun au #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun angsy

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solomonish · 4 years ago

Text

Love is Just a Feeling I Do Not Need (Lucifer x Reader)

Even if this dream isn’t yours, just keep dreaming it.

based off of this song.

ao3 link: here!

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me It's not my act and it's driving me crazy That gaze you're giving me, that voice and that face I see Ah, don't you know? I hate them so-o-o

Though Lucifer was normally a fan of reliability and structure, this was a routine he wouldn’t mind going on without.

Every Thursday, sometime between the hours of 5 and 6 o’clock, you and Mammon would find yourselves shuffling nervously in front of his desk, shoulders hunched in anticipation for the verbal lashing you were about to receive. Most often than not, he’d direct his frustration towards Mammon, saving the gentler reprimands for you. It isn’t that he intended to go easy on you - if anything, he truly thought you could do with a little more firm punishment - but you normally got roped into Mammon’s schemes in the middle of trying to stop them. It was a noble, yet foolish, effort, and forcing yourself through the same vicious cycle seemed punishment enough for your naivety.

If ever there was a chance at levelling with you, Lucifer would hope you’d agree that receiving such a punishment was him was a blessing in disguise. He never lacked in the discipline department, but compared to the types of demons out there that weren’t bound by honor or loyalty and would love to take a bite out of you, his lectures were hardly anything to complain about. Though you’d furrow your brows or glower at him every now and then, it was your sweetness that got you into your messes and it was what allowed those transgressions to pass. He could tell that, as burdensome as you clearly thought he was in these moments, you never intended to interrupt his work or irk him beyond repair.

However, even the sweetest of fruits could rot if left on the table for long enough, and you were no different.

Lucifer had hoped that you might be a good influence on Mammon, or at least teach him a little bit of responsibility, but it seemed the influencing was happening the other way around. You got braver with your challenging looks and quips of defiance, only pushing the boundaries further the longer you were in the devildom. Perhaps, in his effort to allow you to ruminate on your actions yourself, he had spoiled you, for you were certainly acting far out of the bounds of what was appropriate for your situation. Not only did you seem to find your consistent troublemaking a persistent problem that needed fixing, but you also thought that, in a house filled with some of the most powerful demons in the realm, you found it a wise decision to directly challenge him, the oldest, the one most capable of hurting you. Lucifer wasn’t known for his tendency to hold back his anger or his punishments, and exchange students didn’t exactly have the privilege of diplomatic immunity.

Even worse, when he told you as much, all you had to say for yourself was, "You know, you don't have to put on this authoritative act for every little thing just to earn my respect."

Even worse for you, you had a lopsided smile that you couldn't repress, one full of arrogance and challenging him directly. He clenched tighter onto his desk, not quite sending spindling fractures through the wood but hearing it creak in protest all the same. Almost immediately, that cocky grin slipped off your face and you murmured an apology, lowering your head in submission in the hopes he would only continue his lecture and not add on to the punishment.

If the work slotted into his day had been any less, he would have come up with some sort of punishment for you. Your sudden cowardice was not enough to force his pride to keel. But his workload was already too immense to be dealing with a human’s daring - stupid - display of defiance, so he waved you off shortly after and stewed over his reports.

Lucifer didn’t miss the way you practically scurried out of his office, nor could he block out the harsh whispers outside his door as Mammon fussed over you. For a brief moment, he figured that he should call you back, give you a fitting punishment for your continued antics and save the future version of himself from these headaches. However, he knew that it’d only breed harsher animosity within you, and you would only work harder to annoy him. At the mere thought, his headache returned, and he focused on the paper on the desk in his attempt to block out the pain.

Whether it was due to your tendency to attract danger or his own tendency to micromanage once given a job (and dedicated to his task to assist in the exchange program he was), Lucifer found himself keeping an eye on you whenever he could. Oftentimes, he was out of your range, working in his office or assisting Diavolo wherever he may be in the expansive school. Even during class, when he wasn’t pulled aside to help Diavolo, he was in some of the most advanced classes in the school, all far above your level as a human thrown into an unfamiliar realm. That was one of the reasons he assigned you as Mammon’s responsibility - even though he did know, deep down, that his brother would rise to the occasion, he was also the only brother in a few of the lower level classes you had. That was a thought he didn’t dare linger on for too long, lest he feel another flare of anger build up.

Still, there were moments when he passed you in the hall, or beckoned you to follow him into his office to smooth over some administrative details regarding your exchange student status in the Devildom. Each time you turned your back, he found himself watching you leave, as if his gaze alone was enough to send you safely on your own. Nobody caught him staring - and if they did, they had the wisdom to pretend they didn’t. Yet you were human in every aspect of the word, tactless, weak and unwise, and when you caught his gaze - which he hated to admit had happened, and hated even more to count exactly how many times it happened - you smiled at him kindly. Those times, you weren’t planning anything or hoping to annoy him. You were merely treating him like a friend, giving him a silent greeting when you knew he wouldn’t make his way over to you to meet you properly.

Treating him like a friend...treating him with as much familiarity as you did his brothers? The thought insulted him. If you weren’t afraid of him, he would have to amend that quickly. Until he could see the respect in your gaze, and until he could be certain you feared him how he wanted you to, he loathed that stupid grin on your face as much it made his stomach churn.

It isn't fate or a miracle that brought us here Expecting nothing, it all remains so unclear Since I don't mind if you aren't really the best I'm sure that we'll be fine Come and hold me tight

Weeks and months did nothing to quell your troublesome nature. If anything, the more familiar you found yourself with your surroundings, the more you tried to bend the rules until they broke. Lucifer was aware of all of your antics - at least, he certainly hoped there weren’t any he was missing, because then he’d wonder if your feeble human body could handle all of that activity. Still, Lucifer was a man who knew how to pick his battles, no matter what his behavior with his brothers may say. More often than not, he warned against the stupid ideas he could see brewing in your mind, figuring that if there was no stopping you he could at least instill you with the proper sense of caution.

If he sat too long on the thought of how much trouble you really did cause, the only thought in his mind screamed the audacity! What kind of entitlement did you think you had? How could one human decide this realm was theirs to meddle with?

It was infuriating how much you managed to get wrapped up in, despite your inexperience. Perhaps it was that inexperience that had you scrambling about the Devildom like a new, untrained puppy that insisted on chewing everybody’s shoes? (This is why Lucifer never allowed pets, he realized. If his brothers couldn’t control a creature they could communicate with, how could they control an animal?) Maybe you assumed that being under the care of the seven demon lords meant you had some sort of immunity to the consequences of your antics. But being under their care did not mean they cared for you, and it was time that you realized just how lucky it was that you managed to survive this long.

Brash as it may sound, you weren’t anything special. At best, you were extraordinarily lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you enjoyed the exchange program); one human chosen out of billions. You had no standing here, not one of chosen status, no power or understanding of the magic that ruled the world around them.

It did work in your favor, if only a little bit. At least this way, Lucifer had no expectations of you coming in, so your disruptive behavior was no more disappointing than was to be expected. He had no image of you in his mind, nothing for you to contradict. It’s not as if you really cared what he thought, but it sure saved him the bother of reconciling his mental image with the unfortunate reality you were. Of course, that also meant that he didn’t always know what kind of trouble you were about to stir up, just that you would definitely stir up some trouble.

It isn’t until he hears a loud crash and your voice among the startled yelps that he realizes how much time he took from his reports to reflect on you.

Or rather….on your behavior.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

Yes, this was the best solution.

He noticed the way your shoulder tensed when you heard his footsteps. Have you learned the sound of his footsteps already? How cute.

You were sitting at a table in the library with Satan standing not too far away. Lucifer remembered Mammon begging someone to be your escort home so he could take care of some business with the witches, and after some arguing and a firm interruption by yours truly, Satan was tasked with bringing you home safely. Of course, he had to stop in the school library first - some human wasn’t going to force him to change his plans. You had the wisdom to take out an assignment to work on, clearly one of the easier ones that wouldn’t be too disturbed if you stopped in the middle when Satan was prepared to leave.

Lucifer didn’t plan on stopping in the library, but Diavolo was stuck in a separate meeting and he happened to be walking by, so why shouldn’t he check on the human in his charge?

He approached you with quiet, even steps, enjoying the way you went stiff as soon as he was near enough to start speaking to you. You looked to be expecting that, though, and he just couldn’t have that. No, instead he stepped directly behind your chair, placing one hand on the back of it so his gloved knuckles barely brushed against your shoulder. Bending at the waist, he leaned down so his chin almost touched your other shoulder, his breath ghosting your ear as he peered down at the paper in front of you.

“I see you’re taking your duties here in the Devildom seriously for once,” He started, his voice almost a deep purr. “Diavolo will be pleased to hear this report.”

You were fighting a shiver at the sound of his voice alone. He knew that you knew that he could feel the way you held back your shiver. That probably pleased him more than if you had actually done it.

“U-uh, yeah,” You stammered, fiddling with your pencil. “I’m just...trying to get some work done.”

He hummed, looking over your answers and taking his sweet time doing so. The longer he remained leaning by your side, the more he could hear your breath shallowing. Even if he was in charge of your safety, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have a little bit of fun with the human that had a penchant for having too much fun with him.

Before you could swat him away, he quickly straightened himself out and patted your shoulder. Satan had returned by that point, just rounding the corner of a bookshelf and narrowing his eyes the moment he saw Lucifer. A second later, his eyes drifted down to you and he furrowed his eyebrows - clearly, Lucifer had affected you much more than he could see, and the thought made him preen himself on the inside.

“I trust you’ll keep up the good work. Keep an eye on them, Satan.”

His cold demeanor was back, and neither of you had anything to say about it. How joyful things turned out to be.

Much to your chagrin, Lucifer was a fast learner, and he took to flustering you just enough to keep you sedated when he felt you’d cause trouble. At first, all it took was a little invasion of your personal space, a targeted breath or a pat on the shoulder, all things you could easily brush off as just him trying to communicate a point the way humans do. After a while, you built up a feeble tolerance that he could send toppling down again by switching those pats to gentle strokes. He might be getting friendly with you, but you never made any attempt to push him away.

He didn’t have any ulterior motives. He could justify himself by saying this was the only way to keep you under control. Lucifer may not have been the avatar of lust, but he was never one to be shown up by his brothers. Seduction was an art form he had mastered long ago, and even if he wasn’t purposely intending to bed you, he was a maestro at using his skills to affect you. Besides, the faces you made and the way you flustered yourself when he was even in the same room as you was enough to encourage him to keep going.

It didn’t matter that, after a while, Mammon had convinced you to get back into his schemes. It didn’t matter that when Lucifer asked you sly questions about finishing your work, you had some response about needing to have time to make his life even harder.

There was no harm in trying to keep you charmed, was there? Not when you seemed to be enjoying it so.

It's no use to just regret all night long So instead of mourning why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, can't you see? Love me till I hurt oh baby, come dance the night away with me

This was a song and dance the two of you learned the steps to quickly, one that went on for much longer than it had any right to. This was a fact you realized when it, quite literally, culminated in a dance.

Lucifer considered himself a master of tact, figuring that he could settle your tomfoolery once and for all with a rather serious talking to. Maybe, since this time you conversation would happen in public with the prince as a witness, you might listen and take some of his words to heart. Or, in the worst case scenario, at least he could be sure to keep your attention for long enough to get a meaningful message across.

Getting you alone was easy enough. Though you were surrounded by some of his brothers, it seemed Mammon was the only other one interested in separating you from the group and was stumbling over himself in his efforts to make it happen. Besides, even with the way you disregarded every warning he gave you, at least you learned that Lucifer only ever asks as a formality. So, he found himself leading you by the hand to the middle of the floor, placing a hand on your waist as casually as one can and mimicking the way the others moved around you.

“What is it you’re plotting with Asmo?” In order to keep the conversation between the two of you, he leaned down slightly to mutter in your ear - not close enough to raise any suspicions, but close enough that you could certainly feel just how much he had you in his grasp. Moments ago, he had already made you aware of his intentions, so the shocked expression on your face really had no right to be there. Still, he couldn’t say he didn’t find a sort of pleasure in the way he could practically hear your blood rush through your veins as you tried to keep up your facade of control. Unfortunately for the both of you, you were as easy to see through as you were frustrating.

“Let me make one thing clear,” He practically hissed, enjoying the way you shivered. “I respect my brothers’ freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you’ve become a threat to Diavolo or us, then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?”

Lucifer made sure to snake his arm around your back, holding you against him and gripping your hand with as much strength as he could without truly hurting you. He had effectively caged you in, making sure that you knew there was no escape from the way he knew things needed to be done. And you really needed to stop poking your nose into their business.

“I-I want to be good friends with all of you, Lucifer,” You answered, giving a pathetic tug to the hand in his grasp. Without responding, Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you and relaxed his grip slightly. Somehow, you proved yourself to be a bigger fool than he originally thought.

“Well, that is not what I want.”

He watched your face fall at that, and there was the strangest coil in his stomach at that reaction. What, had you genuinely thought you could just waltz into the Devildom and call the Demon Lords your pals? What would you even have to gain from that?

Before he could admonish you further, Solomon appeared from the crowd, offering you a smile that was so casual it could only be practiced. For just a moment, his eyes flickered to your waist, where Lucifer’s grip was still strong - Lucifer didn’t dare loosen up, lest Solomon think he had any shame in being “caught.”

When Solomon asked to steal you away, Lucifer obliged, sending you off with what could only be described as a warning glance. You seemed relieved to be in the hold of somebody else, and Lucifer couldn’t blame you. At least you seemed to have some common sense about you. Still, he couldn’t deny the way the coil in his stomach only got tighter.

He figured it was just a result of both human exchange students being massive headaches and did his best to brush it away.

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me You're in my world now, away from reality As long as I can toy with you for just a moment Then I don't mind, if you aren't really mine

Perhaps Lucifer was a fool for thinking if he left you alone you wouldn’t fester.

You had managed to be so, so much worse than he ever expected you to be. It wasn’t enough to simply meddle in the affairs of the brothers so readily available to you - no, five demons were not enough to sate your endless need for trouble. So, in the few months you had been in the Devildom, you decided to somehow find the one brother he needed to keep hidden from you and, in the process of going against explicit orders, set Belphegor free and get yourself killed. For a moment, seeing your lifeless body in Mammon’s arms, Lucifer wasn’t sure what had thrown him off: seeing his brother free and knowing the punishment that was charging towards him fast enough that he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop it, or the mountain of paperwork that would surely come from this turn of events. Mammon’s desperate denial echoing through the entrance of their manor wasn’t exactly helping, either.

But then you did the only thing you did better than causing endless migraine for Lucifer: you fixed your mistakes and started building something better from them.

After you revealed yourself and let the brothers know that you were still alive - while also somehow airing everybody’s dirty laundry at once, something he made a note to talk to you about - he watched as somehow, slowly, his brothers looked at each other with the same appreciation they used to in the Celestial Realm, lurking just beneath the surface. Sure, there was still plenty of progress to be made, but he finally saw a fracture in the insurmountable mountain he had been facing for thousands of years - and it was all because of you.

With the churning feeling the thought brought him, he started to understand how love and hate were thought of as two sides of the same coin.

Leviathan could be found peeking out of his room slightly more often, gravitating to the room you were in with a handheld device and offering to show you what he was playing. Satan took his books out, too, sitting in the same room as you and occasionally casting what he thought were sneaky glances your way. Asmodeus insisted on spending more time with you in his own way, trying to hide the way he held your face in his hands a little longer than necessary by saying he was assessing the state of your skin. Beel seemed more open around you, occasionally dropping snacks in your lap without needing to be asked, giving you a look that seemed to both ask if you were alright and assure you that he was when you met eyes. Even Belphegor had warmed up to you, trying to sandwich himself in between you and anybody close to you or pulling you away to quieter spaces where he could nap in your presence. Lucifer watched as the unease gradually melted away from your expression with each attempt he made to get you alone, until you seemed to feel safe with him.

As usual, Mammon stayed by your side, especially in the days after your...incident. There were many times when you would sit on a couch in the common room, only for Mammon to come flying in moments later and sit so close to you he was practically on your lap. Lucifer bit his warnings for him to be careful back at least half of the time, deciding that this puppy-dog behavior at least seemed to be keeping the two of you out of trouble.

Trouble…

It only took your untimely death and a harsh reminder of just how close you had managed to get to his brothers to force him into realizing that trouble was all he ever thought you of. Lucifer couldn’t quite decipher why that left such a sour taste in his mouth. Perhaps it was the fact that since the incident with Belphegor, he had barely seen you. Honestly, he only saw you a fraction of the day compared to the amount of times he needed to usher you into his office to set you straight beforehand. As embarrassed as he was to be suffering through such...withdrawal, a long day of stress from his brothers had him summoning for you before dinner.

You only opened the door enough to squeeze yourself through, sneaking in as if he were a sleeping lion you shouldn’t dare to wake. He watched as you slowly made your way in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers the way you did when you were nervous. Strange. As far as he knew, you hadn’t done anything wrong. He hoped that if you did, you had the wisdom to keep your mouth shut.

“You wanted to see me?” You asked in a small voice. Lucifer held you in a steady gaze, glad that Mammon decided not to follow you this time. He’d have known how much of an act this was from the get go and scold him for ‘making the move on his human.’

“Yes.” Lucifer took his sweet time shuffling through the papers on his desk, watching you through his peripheral vision. He could feel your stress levels rising as you waited for an unknown blow, watching as you subconsciously fidgeted the longer he let the silence go on. When he decided that he had teased you enough, he leaned back in his chair and said, “I merely wanted to see how our exchange student was doing.”

“H-huh?!” You asked. Indignation flashed on your face in the most wonderful display before quickly being taken over by your practiced calm facade. “O-oh, I’m fine, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

“Well….yeah. I’m good.”

Clearly, you weren’t one for conversation right now. With a sigh, he leaned back and thumbed through the papers on his desk again before pulling one out of the stack and placing it in front of him. Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached in his drawer and pulled out a small stack held together with a paperclip and dropped that one on top of the single sheet, holding back a smirk at the way you flinched.

“Good. Then I suppose we can get started on this paperwork about the whole accident.”

“What?!”

“Well, we still have to file an accidental death report. Or perhaps we should fill out an injury notice…? Ah, nevermind. It seems you’re up for both.”

He allowed you to turn on your heel and leave without another word. After staring at the now-empty space for a moment, he put the stack of absentee notices back in his drawer and continued on with his work.

It isn't jealousy or hate that made me act like that I'm not like her, so there's no need to get mad I know my way around this heat that we feel So don't worry, just enjoy Don't give me that look, boy!

You ran your hand down the side of your face, trying in futility to wipe the sleepiness from your mind. Sitting in the dimly lit office, you listened as Lucifer droned on about your test grade. The lecture had turned into a study session, which you appreciated, but it quickly turned back into a lecture after one too many mistakes on your part. You could see the irritation clear on his face, yet he was speaking to you as if you had just been caught plotting something treasonous against Diavolo.

You tried to huff quietly, but Lucifer’s sharp ears heard you. The stony glare he held you in woke you up instantly. “Oh, is this too boring? Perhaps that explains your performance.”

Already having been caught, you sighed. “No, Mammon has just been keeping me up lately.” It was too late in the night to think about how you accidentally ratted him out.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed so you could only see the red seemingly glowing with the rage he was hardly holding back. Stopping the pacing he had taken up an hour ago, he turned towards you and took long strides to stand in front of the desk until he was beside his chair. You kept your sleepy gaze locked on his eyes, a silent challenge for him to back down. What would he do to the precious, fragile little human while they’re half asleep?

With a sigh, Lucifer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his own way of breaking the stare-off without really admitting defeat. “I should have known he had something to do with this.”

“Hey…” If Lucifer ended up punishing Mammon for your own slip-up with your grades, you’d be feeling guilty about it for weeks. “It wasn’t really his fault. I should know by now how much studying I need to do…”

“Hmph. Since this leads back to him, I suppose I have no choice. The two of you are banned from seeing each other until I can come up with a fitting punishment and study regimen to set you both straight.”

“What?” You stood up from your chair, not changing how he literally looked down on you but feeling as if you looked more imposing. “You can’t just do that!”

“I will do what I must to keep you on track, as is my responsibility.”

“You cannot forbid me from talking to your brothers. Besides, isn’t he supposed to be my guardian?”

“You have more pacts, should the need arise. If he insists on hoarding your time as he has, then-”

“Oh, is that what this is about? I didn’t expect you to be so jealous about it.” You scoffed. “Now you’re really being a Mammon.”

“Do not compare me to him in that way ever again!” He barked at you, slamming a hand down on the desk with a loud bang! That shut you up quickly, and you watched Lucifer warily in case he lost control of himself. For a brief moment, the human glamour surrounding him faded and you saw a flicker of his wings, feathers splayed out and bristled in his anger. “This study session has gotten away from us. You may turn in for the night.”

Despite his mighty anger, the time you spent with him and your inherent recklessness left you unable to cower. The longer you stayed in a stand-off, the more pointed your expression got until you were giving him the most doubtful expression he had ever seen on your face. “You know, I wouldn’t mind spending these nights with you if they didn’t always end with you yelling at me.”

As if on cue, the D.D.D. you left on the desk lit up, allowing Lucifer a glimpse of the many messages and calls left by none other than the second brother. Fighting back a grimace, he watched you snatch it up and collect your books in a hurry. Some of the papers crinkled as you shoved them into your bag, but he didn’t wince - he did play a part in your haste, after all.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who you were going to vent to in a few minutes. Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to care, though, not when he had the distinct feeling he had ruined his chances at a goal he wasn’t aware he was trying to meet.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't take it so untie it as much as you please Close your eyes and stop your breath if you dare Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

He hadn’t intentionally softened up on you, yet he found that he took those words to heart.

After the incident in his office, you told him that you thought you’d study better on your own and improved your grade with your next test. In the weeks leading up to it, Lucifer could hardly get you to stop for him, only seeing you at dinner and when he would text you about urgent transfer student business. Even after he got word of your improved marks, he still had trouble getting to you for long enough to offer a proper congratulations. You really did prove yourself to be a ton of effort time and time again.

It wasn’t until you started to seek him out that he was able to properly communicate with you again.

You found him in the kitchen when he had dinner duty, on a rare night when he didn’t need to bribe someone to pick it up for him. He could feel your presence even with his back turned, aware of the way you leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms. He finished chopping the ingredients on the cutting board in front of him before looking over his shoulder at you curiously.

“Need a hand?” You asked. Something in your voice was different - more confident. Lucifer could hear the challenge in it, even if the details still hadn’t made themselves known.

He gestured to the small pile of dishes in the sink, not about to turn your company away. You nodded and started to run the water, letting silence settle between you. Finding himself watching you for a few beats too long, Lucifer cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his chopped vegetables. He noticed that the second half were chopped a little more unevenly than the other pieces, and he quickly pushed them into the pan.

Clearly, you had taken a page from his book and decided to leave him in wait, biding your time before finally hitting him with your carefully chosen words. Unlike you normally were, he wasn’t on the edge of his seat, sweating in anticipation - but the longer the silence wore on, he found his patience wearing thin. Even if this performance of yours was amusing, he still found himself aggravated by just how far you thought you could push your luck.

Finally, you decided to speak up. “Have I been avoiding you these past few weeks?”

Lucifer didn’t let himself falter in stirring the pot on the stove. “I believe that’s a question only you know the answer to.”

“Hm. Well, I haven’t been meaning to.”

“Based on our last meeting, that much has been hard to tell.”

“Do you really think I’m so petty?” You turned the water on to rinse the bowl in your hands, forcing him to wait until responding.

“With so many strong personalities now bound to you in pacts, it’s hard to tell how their influence will manifest.”

You gave him a bitter laugh, shoving your hands in the water until your palms flattened out on the bottom of the sink. The warm water felt hotter on the skin on your forearms that hadn’t been able to build a tolerance to it. Even if your intent was not to start a petty argument, his intentions clearly didn’t align with yours.

“No, I think I have to solid a grasp on myself to let them do that to me.”

He said nothing, but you could hear his confident footsteps as he approached you. His gaze met yours in a silent challenge as he slid the cutting board in the water, unconsciously allowing himself to gravitate towards you. When he got too close for you, you grabbed a spatulat from the bottom of the sink and gently pressed the flat end against his chest to push him away. Lucifer glanced at his shirt, clearly miffed at the damp stripe across his chest.

“You know, Lucifer, if you want a pact with me, you just have to ask.”

For a moment, the expression on Lucifer’s face was too convoluted for you to make sense of. He certainly didn’t look caught off guard, but he also wasn’t as furious as you thought he’d be. With his eyebrows furrowed together and his gaze searching yours, you couldn’t figure out where his shock and confusion ended and his anger began. You cursed him and how he always seemed to have a grasp on what he let you know through his expressions alone.

Lucifer stood there, hoping that the confusion on your face wasn’t covering something else that would force you away from him. He couldn’t understand how you always managed to pierce through him and see directly into his mind. As he was coming to understand it, he did want a pact with you. Certainly not because he saw how close those brothers of his were to you now, though - he was not the avatar of envy, and he had nothing to be envious of, especially in regards to them - but the thought of his mark on your skin, the thought of you belonging to him in such a way was undeniably appealing.

However, every interaction with you didn’t seem to push him in the direction of ever obtaining such a relationship with you.

Quickly gathering his wits, he only scoffed and went back to his post on the other side of the kitchen. You turned towards your job, too. This time, he wasn’t the only one ruminating in stubborn silence.

I don't feel no guilt, oh, is that so wrong? Ah, instead of asking why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, now you see Love me till I hurt oh baby, come over here and set me free

Asmodeus: You won’t believe what I just found out about the succubus I was telling you about yesterday! Satan: Have you gotten to the seventeenth chapter yet? It really is the turning point, in my opinion. Leviathan: ok thx Lucifer, YOU S*CK!: Heh, yeah, that’ll be perfect. Mammon: Oi, are you even paying attention to me?!?

With a sigh, you turned your D.D.D. off without responding to the messages and tucked it back in your bag.You were already on your way to the House of Lamentation. The brothers could (and would) bother you the moment you walked through the door.

“I’ve sighed like that many times,” Lucifer said beside you, looking down at you with a polite half smile. “My brothers are hounding you again, no doubt.”

“Yeah...they’re quite...affectionate.”

“That is a word you could use,” He agreed. “Though sometimes, not the most accurate.”

You chuckled them, purposely averting your gaze. Part of Lucifer wanted to direct your attention back to him so he could watch the pretty blush that painted your cheeks as you laughed, but he kept his hands to his sides. It was so difficult anymore to know what you were thinking. The closer he got to you, the more he learned to find comfort in your presence, the more he found the pesky feeling of hope cloud his judgement and his crystal-clear vision. How could he be sure that, now that the two of you were finally on good terms, you weren’t comfortable with the relationship? It had been so long since Lucifer had to forge an entirely new relationship, and he had the world’s most troublesome (or second most troublesome, considering your competition) human to work with. Though he was never one to question his own judgement, he still couldn’t help but tsk at the sheer absurdity of the task.

“This is probably the most peaceful walk home I’ve had in a while. It’s astonishing how easy they make getting caught up in trouble on the way seem.”

“Is that why the other day you seemed so shocked when we told you the walk was only a few minutes?”

You chuckled again. “Yeah. All the detours make it seem longer.”

“Perhaps one of these days, I should take you on a detour of my own then?” When you stopped walking, he turned back to give you a sly smile. “I’m not one to be bested by my brothers, you know.”

“Wow, ruthless,” You began walking again and fiddled with your backpack strap nervously. “Maybe I should be the one to plan it, though. I’m not entirely convinced your version of a detour wouldn’t involve more paperwork.”

“Shall I be looking forward to this date, then?” Lucifer could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you. He loved to make you this flustered, so he could realign his sights while you were too preoccupied to hide behind anything. And you just so happened to be unbearably cute with your face turning red. The way you muttered ‘yes’ and dashed up the steps to the house had him preening.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours just keep dreaming it

Bit by bit, Lucifer found himself finally, finally getting closer to you without any unpleasant endings. (Well, save for the ones where one of his brothers interrupted and dragged you away, but the two of you shared a fondness for their shenanigans that made it difficult to stay mad at them.)

Or, well...staying mad at them was difficult for you/.

Lucifer wasn’t upset with his brothers, but there was a certain frustration bubbling up beneath the surface that he had to wrestle down every time he had a moment to wonder about their actions. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to spend time with you - after all, he himself was trying to make himself time in your schedule. Not only that, but the ever-approaching end of the semester was looming over them, and everyone could feel the desperate attempts to get one last bid for your affections in before you left. The whole situation was rather distracting, his far-wandering thoughts only adding to the time he spent hunched over his desk instead of out with you.

Lucifer was not a man to waste time bemoaning facts that he could not change. That did not mean he was immune from all feelings of doubt or irritation. He might have been able to concentrate if there wasn’t such a pesky thought creeping up on him the second he let his mind stray from his papers. Still, he couldn’t help the ugly sensation of being caught in a competition where he might actually be losing.

Though he had faith in your tenacity - that and your boldness were truly qualities to marvel at - Lucifer did wonder just how much you valued availability. He thought that the two of you had come to a silent agreement - that you thought alike, that you felt alike - but as much as he knew what happened beyond the door to his office, you remained the enigma.

It would be so easy if he could just get you to admit that he was the one you thought of above all the others. The desire for such a simple statement, he hid with faux aggravation at your refusal to admit such a simple task. As much as he tried to convince himself that you were hanging out with the others as a replacement for him, he knew just how much and how uniquely you valued the others.

He didn’t need to use force to get what he wanted, but he was slightly accustomed to nothing standing strong in the presence of his power. You, however, never bowed, and it grated at him how much he wanted to rightfully earn that place in your heart and how difficult it was to just get you to say it.

His thoughts distracted him from his papers, his papers distracted him from his thoughts. They all distracted him from you, aside from when he wondered if you were thinking something similar about him.

Are you really asking why you're alone? Turned your back on me and I get why you don't want more Come back, hold me, dear, love me till I scream

Your departure was approaching, and Lucifer found himself alone.

His moments not spent on work or cleaning up after his brothers were normally spent with you. Unless, of course, those moments happened in the early hours of the morning and he should be dead on his pillow.

Perhaps if he found himself graced with your presence, he wouldn’t have slept anyway. It wasn’t sleep he was chasing, after all, but you. You were the one he was vying for, even if his pursuit felt less romantic and more like running after a wild goose. No good things came easy, he told himself. He didn’t need easy.

But your longing glances were getting harder to pull away from, and the days until you left were already in the single digits. It was hard enough to steal you away for a moment, let alone enough time to lay his intentions bare and finally get what you both wanted.

He hated the thought that he had let you take the lead in the relationship in a roundabout sense, so he preoccupied himself with anger over having to do all the hard work himself.

He could list off all the reasons you would return to him, the obvious choice, for hours if asked, and even then only put a dent in the miles of options. The fact that he even considered justifying himself to anyone felt foreign, but he let his mind settle on the thought anyway. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed how you didn’t try to leave the sides of his other brothers, how nobody bothered to knock on his door anymore, too preoccupied with you. He missed you already, and he hadn’t even seen you off yet.

Lucifer knew that you’d come to him eventually. He didn’t doubt you, and he certainly didn’t doubt himself. But you had a habit of making him wait and wonder.

He was just about tired of waiting, he was tired of wondering, and he didn’t know if he could take another dream that only left him more confused than he was when he fell asleep.

Don't you ever wake up baby, keep on dreaming our dream

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