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jjkpls · 4 years ago

Text

crayons ‘hana’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 4.5k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

> Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> next

**words in italics are spoken in Korean

It's a grey day.

The Sun is acting up. As if It had been vexed deeply and now, no matter how loud the kids are calling after It, It just won't budge. Hidden behind the thick clouds, not hinting a tiny ray through the heavy shower, It won't show the tip of Its nose today, you have no doubt about that.

It takes some time to persuade the kids of that fact though.

The better half of recess is spent arguing, they just won't admit that for today, the break will be taken in class. It renders most of them gloomy, unable to accept the harsh reality, even if they've lived before -back in the beginning, when you were still too lenient, letting yourself drag into endless quarrel leading to stupid and quite irresponsible compromises- the traumatizing experience of standing in the middle of a storm. You still remember the awful concert of cries and the race to pick every kid somehow induced in a panic paralysis, one under each arm, to bring them to safety in urgency -thank god, Jeon Jungkook had been there, with his stature, able to stack up five of them at the same time, incredibly useful, pretty much life-saving. What you remember even better is the severe scolding you received from the principal, who thought -as you should have- that no matter how bad the children insisted, they shouldn't be playing outside in the rain.

You knew that. They just wouldn't believe you and you thought that, maybe, they just needed practical proof. No harm was supposed to be engendered. And quite frankly, none occurred. Children sometimes just enjoy being dramatic and it was the perfect, quintessential occasion to do so, especially if the principle is in earshot -which she was.

In any case, you learned your lesson. However, they did not.

Charlotte, standing on her pretty polished pearl white shoes -that you know, for a fact, that you'll get in trouble if her mother comes to pick her up to find them ruined by the terrible weather-, chin up high, hands tucked to her side, won't stop arguing with you as the main spokesgirl for the class. Apparently, it's “unfair”.

And it is unfair. Weather is not meant to be fair and you have not a single take on it. Try to explain that to a five-year-old.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Everyone's little heads swing forward like those car bobbleheads, wide eyes ogling you with burning impatience and clear, obnoxious delusion. They're all waiting, expecting you to open the door and let them free into the wild. “Let's make a deal, alright? Who wants to make a deal?” And everyone, even if they, for the most part, have no clue what's going on, wants to -except for Charlotte who's eyeing you with a suspicious glare and for Jimmy who's hiding in the corner, a sad scowl on his face. “You know that I don't have any power over the rain. But I do have powers over how long recess will last.” You act smug as you say that, their little impressed faces adding to the effect. It becomes painful to conceal the giggles blooming in your chest. “Since you already wasted half of your time, I have a proposition for you. You'll stay twice as long on break, meaning until it's 3:45,” You explain, pointing on the big clock hovering your desk where the long hand will be standing when the break ends. “if you can stay calm in class, ok?”

The announcement sends them in a fury, the simple idea of having a longer break overwhelming them with hysterical joy. So much for staying calm and collected.

Fortunately enough, I've been gifted with overall sweet children. It doesn't require more than a collecting "shh" and a reminder of the term of the bargain for them to quietly divert into groups, colonizing different lots of the classroom. Some ask for books, for paints or crayons, for the plushies and the toys they brought along to school -even though they're not allowed to- and a tranquil atmosphere rises and sets itself upon the room.

It's very nice, even for you. Sitting at your desk, watching over them with a distracted eye, you wonder if you'd be allowed to spend the rest of the day like so. They're talking, laughing and creating, sharing, being kind to each other and this whole ambience, slower than usual, calmer, more peaceful seem greatly beneficial for them. They don't feel any kind of pressure from having to learn, having to follow a predesigned, normative rhythm. It's pleasant and healthier than usual. Even if you try your best, constantly, to render every single day as filled with positivity through the required productivity as you can, you can't help sometimes stress and tension from blooming. It suffices one Kevin to come to class, sleepy and upset from a bad night, triggering a Charlotte who ends up scowling and nagging at everyone all day, and then everyone is in a terrible mood. Exercises are a pain to go through. Keeping their attention on you a quasi impossible challenge to overcome. Bringing their spirits up an unreachable, delusional aspiration.

But here and now, spending their time and energy on what they want with their chosen friends, in the comfortable warmth of the safe classroom, with the rain gently drumming on the windows, you can sense peace and joy and it fills your heart with content to the brim, or, almost to the brim.

Your heart could be spilling out with joy if it wasn't for this one, tiny pout adorning one tiny chubby face. Jimmy hasn't budged much from earlier. He had to leave his own desk to relocate at the very end of the room because a few girls decided to set up their library on the adjacent table.

His posture is the same though. Sitting quietly, his back pressed into the corner, hands tucked together against his belly, his big dark eyes are observing his classmates attentively. You read fear but also curiosity that's eaten up by something else, maybe sadness. It's a heartbreaking sight you're unfortunately too used to witness.

Jimmy arrived two months after everyone else. You don't know much about him. Because you haven't had the occasion to meet his parents yet, but mostly because he hasn't spoken a word since his arrival. His pouty mouth, shaped like an adorable button, hasn't opened once. Not even that one time you tried to have him participate and had him tearing up and crying, overwhelmed as he felt under the attention. He just sat silently, eyes drawn downwards, munching on the inside of his cheek, while tears ran down his round cheeks while all the other kids watched, as bewildered as you.

You almost quit your job that day. Certain you were not cut for it, somehow, finding out only now, at 26 years old, that you were a horrible, cruel person and your vocation and higher call were just all a blatant lie.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that today, once again, he’s hiding in his corner. You've tried a few things before. You didn’t just watch, waiting on time to operate and break his thick shell on its own. You've consulted the principal, colleagues, the internet. You've looked for clues, for tricks and after having tried quite a few, with little to no success at all -you've made him look up to your eyes, a thing he had been incapable of before-, you've decided to lay off a bit of that zeal.

You were getting too invested, even as this child’s teacher and you knew it wasn’t a good idea to pursue. As for him, you didn’t want to harm him in any way. No matter the benevolence and kindness and softness you put in every single one of your interaction, you thought, he seems so wounded already, you could break him, without meaning to, by simply trying too hard to smother his hostile edges.

You calmed down.

It tastes like defeat, coating a heavy layer in your throat, it never ceases to remind itself to you each time your eyes fall upon the sad pout and curious eyes.

Today is no different.

Everything would be perfect if only, for once, he could mingle with his peers and if you could, for the first time, see the shades of his smile. If he even knows how to smile.

Rising from your chair, you pick up a few pencils from your personal collection -the precious ones, unbitten at the top, unbroken at the tip, tall and seemingly unused. You don’t ever lend those to the kids as you know they’re not mature enough, and they won’t be for a long time to come, to care for your stuff the way those crayons need to be cared for-, a few white sheets and a sharpener and quietly make your way to him. He catches you and your intention from afar, his gaze fixed on you as you get closer.

He doesn’t utter a word, nor adumbrate a movement as you crouch next to him, soft smile, soft gestures. It’s a bit hurtful to think about it this way but it’s like approaching a wild tiny, tiny helpless creature -you're terrified to see it flee away.

“Hey Jimmy,” You say kindly, ignoring pointedly Charlotte who’s watching you (you can see her from the corner of your eyes) so that she knows to not interrupt or try to interfere in any way. “Would you like to draw a little?” You lay the material in front of him. His whole attention is offered to you and while you're glad you’ve reached that point where he can actually look at you, you can not help but wish he’d look away as his heavy stare suddenly makes you feel anxious. “Those are my personal crayons. I’m sure I can trust you to take care of them well, right?” He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile. You're not sure if he’ll even pick one of them up. You know he won't in front of you anyway and not wanting him to feel cornered and pressured, after another sugary sweet smile, you wave him goodbye and let him be.

The afternoon goes on, calmer than usual. It's as if they were brought to a state of peace so deep, they're now willing to accept any unfairness the world has in store for them. When the school bell rings, the children quickly run to the racks, grabbing their coats and little bags. A few of them start piling up at your feet, whining for the teddies and toys and lip balms they brought to school this morning and that you had to hold hostage as they are not supposed to bring them to school.

“Could we have another recess like today, miss? Tomorrow?” You see the shimmery eyes, the pressing pouts and impatient wiggling of the butts, waiting as patiently as they can for an answer. You're glad they had a good time today, still, a part of you can't help but regret it all. That part, conscious from the start, of how it'll all come back to bite you in the arse. No matter how cute they are, those little monsters always end up munching your arm up to the shoulder if you only do as much as tend an open hand their way.

“We'll see.” You say, waving them off. You don't mean to be so misleading but there's no way you're sending those kids home crying hysterically because they haven't heard the answer they were looking for.

Quickly they're all out of the class, seen outside to their carers by Adrianne, the lovely woman who helps out you, along with all the other teachers, with the kids every day.

There's only you and a little mess that you're able to tidy out quickly. In the corner, lay the little pile of papers and the crayons that had been obviously unused. Your heart squeezes briefly uncomfortably but you were not expecting any different from him. Since he arrived, two months ago, Jimmy has only drawn or traced letters or painted or built anything when the rest of his classmates were doing it too. You assume it's because he feels like he can't refuse to do something everyone else is doing. When it's just about him, when it doesn't concern directly the course, when it's just for pure personal entertainment, he simply would not do it.

You notice something. If he didn't draw anything on the sheets, he touched the crayons. They're piled very neatly, all tips turned the same way, one next to the other on top of the papers. What a sweetheart.

What a lovely, lovely kid.

It sends a rush of hope and determination back into your heart. You're not utterly desperate. It might take time. Maybe you won't be able to make significant progress until the very end of the year, when you'll have to say goodbye to him once he changes classes, but you don't despair to reach him, eventually.

And maybe that's all the universe needed -the conviction that you're not holding into this kid in pure vain- to offer you a generous little push. The magical manifestation comes in the form of Jimmy himself, escorted by Adrianne whose hand hovers few centimetres atop of his dark mop of hair, standing in the doorway, eyes drawn to the ground as if he's in trouble.

“Jimmy's father is running late and I-” She winces a little, grimace accentuating the lines carved on her face around her easy smile.

“You want to ask me something, don't you?” You tease knowingly. She looks embarrassed until she catches your wink, understanding she's probably fine to ask you anything.

“It's Felicia's birthday and I promised I'll be home early...”

You have to contain yourself, to not sound as ecstatic as you feel, to not drop to the ground, hands held high in gratitude towards the sky, settling for a simple: “Okay, I'll stay with him.”

“Are you sure?” She asks because she's nice and considerate but she's already turned her body towards the hallway. It doesn't take much more convincing to have her disappear.

It's only Jimmy and you now.

You're giddy but anxious. He doesn't even raise his head once she's gone. He just stands there, little raspberries tinting his cheeks and you're filled with a fondness tightly intertwined with sadness because he shouldn't look this guilty when he's done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Come have a seat.” His black eyes raise high enough for a split second, just to see where your hand is patting before quietly, he makes his way to the chair adjacent to yours. You've laid the papers and the crayons you'd picked up from the ground, an idea had come to you. There's no chance you'll have him draw something for you but you could draw for him.

You don't know if it'll have the same effect as it does on the other children. It's this special, unique teacher power that turns every single one of your shitty doodles, gifted to one of them, into a priceless, beautiful gift. It's the funniest thing and one of your favourites. The feeling is like the one you get when they fight and have to make serious arguments and deals to decide who will be the lucky one to hold the teacher's hand today.

Surely it's ridiculous but it does flat your ego grandiosely.

You're not expecting this kind of reaction from Jimmy, you'd just like to create some sort of contact, an interaction. Staring down at the white sheet, you're left speechless, nervous. It's been a while since you've sat in front of one of those, with no clear indication of what you were supposed to lay on it. Quite frankly, your crayons you only use to grade. The feeling is terrifying and you realise, gulping, that you didn't miss it. Maybe that feeling is the reason why he didn't pick up a pencil to draw himself. Was he filled with the same irrational paralysis that comes with the fear of the unknown?

“I'm not really good at drawing, to be honest with you... Do you like cats, Jimmy?” His big eyes watch you carefully. No answer. He simply munches on his lips, waiting for you to fill in the silence. “You probably do. Or, I hope you do because cats are what I draw best. Let's see.” You mumble, picking up a blue pencil to start -another consequence of the unusual anxiety you're feeling, suddenly picturing cats being blue.

It takes him a hot minute to open up the slightest. Actually, it takes about half an hour. Half an hour of you talking on your own, making conversation for the both of you; of you struggling to draw the cat you were certain you knew how to draw; of stopping every now and then to go over the basic body shape of a cat. It starts in the form of him snorting discreetly -you almost miss it- when you almost curse, fishing your cellphone out of your back pocket to look for the ugliest but easiest drawing of a cat you can find online for reference, tired of erasing and redoing the same damn curve of the cat's neck and messing up each time. It continues with him accepting to chose the next colour for what you keep calling “our cat”. He picks a deep purple for the back of the kitty, a bright yellow for the paws and apple green for the eyes. It's kind of funny looking but in a way you've done it together and your heart is filled to the brim with happiness. When it's done, sort of, you're ready to grab a new paper, hoping that maybe, on this one, he'll feel comfortable enough to grab a pencil himself and leave an actual mark on his own but the universe taps gently but firmly on the tip of your fingers, reminding you to be thankful for what happened today but not to be too greedy.

It's the tall and dishevelled man, stumbling loudly through the door that interrupts and determine the end of today's progress. Jimmy raises on his seat on reflex, running into the man's -you assume to be his father- legs. The man seems a bit uneasy, with his trench coat poorly buttoned, his dark hair messy with a thick strand sticking up to the roof, forehead crossed with worrisome lines. He reaches for the little boy, carrying him up to his chest, smacking a big kiss on his forehead; Jimmy's short arms are reaching far, far away, wrapping as much as he can around his father's neck and the previous wrinkles simply fade away.

“I'm so terribly sorry!” He apologizes, voice remarkably low, sounding lovely somehow even through the tension straining it. “I had this meeting that just lasted forever, I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again.”

“No it's totally fine, don't worry about it!” You might be screaming a little bit because the big, impressively built man is now bowing with Jimmy draped around him like a koala and you feel so embarrassed because 1) no one has ever bowed to you, 2) you sincerely didn't mind staying a little bit later (especially given it happens more often than not) and 3) you were glad, you feel fortunate for the chance you just had to spend more time with Jimmy and see a spark of something you've never seen before. The reason you made a good improvement, you believe, is because the circumstances were favourable. Having a class filled with twenty-five other rambunctious kids that require great attention, at all time, doesn't, ever, allow you to bond with the boy. “Please don't, it's fine.” You insist, forcing him with wide gestures to stand up straight again. “Jimmy is one of the sweetest kids of my class, honestly, it was no bother.”

The dark eyes, perfect imitations of the ones Jimmy carries, display a lovely glint at my comment. He attempts to look at his son who’s snuggling in the crook of his neck, smiling softly.

“Is that right, Jiminie? My good boy.”

Jiminie. Without knowing what he says, the sonority of his words sounds so gentle and lovely, you can tell why the boy turns all sheepish.

There's a loud kiss pressed to his cheek and you can hear a high giggle, shy but sweet, as Jimmy squirms a bit in his dad's arms, pressing a hand to his ear. The scene is so, so adorable, you would cry if only you were not too worried to give off a terrible portray of an unbalanced and ugly-crier of a teacher to this father.

Father that you’re meeting for the first time.

And this fact, lost in the middle of a storm of agitated thoughts, manages to find his way to the surface after a little while of just awkwardly standing there, not really knowing what to say.

“Mr Kim, actually, I'm glad you're here. I meant to- meet and maybe have a little conversation with you, I don't know if Adrianne told you-”

“Yes, yes, she did. Of course. I apologize, I was supposed to get back to her with a date but work has been pretty- hectic. I've just changed job and-” You nod, genuinely understanding. If you don't know much about this man, nor this family in general, you can tell from the layers of fatigue that even the tender smiles he generously grants his son can't diminish, that he's not having the best of times. “It's not that- I don't want you to believe that I'm not invested in my son's education, it's really not the case-”

“Oh no, I don't believe that!” Quite frankly, you'd say that to any parents that come to you with these kinds of doubts, it's probably the worst thing you can do to a parent to criticize their parenting, their love, especially when you know from experience than most, even the ones that mess up and scar, don't commonly mean to. Parents are just adults and adults are just humans. Trying to figure shit out and actually not knowing jack shit about much. As a teacher, of children that young too, you owe to help them turn their progeny into the best versions they can be, as a team.

But this dad, standing there, distress and something akin sadness shading so much of his face, there's so little room for softness, a hand tenderly massaging the back of his boy's hair, you have no doubt, whatsoever, that it's not the case. That he tries and probably struggles, with whatever their circumstances are, but means the best. “I really don't. It's just I'd really like- I mean, I need, to have a little meeting with you. I receive every parent at the beginning of each year, it's important for me to understand better the child...” You would point out that in Jimmy's case, it's absolutely necessary given his behaviour but you don't want to say it in front of him. You've been reassured before by the principle that you weren't to worry too much. Jimmy was not, in any case, in any kind of danger at home, she had made sure of that after you first came to her with your concerns.

It's supposed to be a case of extreme timidity. It's confusing. Still, you were ready to accept this as the plain simple explanation if only you could talk to his father, have him confirm it and validate with your own personal impression. “I understand that you're working and don't have much time to yourself and that it's a bit- I mean, even as adults, no one likes to have to attend a teacher's meeting,” Only the corner of his lips twitch a little, yet you gladly accept it as a win. “Would it be possible for you to make just a little slot in your schedule for me? I won't take too long, twenty minutes at most? Whenever you can! Before class if you want or after, in the evening, sometimes I'm still here until 7. Or at lunch! Absolutely whenever is good for you.”

“That's very kind.” Is all he says.

You don't know what to say to that. You're not sure he is right. You are especially invested in your work and your pupils. You've been told before that, maybe, you should lay off a bit -you're told each time you cry at the end of a school year, thinking about all the faces you adore but won't be seeing every day anymore. But most teachers are, you want to believe. Min Yoongi, from first grade, wouldn't be as generous with his time, that's for sure. He'd probably come up with a date that'd fit his agenda and if possible inconvenience the most the parents' schedule and demand that they do make the time and be present, guilty-trip them if they seem reluctant. But that's just him, being a lazy cynical asshole. You want to believe he's an exception and any other teacher, in your shoes, would act the same way.

That being said, the way he's saying it, wide eyes sort of laced with a certain confusion, serves to thicken the compliment.

“Whenever is fine.” You repeat, lacking a direct response to his words. There's a tiny curious eye, picking from the collar of the trench coat, observing you attentively. You smile to Jimmy, picking up the drawing of the cat you've drawn earlier and handing it to him. “I'll let you off now, Jimmy is probably starving.”

After a few seconds of just staring at it, Jimmy sneaks a hand out to accept the drawing, face instantly burying further in the fabric of his dad's clothes, all shy and embarrassed.

“Thank you. Thank you very much for today and for any day really. I promise I'll make sure to meet you very soon.”

“Sure, perfect. Jimmy, see you tomorrow?”

“You say goodbye, Jiminie?”

He mutters something you don't quite catch, enshrouded as he is in the fabric adorning his dad, but his father and you decide that it's the answer you were waiting for. A wave and a stumble down the hall later -one that nearly gives you a heart attack as the prospect of the man actually eating shit with tiny Jimmy still in his arms hit you-, they're gone, out of the school and on to their way home you assume.

You're entirely alone now. Giddy as a school girl overly excited about something mundane that doesn't require this type of enthusiasm. You're not precisely sure why. It's a storm. Again. An overwhelming storm of emotions. In the mix of it all, you can decipher the loud, brilliant thoughts regarding the tiny shy little boy, and a future brighter than the one you used to picture for him. One where he's not scared of everyone, where you can hear his voice and see him giggle without his dad for him to hide behind. And something else.

You're not sure.

You don't suck at your job, you decide, as you think back about the adorable chubby finger pointing shyly at the crayons he wanted you to use.

A/N : as always, a lot of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

#btswriterscollective #thekimlinenet #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon drabble #namjoon fanfic #my writing

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 4 years ago

Text

Avatar Zuko Rewrite

Pairings: Zukka (pre-romantic, unrequited)

Word Count: 1687 Words

Summary: Lee somehow manages to win Sokka's heart without even trying aka he feeds him. Sokka doesn't even know how to process how cute Lee is.

Warnings: Injury Mention, Food Mention, Half Blind Character, let me know if I should tag something else.

Chapter 7

When they finally consoled Aang, they led him back to where Lee was in the Avatar Chamber still. It seemed they’d all left him there to continue with his intrigued study of the statues.

Finding him collapsed in front of the Roku statue was definitely not something they’d anticipated. It looked like some debris had flown here too from Aang’s emotional breakdown. None of it looked to have hit Lee but they all guessed it had somehow hit him in the head and made him collapse with a concussion.

“Hey, Lee. Lee, wake up.” Sokka shook the raven’s shoulder.

He gave a groan, waking up and he held his left hip, apparently that had hit the ground first and taken the most of the brunt of the fall. Lee pushed himself to sit up, other hand holding his head, eyes shut still and refusing to look at them. Finally, his gold eyes opened and he gazed up at them.

“What happened? I’m so sorry if I hurt you, Lee!” Aang hugged him.

“No, it wasn’t you. The spiritual pressure is just really strong in here.” He rubbed his left scalp with soreness from the fall, but thankfully, he didn’t seem too injured.

“Well you are right. It does feel like the pressure is stronger here. Maybe it’s the statues.” Aang told him, helping him up on his left side while Sokka helped his right. Sokka felt protective of the airbender, he was obviously weak and a bit hurt, he needed someone to look after him.

He helped him from the chamber, all four leaving it to let Lee recover. The airbender seemed to be getting better, all but his hip, however. But that just seemed sore too, and was obviously better the more he moved it and used it and wasn’t overstressing the muscle he’d hurt. Aang and Katara played air ball this time, Lee and Sokka sitting on the grass, watching.

“Do you think they’d mind if I looked around?” Lee asked.

“Why?” He asked the airbender.

“Food. You’ve been complaining nonstop, I figure shut your mouth with some food.” Lee told him, smiling broadly but also nervously. He was getting comfortable around people but he wasn't sure how to act.

“Nah, they wouldn’t mind. Just don’t get lost. Come back here after or I'm sure Aang might freak out that I lost you.” The raven nodded and set off the path on the left, slowly retraining the sore but thankfully healthy muscle in his left hip. An hour later, Lee came back with several things in his arms. He threw something round at him and he immediately caught it out of instinct.

“Found the kitchens and the gardens. That’s a pomelo by the way. They grew firebender fruit here. Who would have thought Air Nomads could simulate different climates?” He was smiling.

“What the hell’s a pomelo?” Sokka asked, peeling it curiously.

“A fruit. It’s like an orange but better. Don’t complain. I could have made you eat the durian fruit.” He showed him a large yellow fruit as Sokka took a curious bite of the fruit in his hands.

“Hey, I’m not a quitter. Let me try the other one.”

“Don’t complain to me then, water-boy.” He tossed the yellowy fruit at him. Sokka caught it easily. He used his dagger to cut open the durian fruit to come face to face with the yellow flesh.

“What? Scared?” Lee smirked, eyes smiling and Sokka, to all that knew him, was absolutely not one to back down from a challenge.

If anything, a cute boy staring him down to eat a fruit that intimidated him, yeah that was a challenge. He cut the piece sunk his teeth into the yellow flesh and was met with a bitter, sour taste in his mouth and immediately spit it out, spitting saliva in hopes the taste would go away. Lee took one of the unbitten pieces and bit into it easily.

“I told you. Water Tribe Boys can’t eat durian.” Lee teased.

“Well, Fire Nation Boys can’t eat sudachi.”

“I’m Air Nomad. But just the same. I don’t like Water Tribe food.” Lee finished his demon fruit.

“Smartass.” Sokka mumbled.

“Takes one to know one.” Lee sat back on the grass watching the game going back and forth until Katara and Aang finally both tied in a stalemate.

“Lee found the kitchens and gardens while you two were on your supervised date.” Sokka told them.

“Where are they?” Katara asked, blatantly mad. And then Lee did the unexpected again. He pushed upward with his hands and landed on his feet with only mild difficulty from his hip.

For a second, Sokka was sure that he was becoming a true demon like the fruit Lee had eaten with the way he’d been moving until he realized he was just a showoff. Katara rolled her eyes at the display and Aang snorted laughter at Sokka’s terrified yet shocked expression.

Lee made a small chuckle at his shocked expression too, already him and Aang leading each other to the kitchens and gardens, leaving Katara and Sokka to run to catch up again.

“Oh Gods, the kitchens smell heavenly.” Sokka drooled.

“I figured we’d all be tired and hungry after all that’s happened today. I started dinner before I left. It should be done in a few minutes.”

“Cooking’s a girl thing! You can’t cook!” Sokka protested.

“Eat dinner or go try to make something yourself. The gardens are out the door, to the left, down a bit.” Lee walked away from him into the kitchens from where they were in the mess hall.

Sokka was impressed with how easy he seemed to act naturally around him and the others, like the three years on a Fire Navy ship had never changed his personality to the meek and scared boy he’d seen him the day prior. Though, it occurred to him that Lee could just be scared of his bending being destructive.

“He needs to get a handle on that talk of his!” Katara raged.

“He’s fine. I think he’s just getting comfortable around us.” Sokka told her as much. She growled at him to be quiet.

“I made extra.” And the two big bowls of first pasta then a black and lumpy mix got set on the table. Sokka poked it with his spoon.

“What is that?” He asked.

“Zhajiangmian. Fire nation food. Thankfully the not hot kind. Made vegetarian for our airbender.”

“Waterbenders need meat, Lee.” Sokka complained. Lee raised an eyebrow. He bit his tongue, Spirits dammit, why was that cute!? “But it smells good. I’m eating.” He put some of the noodles into his bowl. He looked at the dark saucey substance oddly as to what he should do with it.

“You put the zhajiang overtop of the noodles and mix them.” Lee spooned the mix over his own noodles, mixing it together with his chopsticks. Sokka mimicked what he’d done and brought a the chopsticks to his mouth, tasting the food.

“That’s pretty good actually.” His mouth was full but he felt the need to say it, wanted to see Lee's reaction. Lee laughed at his face that was obviously covered with the sauce. His heart melted a little bit, Lee laughing made his heart skip. Lee sounded happy.

“Wipe your face. You look like a rabid wolfbat.” He laughed, having to stop eating for a minute. Sokka wiped his mouth clean and continued eating, teeth crunching into what he assumed were vegetables.

“Ya know, that’s a good way to get Sokka to eat vegetables, Lee.” Aang told the other airbender.

“It’s better than him wandering off and maybe getting hurt trying to fend for himself.” Sokka was busy spooning the vegetables from his bowl to his mouth, too satisfied with the food to care much about the conversation.

“Katara, why aren’t you eating?” Aang asked. Indeed, Katara hadn't so much as touched her bowl, let alone fill it and eat anything.

“I won’t eat Fire Nation food.” She told them bluntly, eyes shooting daggers at Lee.

“Technically, this is the Earth Kingdom recipe. It’s not spicy like the Fire Nation makes it and there’s no meat added in.” Aang told her. Lee had folded in on himself when she’d made the comment, he was busy quietly eating, refusing to look up from his bowl. He wasn't going to defend himself, he probably felt he deserved it.

“'Tara, you’ve gotta try this. It’s so good.” Sokka urged her.

“I’m not hungry!” She snapped. Lee flinched at the tone but continued eating, seemingly unwilling to look up at her. Sokka could spot his eyes getting glossy with tears that the airbender was obviously forcing down.

“Katara, you’re being too hard on Lee. He’s not even Fire Nation, he’s an Air Nomad. Don’t you think he’s probably struggling through this war too? This war’s been hard on everyone.” Sokka told her. Lee was staring at him, wide eyed and looking a bit scared on his part.

Was he scared of something happening simply because he was defending him from his sister? Maybe it was justified, his sister was scary and it seemed a feasible fear from what he'd heard Lee say about his father. Being around that abuse so long, he probably learned not to defend himself for fear it would lead to him being beaten.

“Fine, I’ll eat. But you better not be pulling anything, Lee.” Katara told him, finally spooning noodles and zhajiang into her bowl and eating.

“Good, Katara?” Aang asked.

She simply grumbled what sounded like a 'yes’ past her food. Sokka smiled at Lee as the raven continued eating, eyes a bit awestruck toward him. It wasn’t a problem convincing his sister to eat, he would have had to make her eat eventually.

Aang went back for a second bowl, commenting that it was just like Xiu-Mei made it. Sokka had ended up having two and a half bowls while Lee only finished one and Katara finished two. Plus Sokka got to sit next to a cute boy he very much wanted to kiss.

Taglist: @darkrainbow333 @magic-but-its-green @the-lemonade-artist @a-chaotic-being @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond @lgbtforeverything @brain-deadx0 @everythingisstardust @emoqueerpan @thatoneperson1967

#avatar the last airbender #atla #aang #zuko #sokka #katara #snoweywrites #avatar zuko #avatar zuko au #tw inury mention #tw food mention

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whatwashernameagain · 5 years ago

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Keep him safe - Chapter 32

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Ch 25, Ch 30, previous chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you, The Dreamer

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 9.779

Warnings: social anxiety, cursing, arguments, Virgil’s potty mouth (let me know if I missed any)

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness. Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: Exciting things! @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 sent me a Christmas gift which I am too happy about and @sebthesnipe has consented to support us with the beta reading (and she is intimidatingly good. I am in awe. So thorough, but who’s surprised by that? Thank you so much!) Also there are new people on the Keep Him Safe Discord server, so feel free to come chat with us there. It’s a fun little place and I love everyone there! Invitation: https://discord.gg/Y2WNAND

Chapter 32

“Motherf- why do you insist on sitting there, you bristly beast from hell?” Roman wailed.

For the third time, he had almost tripped over the raccoon cowering on the ground between the sofa and the corridor. He swore he had moved it aside – very carefully – with his foot. Twice. He had even bribed it to the kitchen with a few, strictly forbidden, snacks. There was no time for this! The ceremony – his ceremony – started in two hours and it would define his life, honor his entire career! It was-

“Ow! I will make a coat out of you! Or maybe even a fedora!” Roman swore, jumping on his unbitten foot. Gathering his courage, he snatched the monster around the fat middle and lifted the retching, gurgling critter high away from his body. His dearest Virgil would tame the gray and white monstrosity for him. If he would forgive him for almost throwing the thing at his face with a shrill screech.

“The fuck, man?!” Virgil yelped, catching the flying animal and immediately toppling over into Patton, who sat on the couch behind him during his attempt to wrangle the scratching raccoon that tried to swipe at his hands. True to Roman’s hopes, Virgil managed to roll it into the thick fabric of the blanket next to him and reduce it to a quivering ball of rage hissing in the general direction of the entire world.

Feeling Virgil’s glare hot on his person, Roman hunched his shoulders.

“Sorry?”

Patton, sitting quietly with his wool and kitten in his lap, drew his limbs closer to his body. He was already dressed and ready to go, as always making sure he was free to help everyone else.

After Roman’s split-second decision to attempt to save the thief, the results of his actions had taken a life of its own. His picture had been printed all over the local newspapers and had even made it to national television, though it was only a small feel-good piece after the news. He had been asked on actual interviews (which he had excelled at of course, charming as he was). Suddenly, people loved him. His pretty selfies were trending on Instagram and he even received actual handwritten fan-mail. Just yesterday, a small crowd of reporters had held him up on the way to the office, asking him questions and trying to get a good shot of his suddenly famous, and quite lovely, smile.

For the first time, perhaps in his whole life, Roman felt truly confident. He didn’t have to pretend to believe he deserved the world - he felt like he’d already held it in his hands. His laughs were filled with joy and when he looked at the mirror, he liked what he saw. He would ruffle his bright curls, giggling at his reflection before he danced around the bathroom, using his brush as a microphone singing happily. There was no need to force a smile any longer. He liked himself. If he was truly honest, the reason wasn’t the attention of his adoring fans recognizing him on the street and wanting his autograph, or the reporters flushing at his sweet smiles and charming manners. No, that was all exciting – so exciting! – but it truly was the knowledge of being loved unconditionally by the people that really mattered. It was the atmosphere at home. It was the quiet, safe feeling of evenings spent together; the knowledge that he was important to someone. It was Patton standing on his tiptoes and hugging him when he got home. It was Logan lecturing him about his fluid intake. It was Virgil, blushing and grumpily hunching his shoulders when their eyes met; the way he almost smiled at him.

The young man hadn’t taken his words back, despite Roman’s fear that he would. They hadn’t talked about the confession again, especially since Roman feared he would scare Virgil off, but something had notably changed. The barista was defensive of his reputation, growling and grumbling whenever someone so much as hinted at him needing help, but something in his demeanor towards Roman was different. Softer.

As the young detective pondered a chance at something new with Virgil with an excitedly beating heart, he finished fixing his tie and promptly made a mess of it. Groaning, he threw his hands in the air dramatically.

“This whole day shall end in disaster! It’s cursed! Fate has forsaken me!”

Virgil groaned and climbed around the growling ball buried in the blankets. “Let me, you theater nerd.” He mumbled.

Standing in front of him he was so much smaller than Roman. He could see the shadow his dark lashes cast on his moonlight pale cheeks. His hands were slender and nimble as they took hold of his mangled tie and pulled it from the taller man’s neck. Throwing it over his own shoulder, he leaned close to pull up the collar of the stark white dress shirt Roman still wore untucked, with his dark uniform slacks. The excitedly thundering heart slowed in the detective’s chest as Virgil drew closer. Obediently, he leaned his head forward to let the young man wrap the cool fabric around the back of his neck. God, he would let him do anything to him. He could not believe Virgil was here, voluntarily standing close. How he wanted to place his hands on the slender waist. The moment he had first laid eyes on him came back to him with such vivid clarity. The slim figure wrapped in stiff, cold leather; bruised, defensive and sharp toothed. He was still the most beautiful creature Roman had ever seen.

A hushed silence fell over the apartment like a heavy blanket of snow. Virgil formed the loop and pulled the end of tie through with slow, deliberate movements. He never lifted his eye to the intense gaze, focused on him as if he were the only thing worth looking at. Only the flush rising to his cheeks gave any indication that he was affected at all.

His pink lips were slightly parted. Roman couldn’t look away. He couldn’t recall a time where he felt so light as he did since Virgil had stepped close and spilled a rambling, confused confession from those lovely lips. Though he wouldn’t receive his award for a couple of hours, he already felt blessed beyond his wildest hopes by his sweet kitten. This was everything he had ever wanted.

As if hearing his sugary thoughts about him, Virgil tucked sharply at the tie, pulling it taunt. Choking a little, Roman fumbled to loosen the perfect knot. His wildcat flashed a sharp grin before ducking his head once again; his hands slipping down the sculpted chest and falling away, leaving a trail of heat.

Warmth was also rising to Virgil’s cheeks as he remembered that Patton was huddled up right behind him. Well fuck, that was embarrassing. Perhaps he should just put his head in the oven right now. In the face of his fear of losing Roman, his own courage had completely steamrolled him and truth be told, he had no idea where to go from here. This whole feelings thing was a fucking dumpster fire. He blamed that bitch of a thief.

Patton hadn’t noticed a thing, though. He was too busy leaning over the back of the couch, gaping at the man that was currently fussing over the shoulders of the freshly ironed uniform jacket he had put on a hanger. Logan, having finished dressing with plenty of time, had been forced to clean up after Roman; look for his white gloves, iron his uniform and hold the mirror for him to see the back of his head while he styled his curls. Now he’d entered the living room, dressed from head to toe in his pristine dress blues. The golden buttons and badge on his chest gleamed, as well as the elaborately stitched symbol of his department on his arm. His slacks were pressed to perfection and accentuated his long legs. He was even already wearing his polished shoes and white gloves and a rat on his shoulder. He looked entirely too attractive.

Virgil worried a little for Patton’s heart. Literally. He was growing quite red.

Even if his barista decided to tease him later and he was getting a little anxious of being caught, Patton was not missing a moment of this. He’d thought he had grown used to living with men who were this- this- well, this put together and handsome and kind and intimidatingly in control of their lives, but then something happened and he was baffled again. He didn’t know how to prepare for it either. Virgil looking cute as heck in the morning, he could deal with, even when it made him want to hug him and almost climb into his lap with love- he could just do that. And Roman was always as attractive as a model, even when he was complaining or drinking cocoa in his fluffy slippers. His adorableness just made him look soft, even moments after he would startl Patton with his dramatic outbursts. There was no reason not to tell him how pretty he was every day. But Logan? Yesterday he’d irritably dashed through the apartment in a shirt and boxer briefs looking for his trousers that Roman had abducted. Patton had felt like his heart would stop at the sight. He couldn’t just jump at him like that with his long, naked legs and socks and all! And sometimes Logan would just sit next to him opening his mail and the light would fall on his face and Patton just… he just….

He didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d never felt something like this. Especially something so confusing. His feelings were a fluctuating mess. Just when he thought he was healing and managing not to wake up in a cold sweat every night, fighting the conflicting urges to dial Trevor’s number or run to Logan for protection from him, something like this unbalanced him. The problem was - it didn’t seem to want to go away, despite Patton’s growing confusion. The more Logan got comfortable, the more he showed his real personality. It was a development Patton had expected with absolute certainty, but he hadn’t thought the older man would change quite like this. He’d expected to see more of the sides that had frightened him in the past. The quick anger. The dominance. The physical violence he was capable of. The demand to control everything. He wasn’t blind to Logan’s flaws. He’d learned the hard way, after all.

He wasn’t surprised to see those flaws now that the older man didn’t need to hide them anymore. After all, Patton had nowhere else to go.

Logan had plans for everything and needed things to go his way. When they didn’t, he’d grow irritable and even angry. This morning, Roman had given him reason to grow furious with him by losing his gloves, putting everyone in a right state looking for them. There had been screaming and wailing (all by Roman), which had made Logan grow progressively more quiet and frustrated. Tension had settled in Patton’s chest quickly. Whenever someone was angry, it felt like something lodged itself in his throat and made it hard to breathe. It made Patton feel small and frightened and guilty, no matter what he did or hadn’t done himself. He always, always expected to be punished.

Logan hadn’t hurt Roman though.

Well, he had hurt him a little by grabbing the scruff of his neck despite his complains about his hair and depositing him on the couch. Without his loud interference, he’d found the gloves in less than ten minutes.

Apparently oblivious to Patton’s fear, he had settled down next to his stressed partner and looked at him earnestly.

“Everything you need is here, Roman. There is no need to be nervous. You deserve this.”

Tension had fallen from his partner’s shoulders like a visible weight. Laughing bashfully, knowing now that the reason for his panic had turned out to be a kitten rolling up on his gloves, he scooted closer to his friend, shyly asking if he was still loved in his own way.

Without hesitation, Logan had wrapped an arm around the broad shoulders and leaned their foreheads together in a moment of quiet gentleness. Despite lecturing him about their timetable he had still ironed Roman’s jacket and de-furred the gloves before he’d finished dressing.

Those moments - where Patton expected things to go wrong, when Roman became whiny and annoying and Virgil started growling with stress and Logan began showing signs of anger, or simply when he and Virgil started talking each other into a rage over the latest failure to protect minorities or the environment - they still frightened Patton. They would keep frightening him for a long time, he feared. He couldn’t help but be aware of the powder keg that was the suddenly too small apartment where four men lived together who were all very different from each other and tended to rub each other to irritation.

Virgil was still defensive of Patton and his pride, and recently his claim on Roman. Roman was his own very special person who needed encouragement and attention and occasionally sugar followed by a hug. And Logan… well, he just needed things to work, be tidy and on time; which they never, ever were. Little conflicts were impossible to avoid, and Patton feared them turning into hurtful fights.

They never did.

Still, every time, Patton expected the blame to fall on him for being incompetent, or forgetting something, or making their situation more difficult by being there and needing space, by being in the way or simply getting in the way of Virgil’s grumpy insults or Roman’s flailing complaints or Logan’s growling lectures.

It certainly hadn’t helped that they were all a little tired after Professor Duke had rung the doorbell at four thirty this morning and had demanded they join his marching band. He’d been banging pans against each other. Logan had given him a cookie and told him to sleep before shoving him into the corridor a little harder than strictly necessary.

Patton couldn’t understand why no one was arguing with him, especially considering how stressful the time of Roman’s heroics had been. He wasn’t easy to live with, he knew that. He said silly things, or his presence became annoying, or he didn’t perform as he should – and recently, he hadn’t been performing at all. He had just been here, useless and waiting for something bad to happen. The longer he’d been sitting around doing nothing, the worse his anxiety became. He was starting to understand that he needed to get back to the café. His ankle was healed enough and his hands were almost like new. Even his bruises were barely visible anymore. He needed to make himself useful. Perhaps it would help to have something else to focus on. Something less hopeful and less likely to break his heart.

His little heart beat hard in his chest whenever he experienced Logan growing soft with Virgil or Roman, despite his stress. He couldn’t quite help quietly expecting the worst and when it didn’t happen, his heart was so full. Every time the moment where Patton expected a yell or a blow passed, he felt…Well, it was hard to explain... He felt untethered and perhaps irrationally relieved, grateful, probably and despite his shame, a little suspicious still.

Logan was affecting him most in those times when he acted so differently than how Patton had been conditioned to expect. When he untangled a purring kitten from another article of clothing and his large hands were so gentle, despite the threads coming loose, Patton felt soft; When he called the racoon a sabberndes Biest aus der Hölle and tried to wash the stolen jam off of its snapping jaws with a warm damp cloth, Patton breathed a sigh of relief, finding his chest filling with fondness; When Roman dropped into Logan’s lap while he was trying to read, ignoring the ‘oof’ of pain he elicited while loudly complaining before being deposited on the couch or carpet with nothing more than fond amusement and exasperation or Logan even indulging his partner and holding him a little (like Roman had hoped), Patton wanted to hug him with relief. He was so grateful whenever he could understandably yell at Roman or Virgil or the pets, and didn’t.

And then there was the way he treated Patton.

Every morning, he greeted him the same way. “Good morning, Patton. I hope you are well rested?” Spoken in this deep, confident voice that held a soft, warm tone to it. Every morning, he would discuss the latest news he had read with Virgil, on his tablet and then he’d drink the rest of his tea while asking Patton about his plans for the day. He would listen and look at him with his dark attentive eyes as if he were truly interested. Whenever Patton meekly tried to divert his attention from him because he had nothing interesting to say, Logan would ask follow-up questions and tried to find out if he needed anything for his day. Every evening when he got home, he would ask how Patton was feeling, if he had enjoyed himself, what he and Virgil had been doing. He checked on the progress of his healing, despite not even needing anything but two band aids anymore; he would carefully cradle Patton’s hands in his own and move his fingers this way and that to check his nerves and dexterity.

“Your hands are the basis of your profession. It is of vital importance that you are provided with optimal care to ensure the ideal conditions to regain your health.” He’d told Patton earnestly. The young baker had tried to swallow down the memories of wrapping his still bleeding hands himself, or throwing out batches of dough contaminated with his blood.

And now Logan was wearing a dress uniform.

After handing over the suit jacket, he placed the matching hat over his raven hair and straightened it critically, checking his reflection in the glass of the lion-flower picture Roman had finished. Turning to see if Virgil and Patton were at least ready to go, Logan found the baker huddled up on the couch where he usually sat in his attempt to make himself smaller. He was looking up at him with his honey brown eyes, dressed in soft, pale fabrics that accentuated his slim figure and innocent, pretty face.

Mortified, Logan found himself flushing. Roman had told him Patton would enjoy the view and he’d secretly hoped his partner was right, but now that he actually stood under the gaze of the young man he wanted, so desperately, to be close to, he felt as shy as a teenager. His thoughts rarely strayed far from Patton. He found himself wondering what he was doing; if he needed anything; if he and Virgil were safe and happy at home. He kept wondering what Patton was thinking. Now that Trevor had left their lives, he felt like they were suddenly at a crossroads where the pâtissier needed to choose his path. They hadn’t discussed long term arrangements yet and the insecurity of it was eating at Logan. He was certain attempting to seduce Patton into staying at his side was a poorly timed idea. Yet in moments like these, when he felt his body heat with diffidence and excitement due to the younger man’s attention, it was hard not to be tempted. Logan didn’t know where to go from here, but he knew he wanted to keep Patton. He wanted him to be happy and safe and to be where he could protect him. He wanted him for himself and that was a terrifying thought. Patton deserved so much, and so much could go wrong. The pâtissier was almost too precious to consider claiming for himself. He was too gentle, too fragile and deserving to belong to Logan.

Thankfully, Patton always appeared to sense when a distraction was needed. Despite flushing and huddling tightly against the pillows upon being caught staring, he cleared his throat and adopted his most cheerful smile.

“Let’s get you your medal, RoRo!”

“It is not just any medal.” Logan explained proudly. “The Medal for Valor is the department's third highest accolade. It is conferred upon police officers for acts of outstanding personal bravery intelligently performed in the line of duty at imminent personal hazard to life under circumstances evincing a disregard of personal consequences.”

“At least a few of those apply to Roman then.” Virgil grumbled.

“Hey, I did perform intelligently!” Roman cried, offended.

“No, you did not.” Both Virgil and Logan chimed simultaneously.

“You are very intelligent, though!” Patton assured his friend sweetly as Logan indulged Virgil’s raised hand for a slightly unsure high five.

Roman was a fucking snack, Virgil realized. He looked tall and regal and a little strict in his dress blues, like an authority figure; like an actor in a movie; like something Virgil would want to climb. Standing on the stage with his tall build and perfect posture and proud, sweet smile, he made cameras flash and hearts break all over the country. The ceremony would be broadcasted nationally that evening, due to the massive amount of attention that one fucking picture of him carrying that shiny bastard had gotten. Virgil was hiding it in one of his books. It was a good picture, okay? Whose business was it what he did with it?

Virgil clutched the cool rat in his hands closer to his chest, earning a small lick on the chin from the animal. Logan had given Nicodemus to him in the wise expectation of the irritation at all of the dressed up, thirsty bitches trying to seduce his man. Were his hands free, he’d have probably tried to knock out the scantily dressed, slightly orange, fake-tanned lady next to him for blowing a kiss at Roman as he beamed in their direction. Only the knowledge that it was him the attractive detective was smiling at seemed to calm him. He always did that: look at him like he was the fucking sun. It was fucking sad.

His heart fluttered.

Fuck him. Fuck him. He was too good. He was receiving a fucking Medal of Valor, for fucks sake. After receiving his medal, his speech was clear and eloquent and touching – was that bitch crying over there?! She better keep her hands to herself!

His teeth clenched with the realization that Roman could just wade into the sea of his admirers and choose whoever he wanted. They would try their hardest to give him anything he wanted. Roman looked so heroic with his uniform and the gleaming medal he’d earned. He was gorgeous and nice and fair and caring and none of those hoes knew how fucking annoying he was as well. Virgil counted himself lucky that he knew, though.

But how did one keep the attention of a man so hungry for adventure and excitement if they couldn’t even stand to look at their own body after a shower? There were things that Virgil wanted, certainly. However, he was afraid of so many things that came with becoming Roman’s lover. The mushy, emotional crap for one: Roman wanted attention and flamboyant, public displays of affection and confessions and shit. That last one had nearly killed him.

Or the fact that he would have to tolerate being seen naked and his scars being touched. Having to expose his tattoo. Possibly even having to deal with the memories of the humiliation and pain he’d experienced. He had no frame of reference for consensual, healthy sexuality and he had the feeling, unlearning all of the crap he had put himself through would be bloody painful. He would try, though; for Roman. The issue was that there would be no comfortable, romantic lovemaking like Roman probably dreamed of. There would be a Virgil with body issues and an aggressive protection of his secrets and image and- and fucking moves he learned on the street. How did one fuck someone like a boyfriend? The fuck was the difference?

And how the fucking fuck did people learn to live with each other all day anyway? Didn’t they irritate each other? How was he supposed to go from ‘don’t touch me, you son of a bitch’ to ‘I love you so much, let’s spend every waking second together skipping through a field of daisies’? He didn’t want all that. He just wanted Roman. He wanted to touch when he felt like it, be comfortable when he was close to him and know he was happy and fulfilled and that he wouldn’t go anywhere. He wanted to claim him so that he would have the right to fucking bite anyone who wanted to hurt him. He wanted. He wanted so much. For most of it, he had no words. It was just this dumb, helpless yearning he felt all. The. Fucking. Time.

How was he supposed to cool it and strategize his next move when Roman sprung a fucking uniform at him? Did he have to be such a beautiful himbo?

“They sure look good, don’t they, kiddo?” Patton asked softly, wrapping his arm around Virgil’s without taking his eyes off the clean lines of Logan’s body where he was waiting for him as his partner shook hands.

“Hmm, guess so.” Virgil mumbled, keeping his gaze a little lower than Patton’s. He had no qualms about enjoying the way those slacks hugged the curve of Roman’s backside. He was hot. He better make sure none of his fucking ‘fans’ got too close. Virgil would hate to force Roman to arrest him for punching a bitch.

None of Roman’s fans got the chance to lay their greedy hands on him though. Logan, severe, tall and very intimidating, awaited him when he bounced down the stairs catching his partner as he lunged himself into his arms with a happy cheer. Logan also glared at the waiting crowd over Roman’s shoulder. He was a real bro.

Upon releasing the older detective, Roman excitedly grabbed his friend’s hand and dashed straight towards the other two, ignoring the crowd of reporters and dressed up hyenas.

“Tell me how fabulous I was!” He demanded, beaming at them. Virgil felt faint with relief. Roman only had eyes for him.

Throughout the celebration at their favorite pub, Rosa and Logan kept a close eye on him and discreetly scared away everyone who got too close or too interested. Only Patton and - he realized with warmth – Virgil, were encouraged to be close by at all times.

There had been no need to be afraid, as it turned out. Roman was eager to talk to Virgil, to include him in all of his conversations, to share his happiness with him. He was always polite and nice to everyone, but his attention always seemed to find its way back to Virgil. He even invited him outside – away from his party - when he felt the young man had had enough of the people around him.

The evenings had grown cold lately; Roman pulled his suit jacket off without asking and tentatively draped it over the narrow shoulders of the young man that had told him he wanted him. His Virgil. His wildcat.

His green eyes were filled with more awe than they had been when he had received the highest honor he could have ever dreamed of. Virgil didn’t shrug him off; the slender shoulders under his hands relaxed as he rubbed warmth into them. The light of the pub cast flickering shadows over the sharp cheekbones that had been so flushed with possessive anger during the ceremony. Roman had been barely able to repress his giddiness. There had been no misunderstanding Virgil’s jealousy. He felt so wanted, so beautiful and precious. The thief had made him feel those things too, he couldn’t deny that he had liked their advances, but this – this feral, defensive anger – it was the truest proof of affection to Roman. Virgil made his heart come alive. His feelings were real and raw and Roman – he was so excited, so happy. So in love.

He wanted to sweep Virgil into his arms and squish him to his chest in unbridled happiness. He wanted to clutch him close and gush about his love for him.

He wanted to kiss him.

Feeling the intense gaze on him still, despite clearly hoping Roman would stop looking at him so closely, making him feel so fucking shy, Virgil dared to look directly at him. He was still so anxious, the poor darling. Roman would coax him into his arms and make him yearn for his kiss. He wanted Virgil to want to kiss him so much he would pull him close with impatient hands. He would be a gentleman. And while he waited, he would continue to enjoy the exciting, hot feelings Virgil’s possessive anger gave him. It felt so good to be wanted.

After the party, Roman was bumbling about the apartment in a happy daze, humming to himself. Virgil slouched, heading towards the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge for some snacks, badly needing to come down from an evening of glaring at his competitors. A content, quiet atmosphere was settling over the rooms.

The kitten had started mewling as soon as the door opened and ran towards them to be picked up. It eagerly rose onto its hind legs when Patton leaned down to pet it. Cradling it close, he breathed in the warm scent of the downy fur against his face, enjoying the way it rubbed itself against his cheek.

Only Logan was looking a little lost in the middle of the living room. He had received Nicodemus from Virgil and was now holding him safely in both hands, almost compulsively petting his downy fur with his thumb.

“You alright there, Lo?” Patton asked softly. The Detective’s eyes were dark and unreadable as he focused on the baker.

“Certainly. However… there may be an issue that has caught my attention. Considering my limited social competence. I have not been entirely certain how to approach the subject. The last thing I wish to do is offend or cause stress. However, Remy has advised me to discuss it, so…” The detective rambled a little awkwardly, holding on to the rat for courage.

It had been a while since Patton had seen him this nervous. His own heart fluttered a little with discomfort. He immediately wanted to help his kind friend out somehow. He just hoped he hadn’t done something wrong.

“You can talk to me, if you like! Is there anything I can do? Did- did I do something?” He asked, his voice growing feeble and quiet. His palms suddenly sweaty against the kitten’s silky fur.

Logan’s brows furrowed with worry as he observed the obvious discomfort he had caused. Roman briefly distracted him by wailing pitifully at not being allowed to touch the cheese sandwiches Virgil was grilling. There were far too many potential interruptions around here.

“You did nothing wrong, Patton. Please do not be alarmed. Would you be comfortable with discussing the situation, as I perceived it, in the privacy of my bedroom? So we may not be interrupted?”

Oh Tesla, he was blushing! Patton would come to think he had impure intentions with him! He worried about frightening him with his request as soon as he had made it. Perhaps he should have asked Virgil to use his room.

Indeed, Patton looked taken aback. Glancing at the corridor, he seemed to need a moment to gather his courage. Logan hadn’t seen him this anxious since they had managed to somewhat soothe his fears after the first few days of healing under his roof.

“Oh, yes. For sure!” He chirped, suddenly smiling brightly. The expression was lovely on his pretty face, yet it failed to reassure the detective. After all, he now understood how much Patton covered up with his cheerful expressions.

“Are you quite certain, Patton? I will not be offended if you feel more comfortable not being alone with me. We can invite Virgil, if you would prefer having him there.” Logan offered gently. He couldn’t help hurting a little upon making the suggestion. Patton had trusted him with his vulnerability so much in the past, yet now he seemed weary once again. He was grateful for his phone calls with Remy, his friend had prepared him for the likelihood of regression into old fears and habits.

‘Recovery is no more straight than you are, babe.’ He had explained.

“Oh no, it’s all good! I just want to fix whatever makes you feel sad!” Patton promised, perhaps sensing his sadness. He stepped closer, wishing to soothe the droopy expression on his dear Logan’s face. He looked anxious and hurt. The baker had little room for his own fear when his friend was distressed. He wanted to listen and comfort the gentle detective. Upon finding himself in a position of care and protection, it was easy to remember how badly he wanted to be the cause of Logan’s happiness.

“Satisfactory. However, I must demand you promise me to alert me if you ever feel uncomfortable. I shall not take anything you say personally.” Logan implored, trying to mean what he said.

The moment Logan stepped into his bedroom he realized he was in over his head. This space was so intimate and ill equipped to have a conversation between individuals of their currently uncertain personal connection. So much could go wrong! He didn’t have the social competency to pull this off! Where would Patton even sit? There was only one chair! Sitting on the bed together was out of the question for various reasons. He didn’t even know how far apart he should sit to give him enough space. What if he sat too far away and his friend thought him angry or odd? Of course, he’d have to be the one to offer a seat to Patton, it was only polite to do so, but if he chose the bed for him, he might think Logan would try something. There was the chair for him to sit in of course. It only permitted one person to be seated and was therefore the superior choice. However, the bright orange epidendrum orchid he’d propped up against it made sitting in it awkward and uncomfortable, since it spilled its flowers all over the backrest.

Logan started sweating.

“Excuse me please, Patton. May I just…” He mumbled, hurriedly trying to squeeze past the pâtissier without touching him while Patton stood uncertainly at the foot of the bed, waiting for Logan to make a decision.

After settling Nicodemus on the bed, Logan’s suddenly clumsy hands fumbled with the orchid as he tried to free the chair for Patton’s use, almost making him drop the flowerpot. A few pebbles of the fir bark the plant was potted in tumbled to the floor as he tried to squeeze the flower into a niche on the windowsill where the blossoms were draped over another houseplant for support.

Logan was suddenly, terribly nervous. “Verdammt.” He muttered, despairing.

“Hey there, it’s okay.” Patton cooed suddenly. His voice sounded gentle. “Come on, Logan. It’s all good.”

Patton’s soft, smaller hand wrapped around Logan’s clammy one and pulled tentatively. He couldn’t look at the little baker suddenly. Surely, he was disgusted by his sweaty hands and too polite to pull away. What was the social etiquette in a situation like this? Should he pull away? Should he excuse his behavior, or should he rather not draw attention to his shortcomings? He hadn’t felt this nervous about the other man in months. Why did he have to unravel so pitifully now that Patton needed him to be strong?

Patton’s fear seemed to have melted away entirely though. Calmly, he pulled on the detective’s hand and settled them both on the edge of the bed, facing the lush plants and large windows. His attention was entirely focused on Logan.

“There’s no need to be nervous, okay? It’s just little old me. You can tell me anything.” He promised softly. His hair fell into his eyes, softening the inquisitive look. He employed just the right tone, the right amount of contact, settled them at the perfect distance from each other. Logan was simply baffled at how easy he made this terrible, messy task appear.

“I don’t know how to do this correctly.” He confessed without having consciously decided to. The words just tumbled from his lips; coaxed out by the easy, trusting atmosphere Patton created without any effort.

“Do what correctly?” The smaller man asked without judgment or impatience. He felt like he could sit here and listen to Logan for however long it took. He seemed to unlock something in the detective that made him quite helpless to uphold his strenuously built control.

“My hands are sweaty.” He mumbled, realizing too late that his statement was neither an answer to Patton’s question nor did it relay any information he didn’t already possess, since he was currently holding said sweaty hands. It wasn’t even an apology. Suddenly his jacket was far too warm over his shameful blush. The baker took his change in topic in stride.

“That’s okay. So were mine a moment ago. I rubbed them on poor Nugget.” He confessed, nodding to the gray kitten rubbing itself on the stoically seated rat on the bed behind them. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Thank you for your considerate words, Patton. However-” Noting too late that it was probably rude to keep holding hands after acknowledging the uncomfortable condition, he pulled his hands free and wiped them on his uniform slacks with more attention than the task warranted. What had he been talking about?

“I wish to clarify- I mean - what I failed to convey is that the issue of my perspiration is only a symptom of the reason I am displeased with my shortcomings. I am afraid my request for a conversation has been worded in a way that might have caused you anxiety which is, in fact, the last thing I had wished for. My objective in asking for a private consultation has been entirely for your benefit. Yet I fear I have miserably failed, by forcing you to focus on my own needs once again.”

“Oh no! Logan, it’s fine. Please don’t be upset. I’m okay! I’m always okay. I don’t mind talking about what worries you at all. That’s what I’m here for!”

Kindly, Patton wrapped his hands around the awkwardly clenched ones of his friend, probably knowing he had been obsessing over what to do with them. After a moment of trying to pull himself together, Logan breathed a deep sigh. Patton’s hands were so soft. The pastel band aids on his fingers were covered with cute round bear shaped cupcakes. The even shape of his short nails gave his messy, anxious mind something to focus on. Roman had been cheerfully filing them yesterday after Virgil had refused him access to his bitten ones. Trying to breathe evenly, he rubbed his thumb over the back of the pale fingers rhythmically.

“Patton, would you be averse to a conversation about your constitution instead of my own? There is a … a concern I wish to address - if you would be amenable to do so. Of course, should you prefer to converse with Virgil or Roman about the topic, or not at all, I will not push you. I may not be the right person to offer an insight into emotional matters.” He rambled. He just couldn’t seem to stop showering Patton with his winding sentences and formal language even though he knew the distancing speech patterns were the exact opposite of what his friend probably needed right now.

A moment of silence made the detective’s worry skyrocket once again. Had he pushed too hard?

“What do you want to know?” Patton finally asked softly, adding “I’m fine. Honestly.”

Logan dared to risk a glance up at the baker’s lovely face, worried he had already backed him into a corner and made him defensive like both Virgil and Remy had warned him of.

‘You do come across a little strong sometimes, ya know, sweets? He trusts you. Just let your, like, nerdy, stiff charm do the work and make him feel, like, safe or whatever.’

Safe. He usually had no trouble offering safety to Patton except for the cases when he appeared to be the problem. How did he make him feel safe from himself when he didn’t even know what he had done? Virgil had noticed the issue as well. He had been so kind and respectful when voicing his own worries over Patton’s fear. He hadn’t been willing to place the blame on Logan’s shoulders, though.

‘I got that way too, sometimes.’ He had confessed. ‘Something in my head is messed up and then anything could set me off. Still does, sometimes.’

Tesla, Logan was grateful he had Remy to help Virgil deal with those issues. He couldn’t bear the thought of his little delinquent being left alone with his wounds. Unfortunately, Patton had no such professional help, so it fell to him to try.

“Are you comfortable here?”

Again, something about the way Patton made himself so accepting and approachable made Logan spill his thoughts without reflection. If the pâtissier wanted, he could play him like an instrument.

Patton stilled, looking startled. He pulled his shoulders up, immediately looking small and insecure.

“O-of course! Did I do something to make you think I’m not? I’m so sorry if I seemed ungrateful or made you antsy. I really didn’t want you to worry! You do so much for me and I’m very thankful! Everything you do is amazing and I couldn’t be happier! I’m really sorry for looking selfish! You really don’t need to do even more! I just- you can just ignore me and – and if there’s anything I can do to help or- or make you more comfortable-”

“Patton, please wait!” Logan begged, confused about the change that had come over their conversation. How had they come from his question to Patton thinking he was selfish for making Logan worry?

“I’m afraid I am not following. Please allow me to clarify. I am very pleased to have you with us. My worry is a result of my affection for you and does not inconvenience anyone in the slightest. You have no reason to apologize for being cared about. And you have never seemed ungrateful or have in fact had any need to appear grateful at all. I am not certain where I failed to communicate that my question was entirely caused by my honest wish to ensure your comfort. Your possible unhappiness is no reason to apologize at all. Your feelings are… what is the correct terminology? Your feelings are – valid, I believe. And I merely – I wish to ensure your happiness. I feel I have failed you in some way and I am not blaming you for it. Please, help me fix it.” He begged softly.

Patton seemed to need a moment to follow his long sinuous speech. Still, he tried to reassure him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Logan! It’s all good. Please don’t ever worry about me! I’m happy! I’m always happy!” He claimed, bravely trying to smile at the detective.

Logan’s shoulders fell upon realizing that they were back to Patton pretending he wasn’t hurting. He always had a hard time figuring out the right path to take when his friend refused to cooperate. He knew his claim to be false, but how could he make him confess to it? He was fairly certain an interrogation was the wrong path to take. It would only frighten and isolate Patton, but even using the wrong tone – something he was very prone to – could cause the same effect. Stress made his heart race irritatingly. This was not in any way close to his comfort zone.

While he groped around for words – or tried not to use too many at once – Patton watched him with the attention of a small creature waiting for the chance to escape a predator. He didn’t miss the disheartened look.

Logan looked very lost and overwhelmed, suddenly. Patton had only meant to reassure him! Trevor had always been the most easy to handle when Patton had made sure his boyfriend didn’t have to deal with his annoying feelings of loneliness or fear or the issues he wanted to discuss. Taking the problems from him had been safest. Logan however, clearly had hoped for a different outcome.

Because he was Logan, of course.

As Patton waited for signs of aggression or annoyance, the understanding of his own actions dawned on him: With Trevor, fights had come over them like the tides. There had been a certain rhythm to it, to the dissatisfaction, the feeling of insignificance, the unintentional insult that caused the tension to erupt and crash over Patton. He had been waiting for the same thing to happen. Every episode after a fight had been filled with regret and roses and vows to do better. The time of reconciliation and wooing Patton had always, always followed a fight and had also always given way to apparent peace before the slow building of new anger. He’d learned to read the signs and brace himself and he had been doing the very same thing to his friends: To him, the way Virgil kicked Roman for trying to steal food; the passionate ranting between him and Logan; the demanding, loud complaining of Roman; and especially the frightening lectures Logan gave in return. They were all signs of a culmination of fury that would inevitably and painfully blow up.

They weren’t, though, and consciously, Patton knew this.

Roman was always this way. Ever since they had met, he had been insulted easily and claimed the world was treating him with terrible injustice or he’d tried to rile Logan up with his overwhelming physical contact.

Even since Virgil had come into his life, he had been dark and brooding and easily enraged by some political decision or economical problem and he’d always had been quick to retaliate against Roman’s attempts at closeness with playful, minor violence like a hiss, or a scratch, or an elbow to the ribs, that brought them into contact.

And Logan… Logan had always, always been an obsessive, stubborn man with a need for order and a habit for lecturing and ordering Roman around. He had always glared at him and threatened to have him adopted or make him eat, or grabbed him by the back of the neck or generally complained moodily about any and all messes.

None of those things had changed; neither of those moody, loud men had ever tried to be anything else. They had never been better than they were now and they also had never been worse. There was no hidden pattern to their behavior. Their coexistence wasn’t any different than it had been a day, or a week, or a month ago. Patton was just expecting it to be. He simply noticed the little arguments more, feared the consequences of the wailing more, and expected Roman and Logan to turn on Virgil for being an aggressive little thing.

None of their interactions were as malevolent as Patton had come to conceive them to be, now that he considered them through a more objective lens. Virgil might swipe at Roman and tell him he was a greedy oaf, but he blushed when he looked up at him and was so clearly flustered by the effect of the other man that he didn’t know how else to interact with him, lest he see his vulnerability. Though he tried to push and shove at him, he actually sought contact with the excuse of his physical arguments.

Roman on the other hand wasn’t fooled for a second. He kept goading and tempting Virgil to engage in their little play-fights with him to invite him closer. Sometimes they would argue until they laughed; sometimes Virgil would howl in frustration and tackle Roman onto the couch where they would both roll around until the young man’s nervous energy was spent and he would become soft and tired.

Neither was ever truly angry.

And Logan… his tone when he condemned the latest immigration bill was passionate and frustrated and it frightened Patton. He remembered the cold grip of sudden fear as the detective had leaned over Virgil’s shoulder to read an article he had shown him. His flare of annoyance had been directed at congress, but Patton had seen Virgil – his hurt, beloved kiddo – sitting so close and so easily harmed. He just couldn’t not be afraid for him when tempers flared. But Logan hadn’t been mad at Virgil and the barista hadn’t felt threatened. His arguments had supported the older man’s. They had both ranted at the same thing, united in their feelings, comfortable in their shared views. Yet Patton’s emotions had only reacted to raised voices in the room.

When had Patton lost the ability to see past the dynamic this group had always shared? It was like he was too close, too emotionally involved to see past the immediate flares of moods and tones and failed to see what had always been glaringly obvious before.

These men loved each other.

Virgil was so enamored with Roman, he seemed utterly overwhelmed. Roman simply melted at any little bit of affection he was given. In any of their harmless fights, his eyes shone with joy. Whenever Logan complained about his partner’s habits and behavior and untidiness, the dramatic detective seemed more at ease than before, knowing his friend was focused entirely on him. He preened and played and put on a show, knowing he was being paid attention to and looked after. And Logan and Virgil… had he ever really been given reason to fear? Though Logan was plenty grumpy with Roman, who was plenty intentionally annoying with him, he was never even curt with Virgil. Every interaction between them was respectful and even affectionate. Logan always spoke to him with that soft, that polite, articulate gentleness that was so special about him. His hands would find their way into Virgil’s hair every morning to groom him, since the young man apparently refused to use a hairbrush. He would ask about his day and encourage the young man to pursue his interests. Every meal the barista made was complimented earnestly and every contribution to a conversation was listened to. Those two were comfortable with each other in a silent, calm way Patton didn’t really have anything to compare it to. They would just sit next to each other and read and still feel like they were enjoying each other’s company.

And of course, the most prominent flaw in Patton’s belief that he had to expect to be hurt, was the fact that neither of them treated him anything like they treated each other.

Virgil was soft with him. He handed him the kitten and chatted with him more than he probably would with anyone else. He watched him with dark, worried eyes and sought contact with the wish to reassure Patton. He even offered to talk, despite not enjoying emotional conversations.

Roman was very open about his affection for Patton; he liked to hug him every day, style his hair and even pick him up to twirl him around and kiss his face. His smiles were always filled with joy when he saw him. The young detective was like an overexcited puppy with him, loving his attention and wanting everything Patton had to give.

Logan was especially kind to him, actually. His touches were the most respectful he had ever been treated with. When his hands touched his back to guide him out of a dancing Roman’s way or when he would gently tap his elbow to get his attention, Patton would even describe the contact as tender. His eyes were always warm when he looked at him and his hugs… the little pâtissier was hit hard with longing. He hadn’t hugged Logan in so long, just because his expectations had made him see ghosts in every shadow. His friend must have felt so abandoned. He knew Logan had trouble reading a room or understanding certain signals, but there was no way he had missed the distance Patton had created between them.

This was what he had meant with his question.

“Oh Logan, I’m so sorry!” Patton cried out, knowing full well his sudden mood swing would terribly unsettle Logan.

Seeing the man clearly now that he was actually looking, he realized how much he wanted to be with Logan again. He had lived next to him and had protected himself from the idea of him, based on the things that he had learned Trevor would do; but he hadn’t really connected to him in the last couple of weeks. His own illusions had cost him Logan’s comfort, causing him to be more shaken and saddened, which had made his fears worse.

He was such an idiot. So much misery, for nothing.

Blessedly, a bewildered looking Logan hesitantly opened his arms with a look on his face that clearly stated he had no idea if his offer was appropriate or not. Patton dove in.

A shuddering breath made him shake.

Another made him hiccup.

Logan seemed to react on muscle memory and wrapped steadying arms around the narrow body, squishing him to his chest and almost settling him in his lap. His hugs were never casual. He pulled Patton in tight and buried his face in his hair, seeming to envelop him entirely. Logan was taller than the baker, making it easy for Patton to wrestle his glasses off half heartedly and nuzzle into Logan’s shoulder. Warm darkness deprived Patton of sights, sounds and the sensations of the outside world. He was completely wrapped up in a living, breathing hold. Squeezing his eyes shut, Patton focused on the chest he pressed his forehead against, the rising and falling, the smell of freshly washed fabric. He wished Logan was wearing the dark blue, fluffy wool sweated he had pulled on yesterday. The one Roman had promptly snuggled against it, demanding his head to be rubbed. He actually wanted that too.

Hoping for the same affectionate treatment, the smaller man rubbed his cheek against the shirt. The hand that tentatively buried itself in the lush curls made all tension flow from his softer body. Patton sagged against Logan and sighed deeply, a pleasurable shiver running down his spine. It felt like stepping under the hot spray of the shower on a cold winter day. He couldn’t get enough. The telltale sensation of Logan searching for words and shyly breaking off before he had formed them made affection course through Patton. It made him want to shake his hands in the air and hop up and down on his toes. He was giddy with it.

“Um… would you, perhaps – for the sake of ensuring your comfort - like to lay down, Patton? Not to attempt any inappropriate activities of course! I am only proposing to change to a reclining position since Roman and Virgil appeared to be comforted by a prolonged-”

“Yes, please!” Patton chirped, immediately enamored by the idea. He was clutching onto Logan’s back so hard, the other had to be uncomfortable. He couldn’t seem to get close enough. Everything else was overwhelming, with too much light and too much noise. He wanted to curl up and be held, he wanted to be protected and hidden and he wanted Logan. Before he knew it, his friend had awkwardly maneuvered him onto the bed while trying to pull off his stiff uniform jacket at the same time. The moment his head hit the pillow, Patton was ready to disappear in this man’s arms. He shuffled as close as he could and felt so, so safe. Despite his sudden fear of the world around him, every breath brought him closer to tranquility. As long as he could stay in this position, petted and hidden and held just right, he could put himself back together.

Weariness washed over him and made his limbs heavy. His constant fear had exhausted him so. A deep breath felt weighted by worry and stress, and fell away as he breathed out, relaxing more and more with every exhale.

Logan, steady and patient and solid, held onto him and evenly stroked his head. Patton knew without looking that the detective had closed his eyes. His limbs were relaxing against his waist too, becoming heavy with relief. He seemed to understand there was no space for words for once.

Both men fell into a light doze and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Patton woke hours later to the dim, respectful light of the planet nightlights. Nugget had woken him with a harrumphing mewl. It flinched in its sleep and paddled its paws before falling into a snoring doze once again. Both the little kitten and the rat had settled down above his head on the pillow. Logan was still deeply asleep, soft and unguarded. His hair was spread over the pillow on one side and his glasses were squished over his face. Gently, Patton untangled a hand and pulled them off. Had he been any less sleepy, he wouldn’t have dared to just reach out this way, but as he pulled the frame off, Logan simply grumbled in his sleep and nuzzled back into the pillow. His arm hung limp over the slender figure curled close, entirely unthreatening. Very slowly, Patton settled back down and looked up at the sleeping man. The lights seemed to soften his severe features. Seeing him this vulnerable, Patton felt so, so much. His heart was so full, he could barely contain it. He was safe here with this man who’d never asked for anything but his trust and friendship, and he knew, despite the worry he had caused, that Logan would forgive him. He had forgotten all of this, and he feared his silly head might forget again, but even if he knew it or not, he wouldn’t be hurt or pushed away. He was home.

With the tiredness of his emotional turmoil still heavy in his bones, Patton fell asleep again before he could consider leaving.

****************************************

So this is where the boys are taking me. Interesting. I hope I’ll have the next chapter up sooner for you. It jumped me with some Logan angst, the bugger. Then, we will get where I actually wanted to go with the fancy uniforms!

ART:

We got art!!!!!! So excited I LOVE LOVE LOVE getting art!!!!!!! This lovely piece was made by my dearest @olcia46 (wonderful, beautiful human) and is utter gorgeous!!!!

Then @ravenclawunicorn1 created this amazing calligraphy of the title which I am utterly crazy about!!!!! I wanted to use it as a new header, but it turned out a little big. I am so awes by it, though. I’ll have to look as it a bunch more!

Not strictly art but super duper helpful for any readers who enjoy a visual: The comparison of the Sides’ heights in KHS (along with a post about their ages and such. Thank you @violetblossem

Next Chapter

#Sanders Sides #Logicality #Prinxiety #patton sander #Logan Sanders #Detective AU #Keep him safe #my writing #Eva writes

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retro-rezz-the-est · 6 years ago

Text

The Right Alpha (Drew/Reader/Roman A/B/O smut)

Summary: Just some lovely threesome action with our favorite Samoan and our thicc Scottish bastard (so just pretend that Ro is still on RAW lmao).

Word Count: 6,464 ^^;

Warnings: mentions of a dickbag ex-boyfriend in the beginning, semi-public sex, Drew being a tad bit of a little shit (bc that’s a warning on its own lol), possessiveness, biting/marking, anal and I think that’s it??? Correct me if i’m wrong lmao. Also, this is my first time writing anything AU themed, so feedback is appreciated! :)

(A/N: Here it is, y’all! I’m so sorry this took so long to get out. My brain was just in 1000 different places at once lol. Thank you all so so so so much for 400+ followers, and I can’t tell you all how much I love and appreciate every single last one of you <3. Here’s to 500 and more threesome fic action!)

(Y/n): your name

“Oh, come on!”

“We said no, (Y/n), and that’s final,” Ember chastised you from her seat nearby, her golden irises seeming to flare when the Scot’s name came out of your mouth.

Your eyes went to slits as you turned your head to face her, pulling your leg out from underneath you to let Roman lace up your ring boots. “Well, why don’t you guys like him? He hasn’t done anything to me.”

“Exactly, small fry. He hasn’t,” the Samoan said. “Yet.”

Groaning, you hopped off of the supply crate you sat on and leaned up against the back wall. They never did seem to like seeing anyone get close to you, especially after the whole situation with your asshole of an ex-boyfriend.

You could still hear all of the names he called you, how he kept you away from Ember and Ro for long periods of time, and how he tried to make you wear that fucking collar that read “Omega Bitch” on it…

After that whole fiasco (and after you had to physically pull Ember off of him for cheating on you with some unmated girl he picked up from a bar), they were there to keep you stable and well.

And away from any and all potential partners.

“But, Drew’s different, I think. He seems like a sweet guy.”

The fiery haired woman scoffed, replying, “Yeah, a ‘sweet guy’ who has a record of bagging and shagging Omegas for a quick fuck and then leaving them the very next night for a new score.”

“She’s got a point, (Y/n). Literally everyone on the damn roster knows about his record,” Ro added, coming up to your side and wrapping his arm around your waist. “We just want to protect you after what happened last time.”

“Oh, really? Is that why you always step up to him whenever he gets 10 feet away from me?

Pulling you closer, he rested his chin on top of your head and chuckled, feeling you try to shove him away.

“You know, just because you two are Alphas-”

“And your best friends…”

“-doesn’t mean that you have to shield me from virtually everyone who comes in my path,” you continued, rolling your eyes at her intrusion. “Besides, my true mate is out there somewhere. Are you guys just gonna shield me from them too?”

You felt Roman move away from you just as you saw Ember rise from her own seat.

“Of course not, girl,” she answered, bumping her forehead against yours. “But, it’s just not gonna be him. Believe me, I know these things.”

The three of you shared a laugh and you could feel their unique scents wrap around you. As comforting as it was, you could still feel Roman’s eyes lock onto the back of your head with a strange firmness, almost as if he didn’t want to look away…

“Anyway, you still have to get dressed and prepped for our tag match tonight, Moon, so I suggest you go do that.”

Placing your hands on her shoulders, you turned her around and lightly pushed her in the direction of the women’s locker room, gaining another soft chuckle from her.

“I suppose I have to. Don’t wanna go out to the ring in my sweats,” she commented, letting out a dramatic sigh and walking away.

Placing his forehead to yours, you felt him give you another quick squeeze before letting go. “Kick some Riott Squad ass out there, ya heard?”

“Aye, captain.”

You gave him a mock salute and waved as he too walked off, leaving you alone in the large hallway as echoes of the ongoing Universe bounced off the concrete walls. Pivoting on your heel, you grabbed your leather jacket from the crate behind you and sauntered off, unaware of the large Scotsman’s presence nearby.

A few minutes had passed of you walking over to the stage area to mentally prepare yourself for your match until a whiff of strong whiskey, leather and amber swept itself under your nose.

Oh, fuck me…

“Well, hello there, leannan.” (sweetheart)

You felt the hairs on your arm rise as you slowly turned around to face the large Scot, his feet falling heavily on the ground as he stalked towards you.

“H-Hey there, Drew,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “W-What are you d-doing here?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear ya talkin’ ‘bout me with your two… friends… a little while ago and I saw ya gettin’ a little bit flustered,” he said as he continued to walk towards you with a smirk on your face, your feet propelling your body to move backwards.

This dance continued for a quick moment of silence before your back hit a nearby wall and he placed his hands on said wall to keep you there, trapped and in place for him.

Alone.

“You can feel it too, right, lass? Tell me ya can.”

Oh crap, crap, fuck, you thought as you felt his scent cover you like a warm duvet. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded and you mewled, lolling your head to the side.

A deep rumble shook his chest as he took in the sight of the unbitten nape of your neck. “Ah, so you’re unclaimed as well? I can change that one for ya, gaol.” (love)

His body pressed against yours next to the stage area, taking one hand to hold your head and the other to grip your waist. Leaning down, he rested his head in the crook of your neck and took in heavy whiffs of your own lavender, honey and cherry scent.

Should I tell him? Oh god, if I do then Roman will actually kill him. Especially Ember, your mind ran at a million miles an hour when he brushed his nose against the sensitive spot underneath your chin and you sighed contently.

Drew’s hand on your waist began to drift skyward and held you tighter, as if you were going to drift away if he let go. He chuckled and you felt it even through the layers of your ring gear, and you could slowly feel yourself drifting further and further into his touch…

“McIntyre! You get your grimy paws off her right the fuck now!”

Oh shit.

The two of you quickly departed when Ember roared. Her hair began to glow as brightly as her eyes did in that moment, and you swore you could see her teeth get sharp and her nails grow.

“I am so dead,” you murmured to yourself as she booked it over to the two of you at full speed, nearly colliding with the Scottish man when she stopped.

Going toe-to-toe with him, she growled, “If you ever, ever, ever, put your filthy hands on my friend again, I swear on everything that I’ll rip your balls off.”

She scoffed, stepping back to eye him up and down. “And trying to claim her when she’s clearly not your mate? Now that’s just pathetic, even for you, Drew.”

That’s because he is! you mentally screamed at her as she shoved her hand between the two of you and shoved, pulling you away from the wall.

She tugged you towards the stage area and you willingly went with her, despite all of your nerves and inner thoughts telling you otherwise. “Come on, (Y/n). Our match is just about to go on.”

Glancing back at Drew, you frowned a little, seeing his slightly hurt expression and how Ember’s nails left a slight mark on his chest. You sighed, placing a smile on your face anyways and letting Ember lead you two out as her theme began to play overhead.

Getting the win felt good, but pinning Ruby felt even better.

The adrenaline had your blood pumping and had you energized for exactly the length of time it took for you and Ember to get from the ring and back to backstage before everything just left you feeling almost jet lagged.

Walking back into the large hallway, you locked eyes with a solemn McIntyre standing nearby and apparently, the woman next to you had clearly noticed. She bared her teeth and gnashed them at him, making you flinch and grab her wrist to hold her back.

You sped off, towing the female Alpha behind you and occasionally looked back to catch his eyes but just missing him as his own theme started to play. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, walked through the curtain and oh shit he forgot about him.

Staring daggers at him from inside the ring was a very determined looking Roman Reigns, shoulders squared and all. Drew walked down to the ring eyeing him right back, shucking off his jacket and tossing it into the timekeeper’s area.

He stepped over the ropes and made his slightly shaking hands into fists, feeling his heart race and hearing the bell go off to signal the start of the match. The two of them rushed at each other and grappled for a second, Roman managing to get his head in the crook of his arm.

The match seemed to speed up as Drew was able to corner him against one of the turnbuckles. An odd look that appeared on his face was soon replaced with one of sheer anger when Roman smelled the air around him. Even with the Scot’s hand pressing his face into the ringpost, he still managed to catch a whiff of something familiar…

His Alpha instincts screamed confusion and upset and protect as he felt his eyes dilate. Throwing his elbow into the other man’s chest, he was able to shove him back far enough so he could grip his chin.

“Why do you smell like her, huh?!” he yelled, teeth beginning to extend. “What the hell did you do to her?!”

Confused, Drew thought, Wait, he picked up her scent as well? I thought only true mates cou-

His train of thought was interrupted with an abrupt shove and a rapid clothesline by Roman, making him fall to the ring mat. Standing on shaky legs, he didn’t even see his opponent hit him with his iconic Spear and go for the pin. The match was then over before he could even blink.

The ref raised Roman’s arm in victory before he tore it away in favor of kneeling down to face the fallen Scot. Moving to his ear, he whispered, “Don’t you even think about touching her again, McIntyre. I’m warning you now.”

He got up just as quickly and rolled out of the ring, stalking straight up the ramp and backstage without any hesitation. Roaming the hallways, he finally found his destination and banged on the door.

“(Y/n), open up! We need to talk now!”

“Gimme a second, Ro! I’m almost done packing my stuff!” you threw back, zipping up your duffel bag and hoisting the strap onto your shoulder.

Sitting on a nearby bench, Sasha lifted her head and raised her eyebrows at the Alpha’s insistent door knocking.

“What’s his deal, sis?”

A nervous chuckle suddenly leapt from you as you rubbed the back of your neck. “Well, actually…”

Another loud bang came from the door, startling the hell out of you both. Letting out a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding in, you shakily made your way to the door and opened it, seeing an angry Roman fresh out of his match.

Sasha slipped in behind you and looked up, seeing how straight-faced he was before letting out an “I’ll see you later, (Y/n)” and leaving the locker room. As the violet haired woman’s figure turned the corner, he gripped your forearm and shoved you back through the door.

Quickly locking it behind him, he turned back to you rather slowly, giving you time to access him. His hands were clenched into fists, a vein was faintly popping out of his neck and his breathing was very rugged.

“Why did Drew smell like you tonight?”

A pin could drop and you would hear it from how quiet the space had gotten, a light hum from the lights above and his own breathing being the only noises heard. “Is there something you want to tell me, (Y/n)?”

You placed your duffel back onto the bench behind you and looked down, folding your hands together. “Well… he may have kinda… cornered me… in the hall before my match?”

“He what?!” Roman roared, making you take a few steps back.

“But, Ember was there to get him away from me and set him in his place… but not before he scented me.”

That seemed to hit him harder than anything as the two of you went quiet again for a heartbeat more. It was enough for his eyes to dilate a lot more and for him to steadily make his way to you.

Just like with Drew, you soon found yourself chest to chest with a hulking Alpha against the wall nearest to you, panting slightly with anticipation as your own eyes grew wide and the Omega in you screamed for him.

Wait, what? you asked your brain, confused as to why he had the same effect on you as Drew did. This has never happened before.

Well, he’s never been this protective over you. Not since…

Your mind shot a blank when you felt his wet hair brush against your skin, igniting metaphorical sparks as he moved his head. He held your biceps in his large hands and just like Drew, he placed his head in the crook of your neck and sighed.

Deciding to savor this moment of privacy yourself, you rested your head on his, feeling him run his jaw up and down your exposed neck. Instantly, you were hit with a wave of him; a feeling of calm and familiar rolled over your body and you smiled.

But this was different. This was something… more…

As the Alpha’s usual coconut, sandalwood and ocean breeze scent filled your lungs, your mind drifted to images and dreams of you two lounging on a beach somewhere in each other’s arms, laughing at nothing while you sip a strawberry daiquiri as the sun set on a clear sky…

No… it couldn’t be… you couldn’t have…

Could you?

Was this even possible?

You let out a squeak as he got even closer, the hardness of his vest pressing you harder against the wall. Hands already placed on his shoulders, you felt his chest rumble with a faint delight when you responded to his touches.

As quickly as the image popped into your head, it seemed to fade just as fast when he let you go and made you exhale from the long contact. He gently took your chin in his hand and raised your head to look at him, staring you square in the eye.

“I don’t want you smelling like him anymore, (Y/n),” he uttered, his eyes dilating back to normal and going soft. “If he tries that shit again, you come to me, ok?”

Without waiting for your response, he strode over to the door, unlocked it and made his exit, leaving you stunned and your body wanting all at the same time.

What the hell am I gonna do?

For the next week, Roman wouldn’t leave your side, not even for a second. Even Ember started to notice the near possessiveness the hulking Alpha was demonstrating and quite frankly, it freaked the hell out of her.

Hell, he even had the nerve to walk you down the ramp and accompany you to your rematch against Ruby dressed like a damn bouncer that following Monday, despite you continuously telling him not to. As the bell rang and the two of you went after each other, you could still feel his piercing gaze watch every move you made.

Everything was going well for you so far. You had managed to get Ruby’s shoulder’s down for the pin, and the ref’s hand was slamming down on the mat.

You waited for the three-count, but it never came because of the sound of blaring bagpipes that was Drew’s theme. Glancing towards the ring gave you the vision of a very pissed off Scottish Alpha who was currently focused on one Roman Reigns.

What the hell is he doing here? you mused, hefting yourself off of the Riott Squad member. Moving your gaze to them, you saw that they were engaged in a heated argument, standing face to face with fingers being pointed. One thing led to another and soon enough, both men were throwing fists in each other’s faces.

“What the hell are you two doing?! Stop!” you screamed at them, hoping that they’d hear you.

But they didn’t.

You didn’t see Ruby get off her back, and you certainly didn’t see the incoming kick she landed on the back of your neck. With you dazed, she quickly hit you with a roll-up and caught the three-count.

Her theme stated to play as she rolled out of the ring and rushed up the ramp, not wanting to see the outcome of your situation. As it stopped, you were left kneeling in the ring, shocked and tugging at the ends of your hair.

Small tears welled up in the corner of your eyes as you eyed the two men at ringside. Your wolf screamed anger and hurt, and you just wanted to get away from those two bastards. You got yourself up and stepped out of the ring ropes just in time to shove past both of them to walk backstage.

What was all that about? Do they know about… that already? Am I completely and utterly screwed. Do they know that I have to choose?

Every step towards the women’s locker room felt like a solid punch to your heart as thoughts kept raging in your mind, keeping you on your toes when you turned a corner.

“(Y/n)!”

Shit.

You stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the hallway, silently cursing that there was no one around who could help you. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed on the walls and headed in your direction, but you couldn’t move yourself to look at them.

“Shit, small fry, we didn’t mean to-”

“‘M sorry this màthair (motherfucker) wasn’t-”

Their barrage of word vomit made you pivot on your heel, and you could feel your eyes begin to glow brighter and dilate more.

“Will the both of you please shut the fuck up?!”

And that line did it for them.

Sighing, you dropped your head into the palm of your hand and took a deep breath. No need to lose your shit over this, (Y/n). Just calm down.

“Ro,” you resumed, “i know you care about me and I know you want to protect me, but you don’t have to hover around my shoulder 24/7! I need space to breathe, you know.”

Turning to the Scot, you pointed a finger at him and said, “And you, Drew, you don’t have to step up to my friends just because they want what’s best for me. You have to see that. Now, can you both please tell me what’s wrong without killing each other in the process?”

Both men’s heads spun to the side to face the other, teeth bared and hands at the ready.

“I don’t want him fucking touching my mate!” they both roared at the same time.

Boom.

…

The lack of sound was deafening when you asked, “...your what? Roman, how long have you known?”

“Ever since you came to me with Ember after the situation with your ex,” the Samoan in front of you answered, shoving his hair back and glancing back at you. “That’s why I didn’t want you to get close with the Scot.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit and you know it, Reigns!”

“What did you say to me?” he demanded, pressing up against the other Alpha.

“I said it’s bullshit,” he smirked, looking down at him. “I’ve locked onto her scent for months now. I had a feelin’ about it, and I confirmed that last week.”

“So you cornered her to prove your damn point? Is that why I smelled her on you during our match last week?!”

They both turned to face you, making you shudder under their intense gazes. Drew gestured to you, saying, “Maybe we should let the lady decide for herself.”

What?

“So, lass, which one of us is tellin’ the truth?”

You wanted to shrink down into your skin in that moment. You had to tell them. It was the moment of truth.

But… would they accept it?

“Um… here’s the thing…” you started, gingerly holding the back of your neck. “I haven’t been the most… honest… person with you two either.”

Roman crossed his arms, confused. “What do you mean, (Y/n)?”

“Well, both of you seem to draw the same reaction out of me, since you both had scented me last week, so I think that you both are my mates.”

As you finished, you let out a soft nervous giggle, but the two Alphas in front of you weren’t laughing. The aura in the hall felt like all the air was sucked out of it in that one moment, the tension being so thick that you could cut it with a butter knife if you could.

After what seemed like hours of nothing being said, Roman piped up. “Why didn’t you say anything, small fry?”

“Are you kidding me?! You two try to murder each other on a weekly basis, so imagine what would’ve happened if I told you, or you for that matter,” you countered, looking back at Drew, “that your rival was also my mate.”

“She’s got a point there,” he pointed out.

“Shut up, asshole.”

You uttered, “This is exactly what I was talking about. We can’t even have a decent conversation without you two throwing jabs at each other.”

“How does this even work, (Y/n)?” Roman questioned, his eyes softening.

You shrugged as you placed your hands on your hips. “I don’t know the fucking biology of being an Omega. All I know is that you two are my mates and that I get super turned on when I’m around you.”

Oh fuck, I didn’t mean to say that, you thought, cursing the Omega in you wanting to jump their bones. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to keep more inner thoughts from coming out, but it was already too late.

Both men raised a brow at the comment, Drew chuckling at your newfound embarrassment.

“So what you’re sayin’ is…. is that you’re turned on right now?”

Don’t nod, don’t nod, don’t do fucking anything.

But, your brain and your nerves had other plans for the night as you nodded in agreement. He walked the short distance to you and cupped your jaw, drawing you to face his eyes. The Scot noticed how you weren’t fighting him off and he chuckled at your submission.

“That’s good, then.”

And with that, he drew you up to his waiting mouth and planted a hard kiss to your own, leaving you weak in the knees. His lips claimed yours in a heated dance that left you wanting - no, craving - more.

You couldn’t help but trail after his mouth when he slowly pulled away, leaving more than an ache between your thighs. Roman growled, stepping forward to handle him himself but you thrusted your arm out, holding him back.

“Leave him, Ro,” you told him, trying to keep your own body up on your shaky legs. “I’m fine.”

“You heard the caileag (girl), Reigns. She’s into it.” A lewd grin slid onto his face when you voiced your approval. His hands continued their path from his sides and onto your body, gripping your hips and moving you closer.

A minute passed before you asked, “So, what do we do now?”

“Well,” Drew spoke, his voice dripping faintly with lust, “I say we take our activities somewhere more… private.”

You shivered, seeing his teeth grow and feeling his scent start to seep into your skin. You were momentarily snapped out of your drifting by Roman, who cleared his throat.

“Is this ok with you, (Y/n)? I don’t want him trying to force you to do anything,” he said, maneuvering himself behind you and running his palms up and down your arms.

You mock him, “Is this ok with me? Have you ever seen the two of you? Of course I’m good with this.”

Drew roared with laughter, hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Where should we take this now, (Y/n)?”

“I feel like I’ll explode if I have to wait any longer and frankly, I don’t think you can wait either,” you chided as you ground down against both of their bulges, making them groan.

“Alright, then. So let’s just continue it here.”

Wait, what?

As soon as you opened your mouth, Drew slammed his lips back onto yours, claiming them as his once again. His tongue slipped in-between your lips to entangle itself with your own as Roman began to pepper kisses along the back and down your neck. The Samoan then bit down harshly, pulling a moan from you as he sucked a dark mark into the skin.

Surprisingly, through the feeling of getting drunk off of two Alphas trying to get in your pants, your logistical side kicked in.

Wrenching your lips from the man in front of you, you wondered, “Wait a minute, what if someone sees us?”

“They won’t. We’ll make sure of it.”

Roman’s voice piped up from behind you, his hands moving to your hips and switching their place with the Scot’s. He continued to place love bites on the column of your neck while Drew’s lips left your own and began to trail down your jaw.

Planting a final bite to your bottom lip, he moved down to the side of your neck that Roman hadn’t marked up yet and setting down his own claims on you. Your skin was ablaze with a burning need for something to happen, and you guys had just started.

You wanted them to bite you, mark you. Show the whole world that you had been blessed with two burly Alpha males.

Tilting your head back, you whined and pressed Drew’s head into your skin to voice what you couldn’t say. His chest rumbled with a caged laughter, slightly humbled by your enthusiasm.

“We’ll get to that soon, nighean bheag (baby girl). Just be patient.”

His mouth trailed from down your neck and hit the top of your chest, licking and biting at any patch of skin he could reach. He reached up to cup your breast, fondling it briefly before pulling down your ring top and eyeing your hardened nipple. He sucked it into his mouth and made you tug on his hair, holding his head still while Roman reached into your top to massage the other one.

The two men seemed to work together in a weird way you hadn’t seen before as when Drew finished working on one of your nipples, Roman would move on to pinch and tug at it when he moved to the other. It made your lower belly go warm and made you smile a little.

As he continued to make his way down, Ro made it his effort to keep you entertained up top with him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Omega,” he murmured before softly placing his lips on yours. “I can smell your needy pussy from up here. But, I’m gonna let him have a taste first.”

You felt your face grow warm and chose to focus your vision on the wall behind Drew, but they both weren’t having that tonight.

A sharp pinch on your thigh through your fishnets brought your attention back to the man who was currently on his knees in front of you. “Ya better not be spacing out on us, leannan. We need you t’ see how ready you are for us.”

His accent was muddy with lust as he gripped the sides of your ring shirts and pulled them down, you toeing them off when they reached your ankles. A ripping sound followed thereafter when he put a large hole in the crotch of your tights to expose the black cotton panties you wore.

“Mmm,” he moaned, pressing his nose in the apex of your thighs and inhaling deeply, “ya smell absolutely divine, lass. We’ve barely touched ya and you’re already drippin’ wet.”

Barely? Um, the various hickies on my neck beg to differ.

You held the catty remark back just as he ran his fingers up and down where your slit was, causing you to buck your hips in his face.

“Roman, if ya wouldn’t mind…?”

He smirked, moving his rough hands to your thighs. “Gladly.”

He held them tight and spread them, hoisting you up to keep them apart. He was strong enough to hold you there - and more than likely enough to do some other things to you - and that made a shiver run down your spine.

A breeze hit your bare lower lips when Drew dragged your panties to the side and stared at your juices shining in the low light.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about. You’re soaked, (Y/n). I wonder if I just…”

The sentence trailed off into nothing as he leaned forward to lick a stripe from the bottom of your lips to the top, spreading them to circle your clit with his thumbs. A loud moan almost left you, but you placed your hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

Roman tutted at you, biting your earlobe and tugging on it. “Oh no you don’t, baby girl. You’re gonna let the entire arena know who’s making you feel this good. So, take that hand from your mouth now.”

Slowly drawing your hand away, you felt Drew blow on your clit and suck it into his mouth, suctioning his lips around the small but. This time, you didn’t try to hide the noise that you let out, your Omega side going crazy at the thought of being pleasured by your true mates.

He moved his fingertips down your labia and went straight for your hole, sliding a thick one in and groaning at your tightness. The vibrations ran from your core up and you tried to wrap your thighs around his head but Roman’s grip prevented you from doing so.

He peeked over your shoulder and groaned at the sight, rutting his hips into your ass. He saw the Scottish Alpha slide two more of his fingers into you and felt you squirm in his hold, the sight making him grow even harder. Shutting his eyes, he bent his head back and banged it against the wall behind him but not before he heard Drew call his name.

“Spread her ass, Roman. I have an idea.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis when you heard that. Even in your arousal fueled daze, you managed to choke out a moan and grind your hips down on the Scot’s fingers.

His brows furrowed, picking his head back up to face you. “This alright with you, (Y/n)?”

Oh Roman, always the protective one, you thought when you nodded, your nerves igniting at the thought.

That was all the approval Drew needed before the man behind you grasped your ass and spread your cheeks, exposing your back hole to his waiting eyes. Gliding his wet fingers from your core and to your ass made you shudder at the sudden emptiness but groan at the newfound wet feeling.

Looking up at you, a soft grin was in place of his usual cocky smirk as he kissed the exposed skin of your thighs and slid his index finger into you.

You were pretty sure that groans you two made that second were ricocheting off the walls at that point with your nails currently biting into the skin of Roman’s arms. One hand flew to the back of Drew’s head when he moved his tongue back to your clit, flicking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

The coil in your core grew tighter and tighter with each passing moment and with each finger Drew added to your ass. Three fingers later, you were trembling in Roman’s hold and willing yourself not to cum all over his face. Luckily, he withdrew his fingers just in time to sit back and watch your own slick drip down from your empty cunt and into your gaping ass.

The erotic sight made him squeeze his cock through his ring trunks, releasing a pent up moan from within him. As he rose, the sight of your wrecked form with marks covering your neck and shoulders seemed to have an effect on both men. A silent agreement between the two lead Roman to place you on the ground shakily as they removed their pants to expose their hard members to you.

Drawing your eyes from the floor, they stuck to their cocks, inches on inches of throbbing Alpha that made your legs even more shaky and your core throb with anticipation.

“So, who’s getting where, boys?” you asked, chuckling slightly with how drunk you were on both of them.

Side eyeing each other, they nodded and each grabbed one of your arms, spinning you around so that your front faced Roman and that your back hit Drew’s chest.

“I’m gonna need more of that tight ass of yours, love,” he responded, desire dripping from his tongue. He slapped your ass then, the sound bouncing off the walls and your ears. He snickered when you ground back against him as if to ask for more, but he just lifted you up and wrapped your legs around Roman instead.

“Hey there, small fry.”

The softness that had lingered in his eyes before was soon overtaken by dilated pupils when roman held onto your hips and Drew spread your cheeks to expose your hole. Both men angled themselves against you, causing your lower half to quiver, and they slowly slid into you.

You couldn’t form into words the feeling of being filled at both ends. When Drew popped into your ass, you shut your eyes and stars formed behind your lids. They both began their slow thrusting to get you warmed up, but your whimpers and whines almost made them lose their cool a few times.

“Harder, please, I need it.” Your needy Omega side was starting to come forth, and you bounced on both men as best you could to achieve that feeling.

“To hell with it,” Drew growled, slapping your ass once more before pistoning his hips into yours, beckoning Roman to do the same.

“Yes, yes!” you sobbed as they set a brutal pace, feeling their cocks rub against each other through your wall’s thin tissue. The sound of skin slapping on skin was deafening and you felt your eyes roll into the back of your head when Roman hit your spot dead-on.

Tilting your head back again, you rested it on Drew’s broad shoulder and rocked your hips forward when your Samoan started lapping at your breasts. Sweat began to drip down and off of all of you, none of you caring anymore whether someone heard you fucking or not. You felt their knots start to swell underneath you, causing you to push back harder against them. They both roared at this, each of them going back down to give your neck more hickies.

“We’re not gonna knot ya, (Y/n),” Drew panted, his voice hot and heavy in your ear. “We’ll save that for another time.”

“Yeah, a time when we’re actually in a bed,” Roman added, chuckling at your expression.

You clenched down on both of them and they groaned, holding back their own impending release for when you came. You actually weren’t that far off from them because the coil in your core seemed to snap when they looked at each other, eyes dark and teeth sharp. They looked down at your bite ridden neck and bit down harshly, piercing the skin and marking you.

That’s what did it for you.

When your slick gush onto Roman’s cock in fervish, he spilled his own load inside you as he gripped your already bruise covered hips. Drew was the last to fall over that edge, shooting his hot cum deep inside your ass and revelling in the feeling.

The three of you panted and slumped against each other in a mess of tangled limbs and sweaty bodies. The wall against Roman’s back would’ve been a blessing if he had his shirt off but for now, he’d just enjoy the moment for the time being.

A few seconds had passed of you all being connected when you said, “I don’t think I can walk for the rest of the night.”

Your cheeks were flushed to oblivion, and you felt like you were fucked six ways from Sunday. Still holding you, Roman suggested, “Maybe we should take a breather for a minute. Or five. Or fifty.”

“I like the sound of that,” the Scot agreed, nuzzling your hair and smiling. His accent was still thick but you still managed to hear everything he said.

You mind began to drift off as you felt them lap at the bonding marks they made on you. Even though your entire body ached and you were probably going to waste an entire bottle of concealer to cover up your various bruises, you couldn’t be more happy.

You continued to drink in the mixture of the warm and cool scents around you, letting it fill your lungs and enter your heart. It’s be like this every day with them, hopefully.

Your true mates.

~~Tag List: @writinglionqueen @writing-reigns @i-have-saracasm @yaint-me @calum-hoodwinked-me @missmoxy @gold--gucciempress @melinated-moon-goddess @meishaabae @luciddrreamss @neversatisfiedgirl @the-carter-mob-don @aj-mac21 @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans @finnsauroraborealis @tacoshu @ladytea19 @candicelerae @sassybrose @bambitaz @lookalivesunshine-x @liamakorn @rosequartz-ext @deepdisireslonging @flawlessglamazon @myorlandobloomersareshowing @thegoblin-maiden @justsimplevicky @taryn-dibiase @caramara3 @hardcorewwetrash~~

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#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre fanfiction #drew mcintyre fanfic #drew mcintyre smut #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #rezz writes some bullshit #sorry this took so long again lmao ^^;

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clevernewdimension · 6 years ago

Text

Unearthly Delights Part Thirteen (M)

Preview, One, Two (M), Three, Four (M), Five, Six (M), Seven (M), Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven (M), Twelve (M) , Thirteen (M), Fourteen (Coming soon!)

Genre: Drama, Smut, Action, Romance, Supernatural Creatures and Monsters AU

Pairing: JunmyeonxCharacter

Word Count: 10.3K

A/N: What happened, hm? Story shifts perspectives a bit this part. Also some more smut because yes. With two people. A different times. Double smut, double fun!

While he was once one, Minseok can’t help but think just how bizarre some humans are. It’s been so long, he’s almost forgotten what it’s like. He was born in 1888, and lived through the coming of a new century. Back then he was in France, the city of love. He was born as the classical land mark, the Eiffel tower, was being built... it’s been so long. His mother ended up there, alone with and pregnant. She had him and raised him all alone. It was hard, but she did it and she was happier than she would have been. She told him about leaving her home in order to escape an abusive husband. He was never told anything about his father other than that, she just smiled and looked out at the massive streets below. She love the city, and she made sure to talk to him in her native tongue in order to pass it along.

For the first three to four years of his life, they lived on the bare minimum. Then, suddenly, his mother found prosperous work and they started to live better. Soon, they lived in a nice house, he had a great education, and they could actually afford to do things like visit art museums, go to nice restaurants and see ballets and plays. When he turned fifteen, his mother told him way. The truth of where all the money comes from.

She was a sex worker. One that was highly sought after. She’s been doing it since before he was alive. It explains the lack of a father figure in his life, how that he thought about it. He could tell she was scared of telling him that, but his opinion of her didn’t change. It’s the world's oldest profession, after all. He love his mother with all of his heart. People who do sex work are not any less than people who don’t.

Her business was booming. People liked her ‘exotic nature’, which is weird, fetishistic and gross, but if they paid and treated her with respect, he didn’t mind as much. He was in college, studying business, trying to get a job that paid well so his mother could retire when she wanted and not have to worry about money. He had a part time job working at a store that made glass figurines. Burns and scars on his forearms still mark him to this day, though they are lighter, almost faded completely to the past.

When he was 28, about to graduate with a doctorate and applying for placed to work that greatly sought after him, he was attacked on the street. It was terrifying. Minseok was strong. He had to protect himself and his mother from clients who were stalkers and obsessed with her. He’s stronger than a lot of people, but he was nothing compared to this person. Sharp fangs piercing his neck, making him scream in agony as the person just put their hand over their mouth to muffle the noises. The feeling of the person swallowing as they drank from him, the pain that was burning into his very soul... he will never forget that night. He heard someone growling, before pulling the person away from him. He feel to the ground, looking up and seeing a man face. He looked at the person who was devouring him, before cutting his wrist and making Minseok drink.

Thus, he became a fledgling vampire. The person who changed him took the time to make sure he wouldn’t attack someone. Made sure he had self control before leaving without another word. He explained that he was a nomad, that many in their clan was. Minseok was terrified of telling his mother, who was worried sick when he came back home for the first time in two weeks. But he did. His mother was shocked at what happened, but, she still loved her son.

She passed away soon after. Cholera was going around in Europe, and it killed her with no remorse, leaving Minseok a fortune of money, art and riches, all of the things her admirers would give her. With that, he left France and went to America. For a new start.

The roaring 20’s, the market crash in the 30’s and the war in the 40’s, Minseok has lived it all. People were snide and, honestly, racist to him a lot, but he didn’t care. Then came the extermination of his clan in the 60′s. He didn’t like to think about it, but he was glad that he met Chanyeol and Kyungsoo who both helped him in the time he needed someone the most. Because of that, the three are friends for life… or as long as the wolves would live. They were young at the time, just fifteen or sixteen, still aging like humans before it slows down and lengthens their life.

Not long after that, in the year 1987, he met seventeen year old Junmyeon. The merman was a bit odd, especially when they first saw one another. Minseok was taking a night time stroll through the neighborhood, just choosing one and walking in whatever direction he wanted. In the middle of the street, in front of a large gate, stood a kid. Blood all along him, hands holding onto a wooden stake that was dripping in blood. He had a cut on his chest, deep and bleeding profusely. His eyes held the purest form of hatred Minseok has ever seen as the bodies of five vampires were all around him.

Truth be told, Minseok was scared for a moment. His eyes looked at him, “If you’re a Venture, i’ll give you three seconds to run away as fast as you can.”

Minseok, being alive for so long, was curious about this man. The name of the Venture clan made Minseok feel at ease. He understood the hatred Junmyeon was feeling. “I’m not,” He says, “I’m a vampire, but a different clan.”

He ended up healing Junmyeon’s wound, looking after him after learning about what happened. Since, they two were inseparable. Somehow, the merman drew people around him. The outcasts, the loners and the people who needed a family. Junmyeon opened a club for the sole purpose of connections in order to try and kill every last Venture. It worked, soon he was in drug rings and gun smuggling as well has had politicians in his pockets. The kind man had a dark side to him, the one that craved the revenge for his family. The one that would do anything to achieve it.

Taemin was a part of their life before going somewhere new to spread his wings as he put it. Not long after, he asked for a job for Ava.

Ava Vass. The definition of a bizarre human. She drinks, she smokes, she breaks the law and has no problem using sexual favors for personal gain. Even so, Minseok knew that deep down there are some line she doesn’t cross. For their dark twisted world, she has a good heart.She has morals, though she also acts very immorally. She was odd, and it was something that Minseok liked.

Watching her catch Junmyeon’s attention was something special, though. He’s been so obsessed with revenge that he hasn’t had the time to open himself to the possibility of any sort of romantic thoughts. That’s not to say the man celibate or anything. Quite the opposite, in fact. The merman was scared of being hurt and losing someone, so he just found sex in friends and left it there. Let his desires out with those he can trust. Not that he could blame him. Besides, Minseok has been on the giving and receiving end of his sexual frustrations and it was, truthfully, a wonderful time. Men, women, it didn’t matter for Junmyeon.

Then he saw Ava. Minseok could see it starting from a mile away. He’s known Junmyeon since the merman was a teen. She’s had a positive influence on his life even if, for anyone normal, she would be a bad influence. He started to open more to people who are not just his circle of family he made himself. The best part about it was Ava wasn’t willing to let him just ignore her like he does with anyone else who he finds even a single bit interesting. She’s in your face and knows exactly what she wants. She’s a fighter, pure and simple, molded and crafted into a person who gives zero fucks. Seeing her crack through his friend’s shell was something Minseok thought to be impossible.

Ava quickly earned his respect. Watching her throw herself headfirst in order to protect the family he’s found made him accept her as one of their own. She’s not like the rest of them, she very well could have died doing that.

After work, hearing Jongin talk a little about what his devious plan that happened was fun. The incubus knew about Junmyeon and Ava. Everyone knew, and Junmyeon was taking it slowly. But trying to speed up the process is always fun. Seeing what it would take to break Junmyeon was more so. Jongin left him after, smiling and grinning from ear to ear about how full he was made Minseok realize he should probably feed before going out into the city.

Minseok meant to leave before hand, but waited in order to feed on a healthy, unbitten feeder that was still there. It wasn’t uncommon for the feeders to be good looking. That isn’t what matters, though. What matters is the taste. People who taste the best are taken first, and so on and so on. Minseok knew by this time there would only be one left, maybe two. They all wore a tag with their blood type and what they taste like. Feeders find themselves proud of how they taste.

Minseok spots the last feeder there, looking over at the man who looked out for their safety. The man knew Minseok, knew he worked here and let him on in. A quick word of hello and it got to business. Minseok moved, perching on his lap, a leg on either side of him. He could hear the man’s heart beat quicken. No matter how many times someone is bitten it still happens. A natural reaction. Minseok smiled, liking to tease a bit before biting. He kisses and sucked on the skin, earning a few gasps. Me smirked as he bit down. His fangs pierced into his neck, gulping the hot crimson liquid down. The man below him gripped his hips, gasping as the sensation hit him quickly. The man was moaning, holding onto him as Minseok drank as much as he could. He tasted like licorice, sharp and unmistakable. Most people find it disgusting, but Minseok liked how different and unique it was. The hunger that was starting to claw at him was quickly extinguished after the first couple of gulps. The man’s shaky breathy moan in his ear going straight to his groin. There was something about a person moaning that just does something to him. A few more mouthfuls later, he licked the wound, healing it as he tastes the last of the blood. He felt stronger, ready for anything and full of energy. As he pulls away, cleaning every last drop of blood, the man was sighing, leaning back against the seat of the large arm chair they’re in. The vampire licks his lips, looking down at him as he was sitting in the human’s lap. The vampire takes notice of the very evident hard on he could feel under him, just smirking wider.

The human laughs, hair pastel pink as he was high on the buzz of being bitten. If they’re not careful, feeders can become addicted to the feeling of the bite. Some people get use to it, able to be bitten three or four times a week, but for the most part, humans should only be bitten twice a week with a few days between. Minseok made sure everything was fine, that the man was alright. He absentmindedly started flicking at one of the earrings he had, looking over him with a worried expression. His button up black shirt was hanging open as the vampire make sure he isn’t dizzy or anything.

All feeders wore the same black shirt and pants, looking very uniform. Minseok glances at him, smirking at how flushed the man was beneath him.

“I’m fine,” The human says, smiling, “I think I’m going to go find someone to fix my problem now.”

He was daring, hands on Minseok pulling him down so he he was pressed right down of exactly what the bite has done instead of softly, teasingly hovering like before. After decades of life, Minseok could easily see when someone was flirting with him. He was very wary of hooking up with feeders, though. Most of the time they just fuck and beg to be turned. This fantasy in their heads of what being a vampire is like is a ridiculous notion and Minseok hates people who don’t understand that it is also a burden. Thankfully, Junmyeon seem to know a good business, as that hasn’t happened in a while. Minseok smiles, it’s been a long time since he had a feeder that was this daring after because of it. The vampire grins, “Sorry, the older the vampire the more potent the bite.”

“Remind me to come and work here more often, then,” He says with a smile. “I’ll be back to do this again,” He says. Minseok smiled, remembering his name from the tag. Mino.

Minseok found him attractive, that was certain. He didn’t really have a type. If you’re tall and strong, that’s cool. If you’re short and smaller, that’s awesome. Men or women, human or supernatural being, Minseok doesn’t mind. Why limit yourself to one thing when you can feast on it all? It’s funny, Minseok thinks as he leans in rocking his hips a little with a small smile. The man groaned as he was grinding on his hard length, making the vampire crave something other than the man’s blood. The offer to help him out was right there, about to leave his mouth. It’s been a while since Minseok has slept with someone who wasn’t in their friend circle, after all.

Yixing’s panicked voice carried upstairs, cutting through the flirty aura that was around them. Minseok could feel the terror from him all that way up here. Mino could hear it too as he looked at the vampire. “Go,” He says, seemingly understanding. “It sounds bad.”

The vampire nods, “Come back again,” He says. The man nodded, as Minseok took one last look at him before quickly standing from the man’s lap as he moved out the door. He looked down from the stairs, seeing Ava down on one of the tables. Blood pouring from the side and dripping into the floor, the smell of chai filling his senses. Yixing was there, and Junmyeon, his eyes wide in absolute terror. Minseok quickly descended the stairs, time was of the utmost importance now as he understood the gravity of the situation that was at hand.

He knows what has to be done now. There’s not enough time for anything else, and if he doesn’t do something Ava will be gone forever. Minseok yanks Taemin back, shoving him away. The vampire knew that the demonic man spent too long being shocked to be able to turn her into one of them. She wouldn’t have the strength or the time to survive it now. He removes Junmyeon’s hands from the wound. His face is determined, doing everything he needed to. He feels his fangs sharpen as he bring it up to his wrist, stabbing it into it with quick ease. His blood starts to pour from the wound, spilling into the ground. He uses his other hand, opening Ava’s mouth. She was still awake, but likely out of it from how weak she was.

Taemin was stunned, “Minseok, you… you said-”

“And you had a chance and you let it pass. This is the only way,” Minseok growls, glaring at the incubus. Minseok pours his blood into Ava’s mouth as his eyes turned red. Mesmerising someone always felt wrong to Minseok, but hee had to do it or else. “Drink, Ava.”

Minseok watched as, with the last of her strength, she swallowed the blood. The vampire looks up seeing Junmyeon, his hands covered in blood as he looks lost as he was looking at her. The merman’s hair a complete nest as he just looks at her. Minseok feels bad for him, for his dear friend. It’s like every time he opens up, something happens. Minseok glanced at Ava, watching as her breathes stop and her eyes stare lifelessly to the ceiling. The first step is done.

Yixing was looking, his head shaking, “This will work… right?”

Minseok nodded, “Yes.” The conflicted feelings in him. He’s angry someone did this to her. He’s upset that he had to turn her or else she’d die. He’s… confused, about having someone else in his clan once again. “She’s going to be a newborn, though. She and I will, for the first week, be at my place. I still have the bunker that Chanyeol would be in before he could control himself during the full moon.” He looks at Junmyeon, “I need to take her there now. She’ll wake up in a few hours and I’m going to need that time to gather and prepare the things we need.”

“Ok,” The merman says, nodding as the door bursts open. Sehun was sprinting in, Johnny at his heels. Johnny breathing heavily as he stares at the scene before him. He looks utterly devastated at the sight, shaking his head in disbelief. Sehun, who didn’t break a sweat at all running, looked angry. His eyes took in the sights, seeing the blood all on the ground

“What the fuck,” Johnny says, moving and looking at Ava. His eyes widen, filling with tears, “She’s-”

“She’s going to be fine,” Taemin says, looking at him. He pats him on the shoulder, “She will be fine. I promise.” The incubus just pulls the young teen to him, hugging him tightly as Johnny just stared, eyes wide and full of terror.

Sehun was still. He just stared, quiet as he clenches his fists. Anyone around could feel the anger radiating off of him in this moment. He was tense, looking at Ava with red eyes. “Yixing… we need to figure out who did this,” He mutters, looking at the fae.

“I’ll prepare the time rift spell,” He says, moving and going directly into the kitchen. The fae needed to do something to feel like he’s useful after being unable to save Ava. “I have everything I need here.”

Minseok picks Ava up, holding her lip body in his arms. He looks at Sehun, “Take care of Jun.”

The shapeshifter nods, moving close to their boss.

The door is slammed open again, the two werewolves coming in. Chanyeol, living close by, was in already in a sleeveless tank and a pair of plaid pajama pants. His feet bare as it looks like he ran here. Kyungsoo liked to sometimes go and get breakfast at a diner close by after work, so he must have seen Chanyeol running here.

Chanyeol looks, seeing Minseok carrying Ava, “Is… is she?”

“She will be back,” Minseok says, “I need you two to help me. We have to watch over her when she turns. I’m going to have to get her blood bags and I can’t leave her alone.”

Kyungsoo was shocked, looking at the blood that was on the floor, dripping from Ava. “Sure…” He says, looking at her. He knows how it works, she’s technically lifeless now. He’s seen this happen before he met Minseok. She’ll wake in a little bit. Her eyes red and her hunger uncontrollable. They needed to make sure she didn’t hurt anyone, or kill someone when she woke.

Minseok just sighs, as Kyungsoo opens the door for him as they quickly get in his car. He just wanted to make sure Junmyeon didn’t see this part. He didn’t want him to see the part of the change. It would be something he would never forget in his entire life, and seeing her like that would just make his friend lock himself up emotionally again. That is, if this doesn’t. Minseok sighs, walking quickly. He just hopes he didn’t make a mistake.

Flashes pop into my mind. Like dreams, slightly blurry. Being dark, alone in a small and confined space. I remember touching, feeling wood as I scrambled in fear. In a dark place, alone. I screamed, trying to move as I was constricted. I slam my fists onto the front of the wood, hearing it crack. I screamed more, yelling for help as I slammed them again, as it cracked open and something fell on me. My mouth catching some as I taste dirt. I could feel worms crawling as I tried to move the dirt around me. I panicked as I started trying to move through the dirt, away from the wooden box.

The tears that came from my eyes made dirt stick to my face as I pushed with all my might against the earth, moving it out of my way as much as I could. It felt like years, the dirt scratching my eyes and getting up my nose. I pushed my hand up, feeling cool air hit my skin as I try to break through. Water hitting my hand was cool, welcoming. My body felt like it was on fire, burning like a witch on a pyre. I could feel pieces of wood stabbed into my arms, jagged and bleeding. I kick with my legs, pushing against some solid earth as I break through, my head out of the ground as I looked around, my heart racing.

Someone touches me and I lash out, punching towards them. I miss in my panic state, as the person moves and grabs my arm, pulling me out of the ground. I was covered in mud, the rain pouring down as the thunder cracked, illuminating the sky violently. I choked back a sob of anxiety, looking and seeing the whole in the grass I came from. Someone was yelling things to me, but I couldn’t hear it.

I fell to the ground, exhausted and in unbearable amounts of pain I realise after the sense of danger starts to fade. Before I could say or do anything, I find myself falling unconscious. It felt like my body was doing things I didn’t know of. I’d get visions of nails, growing and fur. Blood, so pretty…

Visions of people forcing me away as someone was taken out of the room. I was frantic, trying to fight them off just to get back, just to see. It was like I was in and out, watching as someone else controlled my body and took it for a joyride. I see a hand with sharp long nails slicing into someone’s chest, blood starting to seep out of it and staining the shirt. The color drawing me, inviting me as I try to rush to it. I feel someone grab me and, no matter how hard I fight, they’re too strong.

The person left, the blood all gone as I just continued to try to hurt anyone and everyone around me. Make them feel the pain I was feeling. It wasn’t fair, my did I feel it if they weren’t. It was agony. I wanted it to end. I needed it to end.

When I came back, I was standing, screaming out. My throat was sore from the amount of yelling. All I felt was pain. It felt like every bone was being snapped and reformed, pushed and made into something else, something more. My head, my stomach, my mouth… everything was agony. I open my eyes, seeing the metal walls with deep scratches down the walls. I scream, writhing in pain. I feel someone hold me steady, as I open my eyes, looking around. Chanyeol was holding me to the ground. I kick him, watching him bend in pain as I look around frantically. My mind knew he was a friend but I just… I couldn’t stop. Everything hurt. My chest felt as if it was on fire as Chanyeol move, grabbing me and holding me, trying to keep my arms at my sides.

“It hurts,” I scream, kicking and just trying to lash out at anything I could. I screamed, feeling the bone deep cold within me except my chest. I glared, my screams ringing around us in this metal room.

My stomach was going crazy, hunger clawing at me as Chanyeol had me in a grapple, trying to stop me from moving. That’s when I noticed it. The spicy smell. Chili and… something else. It smelled good. It smelled delicious.

I could hear a door open as I looked, seeing Minseok standing there. “Chanyeol, you can leave.”

The werewolf lets go of me as I move to the door. Minseok grabbed me, pushing me so hard my back hit the wall behind me. Minseok’s eyes glowing, “Stop, Ava. Now.”

I wanted to argue back, but I was frozen still. Something was stopping me as he looked at me. “Hungry,” I say, “I’m starving.”

“Come here,” He mutters, holding something in his hand. “Drink. It’s not fresh, but you’ll kill someone if you go after them.”

I take it, him being around calming me a little. He hand me a plastic bag, cutting a whole in it with his teeth. I take it, the smell wasn’t exactly pleasant. It smelled stale, older. But I was just so hungry. I take it, putting it to my mouth and drinking it. The taste was like eating the sweetest fruit, only better. My body became warm as I just drank and drank until it was gone. I look up, seeing Minseok holding another to me. “You’ll need your strength.”

I take it, gulping it down greedily. The pain in my stomach easing, and soon, the rest of it does too. It was almost euphoric the way it went from pain to bliss. It wasn’t until I was done did I realise what I was drinking. I look at the bag in my hands, seeing the label. AB positive. The deep red liquid still a tiny bit in it, dripping. I drop it, watching it flutter to the floor. Dozens of blood bags littered the ground. Some spilled on the ground, staining it. I look up, reaching to my mouth. Two razor shark teeth. I shake my head, looking at my hands and back at Minseok.

“Ava,” Minseok says, couching down beside me. “Do you remember anything?”

I shake my head. “Just… work…” I glance up, “I’m… you…”

I was never going to age again. I was going to be like this forever unless I’m killed or take myself out. It was odd. I could feel the power surging through me, molding to me and making me stronger, more alert… better in almost every way.

Minseok nods. “If I didn’t, you would have been dead.” I couldn’t tell if he was trying to reassure me or himself when he spoke. “You were attacked when you went home. All I know is you called Yixing because you thought he could help you.” He looks at me, eyes full of all different emotions that I can’t exactly place. “The blade used to hurt you was powerful. Extremely powerful. He couldn’t stop you from dying, so… I made it so when you did you’d come back again.”

I close my eyes, trying to think, “The… the box in the ground?”

“It happened,” Minseok says, patting my shoulder, “I’m sorry. It’s scary, I know. I have to tell you all about my clan… our clan now. We're part of an ancient clan made up of a type of vampire called Gangrel. The types of vampires we are can be described as… animalistic.” He says, nodding, “When I get into a rage and am fighting, I growl, grow claws and my eyes glow like a werewolf’s. That same will probably happen to you.” Minseok picks up a class he had, holding it. “We’re also extremely strong. The only thing stronger than an adult Gangrel vampire is a werewolf. You have about seventy to sixty years until you get that strong, though. For the most part, it’s the same. Holding a glass is normal. It’s when you try to really use your strength it shows.”

I nod, trying to listen and just hear him explain without freaking the fuck out about all of this. My heart was still beating in my chest, racing as I just wait, listening.

He seemed to understand how weirded out I was by my heart still beating. “Your heart still beats. Unlike common stories, vampire hearts beat. They’re slower than average, though. It pumps the blood we drink in so that we can move and feed some more. If we didn’t drink, we would just be lethargic and too weak to move,” He says, nodding. “Also, we can walk in sunlight no problem. Gangrel’s don’t get turned to ash from it or anything like that. Not even sunburn. People speculate it’s because we’re closer to wild animals than vampires. Only one family has a supreme weakness to it, however. Ventures. All others burn and sizzle and will eventually turn to ash. Ventures… they will turn to ash immediately.” He says, “As you’ve seen, the blade Junmyeon gave you turns places you cut and stab into ash as well. Lastly, because I turned you, I am your Sire. I’m basically your mentor. You’re under my care and it’s my job to make sure you don’t turn out to be a piece of shit who just kills people.”

The vampire looks up, “Now. Since that night, it’s been a week. In the time you were not yourself. The things you did you can not blame on yourself, understand?”

I nod, not sure exactly he means by that. It made me feel very uneasy. The thought how I went from just a normal human to, well… not. The pain… it must have been the process of turning.

Minseok gave me a cautious look, like he was ready to defend himself at any moment. “Now, Ava, we have to talk about feeding,” He says, “Human food will still taste good to you. I still eat someone just because I love the taste, but it will not satiate your hunger anymore.”

“Obviously,” I mutter, feeling like my entire life has just been rocked.

Minseok just smiles a little, “Since you are a new born, you need to feed daily. You, as a younger and weaker vampire, can’t drink from other vampires like I can. I also don’t think you should be drinking from feeders without supervision, because you may accidentally kill them.”

“So my options are… what, exactly,” I ask, looking at him.

“Blood bags or… well, with me there to stop you. Or an adult werewolf. They’re the only thing strong enough to be able to pull you away from them if you start to go into a frenzy and drink too much,” Minseok explains, “I also think you should have me there just in case so I can heal them if you forget. You also shouldn’t bite them for the first two weeks. One down, one to go. Instead, they will cut their wrist and let you feed that way.”

“Why can’t I bite,” I ask, glancing a tall the deep scratch marks into the wall.

“If a newborn bites in their first two week, they’ll become insane from the sensations. It will be too much of a shock to your senses. A vampire’s self control isn’t in place for their first two weeks for their new undead life.” Minseok smiles, “It’s sort of like being a child again.”

“Goddamnit,” I say, “hope there isn’t a second puberty.”

Minseok laughs at that. He shakes his head, smiling as he looks at me. “I think this is going to go perfectly well, Ava. Tomorrow, after you feed, we’ll test to see how fast and strong you really are.”

Minseok stands, helping me up as he smiles. “How about I give you a tour of my place?”

“Sounds good.”

“I do have one last thing I need to explain to you,” He says, as he walks alongside me as we look at paintings of many old, dead lords. “Because you’re a young vampire, for the first few months anytime you feed from someone, bite or not, you’ll probably get… well, for a lack of a better way to put this, unbelieveably horney.”

I laugh, “Is this like the sex talk?”

He smiles, “Sort of. This is going to be awkward, but if you find yourself unable to break through that feeling and hold it back, I’d suggest going to myself, the wolves or the incubuses.”

“But am I stronger than them?”

“Right now? You’re only stronger than Baekhyun and Chen. Though their song would work on them so if you really wanted to… but I’d suggest not just in case you break out of it. You’re about even with Yixing. Fae’s look dainty but they’re strong. When he was exiled a lot of the strength was taken from him. He was high in the Queens court and one of their strongest. High court Fae are stronger than anything I know of.” Minseok explains, calmly, “So… just keep that in mind.”

Minseok’s house was a little out of the city. It wasn’t as big as Junmyeon’s, but it was still fairly grand. Everything was modern, dark and perfect for a new age vampire. I asked Minseok questions about his Sire and his relationship with him. Minseok tells me about him, a man named Luhan who was over five centuries old when he made Minseok. Second in command of their clan and part Fae. Their relationship was, for the first ten years, platonic. Luhan taught him and cared for him, keeping him safe.

“Then it took a turn. It happens sometimes between Sires and their fledglings,” He says. “Sometimes it’s romantic, but for the most part they are mainly sexual.” The older vampire glances at me, “Don’t think that you have to do anything like that, by the way. I just… Luhan told me it was different for a Sire. That it felt wonderful in way he never knew. Anyways, after a few decades of the two of us, we splitted. Ended the romantic side of things. He dated and saw other people and I’m doing the same. And then… well, the attempted extermination of our clan.”

“So we’re the only two,” I ask, looking at him. “It has to be lonely.”

He nods, “Yeah. Not only am I your Sire, I’m your Lord as well. Don’t call me that, though.” He says, shaking his head. “Most clans live together, but for the most part Gangrel were loners. Half were nomadic, so the fact that someone hunted us all down is shocking, really.”

He stops outside of a room, “Here, the guest room. I’d suggest you shower because you… well, smell awful and haven’t bathed since before you died. Clothes are already in there.”

I nod, “Sure. And thanks… for everything.”

The room was black and white, rather plain. Smooth and stylish, while missing all personality at all. I moved into the bathroom, it was nice too. A huge shower, a nice tub, and a large mirror. When I took a look at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but stare. My hair was practically black with dirt. My skin was covered in it, along with a bruises. I looked absolutely filthy. Even when I was homeless I never looked this bad.

It was a bit terrifying, though. Thinking about pretty much coming out of a grave.

After I showered and got into bed, somehow those thoughts and new revelations didn’t stop me from sleeping. I slept naked, because there were no pajamas and I didn’t feel like wearing jeans to bed. I pulled the blanket around me, turning and laying on my side, trying to push the thoughts of the pain and nightmares away.

I felt something touch me as I gasp, bolting upright. The sun from the window bright, making me cover my eyes. It was mid day as Minseok was shaking my shoulder. He looks at me, eyebrow raised, “You ok?”

Nightmares. All night long. Remembering the pain. Of waking up under the ground and having to fight and crawl up. The woman, her knife, the agony. The sights of all the people I love telling me how their deaths were my fault. The devastation on Junmyeon’s face. The helplessness on Yixing’s.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The blanket was at my waist as he just looks at me. He just smirks a little, not even trying to hide as he glanced at my bare chest. He looked back at me, unashamed from his ogling. “You could have just told me you didn’t have pajamas.”

“Sleeping nude is fun though,” I say with a smile, trying to distract myself from the nightmare.

He rolls his eyes, “Nice to see that you haven’t really changed at all.” He looks to the door, “Come in, Lily.”

A woman walks in, smiling as she moves towards us. I glance from her to Minseok. I could smell her, hear her heart beating fast. It got a little faster when she say me as my eyes followed her.

Minseok just smiles, “I’ve already eaten. I’m here to make sure you don’t get too greedy. Lily works here, as one of the three people who help me keep this place clean. She agreed to let you drink from her.”

“Well, you always said I tasted like champagne,” She says, raising her wrist towards Minseok. Lily was young looking, about the same height as Minseok. Her hair was tied back into a bun, neon yellow practically glowing. She was tan, her eyes a lovely green.

Minseok’s fangs stretched out, as he motions me to move towards them. I sit up, not caring about covering myself as I watch him cut her wrist with his fangs.

The second I see the crimson liquid, I could feel the clawing hunger in my stomach. Twisting, burning, telling me to drink. To feast. To devour. I move, Minseok holding her wrist as I lick up the dripping blood before sucking directly where the cut is. The taste was like champagne and strawberries and just the most wonderful thing I’ve tasted. I could hear her moan as I drank, feeling Minseok’s hand on my head, petting my hair, muttering sweet nothings as he watched us carefully. Her hand grabbed my shoulder as she gasped, shivering as she clinged to me. “Fuck,” She moaned, her nails clawing into me which just made me want more.

The second I started to drink, it felt like when Minseok drank from me. I was moaning, swallowing up all the warm liquid. My hand immediately went in between my thighs, feeling how quickly I was dripping from feeding. I glanced, seeing the effect I had on her. Making her moan and gasp in bliss, there was something that just undeniably powerful about it.

Not only was she gasping and moaning, I was too. It was almost embarrassing how hot I felt so quickly. I whimpered, drinking gulp after greedy gulp, as much as I could. It was warm, like drinking hot chocolate on a chilly day.

“Ava,” Minseok says, his eyes stern.“Stop now.”

I drank more, hearing a faint growl from Minseok. Before I knew it, Minseok gripped my hair and pulled, eyes glowing. He glared at me, “Stop. Now, heal her.”

He lets go of my hair, giving me a chance. It took everything I had to stop sucking on the wound and lick it, letting it close and heal. I lick every last drop as I could as she sighs, face flushed. I look at Minseok, looking as he watches me in fascination as I lick the last bit of her blood away. He looked proud.

I felt oddly warm, moaning as I looked at Minseok. He looked proud in a way. I couldn’t focus on that as I looked. His handsome face and strong shoulders, my mind imagining all the filthy things we could do right now. I’ve never felt this desperate in my life to be touched or anything. “Please,” I say, begging him, “Help me, please.”

“Thank you, Lily,” Minseok says, “If you wouldn’t mind, we would like some privacy.”

She nods, and the second she shuts the door after her, I lean towards Minseok and press my lips to his with fervor. I need it, I needed it now so badly I couldn’t even think straight. He moans, licking the last of the blood off my lips, pulling me close and he picks me up, turning and pressing me against the wall. He wasted no time, understanding what it was I was craving at the moment. I gasp, his mouth moving to my neck as I moan, holding on to his shoulders.

I could hear his heart beating, as one of his hands cups my breast, the touch was harsh and rough as he squeezes the nipple in his fingertips. Minseok moves the hand and pulls on his belt, before letting his pants and underwear fall to the ground, stepping out of them quickly.

“Please,” I beg, desperate for the pleasure I so desperately craved. It almost hurt so bad with how turned on I was. The smirk on Minseok’s face was sinful as he just looked me in the eyes, holding my faces so I couldn’t look away.

In one, quick thrust, he was completely in me. I yelled, arching my back as he just wraps one arm around me, the other going to my hair and holding it tightly at the base of my skull. “Fuck,” He growls and pulls roughly at my hair, yanking it as his lips press down on the skin against my neck. He bit the skin there, blunt human like teeth instead of fangs. He was groaning, his face twisted in ecstasy as his hips rocked into me as quick as he could manage. The both of us too high with lust to want to take this slowly, too needy to tease. I need it, and I didn’t care how I get it so long as it’s done.

I bit my lip, feeling my fangs cut into it as Minseok’s head snaps up, looking at me. The taste of copper on my tongue as, for a moment, Minseok was just watching, his eyes on my lips. He presses his lips to mine, before letting out a loud growl. He sucked on my lip, pushing into me as I did the best I could to rock back and meet his thrusts. Minseok groans, tasting my blood as I could feel his grip on me tighten.

I feel softness at my back as I see that we’re on the bed now, Minseok hovering over me. I rip the shirt he wore completely in two as if it was a tissue, arching as I move, pushing him so he was on his back. He let me do so, falling back against the bed. He smiles up at me, his eyes glowing red. I trailed my fingers down his chest, taking note of the tattoo on the left side of his chest. His hands find my hips as I start to move. The sound of slick skin slapping echoed in the room, along with the noises I was making as Minseok just let’s his eyes wander my body.

“Ava,” He moans, looking in my eyes, the glowing red of his irises turning me on more and more.

I push my hands against his chest, feeling the tightness in my lower region building, ready to burst. I feel him move, planting his feet into the bed so he could thrust up into me, his hips slapping against me and he grips my ass, moaning and saying my name.

One of his hands moves to my clit, rubbing it quickly as I tumbled from the edge of ecstasy immediately. I was yelling, my throat horse from before but I didn’t care. He was hitting the most pleasurable spot within me as the same time, making me tear up at the feeling. I was shaking as he pushed me against the bed, my back there as he laid beside me, gasping.

I looked back, seeing Minseok still hard as he just takes a few deep breaths. I move, not going to let him be unsatisfied, after all. I didn’t want to risk a blowjob, since my fangs were still sharp, so wrapped my fingers around him, moving and kissing his lips. He groaned, tongue still finding my cut lip as he was gripping my hair, rocking his hips, fucking my hand as I could hear growls deep in his chest. They sounded like a tiger or a jaguar, deep and rumbling. There was something terrifying about it that made what we were doing feel even more exhilarating.

He stilled as I kept moving my hand, feeling is warm release on my fingers. He groaned, muttering words of endearment to me as he finally lets out a long moan. He pulled away after licking the small wounds on my lip. He was gasping for air, his eyes wide and pupils blown open. I smile looking at him as I look at my hand. It was covered in his release as I just brought it to my mouth, licking it clean. Minseok just watched, smiling as he shook his head.

We didn’t stay there and rest, though. Minseok wouldn’t let me as he just gets us both away from one another. I think he knew that if he stayed I would have hopped on him almost immediately. After a little bit of clean up, I was dressed in jeans and a sleeveless shirt, looking over and seeing Chanyeol across from me. The werewolf complained about being made to wait, but he was still full of joy and smiles. We walked outside, following the vampire until he stopped. He moved sitting under a tree, watching curiously.

Minseok house was small, but the land was massive. Chanyeol told me he got it to Chanyeol and Kyungsoo could run though the forest here on full moons, playing with one another and letting their wolves out freely.

The werewolf was looking at me, serious expression on his face. It was weird seeing someone so bright and happy be so serious. “Punch me,” He says, arms crossed. “I can only see how strong you are if you just let loose and hit me.”

I shrug, before pulling my fist back and swinging it as fast and with as much force as I could directly to his face. I was shocked, seeing him actually be pushed back a bit by the force. I was so use to punching these guys and them not moving at all that now, seeing this, was on the edge of being euphoric.

I was grinning, looking at my hands as Chanyeol hisses in pain.

“Fuck,” He says, “You’re not even an adult yet and you still punch like a truck.”

“All the years of fight club is going to make her into one hell of a threat,” Minseok says, nodding.

I smiled proudly at that. It will be nice not to feel like the weakest person anymore. I was use to being considered one of the strongest. When I moved here, I was suddenly one of the weakest. It felt nice to be seen as a threat again.

Chanyeol runs me though more tests. Reaction speed, which I excel at, stamina, which I have a ton of, and strength, which isn’t that much, apparently. Yet.

But, that means little to me as I pick Chanyeol up like it was nothing, grinning from ear to ear as I held him over my head. “This is so fucking awesome,” I say, smiling.

“You also seem to have good self control already,” Minseok says, “You healed Lily when I asked. Most newborns would just lash out and try to drink their fill.” He nods, “I don’t think you losing your control will happen often once this week is up.”

“That’s great,” Chanyeol says as I set him back down. “Especially since it can be very devastating.” He shows me his arm, a long cut from the shoulder to the nail of his ring finger. “You were pretty scary.”

My eyes go wide, “I… I didn’t mean…”

Chanyeol hold his hands out, “It’s ok, trust me, Kyungsoo and I don’t blame you. Besides, the scar is going to look so sick-”

“What did I do to Kyungsoo,” I ask, looking over at Minseok. My eyes wide, hearing this for the first time.

The vampire glared at Chanyeol, who looked like a kicked puppy. Minseok stands, walking to me. “You clawed him on the chest. Three long cuts. He’s fine, just resting. He was more annoyed than anything, but not at you. He knows you can’t help it.”

I sigh, “I’ll get him like… a bottle of whiskey to say sorry.”

“Or you could use actual words,” Minseok says, giving me a look.

“Just because you’re my whatever doesn’t make you my father,” I say, shaking my head. “Though, I would appreciate a daddy if you catch my drift.”

Chanyeol ignores that, “Kyungsoo is someone who thinks actions speak louder than words. Just go and see him and apologize. Be upfront about it. That fact that you showed up will be enough, really.”

“I should wait until after this week before I go and see him,” I say, “I… don’t know if I’ll trust myself out there surrounded by people until this week is up.”

The vampire grinned, “Good. This is going smoother than I though compared to the first week.” Minseok looked at me, “I’m shocked you’re not going crazy. I almost killed someone when I was turned. All I was was wanting to either kill someone and drink every last drop or fuck anyone I saw.”

“Maybe she got it all out then,” Chanyeol says, “She was like… a honey badger. Sometimes uncontrollable. It was awful. You said that it was just short bursts, but then, when she was going though it, it was like she was constantly in a frenzy.”

I could feel the clawing feeling return as I looked at the werewolf. Minseok could tell immediately, “Well, I’m right here and I’m hungry.”

Chanyeol just tilted his head as he was seated, leaning against a tree. He glances at Minseok, nodding. “I can do it.”

Minseok look at him, “You know what she’ll be like after, right?”

Chanyeol laughs, “Do you really think that would stop me? Of all of us?” After a nod and a few more words from Chanyeol, the vampire moves back to his house, giving Chanyeol and I some privacy with a smirk on his face. I swear before he left I could hear him mutter about how bizarre I was.

Chanyeol, while the first time we had fun together was a bit rough and quick, was being gentle and patient at the start, at least. He kisses my skin, soft and lightly as he undressed me slowly. Tossing my shirt and bra to the side, cupping my breasts and dipping his head to lick at the hardening buds. The air still cool as autumn was here. Undressing was the first priority, according to him. “This way, when you’re so filled with lust, you won’t have to wait long,” He explains with a smile, lightly biting at one of my nipples, making me hiss.

“So thoughtful,” I tease, moving to shimmy out of my pants, watching him get undressed. Chanyeol was, like everyone else who worked at Unearthly Delights, was insanely attractive. He was a bit of a goof and very sweet, but man, he has an amazing body. Very clear and defined abs, toned arms, and a nice butt. Not the best butt of the lot, that honor belongs to Sehun, but a nice one all the same. He was also well endowed, which I remembered from giving him head. God I wanted to take him back with me and just fuck his brains out that night.

I move, straddling him after he sat back down, my knees on either side of him, resting on the soft grass as he just looks at me. He smiles, sitting naked on the grass as if it was a usual thing for him. Perhaps he was just use to being outside. Reaching up, he holds my chin, “Open up.”

I could feel my fangs already as I open. Before I could react he cut his wrist on my fang, holding it out for me.

The smell is intoxicating. I quickly bring it to my mouth, moaning as the blood touches my tongue. He tastes sweet and spicy, like chocolate with chili in it. I open my eyes, looking at Chanyeol, watching as he moans out loud, shivering and sighing with his eyes closed. The other hand moves, softly stroking me between my thighs as I just take a moment to gasp, some of the blood running down his forearm. I rub my hips down on his length, causing him to hiss.

He looks at me, grinning, “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet Ava.” He says, before pulling me up for a moment.I just smirk, wanting to continue to tease him as I moved back down.

My eyes widen as I felt myself sliding down his thick cock, moaning as some of his blood escapes my mouth, “Fuck, Chanyeol!” I close my eyes, sucking on his wrist as I move, slowly up and down, feeling like my body was on fire. I looked at him, expecting him to be ready to tell me stop.

“Werewolves make blood faster than others,” He says gasping as I slid back up. His eyes glowing slightly. “You can drink more from me than you can normally.” He places his hand on me, positioning my hips to just the right angle so that when I fell down, I was hitting the button of pleasure inside me. Just from this little bit, drinking his blood while slowly fucking him was enough to make me feel like I was going to cum any second. It was dizzying, intoxicating.

“You’re so sexy,” He mutters, leaning in and licking my neck, sucking marks into the skin. “Watch you ride me like this is like a living wet dream,” He says biting into my skin.

I drank and I drank, starting to speed up as my eyes watered at the intense feeling. Chanyeol was just as bad, moaning and sweating, lips on my neck, other hand touching me anywhere he could.

“Stop,” He says, shaking the wrist I was drinking from. He watched me carefully, ready to use force if he needed.

It took all of my restraint and self control I had not to rip into his arm to drink more. I licked the wound, letting it heal as I pulled away, licking my lips and the left over blood.

He presses his lips to mine with no hesitation, my fangs already gone. With ease, Chanyeol pulled me off him, turning me and pushing me back down onto his cock. He smiles, his hair a little wild and his face flushed. “Ava, you have a wonderful ass,” He says, grabbing the cheeks of it and gripping, giving each a little slap. “I’ve wanted to see you like this for so long, just so I can watch it when I slap it,” He says, his voice deeper and husky as he pushes me so that I was on my hands and knees.

The slap to my ass this time was anything but soft. The sting was deliciously painful as I yell out in delight, looking back as I see him push into me. I moaned at the full feeling, pushing my hips back against his. “Chanyeol,” I moan, “Fuck, harder!”

“Your wish is my command,” He says, his voice deep and full of passion. He takes my arms, holding my wrists in his hands as he pulls me to him as he pushes in. “Getting fucked like this in a forest,” He growls, “What a little slut. Tell me you’re a slut, Ava.”

“I’m a slut,” I said, moaning, the sound of his hips snapping into mine echoing through the trees around us. “I’m the biggest slut for you, Chanyeol!”

I hear him chuckle, “God, do you do just anything someone asks of you? Are you that addicted to cock?”

“Only if they know how to use it,” I say, teasing back at him. I shivered, feeling him in me so deep. “Oh god, right there!” He was so thick that I was still gasping from the sensation. The slapping of skin echoed in the woods, along with our moans and shouts. I closed my eyes, arching my back letting him hit my g-spot over and over.

I clenched around him as I was getting close, hearing him moan curses out loud. “You filthy bitch,” Chanyeol growls, “God, your cunt practically sucks me in, begging for more.”

“Please,” I moan, feeling my breasts move with every single thrust. My knees hurt from the ground, but I didn’t care so long as he kept doing this.

“A bitch in heat isn’t even as desperate as you are,” He says, a growl in his chest as he does so. As it went on, he used more and more of his strength, making tears stream down my eyes at how powerful the thrusts were. My wrists still in his tight grip, him pulling me back as fast as he was pushing in. He moves, holding both of my wrists with one hand. I feel him grab my hair, yanking it, pulling so my back arched just a bit more, making his cock hit me at an even better angle. Chanyeol’s dirty talking just making me feel even hotter somehow, “Taemin was right about you,” He says with a growl, “You get so wet and sloppy it feels like I’m fucking you after ten men cummed in you.”

“Oh fuck yes,” I yell, feeling like my entire body was lit in euphoria.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little slut,” He asks, slamming his hips into me even harder as I scream. “Should we all just make a train and fuck you one after the other, filling you up?”

“Please, yes Chanyeol please,” I say, tears falling from my eyes even more.

“I can just imagine it, cum pouring out of your cunt from being fucked so many times, over and over. You want that, you filthy whore,” He says, speeding up again. Just the thought of that happening along with everything else Chanyeol did to me wasenough for me to finally tumble. I choked on my moans, feeling my orgasm crash around me. I was shivering and sobbing from the feeling as he kept fucking me, hitting the place in me with every thrust that drove me wild. I was shaking, tears dripping down my face and neck from being fucked so hard and thorough. His name left my lips in loud screams, shaking and my world piratically spinning.

A few more of his thrusts as he pulled out, sliding his cock in between the cheeks of my ass as he groaned. I could feel the cum, warm and thick all on my cheeks and lower back.

His hand let go of my arm, moving and going around my waist to keep me from collapsing on the grass. He moves, laying down on the grass and moves me so that I was using him as a pillow. His chest still heaving, his skin covered in sweat.

I laugh, “Well, I didn’t know you were an ass man, “ I say between gasps.

He laughs, “Absolutely. They’re just so nice to grab,” He says, taking a fist of my mine, shaking it a little as a demonstration.

I moved, whining as I still feel needy. Minseok was right, this is nothing to make lightly.

Chanyeol looks at me, “You’re insatiable.” He says, flipping us over so that I was on my back. I just grinned, getting ready for even more. He smirks, putting my legs over his shoulders winking, his tongue swiping up my center as I screamed, still over sensitive as I grip onto his hair for my life.

Minseok smiles, hearing the sounds even as he was inside. Chanyeol was damn good in bed, he can attest to that. He just wants to make the person he’s with feel good, and he does. Though nothing really beats the site of Chanyeol under you, being an adorable sub. It’s rare, but an absolute treat. He turns back, still holding the phone in his hand as he was listening. He placed the phone down, the speaker on. “I told you, she’s ok. She’s actually doing a lot better than most newborns.”

“I… I’m just worried,” Junmyeon says over the phone, sighing.

Minseok could hear the exhaustion in his friend's voice. The vampire was worried for his boss, and he made sure that the merman knew it. “At least now you won’t have to worry. Our little ex-human isn’t made of glass anymore. But forget that for a moment, what did Yixing and Sehun find out?”

“Using magic, they saw that it was Aisir’s soon to be bride,” Junmyeon says, and Minseok could hear how much he loathed them right now. “She was a shapeshifter, turned into Sehun and told Ava I told the fake Sehun to make sure she got home safe.”

He frowns, glaring as he crushes the now empty can of carbonated water in his hand. Minseok growls, “That… that is exactly something you would do.I bet Sehun was angry about her pretending to be him.”

“He’s angrier than I’ve ever seen him before,” The merman says, “He’s livid. You know him, when he gets angry his eyes just start to rapidly flash into different colors and I’m pretty sure that hasn’t stopped since yesterday.”

“Nope,” Minseok could hear a voice say in the room. The shapeshifter was there. Good. Minseok smiled knowing that Sehun took his words about making sure their boss was ok to heart.

“The real concern was the blade,” Junmyeon says, as Minseok could hear the squeak of his office chair as he sat down. “It’s not normal magic. It was made by Lucifer, using the rib bone that was taken from Adam. He found tit and corrupted it, apparently. It belonged to hell knights. Jongin’s had an encounter with it before it gotten into the hands of the Ventures.”

Minseok nods, “The scar on his back. Fuck, things always get more complicated when biblical shit is thrown in.”

“He said that after he was stabbed, it showed him all the people he cared about him, telling him he was worthless and that he was to blame for all their misfortunes,” Junmyeon says, “I… God, I can’t imagine Ava going through that.”

“Was that before or after,” Minseok asks, trying to keep Junmyeon’s mind on the task at hand and not Ava suffering.

“Taemin saved him from it by turning him,” the merman said, as Minseok could hear him place a glass on the wood of his desk. “The stab wound Jongin had wasn’t as bad as Ava’s, apparently. He had the time to get over the shock. This just makes things even worse for us. The only thing that powerful is an archangel blade.”

“Which, should I remind you, The only ones of us who could hold it is… well, you, Yixing and the wolves,” Minseok says, “And even then, it would burn all of you.”

“That’s not exactly true,” He says, “I’ve found one. It’ll take some time to get here, though. Expensive, but worth it.”

“Taemin, Jongin, Sehun, Baekhyun and Jongdae are all forms of demons. I’m a vampire,” Minseok explains, “We’ll get incinerated immediately if we try to use it.”

He could practically hear Junmyeon struggle to hold back what he meant. Minseok understood. There was something he didn’t know, and if he didn’t know it meant that he made a promise not to speak of it.

“You can tell him,” A small voice says from his side, Sehun, now closer to the phone.

“Sehun has archangel blood in him,” Junmyeon says, quietly. “They mixed creatures with him when they had him. It’s how he broke out of the siren’s call.”

Minseok’s eyes widen, this is... a game changer. No wonder why, when they’ve fought together, Ventures seemed scared of him. Down right terrified. It all made sense now. “Holy shit. If he gets that blade-”

“Nothing on earth could stop me,” Sehun says, the fury in his voice makes Minseok terrified for a moment. “And nothing will. I’m sick of these people hurting all the people I care about.”

Minseok looks, seeing Ava and Chanyeol walking out of the forest. Their faces flushed and hair a mess. He smiles, seeing Ava button her pants and Chanyeol was pulling his shirt over his body, “I’ve got to go. Keep me updated.”

“Will do,” Junmyeon says, nodding. “Please, just… make sure they don’t try anything.”

Minseok smirks, “Of course. For my good deeds and loyalty, you and Ava can name your first born after me in honor of my great deed.”

Junmyeon just hung up, making Minseok laugh. He could, in his mind, see Junmyeon’s blushing face and Sehun laughing beside him. Ava walked in, grinning when she saw Minseok as Chanyeol went immediately to get some water and something to eat.

The call with Junmyeon has scared him, but was also reassuring. He glanced at his new fledgling, pride over flowing as he saw how well she was handling this. The woman who had no self control, gave into all of her vices constantly and daily, somehow had a lot of it when it came to, well, stop from violently hurting innocent people. He made a mental note to ask Chanyeol how she acted when he told her to stop. He could smell the sweat and the sex coming from them, watching as they joked around with one another.

Minseok felt a need to protect Ava. She was his family now, after all. His sole duty before was whatever he wanted and to feed. Now, he felt it, deep in his heart that he will do anything he can to protect his friend.

He watched as they’re still smiley, Ava flirting and Chanyeol flirting back. It seems as if Ava is still reeling, probably turned on naturally instead of her from the blood now. Minseok left before anything could get heated up further. He didn’t want to risk biting her mid sex, again. He wanted to so badly before. He was curious about what Luhan meant, and when he kissed her with her cut lip, he felt a tiny sliver of it. It called to him, telling him to experience something new for the first time in decades.

He didn’t want to. Not now, at the very least. He has to make sure she heals properly.

So, instead, he got into his car after telling Chanyeol he was leaving. He knew the wolf would stay there. The man cared for his friends and wanted to make sure Ava didn’t hurt anyone or herself. The promise of perhaps more sex also a factor, but he knew Chanyeol’s heart was there for the right reasons.

Minseok needed a break. For a week straight he’s been anxious, worried and scared about what would happen. He’s been tense and stressed, and needed some relief.

Minseok quickly dialed a number on his phone, the person he goes to a lot to fuck out this thoughts and feelings. After promising to tell the fae that he will, indeed, tell him about all that’s happened, Yixing invites him over for the night. He glanced back at the house, seeing Chanyeol holding Ava, their lips pressed together as he was carrying her into a guest room.

“Bizarre,” He mutters, smiling at them as he, through the still open door facing the wall of glass, could see Ava get to her knees. “Very bizarre.”

Throughout his life, though, Minseok found that the people who are strange and bizarre make for the best of friends and the strongest of bonds.

#exo smut #exo fanfiction #xiumin smut #chanyeol smut #exo fanfic #exo scenarios

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totallyrhettro · 6 years ago

Text

Territorial, chapter 1

Word Count: 2077 Rating: This chapter: PG; overall story rating: Explicit Warnings: kissing Summary: After finally realizing their shared love for one another, all internetainers Rhett and Link had to do was live happily ever after. Unfortunately, as it turns out, that's a lot harder to do in a world of werewolves.

Notes: Takes place 1 year after Animalistic began. Still no wives; Rhett and Link are in an established relationship. This is a sequel to that fic. You don't have to read that first, but it is highly recommended. (Photo source X)

Also available on a03

The ten acre plot of land used to be a horse farm. Stables and a large barn still stood on the premises, though they both looked like the next wind could knock them both right over. The short, wooden fence that lined the property was in a similar condition, but at least it still marked the border alright. It had to be replaced, especially if was going to keep people away from a couple of werewolves roaming around thirty-six nights out of the year.

“Maybe we should add barb wire,” Link suggested, wiping sweat from his forehead. It wasn't a particularly hot summer day, but he and Rhett had been hard at work all morning putting up a chain link fence.

“We don't want anybody hurting themselves on this fence,” Rhett told him, choosing to ignore his companion’s mispronunciation of barbed wire. “We just want them to know this is private property.” He checked the time on his phone. “What do you say we break for lunch? I think we got a lot of fence up so far today.”

They had purchased this land a few weeks ago and together with their friend, Theo, they had been busy fixing it up. That is, making sure it was secure. It didn't need to look pretty, it just had to be private and undisturbed. It was in the middle of nowhere, California. Away from prying eyes and electronic surveillance. There wasn't another home for miles. It was as good a place as any for them to spend time in wolf form.

Rhett had been a werewolf for many months now; Link only a few. They both had been learning what it meant and how to survive their new double life from Theo. The bushy-haired bartender who had, in contrast, been a werewolf for years was more than willing to help out the newly bitten. It wasn't all for kindness, however, but necessity. Werewolves couldn't be left to their own devices, unchecked, uneducated. Rogue werewolves not only could kill innocent humans, they would reveal the existence of werewolves around the world and that could lead to wolf hunts, or worse.

Even though Theo wasn't being exactly charitable with his actions, Rhett wholeheartedly agreed with his reasons. The existence of werewolves needed to be kept a secret, for everyone's sake. Of course, that didn't mean they couldn't have a life. He and Link kept up with their normal day things: filming for their YouTube channels, running a business, having a social life. As far as they could tell, no one at mythical internetainment knew that their bosses weren't entirely human. They may have picked up on their employers’ other secret, though.

“I am hungry,” Link noted, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. “But not just for food.” Rhett raised a single eyebrow as he smirked, knowingly.

“Yeah?” He put his arms around the shorter man. “What are you hungry for?”

“You look tasty,” he replied, coyly.

“Oh I am, babe.” Link stuck his tongue out with an audible mocking sound before pulling the man’s head down to lick his nose. Rhett giggled. “See?”

“Not bad.” The brunet gave another, brief lick before locking their lips. Rhett did taste good, even though he was just as sweaty as Link. It didn't matter. He felt amazing too; his lips soft and tender nestled in a thick, dirty blond beard. Link knew he would never tire of the sensation, or the many others they could experience when they were alone. Sometimes he wished the two of them had realized their shared affection for one another much earlier. He thought about the wasted years not knowing they were both in love. Those times he would vow to himself not to waste the time they now had, the years ahead of them they could now spend together. “I love you,” he muttered, moving away just enough to speak.

“I love you too, Link.” Rhett leaned his sweaty forehead against Link’s, closing his eyes. After a moment, he sighed contently then pulled away and looked down into Link’s face. “Can we eat now?”

“Fiiine.” Link rolled his eyes, but never dropped his smile. He wasn't mad, not really. He was hungry too, when he thought about it. Besides, he knew his boyfriend all too well. When Rhett said he was hungry, he meant it. The man had been often hungry before becoming a werewolf. Now, as the full moon grew closer, his appetites were almost insatiable. All of them. Not that Link complained, mind you. He definitely enjoyed satiating those appetites whenever he could. After all, he felt exactly the same way. Especially right before they turned.

Packing up the leftover nails and bits for the fence into the trailer of their ATV, they got on with Rhett behind Link, and drove off towards the main building. An old farmhouse, the building was actually in remarkable condition considering the rest of the buildings’ state. It was a classic, three story with a wrap-around porch and a sloped roof. It used to be yellow from what they could tell of the faded paint, but Theo and his friend Max were busy giving it a fresh coat of blue to spruce it up. It was coming along nicely.

Link gave the two men a friendly wave as he and Rhett got closer. Rhett just nodded, not wanting to let go of Link’s waist, lest he fall. They pulled up just to the front door and Theo put down his brush, wiping his hands as he came down to greet them. Max was close behind. The muscular man with a perfectly shaved head wasn't just a friend. He worked as Theo’s bouncer in the bar he ran downtown. He was also the Theo’s ‘handler’ meaning he watched him during his moons to make sure he was safe and kept out of trouble. Unlike the other three men here, he wasn't a werewolf, but he was a rare breed. He was the only human Theo trusted and so Rhett and Link trusted him as well.

“How'd it go?” he asked, casually. Rhett hopped off the four-wheeler and gestured towards the trailer, and the rolled up fence inside.

“I think we're almost done. Just a few more hundred feet.” Theo nodded.

“It won't exactly be Fort Knox,” he noted, coming down to join them. “But it should keep out the unwary hiker.” He nodded towards the house. “I got some t-bone’s in the cooler I can grill up. You boys hungry at all?”

“I could eat a horse,” Link joked, sparing a glance towards Rhett. The taller man pretended not to notice but nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Theo chuckled.

“Well let's get you full of cow so you won't have to.” The four of them started making their way inside when three of them suddenly stopped and turned. Even though they weren't in wolf form, their senses were more acute than their unbitten friend. They looked at each other for answers, but no one was expecting anyone else to show up to the farm today. Max eventually heard the noise they were so interested in as well. A large, red truck was coming down the dusty road towards the house. It had a California license plate, but they didn't recognize it. It pulled to a stop just beside the ATV.

Three men got out, all dressed in t-shirts and work jeans. The tallest, a beefy man with a crew cut, looked so cocky Rhett instantly disliked him. The two shorter men had similar expressions as they looked over the farm house with discerning eyes. Obviously from their faces none of them thought much of the place.

“Nice little place you got here,” the tallest stranger began. “So this is where you've been hiding out, Theo.”

“Hello, Seth,” Theo greeted unenthusiastically. “Didn't know you and the boys were in town.”

“Well we've been hearing some very disturbing news from the area and we thought we'd check it out personally.” He looked over at Rhett and Link with more scrutiny than was comfortable. “They the new guys?”

“Rhett, Link, this is Seth, Damian and Caleb Lowell. Their pack roams the woods up north; mostly in Oregon and southern Washington.”

“Pack?” Link asked.

“Wolf pack, buddy,” Caleb clarified. “Has Theo not been teaching you the basics?”

“If you're talking about the rogue mutt down in Los Padres,” Theo explained. “I took care of it.” His faux demure smile faded completely as he remembered that night. With Rhett’s help, Theo had tracked down a werewolf that had been killing hikers in the national forest. That night Rhett was forced to take a life to protect Link. He had saved his best friend and lover, but had failed to keep him from being infected. It was not a night any of them liked to think about.

“Well that's a relief,” Seth grinned, seemingly unaware of the other group’s discomfort. “We were worried something might have happened, like people getting killed or turned.” He turned his eyes pointedly at Rhett and Link. Maybe it was because he was feeling defensive, or these guys were seriously rubbing him the wrong way, but Link felt the need to stick up for his relatively new friend.

“It wasn't his fault. It's not like he’s in charge of every rogue werewolf that goes nuts in California. That’s not his job.” Link glanced up at Rhett. “Is it?” Seth turned to look at him, his expression a bit blank as he sized him up.

“What's your name again?”

“Link.”

“You're right, Link. It's not his job. Nor do we think what happened was his fault. In fact I feel somewhat responsible myself,” he continued, not losing his smile. “I didn't think there were enough mutts around here to present a serious problem but I guess I was wrong. I'm here to rectify that error.”

“How so?” Rhett asked.

“They're here to check up on me,” Theo grumbled. Seth looked hurt, but both Rhett and Link could tell it wasn't quite sincere.

“We're not here to run your life, Theo. Devon was worried so he sent us to help.”

“I don't need your help,” the bartender argued. “There was a problem, but I handled it. It's taken care of.”

“I'm not saying we're not grateful you were able to deal with the mutt, but it's just a symptom of a much bigger problem. Without a pack presence in southern California, rogue mutts are bound to happen again and we don’t want you to have to deal with all of them yourself.” Seth glanced to the two men with him, silently telling them it was time to leave. They started making their way back into the truck. “We’ll be in town for awhile; were staying on up on Big Bear Lake. It was nice seeing you again, Theo.” As he got back into the truck, Caleb sent a grin at the bartender, with a side glance at Rhett and Link.

“Give us a call if you want to spend your next moon with some real wolves for a change,” he offered. “It’ll be just like old times.”

“Bye, Caleb.” Theo gave a short wave as the Lowells’ truck started up. As soon it was out of sight, he sighed and shot a knowing look towards Max. “Fantastic,” he mumbled.

“So, what was that all about?” Link asked. Theo shook his head stepping back into the house without a word. Still confused, Link turned to Max.

“The Lowells are a big family of purebreds from up North,” Max explained. “Theo used to run with them years ago but he moved to Los Angeles to get away from them after….”

“After what?”

“After Theo’s brother died. It's not really my place to talk about it. Let's just say he's not a fan of the pack.” Rhett looked back at the distance road the truck had left on before speaking up.

“Should we be worried?” Rhett wondered. Max sighed.

“I sure hope not. Just… Just steer clear of them. Hopefully they won't be in town very long. Stuck up purebred assholes.” He headed into the house himself, leaving Rhett and Link alone on the porch.

“Why do I feel like I just got involved with a family squabble?” Link murmured.

“That was a bit dramatic.” Rhett patted his boyfriend on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go eat. I’m sure these guys won’t be causing us much trouble.”

Next chapter

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#rhett #link #rhink #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #territorial #werewolves #established relationship

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waterlilyvioletfog · 7 years ago

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Lyanna Was Fond of Flowers- A Meta on Lyanna, the Tourney of Harrenhal, Consent, the Tower of Joy, and Finally, Roses

[@nobodysuspectsthebutterfly um here? A gift? This is as good as I can write it right now. Please tell me if I did alright!]

Lyanna Stark was sixteen years old when she died. I don’t think I can stress this enough: Lyanna Stark was not old enough to order a fucking pillow pet when she died. There, that’s as bluntly as I can put it. You got that? She was not old enough to dial a phone number and ask for an as-seen-on-TV stuffed animal. That’s how young she was.

With this firmly in the front of our thoughts, let us proceed into the depths of the tangled woman-child best known as Lyanna Stark. Don’t worry, It’s better under the cut.

Rhaegar Targaryen, Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms rode up to Lyanna Stark, the daughter of a Great Lord, at the Tourney of Harrenhal, 281 AC. The greatest tourney of its time, with prizes several times what was offered by Tywin Lannister at the Lannisport tourney of 276, this was a Big Fucking Deal. Hundreds of people flocked to Harrenhal. Hundreds of people were in attendance to this moment, a moment that would go down in history like Paris gifting the apple to Aphrodite. This is the moment, Westerosi historians will all agree, that e v e r y t h i n g changed. Picture it if you would- a lovely April afternoon, bright banners in every color imaginable, hundreds of strangers packed into the stands to watch the jousting, like some medieval superbowl. Picture a man more beautiful than anything, with streaming silver hair, ride up on his white horse towards a pretty young girl.

It looks like a song, doesn’t it? The prelude to a grand Opus, the prelude to a master gardener’s final work, his last best hope of making a ripple in history. You see that too? Good. That means that you understand some level of the context this story is in.

It all looks like a song to Lyanna, too. The prologue to a love story. Her love story. She’s fourteen years old, and this is a man she met only a few days ago under the silent gaze of a tree and maybe a few men in white cloaks. The Crown Prince extends a crown of flowers in her direction, a crown of blue roses, winter roses, her very favorite sort of flower. We’ve drawn this moment half a hundred times before. There’s always someone just out of frame of the painting though, someone just out of sight.

A woman. Another woman. The first woman. Princess Elia Martell of Dorne. Now Princess Elia Targaryen of Dragonstone. Her daughter is at home, her son a bun in an oven, if even that. We can’t quite see her expression: is it rage, is it hurt, is it guilt, is it disappointment? Perhaps it is fear. I’ve heard people say that they could feel the weight of a moment, that they could feel the strings of fate tightening inextricably around them- perhaps Elia could feel them too, could see the eventual carnage and destruction, perhaps she could see her children’s blood upon the walls of her home, perhaps she could hear her own screams. We’ll never know, I suppose. The painter has blurred out the faces of everyone except for the prince and the maiden. Don’t be fooled: he wants you to forget about everything but the song for the moment. Don’t forget Elia Martell, who walked among vipers and was unbitten.

There’s someone else in the painting, too. There, lurking in the shadows, is our future king. Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm’s End, a hulking blue-eyed brute. He’s nineteen and his betrothed has just been handed a flower crown by a gorgeous man. He’s nineteen and his future wife just received a declaration of love from a married man. Can you see him, our Menelaus? I know he can be hard to see; I didn’t see him either, in the beginning.

Lyanna accepts the flowers. She can’t very well tell him to go away and give them to Elia, can she?

The smiles have died. The party is at an end. Our players return, like birds, to their nests.

Fast forward another year. It is 282 AC. Aegon VI Targaryen has been born, and Princess Elia Martell, it is revealed, will not be able to give birth to any more children. Rhaegar is faced with a dilemma: he believes that in order to save the world, he must have a son and two daughters. He has two of the three children, but still he needs his Visenya. His wife cannot give him his Visenya, but she must still be born. Can you see it? Can you see the Silver Prince brood as he plays his high harp? Can you hear his self-absorbed sighs of torment?

Lyanna Stark is in the Riverlands. Why, we can’t be sure. It most likely is because her brother Brandon is getting married in a few weeks, but who knows? Lyanna is further south than that, on the grounds of Harrenhal. Perhaps she and the Prince arranged this; how else could he have known where to find her? If so, who contacted whom? And why? Perhaps it started out as something innocent, a maintenance of a friendship formed under the gaze of a tree. Perhaps it turned into laughter, and teasing, and flirting. Perhaps it turned into something not-so-innocent as Lyanna confessed that she didn’t want to marry Robert. Perhaps there were murmurs of sympathy from a pretty prince, because he hadn’t particularly wanted to marry his wife either.

Perhaps there was a promise to a fifteen year old girl that she didn’t have to marry a drunken man-whore if she came to meet him at Harrenhal in a month. He would protect her, squirrel her away not far from his family home of Summerhall. She could live there for the rest of her days, or at least until he could remarry again. And the fifteen year old believes him, because he’s the Crown Prince and she knows that he can make all these things happen. She believes him, because she has faith that she is in a love song. Lyanna believes him, because beautiful people never lie.

And if, for an instant, she feels a moment of doubt, this is what she realizes: she has been carrying on an emotional affair with a married man for a year. Her reputation would be ruined if anyone found out. If she refuses him, he could ruin her, he could burn her alive, he could tell his father that SHE was the Knight of the Laughing Tree and watch as she gets dragged to the pyre. And perhaps- perhaps- she has already lost her maidenhead to this Silver Prince because no one really knows what happened at Harrenhal.

Can you see it? Picture her, if you would, the painting of a fifteen year old girl, with a long face and infinite grey eyes full of songs. Picture her, biting her lip, agonizing over her decision: does she stay or go?

She goes. She goes alone, without telling anyone where she’s going, because then they could find her, then they could stop her. Lyanna’s watched Downton Abbey, she knows better than to leave a note.

(But maybe, ponders a butterfly, maybe she did write a note, and maybe it was sent and maybe a three-eyed crow in the far, untouchable North, stopped the letter from going where it was supposed to go. The saviors, after all, could never be born if that letter reached where it had been sent.)

And so Lyanna Stark disappears for a year and a half to the Tower of Joy.

Little is known about what went on in the Tower of Joy. We don’t know when they got there, we don’t know if Rhaegar raped Lyanna, we don’t know if she knew about Brandon and Rickard, we don’t know if she tried to escape, we don’t know whether she was happy there, we don’t know if Rhaegar genuinely cared about her. We do know that Rhaegar and Lyanna had sexual intercourse at least once. We do know that Rhaegar left at some point. We do know that the Kingsguard stopped Eddard Stark and his men from entering the tower as Lyanna screamed for them. We do know that she knew about Rhaegar’s death at the Trident and the Sack of King’s Landing and the fate of her son’s half-siblings. We do know that Rhaegar left her in hostile territory, 15-16 years old and pregnant, with only a wetnurse to help her through the birth itself.

Lyanna Stark dies in a bed of her own blood, in her brother’s arms, begging him for the life of her child, clutching desperately to the dead petals of long withered winter roses. Lyanna Stark, sixteen years old, dies. Lyanna’s bones are brought back to Winterfell, and so is her son. And we know what happens next.

Can’t you see her, lying there? Don’t you see the bed with its pale sheets, and a gaunt young woman sweating and bleeding her life out onto them? Can’t you smell the metal tang of blood and the salt of sweat and tears? Can’t you hear Ned Stark’s sobs, his terrified promises, the squalling of a newborn, the murmuring of a wetnurse by the name of Wylla? Can’t you feel the tension, as Wylla, Howland, and Ned decide upon what’s to be done? Can’t you hear the last strains of Lyanna Stark’s song:

Lyanna, your song is the song of girls everywhere. You did not do everything right, but you didn’t do anything wrong. You trusted a man you shouldn’t have trusted, and now you lie dead in your bed. Oh Lyanna, oh Lyanna, willful and beautiful and dead.

Can’t you smell the roses?

The gardener cackles as our hearts plummet into our stomachs and the orchestra falls silent. Lyanna, prelude to all, with a prologue of flower crowns and an epilogue of dead rose petals, it is fitting that you were fond of flowers.

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namjoonchronicles · 7 years ago

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Autumn – [BTS] Yoongi!Au

[A/N] Song: Dead Leaves by Prod. Min Suga.

“Autumn is really at its height now, look at all the dead leaves on the street.” Mother huffed.

Who’d knew that cracking eggs could be so therapeutic?

Two. Three, and four eggs into the large bowl. Until Yoongi’s mother handed you a large fork as she past, and her voice intruded your thoughts. “…The infamous egg roll we’ve all missed. I never thought I would be tasting that again.” She smiled fondly at the onion she peeled and chopped them into halves. You grinned sheepishly, feeling kind of proud that they’ve spoken about it even when you’re not there. The last time they ate it, was at least three to four years ago. “I’m going to make it extra delicious today, with little bits of sausages,” you started whisking gently.

“…Do you need salt?” You heard her asked and replied a simple nod. “…It’s been awhile since we do this, isn’t it?” She proceeds to chop the onions thinly next, before moving to the carrots. Then she inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if she had been thinking a lot if she should say this or not, but knowing you since you were a teenager, she didn’t hesitate. “… Why can’t Yoongi just date you? You’re smart. You know how to cook. You’re absolutely adorable.” She blinked to the blade and your smile thinned a bit, as if you know how she feels about it. That unfortunate feeling. “…Mom,” you affectionately called her, even if you were not blood-related. The relationship you shared is as close as the one a mother and a daughter would share. “…Everyone has their own type. Yoongi has his. We don’t have to be in a relationship for this to happen… Didn’t you say he brought some of them home to you? The girls,” You prepared the skillet on the stove and turned the heat on before sprinkling some oil on them.

“He dated a few girls. I don’t think it was dating. More like, how should I put it?” Yoongi’s mother pauses before snapping her head up when she had the word in her head and out her lips, “…Passing time.” You snickered lightly. You never understood people who has a relationship in order to pass time. You’ve always thought that relationship are something very intimate between two individuals, and if the relationship is because of love and affection, then it should have preceded to marriage. That is the very objective of dating—to be married. “How were they like?” You thought changing the subject would divert the attention from you but Yoongi’s mother wasn’t intending to leave you behind just yet. “…Just pretty.” You snorted at her answer and she giggled along with you. “Ah! Mother! That’s not very nice.” Your wrist rotated the pan to let oil even out before you take the bowl filled with whisked egg.

You pour the entire amount into the pan at medium heat. The sizzling sound filled the living room, and down the hallway of Yoongi’s apartment. The laughter died down. “But it’s true. That’s all they were. Just…pretty.” Mother laid her knife to rest and leaned her back to the counter watching you at work, expertly controlling the stove and pan. Hair tight in a messy bun, dashing to the counter to grab the chopped onions and bell peppers. “…But boys will be boys, mother.” You stated and turned to her and her puppy eyes, begging for what you already knew. Her gazes spoke louder than words, just pleading.You had to break contact, and stared at your feet, shaking your head lightly, “…Would you want him to be with someone he doesn’t like? I mean, it’s Yoongi.” You shrugged your shoulder, turn off the stove, and then goes leaning against the counter, oppose to Yoongi’s mother.

“…I want Yoongi to be happy. What matters most, is that.” Your eyes slide to hers slowly and you tilted your head to the side, smiling, hoping to mend her heart by it. “…What a fine daughter-in-law you’ll make to someone, one day,” she murmured, and averting her eyes and body to resumed chopping green onions, and, “…I’m already jealous of her.” The front door beeped open, and before you could even see his face, he was mumbling through a short walkway approaching the kitchen. Paper bags in arms, a couple of fruits, heavy footsteps with socks, muttering, “I had to go all the way downtown, because the convenient store downstairs? They ran out of meat. I bought watermelon and some honeydew.” He placed them all on the counter. “…Did you get the flower beetroot?” You inched next to him as he got rid of his jacket. He looked down and nodded on the list you wrote. “This one was a bit tricky. Who’d knew there was so many types of mushroom?” Yoongi whined and his lips becomes pouty, like always. You giggled, and start to organize the things. “It’s your turn now.” You said to him, passing him a bowl. “…Braised spicy seafood? It’s my time now? Let me wash my hands.” He started rolling up his sleeves and a flash came from mother’s direction. “You two really looked like a married couple.” She excited safe the photo from her phone and Yoongi started groaning in dissatisfaction, “…Mother! We are handling serious issue here. Is this the time to take pictures?”

You pinched him by the sleeve and urged him to go wash his hands quickly instead of bickering with his mother and he wordlessly go. “I have to do the squids right? Take out the guts and everything?” He asked while drying his washed hands. You nodded while taking a bite from the cookie in his hand, he took the rest of the unbitten piece in his mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “…You need to strip the squid and wash the guts off. The tentacles needs to be skewed with your nail. That’s where most of the dirt are,” before exclaiming in full-mouth, “Is this soft cookie from Betty’s Cookie Jar shop?” Yoongi took the knife from Mother’s chopping board and started to clean the squids, nodding. You turned your head up to where Mother is, but she disappeared to the hallway with her phone, “…How small do you want your squid?” Yoongi’s question made you resumed plating the eggrolls on a cute plate.

“Bite-size.” You shot. Yoongi’s lips protruded as he focused. “How’s work?” He asked, and you clicked your tongue immediately, right after. “I think I have my answers.” He smacked his lips together and slightly nodded while you throw your head back, laughing. “We agreed not to talk about work on this fine weekend!” You scolded him, slapping his arm playfully. “…I went on a blind date…” You started. “Oh?” Yoongi replied, his smile is gone and all that’s left is that stoned expression as he gathered his squid into a plate. You took the pot from the side and placed them on the stove. “Yeah. He was nice.” You recalled. The guy wore loose white Polo shirt with jeans. He had this ridiculously gorgeous smile and an expensive wrist watch that he made sure, was seen by you. Or maybe you were a bit sceptical.

You also remembered that he liked reading. He was reading when you came. And you noticed that he was honest, too. Provided in the way you eyed his phone when a message came he promptly answered your questioning eyes with a blunt, unpretentious, “…A notification about a book I ordered. It says it’s coming tomorrow.” He gave you that same smile again, and you nibbled the piece of meat from your fork. “…You know, you’re the first girl I’ve ever went on a date with, who ordered steak instead of salads.” He tips his head back then to the side, as if he had been contemplating to say it, all this time you were here. “I like my steaks.” You gushed, shamelessly and the twinkle in his eyes tells you that it wasn’t something he would be despised of, but yet, something he actually adored.

“It’s a compliment! It’s really a compliment,” he showed his toothy smile, hiding the embarrassment behind his large pair of hands. “I’m sorry if I made it sound like it’s a bad thing.” His laughter cools down and you suddenly starting to feed on his adorable grin, with your cheeky eyes. “Everything you say sounded like a government’s mans’ speech. Maybe it’s your deep voice. It’s very sexy.” You blurted out, confidently. He cleared his throat and reached for a glass of water, before it tips overs splashed the liquid over the carpeted floor. You handed him your glass and waved for a waiter. The dinner date ended shortly after, and unlike his confident expressions before, he constantly look away, apologizing and staying oddly quiet. The event affected him. He sent you off with a taxi, fully paid and you knew from the way he turned his back to you, you were not going to see him ever again. Not because you weren’t a potential girlfriend, but because he couldn’t forgive himself for making a mistake, no one intended. And you knew from that, that he is going to be hard to please and he will self-blame himself until it consumes him. A relationship with him will become toxic if he doesn’t reciprocate an approach you initiated.

You blinked, and you were back in the kitchen with a very silent Yoongi. And the conversation ended there, until Yoongi’s mother walked back in.

“Everything good?” She greeted. “Yeah.” “Yup.”

The lunch on a Saturday began shortly after Yoongi finished making his braised spicy seafood. You were listening to mom ranting about a shop assistant who wouldn’t explain why her coupons couldn’t be used, while Yoongi stays very quiet. You noticed that and looked at him, from across the table. You placed an eggroll in his bowl, he picks them up with his chopstick, took them in his mouth and snapped his head to the side, chewing. His jaw muscle tensed. “I mean,” Mother began, “…I don’t understand.” Yoongi cleaned up his plate with a single swipe of the spoon. “…Why won’t you guys date?” Mother finished her sentence and you dropped your gaze to your bowl. Yoongi took his away and pushed the chair back, signalling that he’s done with his lunch, “…I know right.” Yoongi started to rinse his bowl, tilting his head back a little, gawking an insincere smile.

“…Why won’t we date?” He dried his hands, take the plate of frozen honeydew from the fridge and to the table where you were. “You guys will be perfect for each other. I like her. Tell me, darling, is it Yoongi?” Mother patted your knee underneath the table. A broken smile crept on your lips, hesitantly. The chopstick you used to eat seemed so heavy. As you recalled the events that unfold in your head when you heard the word ‘date’ and ‘Yoongi’ in one sentence.

It must have been a week after the summer ended, and autumn began, several years ago. The autumn leaves started to scatter every time the wind blows. Yoongi’s attention shifted to the ground while you gaze up to the only leaf that’s hanging on the twig of a frail-looking tree, by the small pond of your hometown. “Barely hanging on.” You whispered. And in Yoongi’s head, was all the words he wished he could have said, his silence that you understood so much and you passed a knowing smile. “…I know you want to hold on,” You said to him, digging your hands far into the hoodie he lend you. “…But I want you see the world. See other girls. Date many other girls, first. And if, you still want me, you can come back to me. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re making a mistake when you are in a relationship with me.” You explained.

Ridiculous. One word in Yoongi’s head.

Why would wanting to date you—be a mistake? Why would wanting to choose you, of all these girls around, be a mistake? Why is it wrong to want someone you want? Yoongi thought that you didn’t think he was good enough. That’s why he didn’t bother to fight for you. A withering love that he felt, wasn’t the same thing you feel. You were simply giving him a choice. Yoongi knows only you, and it would be a waste for him to never know all the types of girls out there, when he could. “So you don’t want me.” He spat, forcing his lips out and nodded, sourly at the trees above. “No… I just don’t want you to feel spared of what the world had to offer.” You softly say, kicking air. “I don’t care what the world had to offer,” He slummed, and he sighs, “…And if you put it that way, then fine. I’ll roam around the world, see other people, but only because you told me to, not because I wanted to. I can’t hold on to things that wants to drift away.” The heavy conversation dims that way, with no words from you. You left for main city to study, and Yoongi went to do resumed his passion. Both of you went separate ways. For a while, for two, three years.

Yoongi walked past the living room and snatched his iPad before walking down the hallway to his room. “Why don’t you guys date?” Mother asked, impatiently. “Ask her…” Yoongi grumbled.

Sun is setting soon, after spending the whole day with Yoongi and his mom, you told them you needed to go. But Yoongi’s mother always had an excuse to let you stay an hour longer. And an hour become two, two became three and before you know it, it was an hour before midnight. This time, Yoongi’s mother was laying asleep on the couch and Yoongi grabbed the car key across the table while you waited at the door. “…Come up with something so she’ll think I left because of emergencies.” You advised Yoongi, walking out the main door. “I’m not going to lie to my mother.” He grumbled back at you, leading the way to the elevator. “…It’s not the first time you lied to her.” You darted back, “You think she would really believe that you and the girls you brought home was just, a friendly fling? What a total bullshit.” You chucked your tongue. “You think I’m sleeping with them?” He shot.

“Why wouldn’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at him, challenging.

Yoongi passed you a look that screams, unbelievable. “All these years of knowing me, and still, you would think I would sleep with just any girls. Am I a fuckboy?”

“With those looks? Undeniably, yes.” “Well glad to hear that. Everything is going as planned, yes?” He bit his lower lip as the lift descends to the parking lot. You didn’t think you needed to answer that. It was a trick question. He was clearly trying to remind you what you said to him on that autumn morning. Freeing him from his ‘leash’, releasing him from the latch he wants to be in. Drifting away from him, because you thought you were not enough for him, when he is clearly all you need. The drive home was accompanied by songs you knew he arranged. One particular song brought you back to that very day, and it was titled, ‘Dead Leaves’. You looked out the car window in silent, watching arrays of trees dancing in the subtle wind. The street partially empty down this side of the city, and you were overwhelmed with feelings you can’t explain.

So you started to speak, very slowly, just as the song ended. There was no track right after that one, suggests that it must have been the end of the track. “…I had a very difficult three years.”

“Mom’s health was deteriorating. Dad was working at 67, and I couldn’t find a job. My little brother was getting wavered by online games, and he was skipping class.” You blinked slowly at the view of the street, from the moving car. “…I had no one to turn to. I was devastated, and at many point during that span of three years, I thought of…disappearing. I thought of horrible things. I couldn’t stand at the top of the building, not wanting to be at the edge. I stared at the ceiling fan in my room, already knowing how to tie a knot with the belt. I put my face in the pillow and just when I started to stop breathing, I turned to the side, gasping for air. You have no idea how many times I said to myself, to live just one more day.” You wiped away a trickle of tear with the back of your hand. Yoongi stayed very silent, as usual.

“…Wow, I’ve been keeping this inside me for so long. Because couldn’t find the time to cry.” You giggled and sniffed. Yoongi was making a left turn to the apartment you stayed in, the guards granted entry and he walked you up to your apartment, accompanying you. “Thank you, for listening to my unfortunate rants. Thank you for letting me cook in your apartment. Thank you for being a good son and friend. Thank you for coming all the way up here to send me home. Just thank you so much, now off you go.” You said, standing behind the door of your apartment and when you were just about to shut the door, Yoongi placed his hand on it, stopping you. He hung his head low and you asked him why he did that.

He looked at you with a pair of eyes you didn’t recognise coming from Yoongi, through his bangs and filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “How dare you lived a life without me,” he grumbled, pushing the door wider as he speaks, “…I like the fact that you suffered without me. But I hate the fact that you didn’t run to me, when you could have. And should have.” He is in your apartment completely now, clenching his jaws. “Because of your pride?” He tips his head to the side a bit before grabbing you, before you could even reply, held you by the back of your neck and placed his lips on you. He took your scent in as if he had been waiting for so long for this, inhaling you. And his kiss was gentle as it progresses, oozing a lot of love with every inch of its movement, easing you into the mood. One hand on your hip, the other behind your head, holding you in place. You feel the wall behind you, fully. Your head was protected by his hand so it won’t drill against the concrete while he spills verses of love through his elaborated kisses.

You broke the kiss and he pants, with a boyish grin on his face, “…What pride?” He eyed you up and down, eating you up. He thumbed your lips, lovingly, as if he was trying to memorise how it felt and tasted like. “I think you still want me.” Yoongi tips his eyes up, and instead of lust, he was looking at you with much care. In contrast of how he initiated the kiss. Maybe it was the spur of the moment. But those eyes that are looking at you right now, is the eyes of the Yoongi you left by the small pond of your home town, many years ago. And he is back, with the same desire, slightly older but is heavily prepared to regain what he’s lost. “Are you sure it’s me you want?” Your voice sounded embarrassingly croaky with want, and you prayed he didn’t notice that. He linked his forehead to yours, “…Fuck yeah.”

And the morning can come, and Yoongi would still want you. Let all the mornings come, for all he wants, is you.

Mother got the daughter in law she wanted. And Yoongi came back to you. Isn’t that what soulmates are? That no matter how far apart you drifted, you’ll always come back to the place you believed is home. “I don’t hate autumn as much now.” Yoongi stated, playing with your fourth finger, twisting the ring. “You hated it before?” You looked up at his jaw, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Absolutely despise it.”

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corystssides · 7 years ago

Text

Having Kittens

Words: 2109

Summary: “The thought of kittens was enough to distract Patton from the worrying thought that there was fear breeding more fear in the mindscape.” Fluff, I think.

Warnings: mild panicking, some yelling, mild injuries from animals

Tags:@yep-another-fander, @softlogic, @literallylogic, @tssanderssidestrash, @diplomatic-arsonist, @saltequeen, @fallingineternity, @satisfied-sanders-sides, @vixenneko, @the-strange-universe-of-cake, @fangirlfiles1, @winds-and-stardust, @the-laarmy, @pfftwhatnoimhuman, @gaysaxaphone, @mira-jadeamethyst, @frustratedwaffle, @romananalogicality

The early morning peace was broken by Anxiety. Logan was mildly surprised. Usually he was asleep until at least 10 am.

“PATTON!” Virgil was yelling. “PATTON WHERE ARE YOU?”

Logan wondered if Patton had played some sort of prank on Virgil. The two emotional traits were rarely at odds enough to yell at each other otherwise.

Virgil whipped around the staircase and slid right into the couch, tumbling right into Roman’s lap and knocking the book out of Logan’s hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Where’s Patton?”

“What’s going on?” Roman asked. Virgil was noticeably not put together for interaction with other people. He was wearing boxers, socks, and his unzipped hoodie, like he’d rolled out of bed in a hurry. He wasn’t even wearing makeup!

“Did I hear someone yelling for me?” Patton asked, stepping out of the kitchen.

“Patton!” Virgil said, instantly off the couch. “Today’s the day!”

Patton was just as confused as the rest of them, Logan was glad to note. “The day for what?” he asked.

“Come on!” Virgil said, grabbing Patton’s hand. “Or we’re going to miss it!”

With no further explanation, Virgil dragged Patton down into the mindscape.

The two remaining traits stared at the spot where they had been, then looked at each other. Then, as the smell of something burning hit them, they jumped up and sprinted for the kitchen. Apparently Patton had been making pancakes. Logan quickly took charge, removing the offending pancake before it actually caught on fire. Roman put more batter in the pan. When Logan looked at him, he shrugged. “We have no idea how long they’re going to be gone. We might as well finish making breakfast.”

“Valid point,” Logan said. The two settled into the breakfast making process, wondering what Virgil had gotten so worked up about this morning.

Virgil and Patton popped up in Virgil’s room. There was a creepy, high pitched wail coming from somewhere in the room. “Uh, kiddo?” Patton asked, eyeshadow already appearing and getting darker by the second. “What exactly did you bring me here for?”

“Shh,” Virgil said. Then, quietly, “She’s behind the couch. Be quiet though, don’t scare her.”

He tiptoed over to the couch and laid down on the floor so he could look behind it. Patton joined him curiously. It was dark behind the couch, but he could just make out the outline of something black. It appeared to be the source of the noise.

“What is that?” he whispered. He was apparently not quiet enough because suddenly two glowing red eyes were glaring at him. He shivered in fear, considering leaving. Instead his hand made its way into Virgil’s, clutching tight.

“She’s a Fear,” Virgil said. “And she’s about to have kittens.”

The thought of kittens was enough to distract Patton from the worrying thought that there was fear breeding more fear in the mindscape. “Kittens? I didn’t know Fears looked like cats.”

“This one does, so the babies probably will too, at least for a little while.”

The Fear had started glowing in more places than just the eyes now. There were jagged lines now crisscrossing her body and glowing red like lava breaking through the surface. In fact, Patton almost thought it was lava. The Fear was steaming, and it seemed to be melting from the inside out.

“Is she supposed to do that?” Patton whispered worriedly.

“I think so,” Virgil replied.

Then, the Fear came apart. Patton screamed a little. She melted into six different pieces, five black, one white, all glowing red at the edges. Once they stopped glowing, Virgil pulled a flashlight from off the couch and pointed it at the pieces of the Fear.

The pieces had now formed into six somewhat kitten-shaped beings. The black ones had red eyes and little bitty teeth, but the white one had piercing blue eyes and large fangs that poked out of its mouth. No doubt the white one would look intimidating when it got bigger, but even the large teeth couldn’t cancel out its cuteness. Patton found himself “awww"ing.

Patton reached out to pick up the white one. "Careful with that one,” Virgil said. “That’s a Hope. They bite and don’t let go.”

Mindful of that advice, Patton picked up the Hope. It growled at him, sounding more like a chihuahua than a cat. Then, it happily curled up in his lap. Virgil looked shocked.

“Are you going to keep them?” Patton asked, hoping that the answer would be a definite ‘yes.’

“No,” Virgil said. “They belong in the wild parts of the mindscape. I don’t even know how the mother got in here.”

“But they don’t have parents! How will they survive out there?”

“Trust me, they’re self-sufficient,” Virgil said, getting up and moving to a different part of the room.

“What are you doing?” Patton asked.

“Putting pants on, now that I’m not in a rush to find you. Plus I need more pockets.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? I’m going to take the kittens to where they belong.”

“And you’re going to put them in your pockets?”

“Well how else would I carry them?” It was not lost on Virgil that all this kitten talk was making Patton’s eyeshadow get lighter and lighter.

“In your arms, silly!” Patton said, picking up the white one in demonstration. How he remained unbitten, Virgil didn’t know.

“Did you miss the part where they bite?”

“They’re kittens. It’s not like they can–ow!” Patton quickly snatched his hand back from one of the Fears that he’d been attempting to grab. It had bitten him hard enough to pierce skin, and Virgil saw Patton’s eyeshadow suddenly get darker and darker.

“Nope, time to get you out of here,” Virgil said, grabbing his hand and pulling him right back into the common room. Then he disappeared again to get the Fears.

The fear that had suddenly infected Patton subsided, though his heart was still going way too fast. Now it felt like the end of a rollercoaster ride rather than a hundred thousand spiders coming for him. Patton managed to take a few breaths and calm himself, petting the Hope as it curled up on his arm.

“Ah, Patton!” Logan said, spotting him. “…What is that?” he asked, spotting the Hope.

“It’s a Hope! Isn’t it cute?”

“It sure is…something,” Roman said, leaving Logan in the kitchen and joining Patton. “A Hope, really? I’ve never seen one look anything like this before.”

He picked it up by the scruff of its neck to examine it, and almost dropped it when Virgil popped back in, pockets full of screaming and hissing little demon cat things.

“And what do you have?” he squeaked indignantly.

“Fear!” Virgil said, grabbing one and holding it right up in front of Roman’s face. “Wanna see?”

Virgil smirked as Roman stumbled back. The Hope sank its claws into his arm, and Roman yelped. It was mostly from surprise; after all, Roman was the trait whose realm encompassed hopes and dreams, so the denizens of said realm couldn’t really hurt him. He’d still given Virgil an un-princely reaction that he could make fun of though, which annoyed him to no end.

Roman glared at him. “Whatever,” he said. “I shall be taking this back to my realm, where it belongs.”

“Can I come too?” Patton asked excitedly.

“I would like to go as well,” Logan said. “For scientific purposes.”

The three of them looked at Virgil. “I have to take the Fears to the Nightmare Realm,” he said. “I doubt Princey wants them running around in Tinsel Town.”

“Well then, the logical direction is going to the Nightmare Realm first, and then to Roman’s realm,” Logan said.

Neither Virgil nor Roman were expecting that. Roman recovered first. “Of course!” he said exuberantly. “A quick jaunt into the Nightmare Realm, and then off to the palace!” There was a confident grin on his face.

Virgil looked at them like he couldn’t believe that they wanted to go with him. Even Patton, still clearly unnerved from being bitten by a Fear, voiced no dissent.

“Sure, whatever,” Virgil said, trying to sound like he didn’t care one way or the other if they joined him.

“Then off we go!” Roman said, taking charge and sinking into the mindscape. Everyone else followed. The pancakes were left forgotten on the counter.

Roman already had his sword drawn when the others showed up. The Nightmare Realm had a habit of being dangerous, and he wanted to make sure that the others would be protected. The Hope was perched on his shoulder, glowing softly in the darkness.

Virgil appeared and immediately started taking the kittens out of his pocket and setting them on the ground. He had just dropped the fourth one and picked up the last one when it bit him. He gasped a bit in pain, which made the others look at him worriedly. He grit his teeth, refusing to succumb to the sudden urge to sprint and hide from the others, and hissed out a slow breath. Then, realizing the Fear had discovered shapeshifting and had coiled around his wrists like ropes, Virgil slammed his wrists down onto his kneecap. The Fear squealed and melted off of him. It was fine. He was okay.

Something roared.

Virgil’s instincts took over. He sprinted away as quickly as he could. There was a shout behind him, and he tried to go faster. Then, something tackled him, and he fell.

The ground was surprisingly soft, and hard to get any traction in, but Virgil fought despite the ground moving with him. Whatever this thing was, he wanted it off of him. It had his arms pinned to his sides and it was laying on top of him, but he did his best to thrash and squirm anyway.

“Virgil!”

“Verge!”

“Anxiety!”

Wait. He knew that voice. It was…Princey. Roman.

“You have to stop squirming so I can get off you. Can you do that for me?”

His voice sounded…strange. Not as pompous. Almost…caring? Still, Virgil stopped moving, and the weight that was crushing him disappeared and his arms were freed. He got up too quickly, accidentally slamming the back of his head into Roman’s face. Both of them reeled back in pain.

It was very bright here. Virgil squinted, trying to adjust. Someone handed him sunglasses, which he quickly put on. He was in some sort of white room with a huge glass door leading to a balcony. And he was on a bed. One with a red comforter and pillows. The light streaming in through the windows and door was painfully sunny. There was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and a desk with a chair, all mahogany and all beautifully crafted. Logan was sitting in the chair, Patton on top of the chest of drawers, and Roman, clutching his nose dramatically, was on the bed next to him.

“I loog bedder in doze dan you,” Roman said irritably. Ah, the usual voice was back, if somewhat hard to understand at the moment.

“Where are we?” he asked, finally calming down to his usual state of nervousness.

“Da mind palaz,” Roman said. Then, pain subsiding, he stopped clutching his nose and wiped away the tears from getting hit in the face. He sniffled, and said, “But it’s my part of the mind palace, not the part that I made for Thomas and then he never used.”

“Where’s the Hope?” Virgil asked.

“Uh…” Roman looked around quickly, stood up and looked around the room, looked at the others, who shrugged, then frowned. “It must have run off when we arrived. Not to fear, though, they’re very self-sufficient.”

“Are you okay?” Patton asked Virgil. “You got bitten.”

Virgil looked at his hands. His wrists had definite bruises on them, and there were black marks in the shape of a bite on his left hand in between the thumb and forefinger, but he wasn’t bleeding. “I’m fine,” he said.

“That’s good, kiddo. I was on the verge of worry.”

Everyone groaned.

“Since everyone is alright, I’d like to propose going back to the common area,” Roman said. “There are some pancakes just sitting there getting cold, and cold pancakes aren’t nearly as delightful as warm ones.

Everyone agreed, and moments later they were all sitting with some lukewarm pancakes in front of them. And if anyone noticed that Logan kept accidentally speaking in couplets, or that Patton was extra punny, or that Virgil almost joined in singing with Roman at one point, no one said anything. The rest of the morning was far more peaceful than the beginning.

#virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #my fics #also if you can't read what roman said when he got hit in the nose #he says #i look better in those than you #meaning the sunglasses #idk if any of you needed the translation but just in case #posted aug 1 2017

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aresaphrodites · 7 years ago

Text

Wicked Games - Chapter Five

WARNING: ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT. If this bothers you at all, you may skip past it. It’s very obvious where it begins to take place and when Jughead comes into the scene, that’s where it ends. You will not miss anything if you decide to skip past this scene. (Nothing actually happens to her though.)

Hint: If you had your bad thoughts about Nathan’s character, well… you were right.

Archie’s back in Los Angeles for the night and playing a gig at the Hollywood Bowl. Veronica had all but gotten on her knees as she begged Betty to go with her. As skeptical as she was over attending a concert at this time, she agreed. She hadn’t been to a good concert in so long and she enjoyed Archie’s music.

Jughead, on the other hand, had seemed less than impressed with the whole idea. He’d tried to talk Betty out of it several different times, but in the end she’d got her way. She’d told him that they’d all be backstage and safe so there really wasn’t any reason to worry. Aside from Jughead, there would be tons of security at the amphitheater.

Betty rummaged through her closet last minute as she tried to find something to wear. It was nice and warm with a slight breeze outside, but she tended to get a little hot during concerts. She wanted to wear something that was both cute and simple. She hadn’t dressed up in a while and she was dying to put a good outfit to use.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she settled on a Parker Irma Lace Off-The-Shoulder white dress and a pair of Stuart Weitzman black leather block heels. She put her hair up in a simple bun and wore light makeup with clear lipgloss to complete the look. It was simple but she felt pretty as she looked at herself in the mirror. She would have fun tonight if it was the last thing she did.

There was a knock at her bedroom door and Jughead’s tentative voice rung out.

“Betty? You about ready?”

“I’m ready!” She called back to him and watched as the door opened up.

Jughead was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans with a grey shirt hidden underneath a maroon hoodie with a dark blue jean jacket over that. It was how he typically dressed on their casual days, so that’s not what had her thrown off. What had her thrown off over the whole outfit was that he seemed to be wearing what looked like a crown beanie on his head.

Betty lifted a finger and pointed at the beanie in question. “New?”

He brought his own hand up to the beanie and touched it before shaking his head. “No, it’s old, like really old.”

“I’ve never seen you wear it before.”

“I was trying to be professional,” he says with a shrug. “We’re going to a concert, though. How professional do I need to be?”

Betty just laughs. “Well, it’s cute. I like it.”

“Thanks,” he says easily then he clears his throat. “You look really nice.” He looks away as he says it and Betty wonders why. “Are you sure you won’t get cold out there?”

“I’m fine. I’ll probably be dancing a lot tonight.”

“Can you even dance to his music?” Jughead asks. “Isn’t it all sad and slow?”

Betty can’t help the way she cracks up, because he’s right. Archie’s music is super sad. It’s also really sappy and not the kind of stuff you can actually dance to. Slow dance maybe, but that’s about it. It was beautiful music, but it didn’t exactly hype you up.

“I can pretty much dance to anything,” Betty tells him. “I’m sure the opening act will have more energetic music. He’s touring with Josie and The Pussycats.”

Jughead nods and Betty wonders if he even knows who Josie and The Pussycats are. He doesn’t seem to be in touch with the latest trends.

“Well, we should probably go if we want to get there in time to see them.”

Betty nods in agreement as she grabs her purse from her dresser and follows Jughead out of the apartment.

The place is packed when they get there. Betty’s thankful that they don’t have to stand in the long line to get through as they wave VIP cards to the security guard who lets them by. She’s wearing a pair of huge sunglasses until they get backstage so that no one will spot her and cause a scene.

“Are you thirsty?” Jughead asks as he bends down to press his lips near her ear. It’s loud and hard to hear him. “I can get you something to drink.” Betty wonders if she hides the way she shivers at the closeness of him.

“Sure,” she tells him. “A water, please.”

He nods and leads her over to the stand, motioning for her to stand off to the side while he gets in line. She does as asked and looks around the venue. It’s going to be a packed show and she’s excited for it. Archie has a really good stage persona that was infectious and his music, sad as it was, was beautiful to listen to.

Jughead comes back not before long and hands her the bottle water as they make their way to the side stage to get backstage. As soon as they’re let through, they spot Veronica who’s surrounded by a couple of other people, probably friends of Archie’s.

Betty walks over to her friend and places a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. Veronica turns around and smiles as she sees who it is.

“Hey, B! I’m so glad you came.” They give each other a hug and Veronica twirls Betty around when they pull away. “You look gorgeous! Is that a new dress?”

“It’s one I’ve been saving. Good wear?”

“Definitely! You look adorable.”

Betty rolls her eyes but smiles. She isn’t sure if she wants to look cute, but she’ll take the compliment. Veronica drags her over to the people she had been talking to before. Betty smiles and says hi, but clocks out of the conversation fairly soon. She’s starving and notices a table set up that has various finger foods on it. She can’t lie and say she just came for Archie’s music, because these concerts usually had amazing food and that may have been what she was actually looking forward to. She grabs a plate and puts two little Philly Cheesesteak sandwiches and some chips on it.

She’s just taken a bite out of the sandwich when a chuckle comes from behind her. She turns around, mouth still full of food, and sees Jughead smirking at her.

“You know, if you were hungry then you should have said something. I could have made you something.”

“No, thanks,” she says once she’s swallowed her food.

“What?” He asks, looking taken aback. “Why not?”

“I don’t trust your cooking skills.”

“You’ve never had my cooking!”

“For good reason it would seem,” she smirks.

“I’m a good cook!”

Betty just laughs and nods. “Cheryl said she was a good cook too and then she nearly burned her house down and poisoned us all.”

Jughead rolls his eyes and huffs out. It’s such a childlike gesture and Betty’s heart clenches at it. He’s been better about being so serious and “work mode” around her all of the time. It’s nice to see him like this, joking around with her and letting loose. He never really has time to just be himself and have fun when she stops to think about it. His whole life right now is literally protecting her. That can’t be too much fun, so she wants him to go out with her and do things that are still exciting and won’t make it seem like he has to be brooding all the time. So far it’s working pretty good.

“Do you want some?” She asks him, handing him the unbitten sandwich.

“Uh,” he backs away from her. “I’ve never had one of those.”

“You’ve never had a Philly cheesesteak sandwich?”

“No, but it sounds less than appealing.”

“Okay, no.” She will not stand for this slander. “You’re trying it right now. It’s so good.”

“Betty…”

“Come on, I promise. Would I lie to you?” He gives her a look and she rolls her eyes. “Okay, well I wouldn’t lie to you about food.”

He glares at her before taking the sandwich. He stares at it for a while as if trying to decide if it’s suddenly going to jump up and attack him. Finally though, he takes a bit of it and then another bite and then another.

“I told you,” she sings out.

“This is amazing,” he sighs out before grabbing another one off of the table. Betty cackles at the action as she nibbles on her chips.

The rest of their time is spent just hanging out backstage and talking to everyone. Archie comes up to them and introduces himself to Jughead while also filling them in on his travels so far. They get to meet Josie and The Pussycats which has Betty swooning a bit, and apparently Jughead was aware of who they were. It’s all fun, but she’s excited when the lights go off and the music starts.

Veronica finds her before the first note even rings out and the two of them are already dancing around by the time the first lyric is sung. She feels free and happy, something she hasn’t felt in a while now. She can feel the bass on her skin as she twirls around. She probably looks ridiculous, but she doesn’t care. She’s surrounded by her friends and everything’s good for once. All of the drama that she’s dealing with floats away as she focuses on Josie’s voice and the words she’s singing.

“I’m glad you came,” Veronica yells out. “You need a little fun in your life.” Betty just nods, not even bothering to try and talk over the music. She did need some fun in her life. This is exactly what she needed and she makes a mental note to thank Veronica later.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Jughead standing alone. He isn’t dancing, but he’s swaying slowly from side to side. To anyone else it wouldn’t really be deemed swaying. It just looks like he’s switching his weight from foot to foot. Betty knows better though. There’s a dreamy kind of look on his face that lets her know that he’s into the song. She tells Veronica she’ll be back and the brunette happily goes off to find another dancing partner.

Betty walks up to Jughead and nudges him with her shoulder. “Pretty catchy stuff, huh?”

“It’s decent.”

She rolls her eyes. “You love it and you know it. Everyone loves Josie and The Pussycats!” A thought comes to her and she bites her lip thinking it over.

“Your swaying is a bit old school,” she tells him as she grabs his hand. “Dance with me.”

“I don’t think that’s professional, Betty.”

“I thought we weren’t being professional tonight? Isn’t that why you’re wearing this?” She taps his beanie with the hand that isn’t holding his. She tries to focus on the softness of the beanie and not how big and warm his hand feels in hers. She can’t think that, not with Jughead. He’s her bodyguard, a friend at most, but she knows he can’t be anything more.

“Dance with me,” she repeats.

He looks at her like he wants to disagree, but she pouts at him and he rolls his eyes before giving in. She takes hold of his other hand and begins to move them back and forth as she shakes her hips. It’s your typical middle school homecoming dance move, but it’s fun. Even Jughead cracks a grin as he humors her, going along with her dancing. The two of them are shimmying around, hands still clutching each other’s and Betty’s heart races.

Jughead is different. He’s different from any other guy she’s ever been with. Granted she’s not really with him and she hasn’t even been with any other guys before. She’s dated a few guys, of course, but nothing ever serious. She could never see herself being with any of them longterm. She doesn’t know why, but Jughead just seems like the longterm kind of guy. Longterm bodyguard, longterm friend, she reminds herself.

He’s smiling over at her and he looks so different from the serious asshole she’d thought him to be when she first met him. He had his moments still yes, but he was so much more than just some stoic bodyguard. His eyes were full of life as he looked at her and she wondered if he could see the way she was looking at him right now. She can’t help the way her mind wonders off. What if he wasn’t her bodyguard? What if he was a guy she had met at a coffee shop or a bookstore? Would they still be here right now? Would she be able to cling onto his hand after this song ends like she wants to?

She shakes her head. No. Jesus Christ, what is she thinking? She pulls her hands out of his and smiles nervously.

“I’m going to get a drink,” she tells him before walking off. They serve good alcohol backstage and that’s exactly what she needs right now. She’s totally going to blame her wondering thoughts on the fact that the Pussycats just played I Feel Love and it’s one of their most sensual songs.

“Damn Josie,” she whispers to herself as she tells to bartender to make her a gin and tonic.

Archie’s singing now and Betty’s way past being tipsy. She had been stumbling around and talking to Veronica. That was until some guy tried touching her ass and Jughead pulled her away immediately with a few choice words at the man.

“You never let me have fun,” Betty whines as Jughead places her in front of him, hands on her shoulders so that she can’t move too far from him. “You’re such a fun sucker!”

“That makes no sense,” he tells her. He’s back to his serious bodyguard tone and it annoys Betty more than anything.

“What happened to fun Jughead? Where did he go?”

“I can’t have fun when I’m worrying about your drunk ass.”

Betty whirls around and looks at Jughead in shock, mouth dropped wide open.

“Did you just—?”

He shushes her, not letting her finish her question, but he’s smirking at her so Betty lets it slide. If he smiles then it’s okay.

The song changes and the first chords of I’ll Try come on.

“Oh, I love this one!” Betty swoons. It was an old song, once Archie supposedly wrote back when he was in high school but it’s a classic. It’s her favorite. “Dance with me.”

“You’re drunk,” Jughead reminds her. “You can’t even stand up straight on your own.”

Betty pouts realizing he’s right. The only reason she’s standing up right now is because he hasn’t let go of her shoulders. She makes to turn away from him, but then Jughead sighs and the next thing she knows she’s being picked up from under her armpits and turned around. She squeals out and looks at him in confusion as he places her feet on top of his.

“Hold on to me,” he tells her.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders and he places his around her waist, holding onto her tightly. He begins to move them slowly and gently around and Betty smiles as she realizes what he’s doing for her. It’s something she used to do with her dad when she was younger and her heart clenches as they move along to the music. They’re dancing. He’s dancing for her. It’s something so simple, yet it’s everything to her.

She places her head onto his chest and closes her eyes.

“Thank you,” she tells him. She doesn’t know why she’s thanking him and she doesn’t know if he even hears her, but he squeezes her a little tighter and she can tell he’s smiling too.

They go to In-N-Out after the concert. She’s starving. Alcohol always makes her a little hungry.

“I want all the burgers!”

“You can get one burger, Betty.”

“No!” She cries. “Hello?” She calls out to the box, leaning over Jughead.

“Hi, may I take your order?”

“All the burgers!”

“Oh, my god.” Jughead pushes her back and glares at her.

“Excuse me?” The person taking their order says.

“Can I please have one cheeseburger?” He gives Betty a look as he says it, warning her to stay quiet. She just glares back. “And a strawberry shake?”

Betty smiles sweetly at him, hearts in her eyes. She hadn’t told him she wanted a shake, but he knew her so well. The worker tells them to drive forward and Jughead rolls up his window as he does.

“A shake!” Betty shouts. “For me?”

“Yes,” he sighs.

“What a king,” she swoons, placing her hand on her forehead as she puts her head on Jughead’s shoulder and bats her eyes up at him.

“Stop that.”

“Why didn’t you get something?” She asks him as she sits up.

“I think I had enough Philly Cheesesteaks.”

“Ah ha! I told you they were good.”

Jughead just rolls his eyes. They get their food and then they head back to the apartment. Betty sips at her shake the way there, but doesn’t touch her burger or fries. She likes to eat while she watches TV.

They get to the apartment and are about to use the elevators in the parking garage when Betty remembers that she left her purse in the car.

“I’ll go get it,” Jughead tells her even though he’s already carrying her food and her heels.

“I can get it,” she says with an eye roll. “You didn’t park far.”

He looks unsure, like he really doesn’t want to let her go.

“Wait for the elevator.” The elevators have been acting up lately and it takes a while to get one. “I’ll yell out if I need you.”

Jughead finally gives in and nods, making his way to the elevators.

“Be quick, please.”

She nods and walks off towards the car, still sipping at her shake. Jughead had unlocked it before he went to the elevators so she’s quick about opening the passengers door and reaching in to get the Chanel bag.

She closes the door and stands up straight. As soon as she turns around though, she nearly yells out in surprise. The guy from the gym, Nathan, is standing in front of her. His eyes are red and dilated at the same time. He’s smiling at her in a really creepy way and it gives her the chills. He doesn’t look so handsome now.

“Fun night out?” He asks her.

“I was at a concert.” She’s civil with him. She doesn’t know that anything’s up right now. Maybe he just wants to talk.

“I saw your boy was with you.” She’s confused about who he’s talking about when she remembers that he saw her at the gym with Jughead. He doesn’t know that Jughead’s just her bodyguard. “I didn’t want to come up to you when he was around. He seems a bit possessive.”

It’s not the right word to use. Protective is definitely right, but not possessive. Possessive is something that a boyfriend is. However, Nathan doesn’t need to know this. He’s sending her a ton of bad vibes right now and even though she’s still a bit tipsy, she can notice the way his mouth smells like alcohol too. She can see the predatory look in his eyes and she knows that he isn’t about to be as nice as he was that one afternoon.

“He is,” she lies to him.

Nathan hums out. “Well, he isn’t here right now, is he?”

“Actually—.” Before she can finish the sentence, Nathan lunges at her, attaching his lips to hers. He tastes like alcohol and something else, something chemical. She bites at his lips harshly and he hisses as he pulls back.

She opens her mouth but before she can even scream, Nathan claps him palm over her mouth.

“I don’t fucking think so.” He places his hand onto her mouth to stop her from yelling out and she goes blank. There’s no way this is happening. This cannot be happening. She shuts her eyes tightly as one of his clammy hands snakes its way underneath her dress. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.

“You have the softest skin,” he whispers into her ear. His breath is hot and she shivers in disgust.

This won’t happen. She won’t let it.

She drops her milkshake to the ground, not even knowing why she was still holding onto it, and brings her knee up and stomps down on Nathan’s foot.

“Ow!” He yells out.

“Jughead!” She screams as soon as he pulls his hand away. “Jughead!” She screams it so loud, her throat immediately hurts afterward. It doesn’t hurt as badly though as the impact she feels on her cheek once Nathan learns what she’s done.

“You fucking bitch,” he snarls out. He lifts up his hand again and Betty braces herself for the impact. It never comes though.

“What the fuck?” Nathan yells out as Jughead grabs his hand and twists it around.

Betty slides back against the car and watches as Jughead punches him twice in the face before bringing the top half of his body down to knee him in the gut. It doesn’t look like trained fighting, this looks like street fighting. She wonders if there’s a reason why he’s fighting like this.

Nathan falls to the floor and Jughead gets on top of him, punching him repeatedly in the face over and over again. She wasn’t sure when she started crying but as she yells out for Jughead to stop, she notices the way her voice breaks. He doesn’t listen to her though.

“Jughead, stop! Stop!” She stands up from where she was sitting and walks over to him. She knows what she’s about to do is dangerous, but she doesn’t care. She can’t let Jughead kill him. Not because she gives a shit about Nathan, no. He can rot in hell for all she cares. She doesn’t want Jughead to have that kind of blood on his hands though.

She reaches out and grabs Jughead’s fist. He snaps his head around to see whose touched him and Betty gasps at the look in his eyes. It’s one she’s never seen before. He looks like someone else completely, someone dangerous but he still doesn’t scare Betty. Instead she feels more safe than she ever has before.

“Stop,” she tells him gently. “You’ll kill him.”

“Then let me.”

The words startle her. He looks so different from the man she knows and her heart aches at the way he’s changed so quickly. How did their day turn into this?

“Jughead,” she begs, “please. Don’t do this. I don’t want you to do this.”

He continues to stare at her with the wild look in his eyes. And then he blinks. He blinks and suddenly she can see him again. The anger is still there in full force, but it’s not fueling this anymore.

“Are you okay?” He asks her.

“Yes,” she tells him, but she’s not sure if she means it.

“Your lip,” he whispers out. She reaches up with her fingers and hisses as she touches her bottom lip. It’s busted from where Nathan had first hit her.

“It’s okay,” she tells him. It’ll heal. A busted lip isn’t going to bother her.

Jughead just stares at her hardly, chest moving up and down heavily as he pants out.

“Did he touch you?”

“No,” she promises. “He didn’t. You didn’t let him. You protected me.” His shoulders sag and he doesn’t seem as tense as soon as she says it. “Just like you always do and just like you always will.”

“Betty,” he says as he gets up from Nathan, “I’m so sorry.” He walks up towards her and reaches his hand up to place on her cheek. She leans into his touch and his thumb brushes the area near her lip, but he doesn’t touch it in fear of hurting her. “I should have come with you.”

“Don’t. Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

“I need to call the cops,” he tells her, but he doesn’t move his hand from her face. She just nods at his words. He doesn’t seem to want to stop touching her, almost as if he’s scared of letting go of her. Betty understands it, she doesn’t want him to stop either, and so she pulls her cheek out of his grasp and leans into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He exhales as he wraps one arm around her waist protectively and then reaches into his pocket with the other to grab ahold of his phone.

She doesn’t pay attention to the words he says as he talks to the cops. She just keeps her head buried into his chest. She’s not crying anymore. She just feels numb now.

Jughead must have hung up the phone because he weaves his other hand through her hair and runs it through it soothingly. It’s comforting and Betty shuts her eyes.

Its funny, she thinks to herself, it’s almost the exact same position they had been in earlier at the concert but now it’s for an entirely different reason. And this time, she doesn’t feel the same happiness as she had earlier. Now she feels empty.

She looks at Nathan in anger. His face is bloody as he lays on the floor unconscious, but she can see his chest rise and fall slowly. In a moment of hatred she wishes it would stop rising. He took tonight from her. It was supposed to be perfect. It was supposed to allow her and Jughead to become closer. She feels his hand in her hair and she realizes that she kind of did get what she wanted. In the most literal sense, she has never been this close to Jughead before.

She almost laughs in disbelief.

Not for the first time she wonders what she did in a previous life to deserve this.

Up Next: Betty begins to feel anger at her life as everything begins to pile up onto her. Jughead turns up the heat on #ProtectBettyCooperAtAllCosts. Jughead also confronts Betty on how she seems to rely on drinking which leads to one steamy confession. Our stalker is back and he helps out Betty… in a very demented way.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #Wicked Games Fic

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