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biggest-stupidhead · 4 years ago

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Bad Timing (Levi x Reader) Part 5

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend?

Work Count: 6.3K

You were angry. Of course Levi had to go and stir the pot right before the holiday season. The time of year when he spent the most of his hours at your home. Even though he spent most of his time at your house throughout the whole year, this amount of time typically doubled through the months of October through December. The remaining weeks in October were the worst. You both expertly avoided one another, Petra and Levi continued to see each other exclusively. This turned out to be bittersweet for you, the pros were that Levi was busy trying to please Petra to spend too much time at your house. But also it stung to see him with her, even though you had no right to feel jealous.

The two weeks after your kiss, you spent holed up in your room, your phone set on do not disturb. After binging Gossip Girls and all of the classic Disney movies, you finally decided that instead of focusing on romance, you would devote yourself to school. Thankfully you weren't the only person that favored school over social gatherings, you found yourself spending countless hours in the school's musty library with Armin. He was so easy to get along with, down to earth, kind, and most importantly, he was too shy to ask you about anything too personal. Today was one of those days, it was nearing the end of November, the trees had shed their leaves, bearing the naked bark. And the weather was constantly changing. Some days it would snow, others it would pour rain, but that was just the midwest for you. Glancing up from the textbook that had held your attention for the past two hours, your were pleased to see a flurry of fat snowflakes spiraling downwards. The window had frost creeping up from the corners, thank God, maybe the weather would finally settle and allow the snow to stick for once. You could feel Armin staring at you, his eyes piercing the back of your skull. a feeling you had become familiar with. Turning back to face him, he averted his eyes, a comforting pink creeping onto his cheeks with the embarrassment of being caught.

"It's really coming down huh?" you tried to initiate some light small talk.

"Yeah! Hopefully it will stick." Armin responded, a nervous chuckle slipping past his lips as he returned his attention back to his homework. You hummed, glancing back down at the yellowing pages of the old history textbook, a frown marring your features.

"What's wrong? Need some help?" Armin asked, standing up from his seat and coming to stand behind you.

"Oh, well I guess I'm just confused about this law." you pulled the response from your ass. Of course you understood Roe v. Wade, you just didn't want to tell Armin that you were ready to leave. He always made this face that reminded you of a puppy that just got drop kicked.

"Roe v. Wade huh? I can help you with that no problem!" his baby blue eyes lit up, he pulled the nearest chair up to the table, the legs loudly scratching against the rickety library floors.

"Great, thanks!" you tried to sound excited, and you tried even harder to focus on Armin's summary of Roe v. Wade.

"Easy right?" Armin chirped, his finger hovering over the paragraph that explained the law.

"You're right, I think that I just need a break. My brain feels fried." you moaned, folding your arms across the desk and burying your head in your arms.

"Likewise." Armin agreed, dragging his chair closer to yours not very subtly.

"Want to go grab a coffee?" you asked, barely lifting your head to glance at him.

"Sure." he beamed, his innocent face completely lighting up. Your library had a small coffee shop nestled in the back, the cafe was run by students who had free periods. Granted the coffee wasn't the best, but it still did the job. You thanked the girl behind the counter as she passed you your steaming cup of dark liquid. Armin was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waited for his order, you busied yourself with mixing in sugar and some creamer. Finally the barista gave Armin his latte and the two of you meandered back to your corner. You slowly began packing your things, hoping that Armin would get the hint and you would be able to escape the stuffy library. Armin noticed, you closed the book with a sigh and began stuffing pens and other writing utensils into your small pencil case.

"Ready to call it a day?" Armin asked his lips hovering over the steaming hot coffee.

"Yeah, I told Hange that I would be ready to leave by the time she finished with Science Olympiad." you sighed, gathering the assortment of books that you had pulled from the shelves getting up to return them to their rightful places.

"Oh gotcha, same time Thursday?" He asked hopefully, his light blue eyes meeting yours. You clicked your tongue and grimaced, shooting him an apologetic look.

"Ah I would but my mom has Thursday off so I was going to have dinner with her." you explained, watching Armin get that kicked puppy look, that look always had a way of making your heart hurt.

"Aw well have fun!" he waved you off, the sad look on his face replaced with a small forced smile.

"Thanks Armin, I'll see you in Chem tomorrow." you smiled sweetly at him as you turned to leave.

"Bye!" he waved goodbye to you as you pulled the large door open and slipped out. Sparing a glance at your watch you sighed, Hange should be done in the next 5 minutes. But knowing her she would take another 20 minutes to wrap up her Science Olympiad meeting. So you leisurely strolled down the empty stone corridor, your eyes trained on the large windows that lined the hallway and overlooked the courtyard. The library was on the second floor, which gave you a perfect view of the school grounds. The snow seemed to be falling faster now, the flakes were beginning to stick to the blades of grass, giving the lawn a patchy appearance. Hopefully Hange had remembered her snow scraper, surely the car would have a coating of frost on the windows by now. It would not be the first time that the two of you had to scrape ice from her windows using your credit cards or your school ids.

You turned your attention back to the stony corridor, you had almost reached the stairs. You began your descent, a hand loosely gliding down the cold stone banister. Your mind drifted to thoughts of what Erwin's plans were for this evening, did he plan to eat dinner with you? Or would he run off with Hange as he had been doing for the past week or so? You had noticed that the pair had been spending more time alone as of late, and you couldn't blame them. Erwin was already committed to Notre Dame, a prestigious school known for football and extraordinary academics. Hange had recently been accepted into Princeton, one of the eight ivy league schools, and she was ecstatic. This however means that they will attending schools in different states. You knew that they planned to continue dating despite the distance, personally you were a tad skeptical of long distance relationships, but you knew that they were both mature enough to continue seeing each other.

You paused on the landing between floors, the sound of laughter was echoing off the stoney walls.

"That was a dirty move Kirstein!" you recognized Eren's agitated voice, which was closely followed by the hearty laughter of Conny and Marco.

"Pay closer attention next time Jeager." Jean teased, a smile spread across your lips at the sound of your friends. Their presence motivated you to jog down the remaining stairs and turn the corner. Just at you poked your head around the corner your eyes landed on the group of boys walking towards you.

"Oi (Y/n)! Where's Armin?" Eren called out to you first and you waved.

"Still in the library." you jabbed your thumb back towards the stairs behind you.

"Classic." Conny sniggered as he adjusted his duffle bag on his shoulder. You pursed your lips as you took in their uniforms. They wore soccer jerseys and shorts, a matching set of forest green, the school crest, a pair of wings one blue and one white, rested above their left breast over their hearts.

"Indoor soccer?" you asked, nodding towards the ball tucked under Marco's arm. The boy nodded and tossed you the ball.

"Season just started." he stated proudly, you easily caught the ball and smiled at him. Marco was your age, but you didn't usually spend time with him outside of school. The two of you had grown close the year prior when you had been in the same gym class, but since then you hadn't spoken very much.

"How exciting." you murmured as you gripped the ball in your hands. The boys nodded and you tossed the ball back to Marco.

"What are you doing here so late?" Jean asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Studying for the Government test with Armin." you shrugged, tucking your hands in your pockets. Things had been tense in your friend group since you and Jean had began casually seeing one another. The two of you had gone out on a handful of dates over the past month, all of them enjoyable. But you knew you didn't want a full blown relationship, something you still needed to tell Jean.

"Ah gotcha. So will you be coming to Sasha's friendsgiving party this weekend?" Jean inquired, his eyes shined with a glint of hope.

"Oh, I almost forgot about that! Yeah I'll be there." you smiled, a rush of excitement running through you when you remembered the invitation you had received earlier this week.

"What are you bringing?" Conny butted in, licking his lips. You hummed thoughtfully, what would you bring?

"Maybe macaroni and cheese? Or a pie?" You thought aloud as you lifted a hand to cup your chin. Conny groaned and grabbed your shoulder.

"Pie, please for the love of God bring your pie." he begged, his hand squeezing your shoulder. You giggled at this eagerness, and nodded. Pies were easy enough to bake, and if that's what people wanted then you would be more than happy to deliver.

"Thank you thank you thank you-" Conny shook you as he thanked you profusely, Eren snarled and tugged the two of you apart, while Marco and Jean laughed.

"Knock it off baldy." he hissed as he tossed Conny back. You chuckled and waved your hands dismissively.

"I'd better go, Hange should be done soon." you sighed, your eyes straying to the nearest window, you gasped. The snow was coming down in thick swirls, the sun had dipped below the horizon, making it difficult to see much through the snow.

"Oh wow, that's a lot of snow!" Marco exclaimed as he turned to follow your gaze. Jean let out a low whistle, Conny squealed excitedly.

"Yeah I better get going." you called over your shoulder as you made a break for the west wing, which was where the senior parking lot was located. The halls were dark, you only crossed paths with one janitor who didn't even glance up at you. You paused at the door at the end of the hallway and squinted out into the blizzard. The parking lot was dark, a clear indicator that Hange had not arrived to warm up the car before you.

"Ah there you are, perfect timing!" Hange's booming voice startled you as it echoed through the empty hall.

"Oh Hange, thank God, please tell me you have your scraper." you fretted, Hange grimaced, giving you an apologetic smile.

"Yeah about that..." she muttered, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. You groaned and reached into your backpack for your wallet. You fished out your drivers license and your credit card and turned back to the snowy parking lot.

"Better get started then." you grumbled, Hange laughed anxiously and moved to open the door for the both of you.

"Right."

___

You flexed your raw fingers by the vents as they blasted hot air into the cabin of the car. Hange was rubbing her hands together furiously and blowing hot air on her own frigid fingers.

"For the love of God, just keep the scraper in the car year round." you moaned as you slid your id back into your wallet.

"Might be a good idea actually." Hange stuttered between the chattering of her teeth. You huffed, tucking your hands underneath your thighs in an attempt to regain the feeling in your hands. Hange shifted the gear to drive and slowly pulled the car out of the parking lot, the wipers squeaking against the glass as they swiped the relentless snow off of the windshield.

"So, what do you want for dinner kiddo?" she gushed, her coppery eyes glinting mischievously.

"I dunno, something hot." you jabbed back, shifting on your hands.

"Whole gangs going to be there!" Hange prodded, clearly attempting to get a reaction from you.

"Great, who's cooking?" you taunted, shooting her a smile to show that you meant well.

"Oh well I guess Nanaba could." Hange mused, pleased with your good natured jabs.

"Great I'm starving." you leaned back and closed your eyes. Hange chuckled and turned her eyes back to the dark road ahead.

The drive took longer than usual due to the heavy snowfall. The roads were slick with the fresh snow, which stuck stubbornly to the road due to the lack of traffic on the country roads. But you made it to your house without a hitch. Erwin's minivan was already covered in a layer of snow, and Levi's BMW was untouched, Mike and Nanaba had not yet arrived. Hange parked and the two of you quickly gathered your belongings and walked briskly to the front door. You kicked your feet on the mat before entering, the foyer already a bit wet due to snow being tracked in on shoes. You peeled off your shoes with Hange and carried your things upstairs, Hange following close behind. Hange slipped into Erwin's room while you dropped your bag in your own room. You hadn't seen your brother or his short friend yet which was odd, they usually hung out in the kitchen. You met Hange back in the hall, her glasses, which had fogged up when you had entered the house were perched atop of her auburn hair.

"Where are they?" you asked bluntly as you watched her scrub the spectacles with the hem of her sweater.

"Beats me, let's go make some soup or something." Hange shrugged, holding her glasses up to the light to inspect the lenses. So you jogged down the stairs and began pawing through the pantry through the abundance of canned goods. You frowned at the cream of mushroom soup and set it back into the pile before refocusing.

"Heyyy now we're talking!" Hange crooned, you turned to see her pulling out a frozen pizza from the depths of your freezer. You scoffed before turning back to the pantry, a frown settling on your features.

"How about tomato soup and grilled cheese?" you offered as you pulled out two cans of tomato soup and a loaf of bread. Hange shrugged and tossed the pizza back into the freezer, she then opened the fridge and pulled out an assortment of cheese. The two of you fell into your effortless rhythm Hange stirred the soup while you began to cook the sandwiches. Finally the front door banged open, Levi's combat boots squeaking as he walked into the house, he haphazardly kicked off the shoes and stalked into the kitchen and straight into the living room. You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you watched him walk through the house, his arms full with kindling. Erwin followed closely behind, his arms also full of firewood. So that's where the pair had been. Hange fawned over them, greeting Erwin by dusting off bits of bark from his coat before turning to pat Levi's head. Levi swatted her sticky hands off of his head and glared at her menacingly.

"Hands off four eyes." Levi hissed, he ducked expertly underneath her arm and fled to the kitchen where you were flipping a grilled cheese. Erwin and Hange began the chore of lighting the fire while you took on the task of cooking as per usual. Levi frowned at the sight of the damp foyer and turned on his heel to grab the mop. You smiled at the sight of him mopping the floor despite the fact that people were still on their way and it would only end up messy again. Sure enough, just as Levi tossed the dirty water out of the front door and tucked the mop back in the closet, Mike and Nanaba strutted in, arms full of assorted baked goods and board games.

"Hey everybody! Hope we didn't miss anything!" Nanaba trilled as she tracked more snow into the front room. Levi heaved a sigh as he turned to grab the mop, you chuckled and took the container of cookies from her arms so she could take off her jacket. Mike nodded at you as he strolled into the living room where Hange and Erwin were still fumbling to light the fire wood.

"No, we actually only just got home about thirty minutes ago." you assured the blonde as she joined you in the kitchen. She smiled as she watched Mike kneel down to join Erwin and Hange as they blew on the small embers.

"What games did you guys bring?" you attempted to make small talk as you turned back to the task at hand.

"Oh the usuals, Sequence, Candy Land, Clue, etcetera." she waved a hand dismissively as she turned to stir the soup.

"Sounds fun!" you exclaimed as you tossed another sandwich on the plate. Nanaba hummed in response as she smiled stupidly into the soup. You pursed your lips and cocked your head as you studied her.

"Not to be that person but...Have you picked a school yet?" you asked with a small chuckle. She nodded,

"Yeah actually, just picked two days ago!" she beamed, turning to face you once more.

"Wow really?"

"Yeah! I'm going to attend Michigan State University with Mike!" she gushed as she set the spoon off to the side with a clang.

"That's great! Michigan is beautiful, and that's an awesome school." you matched her excitement and dumped the final sandwich on the plate and switched the stove off.

"Thanks! We're super excited." her words were so sweet and filled with love it made you feel sick. You nodded and turned to grab plates and bowls for everyone. Nanaba and Mike had only started dating about a month prior, in fact they had admitted their affections to one another back in October at your house. In a way you envied their effortless relationship, despite only dating for a month they made a great pair. You served yourself and moved to sit at the island in the kitchen. A cheer from the living room told you that the trio had finally ignited the fire, shortly after they piled into the kitchen and began to dish food onto their plates. Levi once again stuffed the mop and bucket back into the closet and feverishly washed his hands before serving himself. As he reached for a grilled cheese the sleeve of his hoodie scrunched up, revealing a new tattoo on his left wrist. Your jaw dropped momentarily, the sight of the fresh ink shocking you. In fact it was so fresh that the skin around the ink was still red and a bit swollen, glistening with the salve. He rounded the island and dropped into the stool to your left, and your eyes went straight to his wrist.

"Fresh ink?" you asked, propping your chin on the heel of your hand as you watched him bring the spoon to his mouth.

"Yeah." he replied, not bothering to elaborate.

"Can I see?" you pressed, Levi shot you a glare as he bit into his sandwich but still lifted his hand for you to pull his sleeve up. You gingerly tugged his sleeve up and a tiny 'awe' escaped your lips. The drawing was extremely minimalistic, the delicate black ink contrasting beautifully with his pale skin tone. It was a small tea cup, with a chip in its rim. Levi scoffed and tugged his arm back.

"That's a good one Levi." you gushed as you turned back to your own meal.

"Thanks." he grumbled as he looked everywhere but your face.

"Where do you get them done?" you asked before taking a huge bite of your sandwich.

"WitchHammer." he grunted, his patience growing thin. All of these questions reminded him of a particular brunette. You hummed in response as you entertained the idea of getting a tattoo for your 16th birthday that was coming up in the next couple of months. You already had an appointment at the shop to get your forward helix pierced on your left ear. The others were getting rowdy on the other side of the island, too engrossed in their conversation to notice the side conversation Levi and you were engaging in.

"Did it hurt?" you quizzed feeling a bit playful. You had missed Levi's bluntness and his shitty sense of humor.

"I would be lying if I said no." he retorted, his sharp eyes catching yours for the first time in weeks. You chuckled and nodded as you chewed your food.

"You think that I would look good with a couple tattoos?" you giggled, smiling broadly at the raven haired boy. He clicked his tongue and turned to take you in, his eyes raking over your form. Finally his eyes settled on your hands, his brows pinched together in thought as he stared.

"Personally...I like minimalistic designs, you could probably pull off some finger tats or hand tats." he mused, you glanced at your hands, interesting. You held your hands up to the light to get a better look and began to think of some small designs that you might be interested in.

"Tattoos are a big commitment, don't just get some stupid shit." Levi lectured as he lifted his cup of tea to his lips, you frowned he was one to talk.

"I know." you decided that tonight wasn't the time to argue with him, especially since this was the first time spending time together in weeks. He nodded but kept a skeptical eye on you as you folded your hands onto your lap and turned to listen to the other conversation. You frowned when you realized they were just talking about prom, awkward. So you decided to clean up, the exhaustion of the long day seemed to hit you like a truck and all you could think about was your bed and all of the work that was due on Sunday. You washed up quickly and waved weakly before trudging up the stairs, thankfully the others didn't seem to care that you were calling it a night early. You changed into a pair of flannel pjs and an old ACDC shirt that had seen better days. You sank into your old desk chair and flicked on the small lamp, you rummaged through your back pack and pulled out your laptop and a notebook. Sparing a glance at the small alarm clock you groaned, it was already well past nine o'clock.

You decided to pick up from where you had left off with your Government notes. Your handwriting started off neat, the ink gliding flawlessly across the lined paper. But by the time you had finished the notes and moved on to your chemistry homework, your handwriting had become rocky at best. You frowned at the smudged ink, the green hue bleeding into the once white paper. With a sigh you reached for your white out and continued to write out the reaction. Once you were finished with Chem, you turned your attention to your research paper for English. As you typed you could feel your eyelids drooping, the words seemed to blur and bend across the computer screen. Closing your eyes for a moment wouldn't hurt would it? A defeated sigh breezed past your lips as you folded your arms across the desk and rested your forehead against your arms to block out the blinding light of your lamp. You yawned and rubbed your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up, though this seemed to be unsuccessful. As you slipped into sleep, you recalled the last time you had fallen asleep at your desk and how fucked up your back felt the following week. But your exhaustion won and your head slumped against your desk, any pain you felt would be a problem for future you.

Meanwhile, downstairs the upperclassman were well into their third bottle of wine and their fifth round of Candy Land. Erwin flicked the spinner and moved his piece accordingly, Levi sat back and sipped the dry red wine, Mike had his hand thrown over Nanaba's shoulders casually. Hange was leaning her head heavily against Erwin's shoulder and Levi swore he had never felt like such a loser in his whole life. If you were down here at least he wouldn't be the only person down here that was single. Hange howled as Erwin pushed his piece past hers, always the sore looser. Nanaba giggled drunkenly as she choked on her glass of wine. Levi rolled his eyes, his friends were past tipsy now, but not quite drunk, and this was usually when Levi would leave. He hated dealing with drunk people, they were messy and loud, the mere thought of any of them vomiting made him cringe. He waited until the spinner came around to him before he excused himself.

"Count me out." he held up his hand to deny the spinner as Mike tried to hand it to him.

"Awe come on Levi! We can't let Erwin win for the fifth time in a row!" Mike begged as Levi stood up and picked up his glass of wine.

"No." Levi denied, his voice growing colder. The group collectively called for him to stay, their voices a bit unsteady due to the alcohol. Levi shrugged them off and carefully stepped over Hange, she snagged his ankle and held him in a vice grip.

"No, don't go Levi! Finish this game please!" she whimpered as she pressed her face into his calf. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sudden contact, Erwin chuckled and pulled Hange back and pressed a kiss to her temple. Yeah it was definitely time for him to go to bed, besides he needed to put some vaseline on his fresh ink. He slid into the upstairs bathroom, the sound of his friends laughing fading into the background. Tugging up his sleeve his hissed at the feeling of the raw skin coming in contact with the cold air. He pawed through the drawers, pausing at the sight of your feminine hygiene products. He usually used the downstairs restroom since the guest room was in the basement. He slammed the drawer shut and moved onto the next one, a relieved sigh escaping his lips at the sight of the familiar jar of vaseline. He swiped the jelly onto his tiny tea cup tattoo and rolled his sleeve back down, the soothing jelly immediately calming the irritated skin.

On his way out of the bathroom he noticed the small sliver of light that shined through your cracked door. He glanced down at his wrist watch and frowned, it was one thirty in the morning, you had supposedly gone to bed hours ago. He glanced down the stairs, from the bathroom he could see the open floor layout of the living room, where all of his friends were still gathered. He steeled himself and padded up to your door, he lifted his hand and rapped the backs of his knuckles against the surface. He frowned when there was no response, he gently pushed the door open and tentatively stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the only light emitting from the small lamp on your desk. His eyes softened at the sight of you slumped onto your desk, but quickly hardened at the sight of drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. He sat his wine glass down as quietly as he could on your nightstand and raked his eyes around your cluttered room in search for a blanket. He spotted a quilt neatly folded on your window seat, he unfolded the blanket and draped it over your shoulders. Just as the blanket was settling on your shoulders and he was pulling his hands back, the door flew open. He jumped, spinning around only to be met with the sight of an unsteady Hange. The brunette's eyes widened at the sight of Levi's hand on the back of your seat.

"What..." her eyes narrowed and she pointed between the two of you.

"Is this?" she finished as she stepped into the room, her body swaying unsteadily. Good question, what was he doing in here?

"I came to shut off her light." Levi lied through his teeth, the truth was that he had wanted to spend more time in your presence.

"Lies." Hange hissed as she pointed accusingly at him.

"Tch, believe what you want four eyes." Levi grunted as he stalked across the room, meaning to make a quick get away before she drew too much attention to this fishy situation.

"Hey don't-" she lunged in an attempt to keep Levi from escaping, spilling her glass of wine onto the white carpet and onto Levi's crisp white hoodie. She caught herself on Levi, a drunk giggle bubbling past her lips as she clung to him. Levi staggered under her weight, his back hitting your wall with a dull thud. You grunted, slowly lifting your head from the desk you turned around to see Levi seething under Hange's weight as she pressed against him. Your eyes widened at the sight, Levi was trying to grab the glass from her hand to prevent further spillage, you were so distracted by the rare sight of Levi and Hange in such close proximity that you didn't notice the quilt falling off your shoulders. You blinked dumbly at the two of them as they grappled for the wine glass, Levi ultimately winning due to Hange's drunken state.

"Levi was peeping on you while you slept." Hange blurted, Levi slammed his hand over her mouth and snarled. You weren't surprised when Levis pulled his hand back with a small gasp, you could just make out the sheen of what you assumed was Hange's drool over his palm. The brunette cackled and staggered away from him and out of the room.

"I'm going to tell Erwin." she sang as she stumbled through the hall with her hand on the wall to guide her.

"Hange don't, it's okay really." you called after her, but your words fell on deaf ears as she rounded the stairs and disappeared.

"Damn it." Levi hissed, his eyes trained on the stain on the ground, he pulled the sweat shirt off of his skin, the alcohol sticking to his skin. You cleared your throat awkwardly as Levi pulled the sweatshirt off. You glanced at the stairs, no sign of Hange and Erwin yet, you could hear the sound of the group stumbling around the kitchen. Hopefully Hange had forgotten and favored grabbing another drink over causing trouble, so you stood up and crossed your room to quietly shut the door. Levi had his head against the wall, his eyes closed expecting an onslaught of accusations. Instead he was surprised to see you digging through your closet, pulling out one of your larger sweatshirts you tossed it to him. He caught the garment and eyed is suspiciously before tugging it over his head.

"Thanks." he mumbled, you waved him off and crossed your room to sit down on your bed.

"What's up?" you questioned, it was certainly out of character for him to be in your room. Levi shrugged and slowly crossed the room to drop down onto your bed next to you.

"Your light was on and I came in to shut it off." Levi replied nonchalantly, his eyes dull as he watched you slip under your covers. A chill ran up your spine, your room always got cold in the winter due to the large windows. After a moment of awkward silence you patted the space beside you, Levi quirked a brow at you but when you smiled at him he slid closer to you. He settled against the headboard with a sigh, you looked up at him, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. He turned and raised a brow skeptically at you, you giggled and turned to slip deeper under your covers. He scoffed but turned to face you, propping himself up on his elbow. From this close proximity you could smell the wine on his breath, you noticed that his pupils were dilated, and his cheeks flushed.

"Thanks...I guess." you muttered as you watched him reach into his pockets and pull out his juul and take a hit. You frowned as he turned his head away from you to exhale, he sighed contentedly and turned to face you once more.

"You're going to get me in trouble." you scoffed as he attempted to offer you the juul.

"You only live once." he smirked as he dangled the device in your face. You gently pushed his hand away from your face, he shrugged and took another drag.

"Are you sleeping over?" you questioned, he simply nodded and pocketed his juul.

"It's like three in the morning." he scoffed rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Oh, I guess..." you trailed off, the house had grown quiet, hopefully Hange had been dragged to bed by Erwin and had long forgotten about snitching on Levi. You weren't sure what Levi was still doing in your bed, you knew that he wouldn't force himself on you, but still he had never spend this much time alone with you since the time you had kissed. Just as you were about to ask him why he was still in your room, you heard the sound of the front door opening and then quickly closing. Your mother was home, you shoved Levi's shoulder and motioned for him to get out of your bed, a surge of panic rushing through you. Your mom would kill you if she saw Levi in your bed this late. Levi grunted and rolled off the bed, landing heavily on the ground with a thud. You winced and pointed at the door, Levi opened his mouth to say something but ultimately turned and stalked towards the door. When he opened the door, he was met with the tired face of your mother. Her eyes widened at the unexpected sight of Levi.

"Oh, Levi.." she managed to keep her voice even as she took in his appearance, his hair a bit mussed, cheeks pink and wearing your clothes.

"It's not what it looks like mom!" you scrambled out of bed and pushed Levi away from the doorway so that you could address your mother.

"Really..." she narrowed her eyes skeptically as her eyes roamed over your pajamas and messy hair. You grimaced but nodded, she glared at you and heaved a heavy sigh, turning her attention to Levi.

"So your uncle told me that you wouldn't be coming to Christmas this year?" she swiftly changed the subject. Levi blinked, shocked that she had chosen to ignore the suspicious state she had found the two of you in.

"Y-Yeah that's true, I finally saved enough to visit my old friends in France for the holidays." he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Is that so?" she hummed, leaning against the door frame and tugging her light jacket closer to her body. Levi nodded and spared you a glance, you looked surprised, but not upset.

"Well that sounds amazing, you'll have to send us a postcard." she mused, Levi nodded and shifted awkwardly.

"Yes ma'm." he responded, your mother nodded pleased with his response.

"How long will you be gone for?" she probed.

"Until January 8th." Levi answered.

"That's a long time." you quipped, Levi glanced at you and nodded.

"How exciting." your mother's response was genuine, she stepped aside allowing him to pass.

"Yeah." he muttered as he slid past and made his way towards the stairs. Once he was out of sight your mother turned to you, her usually soft features pinching into a scowl.

"Explain." she snapped, pointing a finger at the sizable wine stain.

"Hange spilled it, I'll clean it in the morning." you sighed as you eyed the large purple spot.

"Alright, just make sure that it gets cleaned." your mother leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You smiled at her, it was unusual that you got to see her after her shift.

"How was work?" you asked as you eyed her scrubs, noting a mystery stain on her shirt.

"Messy." she sighed as she followed your gaze.

"Did you save lots of lives?" you giggled.

"Of course." your mother jabbed.

"Get some sleep (Y/n)." she hummed, her hand burying into your messy hair to ruffle it affectionately.

"Goodnight mom." you called after her as she descended the staircase, she waved her hand and you slowly shut the door.

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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call me cupid

w/c: 3.5k

warnings: very mild angst and a few swears

summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah

it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.

the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.

to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?

everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money.

alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.

it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.

only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.

although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.

peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.

may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.

“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”

“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”

may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.

“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.

peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.

“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.

ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”

“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”

peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.

this is not good.

the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.

“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.

“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.

peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.

“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”

“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.

“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.

it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.

like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

he technically has.

“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.

peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.

he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.

you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.

“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.

“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.

peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.

“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.

you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...

you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”

his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”

may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.

“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.

“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.

scratch literally everything he’s done.

peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.

he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.

he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.

before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.

you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.

dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.

“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.

he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?

“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.

“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.

“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.

“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.

“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.

peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”

“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.

he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.

you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.

“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.

he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.

peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.

“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.

you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.

“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”

you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.

“happy valentine’s day, r2.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut

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kitsunekissesxo · 5 years ago

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Demon Bros Pet Names HCs and Scenarios

Demon Brothers Pet Names Headcanons and Kiss Scenarios

Summary: Headcanons of the brother’s petnames for you, vice versa, gender neutral MC, fluff kisses <3

Warnings: Implied nsfw, suggestive, somewhat explicit

Lucifer:

Oh, Lucifer. This man may seem cold but on the inside, and when the two of you are alone, he’s the biggest softie. Like, big softie.

His pet names are more...traditional, if you will. He absolutely despises pet names such as baby, babe, honey, etc., so don’t expect him to use them. If you use them on him, expect a wrinkled nose and a grimace.

His personal favorites are my beloved, my rose, my darling, my love, my dear. He’s very possessive of you and intends to make sure his pet names for you further prove that.

He allows you to call him Luci and LuLu when you’re alone, and, even though he vehemently denies it, he finds it incredibly endearing. Other than that, he isn’t very fond of pet names for himself.

However, he simply adores when you call him your love. He might be possessive of you, but it fills him with so much pride knowing that you want others to know he’s yours as well.

During sex, you 100% call him Daddy and Sir if you’re into that. If not, his love-making is so intense that you can only manage to utter out his name- and he loves that. It really strokes his ego wink wink

Lucifer absolutely adores calling you princess/my prince during sex, no matter what the mood is. He finds the way it makes your face flush irresistible.

“Luuuuciiiiii,” you whined out impatiently, attempting to get your boyfriend’s attention. He’d had his nose stuck in paperwork for hours now and you were in some serious need of attention. “You haven’t so much as looked up at me in the past, like, 10 hours,” you pouted.

Finally he raised his head to lock eyes with you. Dark circles marred his beautifully pale skin, showing the effect of the overwhelming workload he was forcing himself to push through. You felt your heart ache at the sight of him, all signs of impatience leaving you to be replaced with a look of worry.

He gave you a weak smile while resting his head in his hand. All you wanted was to wrap him up in your arms and play with his hair as he napped against your chest. So that’s exactly what you went to do- love him.

You stepped towards him, his tired eyes looking up at you quizically.

“My love, please take a break. You’re exhausted. Please,” you softly pleaded, reaching your hand out to hold his cheek, thumb swiping back and forth soothingly.

He closed his eyes and pressed himself into your hand, letting out a content sigh, bringing his own hand up to hold yours to his face. Your heart swelled with love- early on the in the relationship, he’d flinch when you’d try to touch him. Now he treasured every carress you had to offer.

“Come here darling,” he murmured, motioning for you to climb into his lap. You did as he asked, straddling his lap and lacing your hands together at the nape of his neck.

The way he looked at you with such adoration made your heart race. You leaned down to capture his lips in a sweet, loving kiss. His hands came up to press you closer to him, one hand threading into your hair and the other pressing on your lower back. Your fingers played with the hair on the nape of his neck.

He pulled away slightly to whisper against your lips,

“You always know how to stir up these feelings in me, my dear.”

Mammon:

This man adores the cheesy petnames. Like the tsundere he is though, he denies it with a blush so intense it reaches his ears.

He doesn’t even use petnames for you when your relationship first begins. The tsundere is strong with this one.

At first, it seems like all he ever wants to call you is “his human”. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed

Until one fateful day, he called you. You picked up the phone eagerly and to your surprise he uttered out a, “Hey babe, are ya busy right now? Ya better not be- come to my room asap.”

Needless to say, you could have sworn your heart skipped a beat

Mammon’s pet names of choice include, but aren’t limited to, sugar, baby doll, dollface, doll, baby, babe, honey bun/honey bunny

He loves anything that will make you smile, though. It’s his favorite thing in the whole world.

During intimate times he mainly sticks to calling you baby and baby doll, expect him to desperately moan that into the crook of your neck as he begs you to continue

He blushes, stammers, tells you to stop, but then tells you to not stop when you call him pet names. He not-so-secretly loves it, and you know it.

You like to call him mammonie, monmon, baby/babe, handsome, and my prince. Just to mess with him and to see that cute flush of red on his gorgeous tan skin. It’s also undeniably cute and cheesy

During sex, he absolutely adores being called baby boy. It really gets him going. This boy is a sub

You were scribbling school notes in your notepad, studying for the upcoming exam when your D.D.D rang. You sighed, setting your pencil down and reaching for your D.D.D to see who was interrupting your study session.

It was Mammon.

Of course it was. You adored him, you really did, but his timing was pretty awful. You answered and put the phone up to your ear with your shoulder so you could continue copying down some notes that Satan so generously lent you.

“Yo, yo, yo! Babe, are ya busy? Ya better not be- come to my room asap!” He exclaimed happily.

The phone fell from your shoulder and onto your notepad. You had felt your heart skip a beat. He called you babe.

“U-uh...MC? MC??? That was an accident. I aint mean it. Just...come to my room. Hello? Human, are ya even there??” He stammered on nervously.

You scrambled to pick the phone up, responding in a teasing tone, “Mammon. Three things. 1: I heard that. 2: I’m studying. 3: I heard you call me that.”

You could hear him huff on the other end. He was seriously too cute, too easily flustered.

“Just drop it, wouldja? I aint mean it! Now get your ass over here- I dont care if you’re studying. No one makes The Great Mammon wait!!”

You could practically see him puff his chest out. You just wanted to engulf him in a hug and ruffle his snowy locks so badly.

With a grin, you taunted, “Okay, babe. I’ll be right over.”

You hung up just as he began to sputter and protest, checked yourself in the mirror, sprayed some perfume/cologne on, and began to make your way to Mammon’s room.

As you reached Mammon’s room, you thanked all your lucky stars that you didn’t run into any of the brothers. Without warning, you swung Mammon’s door open, and he jumped with a shriek.

“Jeez, ya scared the livin’ evil outta me, human!” he exclaimed, clutching his t-shirt near his heart. His cheeks were already tinted a lovely blushed hue against his beautifully tanned skin.

“Awww, sorry Monmon. Didn't mean to startle you,” you poked, watching as he crossed his arms over his chest, beginning to protest that you didn't, in fact, frighten him.

You quickly leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He froze, and you could practically hear his heart race. You pulled away, both hands coming up to the nape of his neck as he just stared at you, mouth slightly open, his face bright red.

“You worry too much, baby.” You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

And then he leaned in to return your kiss, hands settling on your lower back gingerly

Needless to say, he began to “accidentally” continue to call you endless pet names. He really did love them and you

Leviathan:

Please, for the love of all things unholy, please let this shy boy call you silly pet names. He adores them, simply because it makes you giggle, and he loves knowing that he’s the one making you laugh

Levi appears as though he doesn’t feel shame, but we know he just hides it really well. However, he still rambles to anyone and everyone about Ruri-chan and anime, so he won’t mind you using pet names for eachother around other people

Because of his anxiety though, he probably won’t be too keen on that idea at first. Will his brothers laugh at him? Surely they’ll think he’s gross and creepy regarding his choice of pet names, right? Wrong. Ensure to him that he doesn’t have to do anything that he isn’t comfortable with, and if anyone judges them then they’re just normies. He’ll love you forever.

Levi’s most used pet names for you are sunshine, cutie, snookums, goofball, and player 2

Sunshine is his personal favorite because humans seem to associate happiness with the sun, and you’re his main source of happiness. So why wouldn’t he call you that?

He also refers to you as his player 2 a lot. You’re not only his lover, but his best friend. His partner in crime. His Henry.

Calling him pet names is undoubtedly one of your favorite things. He stutters, blushes such a deep shade of red, and tries to hide his face behind his hands. Please take ahold of wrists, move them from his face, take hold of his face, and place a kiss on his nose. You want Levi.exe to stop working? K.O’d? Do that.

Your favorite pet names for him are Leviachan, cutie, sweetie, handsome devil, baby boy, my sweet prince, etc. Anything that helps boost his confidence is a good pet name in your book.

During sex, Levi would hardly be able to form a coherent sentence, so I imagine your name would fall from his bitten lips like a mantra

If you’re into it, he would be down to call you master/mistress, 100%

Most of the time you call him baby boy and sweet boy and needy during sex. I HC that he’s very submissive and melts at your endearing yet dominating pet names for him.

We also know it’s canon that Levi has a degradation kink- so use it. Call him a whore, pervert, slut, needy bitch. He’ll let out the sweetest whines and whimpers.

“Levi, sweetie, I promise it’s okay. Nothing happened between Mammon and I. We just went shopping,” You gently explained to a very frazzled Levi.

He was sitting in his gaming chair, anime paused, arms crossed, avoiding your gaze, and pouting. A frown also adorned his troubled features.

He refused to answer you.

“Levi, please speak to me,” you tried again, reaching out to take ahold of his hand.

You offered your hand to him gingerly. He studied it for a moment, and then, with a blush beginning to spread across his cheeks, he complied and laced his fingers with yours. He heaved a sigh as you swiped your thumb against his hand soothingly.

“I know, MC. I trust you. It just makes my blood boil knowing you’re out with him instead of being with me....I don’t really blame you though, I guess. I’m a gross and yucky otaku. I wouldn’t want to hang out with me either,” he grumbled, his voice cracking near the end, along with your heart. You wished so badly he wouldn’t talk so down on himself all the time.

It was time to show Levi just how much he meant to you.

You surged forward to engulf your serpent-like boyfriend in a bone-crushing hug. He let out a squeak, his arms coming up in surprise.

“Leviachan, I wish you saw how much I love you. I love spending time with you. I love playing games with you. I love watching anime with you. I love listening to you rant and ramble about them. I love how passionate you are. You’re so cute when you get like that, yknow?” You murmured to him with as much love as you could muster.

Suddenly his arms were wrapped around you, hugging you tightly to him. He planted a kiss on the top of your head before nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“You normie,” he whispered, “you’re really too much. I think you’re the only person who can find my ranting endearing.”

You pulled away with a pretend frown on your face, lacing your fingers with his once more.

“Normie? Again? Really Leviachan? In what way am I a normie?” You prodded, grinning at him.

He blushed, looking down at your intertwined hands.

“I suppose you’re not really that much of a normie. You do nerd out with me, to be fair...” He grinned back at you- a genuine grin, at that. It warmed your heart.

Before you could say anything else, Levi surged forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. It was gone as soon as it was there. You blinked, wide eyed at him. His face was ablaze- you didn’t think you had ever seen him so flushed. You didn’t even know he had the confidence in him to do that.

In a rare moment of softness, he whispered

“I love you, sunshine. I really do. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my player 2.”

Satan:

Satan is the absolute best in the business at hiding his true intentions; after all, all smiles are an act

Except... you actually stir up feelings of love within him, and it drives his curiosity through the roof

He appears to be very confident so his brothers opinions don’t really matter to him. He’s also awfully petty, so I imagine he moreso uses pet names for you around them to simply dangle in their faces that only he can do that

That doesn’t change the fact that every time you use a pet name for him, hes face flushes an adorable red before he sorts himself out

His favorite pet names for you are sweetheart, kitten, darling, little kitty, gorgeous, wildflower, and my sweet girl/sweet boy

We all know this man is into pet play, so his most used nicknames for you are kitten and little kitty. During and not during intimate times.

During sex, Satan calls you all sorts of endearing terms- he’s a master of dirty talking. It’s filthy yet simultaneously charming. Kitten, darling, and your name roll off of his tongue the most. If you’re into it, he will definitely degrade you, calling you a needy whore, filthy slut, cumslut, cumrag, fuck toy, you name it and he’ll use it. He’d most likely be opposed to calling you a bitch- it feels too hurtful for him.

You love to call him handsome, my bookworm, stud(teasingly), good looking, and babe/baby. Each and every one earns a chuckle and a momentary blush from him, so it’s definitely worth it.

Want his attention when he’s too busy reading? Call out his name a few times- he can hear you, but he chooses to ignore you. Bring out the pet names and he’ll be burying his blushing face into his book, completely flustered. He takes a moment to compose himself before tutting at you. You interrupted his very important reading- how naughty.

When Satan’s feeling dominant, he’s dominant. He demands that you call him Sir or Master during sex. He doesn’t mind being called Daddy, but it doesn’t get him going quite like the other two do. When he’s feeling more submissive, absolutely call him your handsome boy. Pet gets him riled up as well- use it from time to time.

You couldn’t believe just how beautiful the sight in front of you was. The stars in the Devildom seemed to burn brighter and more fiercely than the ones in the human world. You were almost entranced by them, not wanting to tear your eyes away from the gorgeous nighttime sky.

That is, until you felt the hand that was holding yours give a gentle squeeze. You quickly turned your head to make eye contact with his emerald gaze. The main emotion you could see in Satan’s eyes was adoration, and suddenly your heart was being squeezed as well as your hand.

Here you were, taking a late night stroll in the Devildom with Satan, the night sky painted with deep clouds and bright stars, and he was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He had taken you to what appeared to be a park. You walked along the path hand in hand as you took in every little detail. The deep greenish blue bushes were hiding little critters, the pond had a fountain that splashed around the deep blue water, there were bugs that looked and acted an awful lot like lightning bugs(Satan explained that they were practically the same except that these were called Hell Fire Bugs, were only found in the Devildom, and had little horns that adorned their head), there were giant flowers of golden and orange hues everywhere, and, to your delight, there was a little wooden bench sat right in the perfect spot.

“Satan, can we sit down?” You asked with a smile, motioning to the bench. “I love where it’s positioned; you can take in everything perfectly!” You peered up at him to see that a gentle smile was gracing his features.

“Of course we can sit down, darling. Are your legs feeling tired of walking as well?” He pondered. After all, he wasn’t completely sure what a human’s threshold for walking distance was.

“Mm, a little bit,” you admitted, absentmindedly rubbing your arm. You’d gotten so caught up in his presence and the sights around you that you’d only just now noticed the beginning of a burning sensation in your legs.

“That’s a shame. I guess I’ll have to carry you to the bench then, huh, kitten?” He said, flashing you a sly smile.

Protests left your mouth but to no avail. You were already thrown over his shoulder, his long fingers resting on your bum, giving a gentle pat. He was comfortably warm, and you were lying if you said you couldn’t stay in his strong arms forever.

You were giggling, squirming, demanding that he put you down that instant- but you both knew how much you loved it. His grip tightened on you as a warning.

“Kitty, if you keep squirming, I’ll have to punish you. It’s not nice to deny my kind gestures.” He teasingly warned, giving a harsher smack to your bum. And at that, you huffed, but calmed down.

He gently set you down on the bench, caressing your face before sitting down next to you, reaching out to grab ahold of your hand once again. You gladly took his hand in yours, sighing contentedly as he swiped his thumb soothingly against yours.

You leaned in closer to him, pressing against his side, and placed a gentle peck on his cheek. His skin was so soft, so warm. Welcoming. You couldn’t have felt more safe, more comfortable, more at home than you did in this moment. He let out a light chuckle.

“Are you happy now?” He murmured, snaking an arm around your waist to pull you flush against his side. You curled your arms around his arm closest to you, resting your head on his broad shoulder. You breathed in deeply, taking in his calming scent. He smelled like old books and tea. “I couldn’t be happier.” You whispered out. Your heart was so full, you could hardly take it.

“Good, I’m glad,” He warmly responded, and began to absentmindedly play with your hair as you both enjoyed the scenery in a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Satan?” You gingerly asked after a few minutes. He gave a hum in response.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” You admitted, feeling your face heat up.

He craned his neck to peer down at you, you pulling away gently to look at him.

“You truly are something else. You want to stay with me, a demon, forever? Are you sure about that?” He inquired, secretly hoping you wouldn’t backtrack. And you didn’t.

“I’ve never been more sure in my life. I love you.” You whispered back.

His only response were gentle hands coming up to cup your face, his lips softly melting against yours.

Asmodeus:

Naturally, as the Avatar of Lust, pet names are his forte. He calls you pet names about as often as he tries to cop a feel- so, very often

He loves using them in front of anyone and everyone, shame just isn’t a word in his vocabulary. He finds cute nicknames incredibly endearing and genuinely wonders why everyone doesn’t feel the same way about them.

He high-key expects you to use pet names for him as well. Let EVERYONE know he’s your beautiful boy, dammit. Its obvious but it makes him feel happy, so you’re more than willing to comply.

His personal favorite pet names for you include, but aren’t limited to, cherub, dear, little darling, angel face, doll face, honey/hun, bunbun, love bug, lover, and mi amor.

He simply loves to do anything and everything you want him to do to please you, but he expects the same energy in return.

So, during intimate times, if you want him to degrade you he will. It just isn’t his favorite thing to do- he’d rather worship you and make you feel on top of the world with honey dripping words. Therefore, during sex, he prefers to call you darling, baby, baby girl/baby boy, princess/my prince, beautiful, etc. If you want him to call you mommy/daddy, master/mistress, or sir/madam, he absolutely will. Anything to please you.

Your pet names of choice for him include asmobaby, asmo, lover boy, cutie, beau, charmer, eye candy, heart breaker, heart throb, etc.

“How’s my favorite heart breaker doing?” “Feeling a little frisky, are we, lover boy?” “You see that absolute eye candy over there? That’s my boyfriend”

During sex, you call Asmo anything and everything you want. He’s down to try and do anything, so he’s all yours. He’ll do the same for you. However, he does love being praised- so please use praising pet names for him like gorgeous, handsome, sexy, etc

The most passionate and intense lover you will ever have, and his endless pet names are only the tip *wink wink* of the iceberg.

For once in the Devildom, you were freezing. Your nose was numb, red, just an icicle, really.

Asmo had dressed you up with a pompom hat, fluffy earmuffs, and a giant puffy coat with gloves to match in attempts to keep you warm in the Devildom’s famous ice rink. Of course, his entire outfit matched yours with a lovely complimentary color. He figured it was enough for him, so surely his little cherub was warm and snug, right? Wrong. Somewhat wrong, anyway. You were still cold and made a point to complain about it to Asmo.

“Dear, I promise I will warm you up as soon as we leave, just please do this for me?” He begged, holding your gloved hands in his own. His pinkish-yellow hued eyes stared into your own hopefully, and you knew you could never turn down those puppy eyes of his.

He cheered excitedly when you agreed and took you by the hand over to the rink. He turned around to face you, an expectant expression on his face. He took your hand and placed his lips on the backside, winking up at you, before murmuring, “Watch and learn mi amor!”

With wide eyes you watched as Asmo skated off, moving with incredible balance and grace. Every move was intentional; he looked stunning in this state. Here he was, skating a lutz, an axel, a salchow, everything. He was professional level talented, and he never told you! And, oh, yes, you. You could skate, but not well.

“Asmobaby, I didn’t know you were so talented at this!” You exclaimed as he approached you, an accomplished smile adorning his features. You skated over to him, his hand reaching out to grab yours as you skated together side by side.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I love how graceful it looks,” he responded, as you noticed how the tip of his nose was beginning to turn red. His breathing was still a little irregular, his breath coming out in puffs, the cold making the cloud of breath visible. He was so beautiful.

“Darling, if you keep staring at me like that, I won’t be able to control myself,” he teased, squeezing your hand.

You quickly averted your eyes, your face flushing at being caught.

“Oh, don't be embarrassed, MC! There’s nothing wrong with admiring beauty! I do it with you all the time, you know.” He winked, and you had to slap away a wandering hand, leaving a very pouty Asmo.

You attempted to get closer to give him a kiss to make up for it, but you lost your balance, falling right onto your bum. Asmo gasped, made sure you were okay, and then giggled at you.

“Asmo!! I just fell!! On ice!! And you’re laughing!” you feigned offense, resting your hand over your chest. “And I was going to give you a kiss, too!”

Asmo leaned down to help you up, murmuring, “You can’t help but fall for my charming self, hm, love bug?”, and pressed a loving kiss to your chilly lips. His nose bumped against yours, somehow still warm to the touch. You were so enraptured by his lips that you hadn’t even realized he’d gotten you back on your feet.

“How about we...continue this later?” Asmo whispered as you pulled away.

“Oh, you better. You promised to warm me up, lover boy” You huffed, beginning to skate off with him again. “Don’t have to ask me twice, doll. I’ll show you my love allllll night. Now, watch this next trick- it’s absolutely stunning!”

Beelzebub:

This wholesome boy honestly doesn’t understand pet names at first

“Why would I call you a baby, MC, you’re clearly a grown human??”

Even after you explain it to him, he still doesn’t really get it, but it makes you happy, and he’ll do anything to make you happy

When you tell him that he doesn’t have to call you baby/babygirl/babyboy, that he can use almost anything, he lights up.

“My cheesebur-” “No, Beel, anything but that”

Once he somewhat gets the gist of petnames, his preferred ones for you are love muffin, pumpkin, cookie, honey, sweetheart, gum drop, and cupcake

Occasionally calls you his cheeseburger just to enjoy your reaction

Please, please, please, don’t be mean about it. this baby's feelings are hurt so easily and he always means well

You favorite pet names for him are Beel, beelzeburger, big guy/big boy, bunny,/honey bun, bonbon, sweet boy, honeybee, Cookie Monster, and handsome

Each time you call him something other than his name, he blushes profusely, his lips upturned in a happy smile

Adores everything you call him, even if its incredibly cheesy because he loves cheese you chose those pet names for him specifically, and he feels honored

During sex, he’s so focused on how good it feels and trying to not hurt you that anything that comes to mind rolls off of his tongue when he speaks, which isn’t often

mainly calls you by your name, but he loves to use babygirl/babyboy if you like it

he also prefers for you to call out his name, as other names don’t really do much for him. if you’re into it, though, I'm sure he won't mind if you call him daddy. will be incredibly confused the first time you gasp it out though

“Huh? Is your father here? Or did you call me that? You’re not my child, though...?”

The music was loud- blaring, actually, and your head was beginning to ache.

Lord Diavolo was holding a party at his castle, with almost every one of his friends invited- it was a huge party. Everyone was sat down at tables or were out on the dance floor. Lucifer was chatting it up with Barbatos, Simeon, Luke(who was just following Simeon around), and Lord Diavolo, Satan was sipping some demonus while flipping through the pages of a book, absentmindedly chatting with Solomon, Mammon and Asmo were participating in some dance competition, Levi was playing his switch with his headphones on, and Belphie was napping on Beel’s shoulder.

You were sitting at the table with Satan and Solomon, feeling particularly uninterested in their talk of spells and magic. The music was nice, and Mammon and Asmo looked like they were having fun, but you didn’t have the energy to tear it up on the dance floor. You heaved a sigh, feeling insufferably bored.

And that’s when your eyes landed on Beel. Belphie had his cow print pillow resting in the crook of Beel’s neck, snuggling himself into Beel. He was zonked. And poor Beel was munching on whatever food he had left on his plate, looking just as bored as you- at this rate, he wouldn’t have any food left, and soon.

Making your mind up, you got up from the table and made your way over to Beel. As you got closer, Beel lifted his head at your approaching footsteps and smiled when he saw that it was you- you swore it made your heart beat faster.

“Gum drop! I was wondering when you would come over.” He smiled, motioning for you to take the seat next to him. Belphie continued to snooze on.

“Actually, Beel, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the kitchen with me? Your supply on food is low, cookie monster ..” You murmured in his ear. He nodded, and went to wake up Belphie. Talking to him didn’t work, shaking didn’t work, nothing did. Beel carefully moved Belphie’s pillow on the table, his head now resting on Beel’s shoulder, and then gently moved Belphie’s head to rest on his pillow. He continued his little cat nap, completely unbothered.

Beel stood up, took your hand in his, and led you to kitchen.

You lifted yourself up on the counter to sit, watching as Beel opened every cabinet and drawer, rummaging for something else to devour. He finally made his way to the fridge and freezer, and let out a delighted laugh when he discovered a pint of hellish nightshade ice cream.

“Wanna share?” He asked, smiling and showing you the ice cream container.

“Uh, Beel, can humans even eat nightshade? Won’t it kill me?” You inquired, fairly sure that nightshade would kill you dead.

“Oh, no, it won’t. Barbatos said there’s different kinds of nightshade that won’t hurt humans and Lord Diavolo made sure that everything here is human-proof!” He happily exclaimed, already grabbing two spoons.

If it did kill you, well, that was Lucifer’s problem because you were gonna enjoy some ice cream with your boyfriend.

Beel began to happily eat the sweet treat, you taking bites whenever you could get your spoon in. He noticed you were having some troubles and shyly apologized, retreating his spoon so you could get a good bite.

And oh, you did. It was a heaping spoonful, resulting in ice cream getting on the corners of your mouth. You didn’t know why Beel was suddenly staring ravenously at you instead of the ice cream.

“You have ice cream on your mouth,” he murmured, leaning in closer to you, his face inches away from yours. Your breath sped up.

“Wanna help me clean it off?” Was all you needed to ask before his mouth was on yours, delicately licking off the ice cream. His hands rested gently on your waist, your own hands resting on his broad shoulders. He pulled back gently, a buzzing sound emanating from him.

“I always love your taste,” he exclaimed happily, blush spreading across his cheeks.

You leaned back in for another syrupy sweet kiss, Beel all too happy to oblige.

Belphegor:

ah, our favorite eboy

he thinks pet names are cute and he really enjoys them, but he’ll never outwardly say that. he might mention it to you when you’re half asleep, though

gets all blushy blushy uwu when you use them around other people, but he doesn't mind. don't expect him to use them on you around other people, though- that's mostly for when you're alone

when he's really happy to see you or really sleepy he’ll use pet names for you regardless of who is around

he finds it to be very intimate so he likes keeping it to yourselves

his favorite pet names for you are dork, cuddle bug, star, teddy bear, and pillow pet

he loves stars and stargazing, and especially loves stargazing with you so he figured why not combine two things he loves and call you his star

he also loves to snuggle you, so you're practically his personal teddy bear- and he wouldnt have it any other way

you're favorite pet names for him are cowboy, Little Dipper, cuddle monster, snuggle bug, belpharoo, belphie/belpie, and sleepy prince

during sex, belphie likes to call you his cowgirl when he's feeling more dom. he seems like a bratty power bottom/sub, so he’ll call you master/mistress, mommy/daddy if you like that, but he’ll give you shit for it. other than that, your name falls from his lips in breathy moans and whines

you tend to call him baby boy, sweet prince, brat, good/bad boy, naughty boy during sex. he loves being called a bad/naughty boy, PLEASE do it, it really gets him going

You woke with a start, eyes blinking a few times as you looked around you. You had fallen asleep in the Planetarium. stargazing with Belphie. Oh yeah, Belphie. You turned your head to see he was still fast asleep, holding onto your arm with a death grip. You knew waking him would be fun.

“Belphie? Bellphiiieeeee...” You whispered in his ear, which earned you a little bit of stirring from him.

“Belpharooooo, it’s wakey time,” You said a bit more loudly, beginning to rub his shoulder.

His eyes fluttered open sleepily, his amethyst gaze meeting yours warmly. He stretched his arms out with an adorably soft yawn, his shirt riding up to expose his soft yet toned abdomen. He gave you a sleepy smile.

“I love waking up to the sight and sound of you, teddy bear” he murmured out, clinging onto you once again, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Your own arm was wrapped around him, the other coming up to lazily play with his hair. He let out an almost purring sound, attempting to get as close to you as possible.

“Uh uh, Belphie, we can’t go back to sleep yet. We’re still in the Planetarium- let’s go to bed, okay my sleepy prince?” You cooed, patting his back to get him to sit up.

With a huff, he sat up, but demanded you pull him up by his arms, giving you the sweetest smile in return. He complained the entire way to his and Beel’s room, his hand gripping yours loosely as you lead him forward.

Beel wasn’t there when you arrived which disappointed you both a bit, but you figured he’d be back soon and with some snacks, too, so that was a plus.

Immediately Belphie flopped onto his bed, hardly giving you enough time to crawl into bed beside him before he cocooned himself with blankets. He turned to face you, eyes glazed over, and yawned once more. You yawned in return, the both of you giggling. His amethyst eyes never left you, even when his hair fell into his face. You gently brushed the strands of navy blue hair out of his eyes, giving him a soft smile as his own hand came up to keep your hand pressed against his face. He nuzzled into your hand, sighing happily, before you wrapped your arms around him loosely.

“Goodnight, teddy bear” he murmured as you both drifted off to sleep once more.

A few hours had passed when you woke again , only to find that Belphie had not only pushed you to the edge of the bed, but had also stolen all of the covers and blankets. You were chilly without either of those.

You shook him, earning a groan from the sleepy demon.

“Belphie I love you but I swear I will execute you if you don’t give some blankets back” you lightheartedly threatened, opting to lay your body across his.

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” he murmured, nuzzling further into his pillows.

“Oh no, you don’t. I literally have no covers! You have all of them! I’m freezing!” you exclaimed desperately.

He poked his head out of his cocoon, a mischievous glint in those amethyst eyes, his hair sticking up in random spots.

“If you want a blanket so bad, then come get one from me.” He dared you, a smile playing on his sleepy features.

You immediately began your assault by tickling his sides, which resulted in him laughing, gasping, and trying to swat you away. You began giggling with him, not stopping your violent attack on the poor helpless demon. Your torture went on for a few minutes before he finally gave in.

“Okay, okay! I give in! You can have all the blankies you want, I swear!” he puffed out heavily, tears forming in his eyes from being tickled and laughing so much.

You smiled triumphantly as he let you into his little blanket cocoon, immediately becoming engulfed by warmth and his scent. You were waiting for both of your breaths to even out as you heard a low voice say,

“Hey, I know you guys love each other and all but it’s 4am and I’m kinda trying to sleep”

You looked at Belphie, holding back a giggle as he gave an apology to poor Beel.

You snuggled up to Belphie once again, beginning to feel sleep take over your body for the 3rd time that day. You fell asleep before Belphie, so you never felt the soft kiss he planted on your forehead and the sweetest “I love you so much” he whispered in your ear.

I hope you enjoyed this! I loved finally writing for all of the brothers- It was so much fun figuring out how to incorporate their personality into my own writing style. Let me know if you’d like me to do a version of this with the undateables! As always, all feedback is appreciated. <3

2K notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Four / Irish Coffee

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

W/C: 3k

Warnings: alcohol, language, sexual harassment, physical fighting, Javi is a legend for this chapter/next lmao, reader wears makeup and heels but clothing is otherwise not described

A/N: HI I’m gonna forgo summaries for this series from now on, if anyone has an issue with that pls lmk and we can go back to it, I’m just sick of using like the same summary lmao! Hope you guys like it, idk when chapter 5 will come but somewhat soon!

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist

Irish coffee: a cocktail consisting of hot coffee, Irish whiskey, and sugar, stirred, and topped with cream. The coffee is drunk through the cream.

Four nights after you first kissed Javier, and now many kisses later, Javier insists he take you to the one place he knows in D.C.: a nice bar in the downtown area. You’d spent the days visiting museums and monuments, giving him a tour of the Georgetown campus too. He’d hum along to the radio in your shitty car while you drove place to place. He surprised you with how much modern music he knew.

If the past four days have been getting to know Javier, privately becoming acquainted with each other’s minds and lips, tonight is some kind of grand exposition. Your brief whirlwind of a romance has been contained to your coffee shop and small restaurants off the beaten path. Javier is a well-connected man; he’s sure to know people downtown. From what he’s explained to you, he’s somewhat of a powerhouse in the DEA. Everyone downtown knows a version of the man, who goes by Agent Peña, but all you know is your Javi, your Javi who kisses you goodnight after buying you cupcakes, who drinks your peppermint mochas like it’s the nectar of the gods.

So, it’s safe to say you’re nervous. If he’s bringing you somewhere where he will know people, which he offhandedly told you, you’re going to be the living legend’s date for the night. As you stare into the mirror, your brow furrows in concentration, drawing a line across your eyelid with a pencil of kohl, your phone rings on the vanity in front of you. It makes you jump and the eye pencil drag upwards across your eyelid- most definitely not where you intended it to go. “Fuck!” you shout in annoyance and toss the pencil down. When you pick up, your voice shows your frustration. “Hello?” You ask sharply.

“Hey, abejita,” a smooth voice answers: who else but Javier.

“Hi, Javi,” you sigh as you press the button, moving the call to the speakerphone. “You made me fuck up my eyeliner.”

“Sorry. Just calling to talk.”

His words make you smile and your ears feel warm as they rush with blood. You aren’t picking him up for another hour. “What, you couldn’t wait that long to talk?” You ask him, biting down on your painted lips with a smile.

“No. I’m bored and I miss you.” It’s true, he thinks to himself. He hasn’t seen you all day. After spending the last three days in nearly 24-hour contact, he misses the sound of your laughter and the way your soft lips feel pressed against his stubbled cheek.

“Well, I suppose it’s been…” you trail off as you calculate, “about 20 hours since I’ve seen you. I”m practically going through withdrawals,” you laugh, and it makes Javier’s chest warm to hear that beautiful sound, even through the tinny receiver of the hotel’s phone. “You know, if you have a cute nickname for me, I need to have something equally cute for you.”

“There’s a difference, abejita,” Javier teases, opening the hotel window to smoke out of. “You’re cute. I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“I am many things, little bee, but I am not cute,” Javier chuckles as he sticks the cigarette between his lips and lights it up.

“Well, I think you are,” you refute in a stubborn tone. “You bought me cupcakes on our first date. That’s cute. You come to my work and bring me treats and kiss me in front of my coworkers. That’s cute too.”

Javier shakes his head. Sure, the things could be classified as cute, he supposes, but they’re not the normal Javier. Sexy, rude, intelligent, any of those words could describe him. He’s a playboy, a heartbreaker, and all in all is, by principle, a lone wolf. Well, he was. He’s been chasing Escobar for years and years… and now he’s dead. Maybe he can allow himself to start anew, and this new beginning has to have you in it.

He takes a slow drag from the cigarette, getting lost in his own thoughts and forgetting to answer. The silence makes you suspicious. “Javi? Did I lose you?”

The words snap him back to reality. “No, I’m here. I’m sorry, I… zoned out there.”

“Good,” you smile as you wipe off the messy eyeliner and apply a new, perfectly winged layer of the dark makeup. “I suppose I’ll just have to see what comes. Nicknames have to be earned, not given. Did you ever have any nicknames when you were little?” You ask as you brush a sparkling powder over your eyes.

Javier thinks for a second, almost to the point where you have to ask again if he’s there. That seems to be Javier’s biggest flaw so far. “No, not really. Sometimes the other kids would call me Peñita. Didn’t like that one,” he chuckles, and you can hear air rush past the microphone as he exhales the smoke into the ever-darkening D.C. sky. “My mom had all kinds of names for me, but they were the things you’d call a little kid.”

You nod, then realize he can’t see you and you need to speak. “That’s cute. Tell me about your parents,” you ask him as you continue to brush various makeup products across your face.

Javier shakes his head. “That’s more of an over-drinks topic, I think.”

“When have you ever held back information from me?” You scoff lightly, as if you’ve known him a thousand years. It hits you as you say it, the whirlwind this entire thing has been. You’ve known Javier for five days, and he’s already everything to you. And he’s going back to Colombia in 3 weeks. It makes your heart sink in your chest, and anxiety creeps in, the realization that he might not be falling as quickly as you are. Maybe it’s time to pull back a little, you tell yourself. He won’t be here long.

“Ha,” he says dryly and takes another drag from his cigarette. “Well, I’m ready when you are, if you want to come get me a little earlier.”

His emotionless tone makes you panic. You wonder if you just went somewhere you shouldn’t have by asking about his parents, if you’ve just crossed some line you didn’t know existed. You desperately want to ask him, to reassure yourself and get rid of the worry slowly collecting in your gut, but you don’t. You can’t. You shouldn’t. “I’m still getting ready,” you tell him, and it’s truthful. “I’ll be there at 7, like we said. Is that alright?” you ask.

Javier blows a breath of smoke into the night, the cloud of smoke mingling with the heat puff of his breath. “Sounds good to me. I’ll leave you alone to get ready,” he tells you with a small smile.

“Alright. I’ll see you then. You’re wearing something nice, right?” You clarify one last time.

“Whatever you wear will be beautiful on you. Don’t worry about it.” Javier, ever the king of flattery, looks down and appraises his own outfit. “But yes, I’m wearing something nice.”

You smile at the reassurance, looking down at the swirling colors of your makeup palette. “Well, thank you. I’ll see you in a bit.” -

You have to say you’re surprised at the level of refinement of the hotel. You’d expected the DEA would’ve put Javier at some shitty little hotel, but it’s surprisingly nice. You remember a few days ago, the sheer terror masked behind a stoic face, but you chuckle as you consider that this famed agent had very few context clue skills. This hotel is nice, a couple of stars at least. Why would they put him here if they were firing him?

Javier stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray when he sees your car approaching, straightening his sport coat. You hold back a grin as he walks over, but the fighting ends when you see him smile as he opens the door and slides in.

“Hi,” you beam at him, and he leans across the center console, stealing a kiss.

“Hey.” He sneaks one more kiss, one that lasts a little longer and dares to use a bit of tongue. He only breaks away when you do with a laugh.

“My foot is on the brake right now; be careful but kiss me one more time,” you ask of him with a grin, and he happily complies, cupping your face and kissing you. When he breaks away, your eyes open slowly and you can’t hold in your happiness. “Alright, now we’re going. You’ll have to guide me,” you tell him, and he nods.

“Sure. You’re just going to go out of here and onto that street to the right,” he says and points the way for you.

Your car follows the path, nodding along to Javier’s instructions. “Jesus, that’s a fancy place. How much does that hotel cost a night?” You marvel as you stare at the gorgeous building in your rearview mirror.

Javier shrugs. “I’m about to find out. They’re only paying for a few nights for me, then I’m on my own. I’m guessing it isn’t cheap,” he chuckles as he looks over his shoulder. “Or I might switch hotels. Don’t know yet.”

Frowning, you take a turn he’d earlier instructed you to follow. The hotel fades from sight, the dark blue of the December night filling your rearview instead. “Well, I know of a place you could stay for way cheaper.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, adjusting in his seat to face toward you more. “What is that, pretty thing?” He asks, a hand resting on your thigh.

“Stop,” you giggle and rest one hand atop of his. His fingers are much larger than yours, a fact that makes you shudder as his fingertips find bare skin there. “Pretty thing? That’s weak,” you tease, and Javier just rolls his eyes. “I was going to say you could stay with me, but now I’m not sure,” you say teasingly, eyes locked on the road and most certainly off of Javier.

His brow furrows. “Well, I can pay you then.”

You shake your head. “Javi. We’re dating… aren’t we?” You ask, the hesitancy creeping into your voice. Now that you say it aloud, you’re not entirely sure that you are. “I mean, I don’t know, I just kind of thought,” you stumble over your speech, word-vomiting out whatever you can to backtrack.

The man next to you tilts his head, but he nods. “I… I haven’t dated anyone in a long time,” he admits, his fingers starting to slowly grip your thigh rather than rest atop it. “Is this what dating is like to you?”

You nod too, knowing he’s watching you, staring down at the steering wheel. “I… yeah?”

A small smile cracks on his face, making the mustache there twitch softly. “Then I guess I’d say we’re dating. But that doesn’t matter, I don’t want to live in your place rent-free for three weeks.”

“It’s an extended vacation,” you chuckle and bring your hand back to the steering wheel to have two hands for a turn. “Don’t worry about it. I’d like having you around. We’ve already been together nonstop for a couple of days. What’s a little more?” You ask as you look over at him, seeing his eyes soften and his forehead relax from its tightened state. “And besides, any hotel is going to be painfully expensive right now. D.C. during the holidays makes the hotel rates skyrocket.”

He nods as you speak, processing the idea. “Well, do you have a guest room? I don’t want to invade your space, I can sleep on the couch if you don’t, or I can stay in a hotel.”

“Javier,” you chuckle, putting your own hand on his thigh to reassure him. “We’re not moving in together permanently. You’ll stay with me until you need to go back to Colombia, and that’s that.” Your mind has been made up. He can’t argue it, and he knows it from the firmness in your grip on his leg, in the way your body goes rigid as if the words are some formal deal that requires a handshake.

“How do you know I’m not some serial killer who does exactly this to lure you to your death?” Javier asks dryly as he looks over at you, lifting a hand to trace the side of your face slowly.

“Because you’re Javier Peña. Your name was in the newspaper next to Steve’s. You work for the DEA.”

“Some of the guys I work with could definitely be serial killers, that doesn’t discount anything,” Javier grumbles, which makes you laugh and makes him even grumpier.

“The fact that you said that to me in the first place is my proof, Javi,” you chuckle and pat his thigh softly. “I’m an excellent judge of character. I just graduated from 7 straight years of studying psychology. Remember that?” Javier’s quiet and you know you’ve won. “Then tonight we’ll get your stuff after dinner and get you settled in my place. How does that sound?”

He’s quiet again, studying your face and the way your cheeks move with your lips, the way your brows rise and fall when he’s being ridiculous. He’s just as trained as you are, with 10+ years on you to prove his competence. You like him. You might even love him already, he thinks to himself. Your pretty lips purse at his silence and he finally cracks. “That sounds great, abejita.” Javier leans across the console to kiss your cheek, which makes you shiver softly, like any touch from the man does. “Thank you.”

“Thank me by buying me some drinks, huh?” You tease, turning back to focus on the road.

The bar was nice. Really nice, you learned as you walked in. It projected the essence of Javier to you; naturally, you loved it from the moment you looked around. The room had a low ceiling and wood paneling around the walls, a floor that your short heels clacked upon as you walked to the only open stools- well, only one stool, you realized as you walked. Javier walked behind you, a hand on the small of your back, admiring your legs in the outfit you wore.

When you finally found the available spot, where you’re now sipping a drink, you’d found that there was only one stool.

“Do you want to go sit in the restaurant?” You asked Javier as you nodded with your head to the side of the establishment with tables and booths.

He shook his head and pulled out the stool. “You sit. I’ll stand.”

“Javi-”

“Just sit, abejita. I’ve been sitting all day. I can handle a little standing,” he chuckles and kisses your head, gesturing to the stool. When you sit, he smiles down at you and wraps his arms around you loosely from behind. You lean back against his strong chest.

Over the past few days, you and Javier have made infrequent contact, a hug in greeting or in goodbye and plenty of shared kisses. This, however, speaks directly to your touch-starved soul, the way his body practically encompasses you. He orders himself a whiskey and the drink you’d ordered on the first night you met him for you, then continues to stand there.

You crane your head around to look at him, smiling. “I love this place already,” you say, admiring the way you can hear over the hum of the other patrons and the quiet music playing. You’re much more accustomed to places your friends would drag you, where it was more for the cheap drinks than the atmosphere.

The crow’s feet by his eyes are more pronounced as he smiles at you, but he looks even younger as his lips curve up softly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Shit, is that Peña?” A loud voice calls from somewhere else in the building, and Javier turns, his face falling flat then smiling as he sees the voice behind it.

“Be right back,” he murmurs and presses a kiss into the top of your head.

It’s someone he recognizes, that’s for sure, as the man and Javier wrap their arms around each other and firmly pat the other’s back. “No shit! When did you get back to D.C., man?” The other guy asks. “Escobar just died and they’re already sending you back?”

The bartender delivers your drink, and you turn your back to Javier, thanking them and sipping at your liquor. Over your shoulder, you can hear the man and Javier talk shop, about Colombia and their days as DEA trainees, about Escobar’s recent death and Javi’s recent promotion. You glance over your shoulder at him, smiling as he easily talks with the group. You’ve not had the privilege of seeing Javier with his friends- or what seem to be his friends- yet, and he seems fairly social but humble. You appreciate that.

The talking goes on for a while, and you sip at your drink and look around the bar, appreciating the wood that makes a nice noise as your fingernails tap against it rhythmically.

When your drink is about half-drained, the bartender sets another in front of you. It’s different from what you were drinking, a fluorescent neon color surely made by a mix of ridiculously fruity liqueurs. You look at the bartender with confusion and they nod to a man at the end of the bar. He’s not looking at you, which makes it all the easier to stare at the drink in confusion and disgust rather than drink it. His tie is absolutely egregious, boldly patterned in bright colors. There’s not an ounce of taste about this man.

The drink goes untouched, sitting in front of you as you study it. There seems to be layers, maybe, or maybe the mixed alcohols just congealed awkwardly. You sip your drink and then Javier’s whiskey, refusing to drink whatever fucking concotion sits in front of you.

Five or ten more minutes pass of Javier talking with his friends. You don’t mind- you know the feeling of catching up with people you haven’t seen in a long time. In that time, the drink remains untouched, and you ask the bartender for a refill of your go-to drink.

Not long after the second one arrives, you feel a hand on the curve of your back. You turn, hoping it’s Javier, and instead find it to be the man at the end of the bar who ordered you the drink: Tie Guy. Panic sets in immediately and you arch your back to dodge the hand, which only follows your spine. “Hey. Thought you’d like this drink. You tried it yet?” The man asks, voice clearly showing that he knows you haven’t.

“No,” you say with a swallow, turning away from him. “Not exactly my style.”

“I thought it was such a pretty drink for such a pretty thing.”

Pretty thing. When Javier called you that earlier, even though the name wasn’t one you liked, it was at least endearing. To hear it again, dripping with sleaze and ill intentions, you shiver and push it further away. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s not my type of drink. My boyfriend will be right back, and-” you try, hating the defense you try to pull.

“He drinks whiskey,” Tie Guy says and gestures to Javier’s ¾ full glass. “No fun. Boring. Too manly, pretentious. Real men can drink something fun like these and not need to worry about someone thinking they don’t have a set of balls,” he says and his fingers trace the rim of the martini glass the concoction sits in. Now you’re definitely not drinking it, now that he’s touched it.

“Please, I’m not interested,” you try, turning around to face the man that towers over your seated body. “I’d appreciate it if-”

“Hey,” a familiar voice- thank fuck, it’s Javier- calls from behind you. “Excuse me,” he says and pushes Tie Guy out of the way, his arm wrapping around you. It’s a relief, a grip meant entirely for comfort and not for the coercion the man across from you had tried. You melt into it instantly. “She said to back the fuck off, or could you not fucking tell?” He hisses at the man. Javier pulls away from you, stepping towards the man who instinctively steps back.

“Whiskey drinker,” the man snorts and rolls his eyes. “So manly, so over the top. Gotta let everyone know that you’re the alpha, the dominant male, huh?” He asks, getting in Javier’s face. He’s taller than your Javier, but lankier. The fact that Javier could take him crosses your mind, though you hope desperately that it doesn’t come to that.

“What I drink doesn’t fucking matter,” Javier says and shoves his chest. “What matters is that you’re fucking harassing my girlfriend. Back the fuck off,” he says and turns from the man, back to you, his hand on your upper arm. “You okay?” he asks quietly, and you respond with a nod and a forced, close-lipped smile.

“Yep, go ahead, go back to your little prude,” the man laughs drunkenly, his voice full of vitriol. “Oh, no, I bet she loves to act all shy, but then she’s a kinky little thing in bed, isn’t she?” He asks, taunting Javier. “Ties your ass up and whips you, with that sass. I wonder if she-”

The sentence isn’t finished. Javier’s fist flies through the air and connects with the man’s face, followed by a loud, ringing thud as the taller body hits the floor.

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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Pain Is For The Living [Javier Peña x F!Reader] - Chapter 2 (SMUT)

Summary: Sex work in the heat of 1980’s Colombia was never going to be a walk in the park. Especially not when you had a crush on your number one client, agent Javier Peña. You’d been warned about him and his reputation, but after one very specific incident that would change your life forever, you find yourself attached to him like never before and you’d do anything to make him yours. Even if it means endangering your own life.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (protected p in v), allusions to sex, reader works in a brothel, PTSD, anxiety, panic attack, mention of drugs, guns, character death, typical Narcos themes.

Word count: 4000>

Pain Is For The Living Masterlist

*reblogs appreciated! Ko-Fi in bio if you want to support me!

The office was dead, like it had been for the last three weeks. No new leads. Nothing. The days dragged and honestly, it felt like the case was growing colder and colder. Escobar had gone completely off the grid, hiding out in La Catedral, his very own self-built prison in the depths of Medellín. But the DEA didn’t know that yet. So, they made an attempt to shift focus, at least just for now. After all, any narco they captured would be a win. They’d been tracing Juan Diego Diaz, otherwise known as La Quica, believing that the sicario would eventually lead them to Escobar himself. But La Quica was just as cunning as any other narco and following him was not an easy challenge. If it wasn’t for Steve Murphy, the DEA would’ve most likely shifted focus again - but Murphy and La Qucia went way back. In 1981, just a few years ago, La Quica shot dead Kevin Brady, Steve’s old partner back from Miami, and so to say that Steve had a personal feud against La Quica was an understatement.

Javier Peña didn’t realise he was about to gain a whole vendetta against him too.

Within a second, every phone in the damn embassy began to ring. Javier and his partner, Steve Murphy exchanged a glance, and their eyes trailed up to Horacio Carrillo who answered the call. “Colonel Carrillo,” he introduced himself. Javier and Steve watched as their colleague took in the information on the other end of the line. Carillo erratically gestured for a notepad and pen, and Steve quickly threw him one his way. “Wait, wait… are you sure? Are you sure you saw him? How many eyes? With another man? Who? Who?” Carillo pressed pencil to paper and began to scribble the details down. “How many dead?... Shit, okay. We’re on our way now.”

Carrillo slammed the phone down on the hook and took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face in dismay. “We got eyes on La Quica,” he announced, and Steve immediately grabbed the handgun from his desk drawer and shoved it into his jeans. The whole office cheered, apart from Javier and Steve. This was good news considering the DEA had no lead whatsoever for the past three weeks, but if Carrillo’s demeanor over the phone was anything to go by, Javier and Steve knew they shouldn’t be celebrating just yet. “No. No,” Carrillo chanted, raising his voice in order to silence the rest of the department. “Three hookers. Dead. Shot.”

Javier froze up completely as he processed the words.

“By La Quica?” Steve beckoned, his voice dripping with venom.

“We don’t know. But we have eyes on him. He was seen.”

“Where?” Javier asked finally, his face expression stone cold.

Carrillo eyed Javier up and down, swallowing a nervous lump in his throat. He knew it was the brothel that Javier frequented...and Javier Peña was quite unpredictable. So, after taking a brief moment to prepare for Javier’s reaction, Carrillo finally gave the name of the location. “Desiderio.”

Desiderio. It was the brothel where you worked. His eyes flicked over to the wallclock before his gaze met back with Carrillo’s dark eyes. He had literally been there, with you, two hours ago. If he had just gone two hours later… he could’ve put a stop to the attack. Hell, he could’ve been the one to find an arrest La Quica. But Javier’s hero complex was short lived when all he could think about was you.

“Do we have names?” Javier asked. “Who was killed?”

What if it had been you? What would Javier do then? You were younger than the other girls, polite and bright eyed. You were brand new to Colombia, and Javier swore you were too good for the dangerous life you had managed to get yourself caught up in. Being a sex worker in 1980’s Bogotá? It was only a matter of time something happened to you.

“No names,” Carrillo confirmed. “Peña, with all due respect, I ask that you go in and investigate the scene. You know the girls better than anyone else in the department. Maybe you could identify some of the bodies.”

It was like time was frozen, and Javier felt sick to his core. Javier was used to death and bloodshed; this was a war on drugs - however, it hit different when it was close to home. When it was a place he had been, or it was people who he knew.

Javier Peña was a complicated man. He didn’t talk about himself or his feelings. Truth be told, he didn’t even let himself feel. But right now, as anger swirled in his stomach, he decided he wasn’t going to waste anytime at all. He paced back over his desk and grabbed his handgun before bolting to the car that was already waiting outside for him. All eyes followed Javier’s movements but no one dared to make a comment. Apart from Bill Stechner, of course.

“Not everyday you see the department of drug enforcement’s noted womanizer get worked up over a whorehouse shooting,” Bill commented, a smug grin playing on his lips. “Didn’t think agent Peña had it in him.”

“Shut the fuck up Bill.” Steve rolled his eyes, not even bothering to humour the CIA agent’s out-of-pocket remark. Everyone in the district knew about Javier Peña’s reputation with the ladies. But of course, you were new.

“The Search Bloc and I will go after La Quica. Steve, you stay on the down low with agent Peña and investigate the crime scene. We’ll have guards protecting you from outside the brothel.”

“I want to go after La Quica.” Steve argued but Carrillo pointed a finger.

“No. You stay with Javi. Partners,” Carrillo reminded the blonde haired man. “Besides, you’re the DEA’s best photographer.” Carrillo smirked, thrusting a Polaroid camera into Steve’s chest. Steve let out a low grumble in response, before shaking his head and following Javier out of the office. Partners. And right now, Steve saw the primal glint in Javier’s eye. Agent Peña was seeing red.

As both Javier and Steve were being transported to Desiderio, Javier made an attempt to dial a number on the carphone multiple times. Your number. Of course it was a dead line. And that only worked up Javier more. The never ending ringing sound signified that you weren’t there, and Javier’s heart was pounding against his chest. It was the same kind of adrenaline as when he found Helena tortured by Gacha’s men in Medellín. Steve knew better than to ask his friend who he was so desperately trying to call, but it was the last of his instincts to assume it was one of the sex workers from the brothel. Because renowned womanizer Javier Peña didn’t form attachments, especially not to women, right?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

At some point or another, you had passed out. Maybe you’d cried yourself to the point of exhaustion. Maybe the reality of what you had seen had hit you like a ton of bricks and you had fainted. How could you possibly know? But when Javier and Steve stormed the lobby of your workplace, you were laying on top of Rosa’s body, as still as could be. And that’s when Javier’s heart sank.

You weren’t moving, and his mind shot to the worst possible outcome. He raced over to you and fell on his knees, dragging your body off Rosa and cradling you in his arms. You were absolutely saturated in your best friends blood, and by holding you, now Javier was too. He briefly glanced down at Rosa and placed a hand on her forehead, trying to feel for any sign of warmth - any sign of life. Javi sighed and ran his hand through his dark locks of hair before bringing it back down to you. He cooed your name a few times, desperate to earn some sort of reaction. Thankfully, on the third calling, you stirred a little, indicating that you were in fact alive.

Your perfect eyes fluttered open and in that moment, Javi swore his heart stopped. Thank God you were breathing. “You’re safe now,” Javier whispered. “I’ve got you.”

“Javi?” you asked in disbelief. Surely not. The way he was holding you was the most affectionate he’d ever been with you, and it felt like a dream. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe you were dead and this was your journey to the afterlife. God was finally giving you a chance with the one you loved so much. You said his name again, raising a shaky hand to cup his cheek. You brushed your thumb over his jaw and along his mustache, and when you smelt his familiar musky cologne, you knew you were somehow going to be okay.

Javier picked you up and carried you back to the car. “We have a survivor!”

Steve replied but to you it was just a haze. You could hardly keep your eyes open and when you did, everything was a blur. Your clothes were stuck to your skin, due to the mixture of blood, sweat and tears. You knew the second you were outside because the orange setting son burned against your skin. You stirred and mumbled, but Javier smoothed out your hair and hushed you. He opened the back seat of the DEA car and lay you down.

“Hey, hey listen, I’m DEA,” Javier whispered. “I don’t talk about it, but I’m here to help you. I need to head back inside now and help my partner out, but I won’t be long. I promise.” As Javier turned to leave, you grabbed his hand and he looked back at you.

“Please don’t go.” you sniffed, tears free falling down your cheeks.

And normally, Javier would’ve shrugged it off. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t just stick around you because you felt unsafe. They had counsellor’s back at the embassy for that. All he had to do was use the carphone and call them out. It wouldn’t take him two minutes. The only problem was, Javier didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want anyone else to hold you and comfort you. He wanted it to be him.

So, he swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and slid into the back seat next to you. He maneuvered your body so your head was resting against his jean clad lap, and he continued to smooth out your hair. Despite your red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, you were still so beautiful.

“Hermosa, what happened back there?” he asked quietly after a moment. Between you and Javier, there was never an uncomfortable silence. It was his job to find out, but asking you straight up when you were so clearly traumatized, felt insensitive. Nevertheless, what else was there to say? He had to do it sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry.” Javier mused, closing his dark brown eyes as he mourned.

“They killed Rosa,” you whispered shakily, doing your absolute best to remain composed and not fall back into an abundance of tears. Javier looked out the car window and held back a sigh. Well, he knew they killed Rosa already. “And Juliet and Martzia.”

Javier didn’t know who Juliet and Martzia were, but his heart sank at the revelation. Three deaths that could’ve been stopped.

“La Quica,” you croaked, and Javier’s head snapped to face you. “Was his name. But there were two, I think.”

La Quica… that was the name Carrillo had come up with. It was who the DEA had spent so much time looking for. But two? That was the first he’d heard of it. Carrillo and the cop department only had eyes on La Quica.

“Do you know the name of the other man? Or what he looked like?”

You did. At one point, his name rang like bells in your ears. He was friends with Rosa, or so you had thought. You knew his name… you knew his face until suddenly you didn’t. You couldn’t make sense of it or understand it, but it was like everything that happened back there had just become a fuzzy blur. It still hurt so much but… you couldn’t match actions to faces, or names to bodies. All you could see was Rosa and her sacrifice. All you could see was the way her body fell to the ground, crumpled up in a pool of her own blood. And then the screams and cries.

“Are you okay?” Javier asked due to the delay in communication. Your mouth felt dry and your fingers felt numb. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, I can take you home, but the embassy is gonna want to interview you at some point in the near future. La Quica is dangerous, and I don’t know who this other guy is but I wouldn’t feel good about bringing you back to your apartment and leaving you there. I can send over additional security measures but, listen. I know you. And,” Javier took a deep breath not sure if he was about to regret the proposal. “If you’d prefer, you can come back to my place. Stay there for a few days. High security and you’ll be with me. Someone you know. I know that, if I was you, I wouldn’t wanna be alone right now.”

And for the very first time, your pretty plush lips curled into a smile. “You’d really do that for me?” You whimpered, nuzzling your face into his shirt.

“Of course.” Javier hummed, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead.

Was it unprofessional, inviting you over to live with him for the foreseeable future, the moment you had become an essential asset to the case? Yes. Fuck yes. But Javier Peña was not someone who played by the rules. He’d done this plenty of times before, when he shouldn’t have… but it was truly the right thing to do. Besides, you weren’t like any other informants. He knew you. He cared about you, more so than he’d like to admit.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were very sleepy, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk all that much. Javier understood better than anyone. He helped you out the car, carried you through the embassy apartment complex, unlocked his door (albeit with great difficulty), threw his keys haphazardly on the kitchen counter and gently plopped you down on the brown leather couch. Pulled out a crocheted blanket, he wrapped it over you, ensuring your warmth. He padded into the kitchen and filled you a glass of tepid water before looking in the refrigerator. Empty. Javier didn’t cook. In fact, he rarely even ate. When he did eat, it was take-out or fast food. Something quick and easy that he didn’t have to bother with. But now he had company. He sighed, and closed the fridge, glancing back at your sleeping body. He figured he’d have to go grocery shopping.

He picked up the phone and dialled Steve’s number, but his wife, Connie was the one who picked up. “Hey Con, Steve there?”

“Yeah. But he’s pissed with you Javi.” Connie sighed on the other end of the line. Javier scowled. He understood. It seemed like he pissed off people quite easily.

“Could you put him on?”

Connie didn’t reply but judging from the scuffling, Javier assumed she was handing the phone to her husband.

“Javi,” (“Steve,”)

“What’s up?” (“I need to ask you a favour,”)

“After today’s stunt? Not a chance.” (“Y/N was a mess, Steve. One of her best friends died in the shoot-out. I wasn’t just going to leave her,”)

“Javier Peña. Ever the hero. What do you need?” (Groceries. She’s gonna be staying with me for a few days. I can use the time I spend with her to gain her trust. Try and work out what exactly went on,”)

“Javi, she’s vulnerable. She’ll need therapy. You really want to use her as an informant?” (We’ll get her therapy from the embassy. Steve, I don’t think we have any other choice.”)

“I just think it’s a bad idea, but, it’s your call Peña.” (“I’m going to head to the market before it closes. Can you or Connie come over to watch her? She’s asleep so she won’t be much trouble.”)

“We have Olivia.” (“So bring her. Or don’t. I don’t care. Steve, please.”)

Javier waited patiently through a silence followed by a long sigh. “Okay Jav, but you owe us. We’ll be over in five minutes.”

“Thanks Steve, I’ll see you soon.”

Javier put the phone down on the hook quietly and padded back over to the sofa where you slept, crouching down and taking your hand. You didn’t deserve this. You were so soft and full of life, and everytime Javier saw you at the brothel you were always beaming. You were too good for this life. He knew you’d get hurt, one of these days, but that didn’t mean it was right. And suddenly, Javier was filled with vengeance. He couldn’t bear to think how the shoot-out would come to affect you, but he knew, in that moment, he would seek justice. Too many deaths, too close to home. Javier whispered your name, his breath fanning over your ear. You were somewhere in between consciousness. You could feel his presence but everything felt so dream-like. “If you can hear me, I’m going to head to the store. Buy us some food, okay? I won’t be long, and I have friends who will be watching over you. You’ll be safe, I promise.” Javier said before pressing another kiss to your forehead. He just couldn’t resist it. You stirred upon feeling the bristle of his mustache graze your skin and he drew his face away, not wanting to wake you completely.

“Hi Liv,” Javi cooed, leaning down to Steve and Connie’s little girl and pulling a face.

“So that’s her?” Connie asked, putting Olivia down.

“Yeah,” Javier sighed, and began to introduce you.

“Why do I get the feeling that you know her?” Steve quirked an eyebrow and Javier felt his cheeks flush with heat. “Are you one of her regulars?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yeah, I suppose I am,” Javier retorted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Con, if I’m gonna cook her dinner, what would you recommend?”

Connie stifled a laugh before turning to Steve. “Steve, you hungry? Javier’s offering to cook.”

“Hey that’s not what I meant--”

“He does owe us…” Steve smirked. “Paella sounds good.”

Fucking paella.

“I could just bring her Taco Bell,” Javier considered out loud.

“I like paella.” Steve reiterated.

“Me too,” Connie agreed. “Paella is delicious.”

“Everyone likes paella.” Steve commented.

“Oh my god would you shut the fuck up about paella?” Javier groaned, causing Connie and Steve to laugh in unison.

“Make her paella and bring us the leftovers,” Steve grinned, patting his friend on the shoulder. “And be quick about it.”

“Whatever, Murph.” Javier sighed, rolling his eyes before grabbing his wallet and car keys.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Seeing Nina working as the supermarket cashier was the last thing Javier expected.

“Javi?” she smiled that familiar gorgeous smile, her eyes sparkling as she scanned through the items of food. “It’s so good to see you. Been a while.” she commented, her gaze not leaving the agent’s once.

And for the first time in a long while, Javier smiled. The stress of the stake-out and investigating the brothel, and taking you home had been a lot on him, but seeing his ex-girlfriend helped bring him back down to earth. If Nina could even be called ‘ex-girlfriend’. It wasn’t ever official, but he and Nina had been fucking on and off for around 6 months last summer and Javier was actually committed to Nina during that time. She came into his life unexpectedly, to say the least.

“How long have you worked here?” Javier charmed as he bagged the groceries.

“Two months, it’s been good to get out of the house,” Nina grinned. “You're still working for the DEA I assume?”

“Yeah.” Javier hummed, quickly reminding himself of you and the way you were sleeping on his sofa. He looked back up from the bag of rice and at Nina. Come to think of it, she resembled you quite a bit. Same hair colour, eye colour, skin tone… only she wasn’t as distinct. She didn’t have that flare about her, like you did. Maybe Javier had a type after all.

“I get off work now,” Nina announced, flicking her wrist upright and checking the time on her watch. “Are you busy or? I was thinking… it would be nice to catch up, maybe, if you wanted.” Nina ducked her head down awkwardly.

Javier didn’t forget about you once. He didn’t forget about the fact he had a traumatized sex worker sleeping on his couch, or how he’d invited his partner and his partner’s family over to watch over you while he got ‘groceries’. But catching up with Nina would be nice. The right thing to do would be to reject Nina, and perhaps make plans to see her when Javier wasn’t so swamped with work commitments (if he could even call you that). But this was Javier Peña. He supposed Steve and Connie could wait just a little while longer, besides, they’d never find out. Javier was a good liar. He could make up some excuse about having to travel to a different grocery store or something. So, he agreed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nina’s apartment had barely changed since she and Javier had ended things. Still quaint, decorated with plants in every corner and full bookshelves. It was a clash of tongues and teeth as Nina navigated inside of her home, not pulling away from Javier once. She moaned against his lips and he grabbed onto her back, pinning her against the wall and knocking a few things off the coffee table.

“Missed this,” Javier confessed, nudging his nose against Nina. In the moment, he’d forgotten why he’d ended things in the first place. Nina wrapped her hands in Javi’s dark hair and tugged on the locks at the nape of his neck. Javier groaned wantonly and reattached his lips to hers as she let her hands maneuver down his body, unbuttoning his shirt and working at the zipper of his jeans. “Fuck Ni.”

She pulled off him and began to discard her clothes. “Bedroom Javi, I have condoms.” she hummed, taking Javier’s hand and guiding him through her apartment as if he didn’t already know the way. He’d never forgotten, really.

This was wrong. On so many levels, this was wrong. He should be back home, with you. If anyone was to find out about this… well, Steve would be furious, for a start. But Javier genuinely couldn’t stop thinking about you. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, because if he wanted to be with you so bad he could easily just go back to his place and sit with you on the couch. The idea of that wasn’t the worst in the world. But also, he was about to get laid by Nina who looked so much like you… he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He was whipped. Thinking about your lips on his… your hands caressing his muscles. She might have resembled you, but she tasted different, her voice was different, and her attitude. She just wasn’t you.

Once Javi was all wrapped up, he pushed into Nina, and settled deep, his movements rough and fast. He grabbed onto her tits and gave them a squeeze, but they just didn’t feel like yours. They’d do though, for now. His grunts and her moans filled the room as she chanted his name, and he could feel himself nearing orgasm. He dipped his head in the crook of her neck, biting down on her skin that just wasn’t as soft as yours, and as his dick throbbed inside of Nina, and when he reached his climax, he made the biggest mistake of all.

He gasped your name like it was the sweetest prayer to leave his lips. He was fucking Nina but shit, he said your name.

Javier Peña said your name.

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gureishi · 4 years ago

Text

blue sky, falling star

Here is the first fic I wrote for the @mysme-rbb! It’s pretty different from anything I’ve written before, and I’m really excited to share it. I had such a wonderful time collaborating with AlyValery, who made this beautiful artwork. Check out her post here.

one

Zen falls in love with her first. For him, it is like leaping into cool, clear water.

There is something about her, from the first time he speaks to her (and she is just words on a screen then, voiceless and non-corporeal): something about her reels him in, makes his heart eel fizzy. It is only when she’s in his home, though—sitting so calmly on his couch, hands clasped neatly in her lap—that he realizes just how deep underwater he has fallen.

“Sorry,” he says to her—and for what? For his small, underground apartment, when she deserves a palace? For bringing her here, or for the danger he didn’t know she was in, or for the strange thickness he feels in the space between them?

She shakes her head, and a lock of hair falls into her eyes. She brushes it away with careful fingers and Zen feels that his heart is trying to fight its way out of his chest.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor right now,” she says—and in spite of it all, she speaks with a certainty that makes his head spin. For his whole life, he has been searching for the sort of sureness that seems to radiate off her. He feels dizzy as he sits beside her—leaving space between them, still (because she feels untouchable to him—because she is too wonderful for this world).

“That’s me,” he says, giving her his best attempt at his usual sparkling smile. He wonders if she can sense how nervous she makes him.

“It’s okay,” she says, patting the space beside her. “You can sit next to me, silly.” She knows: he sees it written in the resplendent smile on her face. Zen feels his cheeks flush. It’s never been like this before: he has worked so hard to learn how to smile, and change the timbre of his voice, and angle his head just right so the light bounces off his jaw. He is not used to being caught off guard. Ah, but he finds it impossible to pretend when she’s around: he is rubbed raw, like she has stripped him of his skin, leaving him utterly exposed.

“If you want me to, babe,” he says—but he knows that his voice is stiff and he can feel the way his body tingles as he shifts closer to her.

“Hey,” she says. She peeks up at him from underneath her lashes and there is a determined look in her eyes. A moment passes in which the world outside the window could burn to the ground and Zen wouldn’t see. She takes his hand.

And this is it: this is the moment. Oh god, he thinks. I’m done for.

She’s smiling up at him, tilting her head to the side to draw his attention to their intertwined fingers—as though he needed a reminder.

“Is this okay?” she asks him. He realizes he’s staring at her—is afraid, for a moment, that he looks like a fool, that she’ll toss her head and laugh that heart-stirring laugh and take her hand back. She doesn’t, of course.

He squeezes her hand. Finds he can breathe underwater.

Zen always knows what to say. But here, on his too-small couch, in his too-small apartment, he doesn’t have the words—doesn’t know how to tell her that his heart, and his head, and his whole life belong to her; ah, but the sparkle in her eyes tells him that she already knows.

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course it is.”

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two

Yoosung can’t sleep. It’s something about the way the stars are shining outside his window: too close, like he could stick out his hand and pull them from the sky. He’s never wanted to believe the adage that lost loved ones look down on us from the stars—it’s too sad, he thinks, to leave behind your friends on earth and exist forever in the night sky, all alone. He doesn’t want to end up stationed in the sky for living people to gaze at as they philosophize about life; he wants to be right here, where it’s warm and he’s real and he can hold the people he loves in his arms.

The people he loves.

Normally, he’d give up on sleep—throw a blanket over his shoulders and open his game, where there would be friends waiting for him: strangers who know him just well enough to ask how he’s doing but not well enough to really listen to the answer. He used to think this sort of relationship was safe—natural—ideal.

But he doesn’t think that way anymore.

He calls her, instead.

She answers right away, and she can’t have been sleeping, because her voice sounds too clear.

“You’re still awake?” he laughs, and she giggles. He wishes she were beside him, head on his shoulder as he looks out through the smudged glass window.

“So are you,” she says.

Yoosung tells her about the stars. He tells her that the stars he sees are really in the past—that they’re long gone—that the past and present live together in the sky. A voice in the back of his mind tells him that he’s being dramatic again—that he’s wasting her time, her precious sleep, with these thoughts.

But she doesn’t think so.

“I’m looking out my window now too,” she tells him. “I wonder if the stars will carry my message to you.”

Yoosung finds that he’s smiling. He tucks his knees up to his chest, wiggles closer to the window—puts a palm on the glass, thinks again that perhaps he could catch a star in his hand if he just reached far enough.

“What’s your message for me?” he asks. His heart races.

“I’m going to tell the stars,” she says. She whispers something, and he hears her exhale, like she’s blowing on a dandelion—scattering her words into the night sky.

“Not fair!” he says. “I wanted to hear the message, too!”

“You will,” she tells him. “Just wait.”

So he waits, hand on the glass, listening to the sound of her breathing through the phone. He counts her breaths: one, two, three… He wonders how it would feel to fall asleep to this beautiful sound; he hopes, with all his heart, that one day he will find out.

One of the stars seems to glimmer brighter, catching his eye. It’s getting bigger, he thinks—moving closer to him. And perhaps it’s his imagination (too active, he’s been told) or just a projection made by his desperate heart, but he feels a warmth wash over him—like stepping outside and lifting his face to the sky on a bright summer day.

“Did you get it?” she whispers. His heart feels shimmery, like she’s taken it in both her hands and sworn to keep it safe.

“Yes,” he whispers back. “I feel it.”

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three

Jaehee is never afraid—but today, she is terrified.

The key digs into her palm and she clutches it—too tight—in her sweaty, shaky hand. She can’t remember the last time she felt this way—like her stomach is tied in a knot. As a child, perhaps, squeezing her pencil, waiting for a test to start—never as an adult; never like this.

Oh, and she is every bit as beautiful as Jaehee had imagined. When she was just a voice over the phone, Jaehee felt so much safer to say what she felt (even if what she said was such a tiny bit of what she really meant). But now she has a body, and a face, and these perfect, confident eyes, and Jaehee is certain she is going to lose her nerve.

Do it, she tells herself. Do it now.

“Will you be my partner?” she asks—and her voice sounds so much quieter than it did in her imagination. And in spite of everything that’s been said, Jaehee half-expects her to shake her head, declining the offer with a perfect, polite smile. Why would she uproot her whole life, after all, for a woman she’s known for just a few days?

Jaehee hardly dares even think beyond this: about the question she’s really asking; about the answer she really wants.

“Yes,” she says. Ah, and she says it with such conviction: like she’s simply been waiting to be asked. Jaehee feels like a thousand tiny little fires have ignited inside her chest. She holds out the key with a trembling hand. This is it, she thinks: the moment to tell the truth. And by my partner, of course, I mean…

She opens her mouth but the words are stuck in her throat. She hates herself for it: she is strong, she thinks. She can go to work with clear eyes after a sleepless night; she can defend herself with her bare hands. But this—the you are my everything, the I want you, the please be mine—it is impossible.

The key is gone—she has slipped it from Jaehee’s hand with remarkable deftness—and she is moving closer, closer, and Jaehee is frozen in place as soft arms encircle her. She smells like the first buds of spring.

“I mean—” Jaehee tries to say, feeling that the world has turned sideways.

“I know,” she whispers. And there is an intimacy in her tone of voice that Jaehee has never heard before: the ballroom around them dissolves, and they could be in bed together, or on a plane carrying them thousands of miles away, or in a void consisting of nothing but their voices and breaths and bodies and hearts. “I know what you mean.”

“Do you?”

She doesn’t say anything, but she shifts in Jaehee’s arms, and Jaehee realizes what she’s going to do right before she does it. She tilts her head and—and—with almost unbearable tenderness, brushes her lips against the corner of Jaehee’s jaw.

The sideways world rights itself. The air hums. The stars fall from the heavens.

“Friends don’t kiss each other like that,” she whispers, and her breath on Jaehee’s ear sends sparks shooting down her spine. “Right?”

Jaehee gathers her breath, the fragmented shards of her courage.

“No,” she murmurs. “They don’t.”

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four

It is a cool April day, and the trees seem to sing a song of impending summer.

She gets home late that night. Her mother, who is seated beside her in the car, is telling her a story she can’t quite follow—some friend of the family got some score on some test, and apparently this means that her mother is now disappointed in her. She sighs heavily; her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she leaves it alone, reluctant to get in more trouble than she seems to be in already.

The car pulls into the driveway.

“You need to make sure you get some sleep tonight, okay?” her mother says—and her voice sounds far away, like it’s coming from underwater.

“I still have a lot of studying to do,” she says, feeling stubborn. And it’s true that she has studying to do, but it is true, too, that it is almost midnight—the right time to start over again tonight, if she wants to.

And she does: oh, to slip back into that world where she is beloved and everyone’s salvation is at her fingertips.

Her mother looks back, halfway to the door; she’s still sitting in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, one hand unconsciously cupping the phone inside her pocket.

“Are you coming inside?” her mother asks. She opens the passenger side door; the night air is biting on her bare arms.

“Yeah,” she tells her. “Yeah, just a minute.”

And her mother is walking ahead; tugging open the front door (too forcefully), keys jangling in her hand (too loud). She pauses in the garden; tilts her face up to see the sky.

Her muscles feel stiff and sore from nights of poring over books, eyes aching as she tries to make out the letters that swim around on the page. She feels like she’s been running a marathon barefoot, gasping as she struggles to keep up.

In another universe, though, she is already at the finish line. In another universe, she has the power to mend broken hearts, soothe fears, save lives.

Are you out there? she asks the empty night sky.

A star falls.

Oh: and it feels like an answer. She pulls her phone out of her pocket: midnight exactly. Phone in one hand, she lays her other hand over her heart.

She makes a wish.

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five

It is when the car door shuts behind her that Jumin realizes he is no longer afraid.

For ages, he has been on the very edge of the abyss of solitude. It would have been so easy, he thinks, to bury himself in that gaping emptiness where no one could reach him—to fall deeper and deeper until he was untouchable.

But she wrapped a rope around his waist and said if you’re going, I’m going too. He knows that she felt it: the peril of standing on the edge; the understanding that one wrong move would have catapulted them both over the cliff—hidden them away together where no one could find them. She knew; she could have run away at any time.

She didn’t.

And now he is alone in the garage, and the car that’s carrying her away from him is fading into the distance, and—for perhaps the very first time in his life—he has no doubt that she will come back.

He’s always believed that leaving means never returning—that once someone is gone, they are gone forever. But she has driven away, and he finds that he doesn’t feel scared.

He calls her, of course—almost without thinking, fingers pressing the buttons before he’s realizing what he’s doing. She laughs as she answers.

“Did you miss me already?” she asks. Her voice is weightless; he realizes that it’s been days since he’s heard her voice without actually standing beside her. She feels so much less tangible now that she is just a voice over a phone again—and still, he does not feel afraid.

“I did,” he tells her. “I miss you so much.”

Honesty: so bright it almost burns him.

He tells her that he wants to grow into a more mature man for her, and she listens—and it is this, perhaps, that he loves the most. She doesn’t offer him platitudes, as the people around him have done his whole life: she doesn’t say oh, but you’re fine the way you are; she doesn’t dismiss him or diminish him or paint him a false picture of the way his world should be.

She listens.

She tells him that she’s glad to have met him and he knows that she means it.

Her voice, Jumin thinks, is like crisp autumn air; he wonders if he’s ever been truly honest with anyone before.

“There’s something I want to say to you right now,” he says. He finds that he needs to know how the words will taste in his mouth—needs to know if he’s capable of saying them at all.

“What is it?” she asks, and he smiles because he can tell she already knows.

He’s not standing on a cliff anymore, staring down into the abyss. Before he realized what she was doing, she led him away—guided him to this new place, where he is warm and his feet are on solid ground.

“I love you,” he tells her. It tastes like sweet chocolate on his tongue; it is the truest thing he’s ever said.

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six

It is far too late to turn back by the time Saeyoung looks at her sleeping face and realizes the magnitude of what he has done.

He is driving on an empty road that seems to stretch ahead infinitely. It is the space between him and his other half—and the distance separating them is measurable for the first time in so many years. She has fallen asleep in the passenger seat, his jacket spread over her lap, her face perfectly serene. Her lips form a tiny, placid smile—as though she’s content to be walking into fire with him. As though she doesn’t have any doubts.

I am a monster, he thinks (not for the first time). What sort of despicable person lets a someone like her get entangled in their nightmare? She shines so bright that his heart aches.

She wakes (of course she does), and he drags his eyes from her face back to the road, pretending not to see. He wonders if there is still time to deposit her somewhere safe, to leave his heart in her care as he goes on alone.

If anything were to happen to her, that would be the end of him. He’s sure of it.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, keeping his voice light. But she knows better, of course—sees through him the way she always has. She frowns and leans over to brush his arm with her fingers; his whole body shivers at her touch and he is ashamed, knowing she can tell.

“What’s wrong?” she asks him. He gives her his most convincing smile, but he knows it’s lopsided on his face. What has happened to him? She has shattered all his defenses; she has plunged headfirst into the dark pit of his fears.

“Nothing,” he says; and she makes that clicking noise with her tongue that always disarms him, almost like she’s saying shhhh, now tell the truth. “I shouldn’t have brought you,” he says (hating the way his voice sounds, like he might just burst into tears).

She sighs.

“Do I have to tell you again all the reasons why you’re wrong?” Her sternness makes him smile—he can’t help it. He glances at her and her eyes are hard, glittering like the afternoon sun on the windshield.

“Please do,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse. She shifts, sitting cross-legged, tucking her arms into the sleeves of his jacket. She’s so cute like this he’s afraid his heart will burst.

“I’m going to help you,” she tells him firmly. “You may be the smartest person in the whole world, but you’re no good at staying calm.”

She’s right, of course—he never has been.

“You’ll do your best work with me beside you,” she says. “You get us in and I’ll keep us safe. If you want to save him, you need me there, too.”

Saeyoung’s hands—normally so steady, because he’s trained them to be that way—shake as he grips the steering wheel.

“I’ve never really cared about staying safe,” he tells her. She huffs, frustrated, refusing to let him wallow. And then she reaches for him, brushing his hair off his forehead; though her fingers are cool, he feels that she’s set his whole body on fire.

“Too bad,” she says. “I care about keeping you safe, Seven.”

Oh, and that name feels hateful to him when she says it: he can hardly stand the thought of her believing, even for a moment, any of the hundreds of thousands of lies he’s told. He wants her to see him for who he really is.

“Thank you,” he murmurs; she smiles, a hand on his knee, and he feels that she is the brightest star in all the galaxies.

It’s time, he thinks.

When they make it out alive (and in that moment, he decides that they will)—whether it is today, or tomorrow, or the next day—he is going to tell her his real name. Because Seven is a conglomerate of pretense and brightly-colored lies; because Saeyoung is a version of himself that he’s hardly dared to dream about: a person who’s loving, and honest, and good.

He can become that person, he thinks, for her. He wants to.

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seven

It is May. She counts on her fingers the number of exams she has left, feeling the shivering promise of time passing on her very skin. She can see to the end of the long, dark tunnel now: the delightful hollowness of summer afternoons, the wonder of falling asleep at night without a thousand anxieties dancing around on her pillow. She sees, too, the plane she will board in the fall—the one that will carry her far away from here.

She sits at her desk, notecards stacked perilously high around her. Her phone buzzes; she checks it. Her head pounds.

“You aren’t playing that game, are you?”

Her mother’s voice from the doorway is harsh and she jumps, upsetting a pile of papers covered in nearly incomprehensible scrawl. She feels tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snaps, throwing her phone onto her unmade bed.

“Just checking,” her mother says stiffly. She buries her head in her arms.

I wish they could see me now, she thinks wildly. Her room is a mess; there are dark circles under her eyes; she hasn’t brushed her hair. This house is a pressure cooker: the looming stacks of notes, and her mother’s stern voice, and the calendar of exams taped above her desk. She can’t see straight anymore.

It is a sense of control, she thinks, that she needs. Here, she has none at all: every moment of her day is monitored, every ounce of her energy expended to prepare for these tests that feel meaningless—that will earn her numbers on a page and a ticket out of her hometown.

But in the other universe, she is strong, and she is confident. Perhaps most important of all: she is cherished.

And they are cherished, she thinks; she wishes she could tell them as much.

Do you know? she thinks at them—hard as she can, heart racing, knowing it is foolish (wanting to believe, anyway). Do you know how much you mean to me?

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eight

When Jihyun wakes in the small, sterile room, the moon has risen, and the first thing he thinks of is her face.

In his mind’s eye, he pictures her as he saw her last: slipping from the room with a determined smile, waving as if to reassure him that he’d see her soon. Groggily, he tries to think: this was hours ago, of course, and it must be evening now. His body feels heavy; he tries to open his eyes, and finds that he can’t.

He lifts a hand to his face, feeling like he’s moving through thick liquid. Ah: there is a bandage over his eyes. He can feel it now: stiff and scratchy against his closed eyelids.

From somewhere in the room (which he can no longer picture clearly), he hears a quiet voice.

“V? Are you awake?

It’s her—and he is somewhat surprised by the way his heart races. He didn’t expect her to wait with him this whole time—he didn’t realize that she was nearby.

“I’m awake,” he says—and his voice sounds strange to him, like it’s coming from someone else. He hears a rustling—someone is moving closer to the bed. Oh, and he catches a whiff of her scent; he’s never been able to quite place it, but it is absolutely intoxicating: like a garden he walked through once, long ago—or perhaps a flower that only grows in another world.

“I’m going to call the nurse,” she says. She is so close that he can feel her breath on his face. He reaches out—catches her hand.

“Wait just a moment?” he asks. He wonders if she can hear his heart.

How strange, he thinks. He is barely awake, and yet his heart is racing as though he’s just run a hundred miles.

“They said it went really well,” she says. He doesn’t miss the anxiety in her voice; he wonders how many hours she’s been here, watching him sleep.

“You didn’t have to wait with me,” he says.

“Of course I did.”

Jihyun realizes that he is still holding her hand. His head feels so foggy from the medicine that made him sleep, but his body is waking up now, and he’s painfully conscious of how small her hand is in his—tiny and almost unbearably tender. He wishes he could kiss every one of her sweet fingertips; he wishes he could see her face.

“Thank you,” he says. He means thank you for staying here with me—here in this room that smells strongly of disinfectant—but he means so much more than that, too. She sighs in the way he’s often heard her sigh: like she wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. He wouldn’t mind if she did.

“How do you feel?” she asks instead. She’s being careful, tiptoeing around him; he’s not sure how to tell her that she doesn’t need to.

“A little tired,” he admits. “But otherwise I feel well.” He hesitates. “Better than usual, actually.”

She laughs quietly; he feels he might do anything—anything in the world—just to hear that laugh again.

“You’re so strong,” she tells him, squeezing his hand. She is the one who is strong, he thinks.

There’s a noise in the distance: a gentle knock on the door. The doctor is coming back, he supposes; suddenly, he feels not at all strong. He holds her hand tighter—finds that he doesn’t want her to go.

“Will you wait for me?” he asks, despising the way his voice sounds. He does not sound like a man who is worthy of her attention—he knows he is not a man who deserves to be waited for.

But she holds his hand to her cheek, and her skin is so warm. Jihyun wonders if she understands what he is really asking: not stay with me now but wait until I become someone who can love you the way you deserve.

“Of course I’ll wait for you,” she says. She speaks slowly: each word seems to hold enormous weight.

She knows, he thinks, exactly what he means.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

nine

Hand-in-hand, they look up at the sky.

Saeran sees the endless expanse of freedom extending in all directions around him, and feels that she is the very center of it all.

“Are you nervous?” she asks. He laughs; just moments before, he had felt that way—when he was typing (fingers aching as they fell into their habitual pattern of worrying over the keys—eyes burning and throat itching as he tried to breathe the cabin’s stale air). But now that he is outside—and she is standing beside him—he feels that he has the power to do anything: to run till his feet give out; to see his brother again; to build a life for himself.

“Not anymore,” he says. She moves closer, her arm brushing against his, and he turns to press his lips to her hairline. She squirms at his side, making a delightful sort of purring sound; Saeran feels that he could hold onto her from now until forever and it wouldn’t be enough.

He breathes in the mountain air: it smells like pine and grass and wind. He’s never felt like this before—like he is as strong as the earth itself.

“I’m happy,” she tells him. He feels her eyes on him and turns; oh, and she’s more beautiful than the sky, he thinks, brighter and more expansive than any fantasy his fevered mind could have dreamed up.

“What are you happy about?” he asks. She takes his other hand; he wonders if she knows that he wants to scoop up the whole world in his arms and lay it at her feet.

“I’m happy you’re here with me,” she tells him. “I’m happy that you’re free. I’m happy that you’re smiling the way you are right now.”

He is smiling, he realizes; he feels almost as if he could levitate off the ground. As if he could become the wind. As if he could cross into another universe to hold onto her heart.

“I love you,” he tells her, because it’s all he can think about. She catapults herself into his arms and he laughs, holding her close.

“I love you so much,” she says. “I just want…”

He knows. He brushes through her hair with his fingers, thrilled by the way she sighs as she snuggles closer. This is it, he thinks: the feeling of freefall that he has been seeking (and running from) all his life. The rhythm of her breathing against his chest ties him to the earth; he feels an absolute certainty in the sublime power of the universe.

Over her head, he looks at the sky. The clouds whisper to him: she’s here, they seem to say. She is. She is.

Her body feels so solid in his arms, so real; and her love for him shimmers in the air all around him.

“Thank you,” Saeran whispers into her soft, sweet skin, “for being under the same sky.”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

ten

Summer comes.

She finishes her tests—bids goodbye to her friends and family—is startled by how much she cries.

She boards the plane with her ticket crushed in her sweaty hand. She sits by the window, palm against the glass, staring hard into the clouds.

In the distance, she can see the city she’s leaving behind: the buildings blur into the mist, and she is crying again. For years, she’s waited to run away from this place—now, it feels so strange to be leaving it behind. She pictures her room in her old house: the books stacked in neat piles now, the clothes laundered and folded into her suitcase, the bed made. She wishes she could pull out her phone and open the door to the other world—the one that’s offered her greater clarity than anything she’s ever felt in her own.

But she can’t, of course—not here. And at the end of this long plane ride will be another airport—and a car ride—and then the university she worked so hard to get into: the promise of a future that’s shimmering and full.

She holds her phone—powered off—in both hands. Here in the sky, she feels she could be in any world at all: her past, or her future, or their world, which still shines in her heart (perhaps brightest of all).

I’m okay, she thinks—and she knows that she is. She has confidence in the future she’s building for herself—in the person she’s becoming—in her own little corner of the universe.

She hopes that they know this. Their world feels both far away and wonderfully, impossibly close: inside her and all around her. She hopes that they are okay, too; that they are eating; that they are taking care.

Oh, she thinks—realizes, in a moment of sky blue clarity. I’m not going back.

She is moving on—as she always knew she would. And they knew too, of course. They must have.

But…

I love you, she thinks—thinks it hard, phone in her hands, face pressed against the window, eyes reflecting the faces she thinks she sees in the clouds. I love you all.

From her universe to theirs—connected only by lines of code and fervent feelings and a wish made on a falling star—she hopes (wishes, prays) that her message reaches them.

The clouds shift: love, love, love, they seem to say. The plane carries her higher. The sky stretches around her in all directions: infinite. Expanding.

They feel her.

She knows it.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 years ago

Note

Hey, so never really request things, but I really like your writing so here goes nothing. Would you be willing to write a Tom Holland and Reader fic where the reader has a stalker and her and Tom are best friends, but she’s too scared and panicked to tell anyone until one night when she realizes a cats following her when she’s walking home and she runs to Tom’s instead. Really fluffy and love confessions please? If not, that’s ok too, I love all your work!❤️

Every Smile You Fake

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: You can’t tell your best friend about your stalker

Warning: a stalker and an incredibly unrealistic police procedure

Masterlist

“Happy birthday, pretty lady.” The ladies in your office greeted you as you arrived for your internship. You beamed as they enveloped you in hugs, a chorus of birthday wishes eliciting from the group.

“Thank you, thank you.” You smiled as you hugged them back, squeezing whoever’s hand you could reach.

“Your boyfriend left you something on your desk.” One of your co-workers winked at you, making the rest of the girls ‘ooo’ and ‘ahh’.

“We’ve been over this, Tammy. I don’t have a boyfriend.” You reminded her as you brushed some hair out of your face. Tom had been seen around the office too many times for them to believe you were actually just friends, as you claimed to be.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the giant bouquet in your office.” Tammy turned you around and pushed you towards your desk. You could see a large bouquet of yellow and red roses on your desk and blushed a little at the sight. You looked over your shoulder at Tammy and swatted her hands away before walking over to your desk. You did that thing where you pretend to ignore the gift until you’ve read the card and picked up the note sticking out of the bouquet.

“What’s it say?” One of your co-workers asked as they rest of them leaned in to listen. You rolled your eyes at them before reading the note out loud.

“My love,

Today is the most special day of the year. It’s the anniversary of the day you graced us with your presence. I regard that as the greatest thing to ever happen to this earth. Happy birthday.” You read, earning a series of aw’s from the rest of the office.

“He called you his love.” Tammy gushed.

“Does he know he’s not your boyfriend?” Another co-worker asked and the rest laughed.

“Yes, he does. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have phone calls to be answering.” You dismissed the girls and got to work. The rest of the day went by quickly thanks to the ladies in your office. They surprised you with a cupcake at lunch and walked with you to your car at the end of the workday.

“So how are you celebrating? We’d love to take you out for dinner.” Tammy asked as she unlocked her car.

“Thank you, but I have plans with Tom.” You said, anticipating the reaction it’d get. Sure enough, Tammy put her hand over her heart and grinned.

“Ohhh. Of course she does.” She teased you.

“Stop it. He’s just a friend.” You reminded them. You stopped short when you noticed an unfamiliar car parked next to yours. You’d been working at the office long enough to recognize all the cars in the small lot. “Huh.”

“What’s wrong?” Tammy asked when she noticed your confused expression.

“Did we hire a new employee? I’ve never seen this car before.” You pointed to the maroon car next to yours.

“Me either.” Tammy stared at it for a moment and shrugged. “Probably a new janitor.”

You nodded and let it go, hugging Tammy goodbye for driving to Tom’s house.

You pulled into his driveway and fixed your skirt before knocking on his door. Tom opened it in no time, taking a moment to take in your appearance before pulling you into a hug. He lifted you off the ground and walked into his house, shutting the door behind him with his butt as he hugged you. You laughed in his embrace and he gently put you down.

“Wait here.” He told you, leaving you in his living room as he ran into the kitchen. “And thank you for wearing the pencil skirt.” He called.

“Well I know how much you love it.” You laughed, always flustered by Toms love of your work clothes. Tom reappeared with his hands behind his back and a cheeky smile on his face.

“Happy birthday, darling.” He said as he presented you with a homemade cupcake. Your eyes lit up in delight as you took the cupcake. You took a bite as Tom kissed your nose, getting frosting on both your faces.

“Thank you.” You said as you swiped your finger through the frosting and licked it off. “And thank you for the flowers.”

“Flowers?” Toms tilted his head in confusion as he picked a piece of you cupcake off and put it in his mouth.

“The ones you sent to my workplace.” You laughed at his poor memory.

“I didn’t send you any flowers.” Tom laughed back and you stared at him in surprise. “I did, however, bake you this mediocre cupcake. So, you’re welcome for that.”

“Oh, you know how much I love mediocre birthday treats.” You said sarcastically as you smeared some frosting on his nose. “Did you burn the bottom?” You wiggles your eyebrows.

“You know I did, baby.” Tom playfully slapped you with a towel as he walked back into the kitchen, you following behind him. You shared a happy glance and Tom let his linger a while after you looked away. “So uh, who did send those flowers?”

“I’m not sure. Probably some of the girls at work.” You shrugged as you took a seat on one of his barstools. You knew that wasn’t true judging by their reaction to the bouquet, but you didn’t want Tom to worry. But if Tom hadn’t sent them, who had?

“No secret admirers I might have to fight off? As your best friend, that’s legally my job.” He told you as he leaned across the counter to be closer to you.

“No. I think you’re okay.” You giggled, happening to glance upwards right as a car drove by. The maroon hue reminded you of the one parked next to yours earlier in the day. You shook your head and turned your attention back to Tom, letting the car completely slip from your memory until the following week.

“What’s wrong? You’re quiet today.” Tom put his hand over yours and rubbed it with his thumb. You were meeting him at a cafe for your lunch break, like you often did, but you were particularly quiet, like you often weren’t .

“Breakfast is sick.” You said as you put your cup down. Tom looked at you sympathetically, knowing how much you loved that dog, and tried to cheer you up.

“Sick of that name, I’d imagine.” He teased and you let out a short laugh. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s been house broken for 7 years but all the sudden, she’s having accidents everyday. And she won’t eat. I even put little strips of bacon in her bowl and she still won’t touch it.” You sighed and Tom nodded.

“Have you taken her to the vet?” He asked and you looked down at your cup.

“No. I can’t.” You told him. As you looked up at him, you noticed a familiar maroon car parked outside the shop. You quickly looked away, not wanting to get yourself worked up over nothing.

“Why not?” He asked, checking behind him to see what you were staring at.

“Because the last time I took a pet to the vet, I never saw them again.” You answered and he squeezed your hand to comfort you.

“You had another dog?“ he wondered.

“No. It’s was my cat.” You responded. “She had to be put down before I met you.”

“Her name wasn’t Dinner was it?” Tom teased, pleased when it made you smile.

“Sherlock.” You said sheepishly.

“Sherlock?” He leaned closer.

“I was little and a big fan, okay?” You defended yourself and he laughed at your expense.

“What if we take Breakfast to the vet together? Will that make you less nervous?” Tom offered.

“It might.” You shrugged as you sipped your tea.

“Then we’ll go on Saturday.” He patted your hand and withdrew it.

“Thanks, Tom.” You smiled in appreciation at him.

“I got you, girlie.” He smirked and took a sip of his own tea before clinking it with yours. “And come over after we go to the vet. I’ll cook you dinner.”

“I thought you were trying to cheer me up.” You poked fun at his cooking and he opened his mouth in mock hurt.

“I’ll see you at eight?” He raised an eyebrow, knowing you’d be over anyway.

“Yes you will.” You confirmed as you shook a sugar packet and stirred it into your cup. You finished up at the cafe and returned to your office. The rest of the work day went by quickly and before you knew it, you were home.

You threw your keys in the bowl by the door and slipped your jacket off. You walked into your bedroom, kicking off your boots when you noticed a note on your bed. You smiled as wandered over to it and picked it off your pillow.

“My love,

I hate to see you troubled. You will be able to get through this. I believe you can get through anything. That’s one of the things I love about you.” You read from the note. You sighed happily at Tom’s sweet gesture, not even bothering too wonder when he had time to come over and leave the note.

You arrived at Tom’s house a little late that Saturday after you dropped Breakfast off at your apartment. The vet said she was fine, just getting old. You shut the door behind you and locked it, calling out to Tom to alert him of your presence.

“Mm, I love it when you’re half an hour late. Really keeps me on my toes.” Tom teased you as he enveloped you in a hug.

“Shut up.” You laughed as you set your purse on his couch. “Traffic was really bad. The car behind me was totally up my butt. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they were coming here too.” You blew your hair out of you face and took a seat on his barstool.

“Maybe they heard about my incredible cooking skills.” Tom grinned before giving you a kiss on the cheek to say hello. You began to get plates and cups out and set them on the table. You noticed the candles he had set out, all a different scent, and smiled at his gesture.

“Maybe. But they definitely didn’t hear it from me.” You poked his side and stole a tomato from his pile of ingredients.

“Hey.” He said softly, turning the stove off and transferring the pasta onto the two plates you set out.

“I’m sorry. You know I love your disgusting cooking.” You put a hand in his back and rubbed it for a moment to apologize. “I got your note, by the way. Thanks for cheering me up.”

“Note?” Tom asked as he put a plate in front of you and handed you a fork.

“The one you left on my pillow. It said you loved me and I’d be able to get through this.” You explained, feeling your body chill when his face didn’t show any sign of recognition. “You didn’t write that?”

“I do love you and you will be able to get through this, but I didn’t leave that note.” Tom said as he took a bite of his pasta. You quickly sipped your water, your mouth having gone completely dry. If he didn’t send the flowers and he didn’t leave the note, then who did?

“Oh, okay.” You chuckled nervously. “Must’ve been someone else.”

Only it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Tom was the only person you told about the problem.

“Someone else is leaving love letters on your pillow?” Tom asked skeptically as he pushed his food around his plate. “Are you seeing someone or something?”

Your mind flashed to the car you had been seeing around lately, making a mental note to check the license plate next time you saw it.

“Something like that.” You said quietly. You didn’t want to worry Tom, especially if there was nothing to worry about yet. You could chalk the car up to being a coincidence, but you had no explanation for the notes. His eyebrows knit together and he stabbed a piece of pasta rather aggressively.

“Who?” He asked, his body language changing to show his insecurity. You but your lip and debated telling Tom about what had been going on, but ultimately decided against it. If you said it out loud, that would make things real.

You thought you had a stalker.

“Nobody.” You said stiffly and gave him a fake smile. He dropped the topic for the rest of your time there, and it slipped your mind as well. You didn’t think about your potential stalker until the next day when you checked your mailbox. Your stomach fell when you found something on top of your usual pile of magazines and bills.

Another note.

“My love,

I hope this note finds you well. You don’t seem to be appreciating my advances as you should be. Is there another in your life trying to take my place? Maybe that brunette I often see you with. Is he a treat, my love? Has he turned your head? Don’t be scared. I only want what’s best for you. What’s best for us. Don’t go to the police or there will be consequences. I love you.”

You crumpled up the note as tears filled your eyes. You looked around for anyone who might have left the note, but found yourself alone. You quickly made your way back to your apartment, locking yourself in there for the next four days.

Tom texted you constantly, but you were too on edge to give him your attention. You told the girls at work that you were sick, not wanting to risk your stalker showing up at your workplace and putting them in danger. You decided the safest move was to stay home, out of harms way. The door was locked, as well as all the windows. To increase your security, you positioned yourself in a chair in front of the door to watch it. You barely slept or ate, only leaving the chair to use the bathroom. On the fifth day of hiding out, your phone ringing made you jump. You saw atoms contact name and shakily raised the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You said quietly, in case anyone was listening.

“Hello? Four days of silence and that’s all I get? Where have you been girlie?” Tom asked, sounding annoyed and concerned all at once. You kept your eyes on the door, watching the doorknob carefully for any movement.

“I’ve been…busy.” You lied. You knew he deserved a better excuse but you were in no position to give him one.

“Come over” He whined and you stiffened. You’d love to be safe at his house but you were too scared to go outside. You had the blinds drawn and hadn’t seen sunlight in days. You didn’t want Tom to see you like that.

“I can’t.” You stammered, beginning to get emotional. You didn’t want to lie to him, in fact, you wanted nothing more than to cry into his arms and let him comfort you. But that could put him in danger, and you couldn’t have that.

“Why not? I haven’t seen you in days.” He complained and you laughed sadly. “I need my fill. I think I’m going through withdrawal.”

“I’m busy, okay?” You repeated, wishing he’d accept that answer and let it go.

“So come be busy with me.” He said, and you could hear his pout through the phone.

“No, Tom.” You said sternly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other for a while.”

“What? Why?” He asked, the hurt in his voice sending a deep pain through you.

“Because I don’t want to see you, okay?” You snapped, not knowing how else to get rid of him. Tom was quiet for a moment and all you could hear was his breathing.

“Is this about the guy you’re seeing?” He said suddenly and you wanted to cry. He was given you an out, but it was gonna kill you to take it.

“Yes.” You said and bit your lip to keep from crying. “It is.”

“Okay.” He sighed and a tear rolled down your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

As soon as he hung up, you let yourself cry. Whoever was stalking you was ruining your relationship with Tom. You stood up and kicked the chair over before retreating to your bedroom.

After a restless night, you woke up around 3 the next day to someone knocking at your door. You hesitantly approached the door, baseball bat hidden behind your back. You looked through the peephole and sighed in relief when you saw your neighbor.

“Hey, Y/n. Are you all right?” Your elderly neighbor asked you.

“Yeah, I’m fine Mrs. Beverly. I’m just getting over a cold.” You lied and she nodded in understanding.

“I need to ask you for a favor.” She asked. “My grandson left his phone at home and he’s playing baseball at the park a few blocks from here. I was supposed to pick him up at 4 but I need to take my cat to the vet. Do you think you could drive down there and pick him up? I don’t know how long I’ll be at the vet and it’s in the opposite direction of the park.”

“That’s no problem, Mrs. Beverly.” You gave her a tight lipped smile. “I hope your cat is okay.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ll see you later.” She waved goodbye and left. You sighed and closed your door, dreading having to leave your apartment. You couldn’t say no to her, but now you actually had to go outside. You decided a quick drive to the park wasn’t lethal and took a quick shower to get ready. You threw on some clothes and by then, it was time to go. As you neared your car in the parking garage, you noticed the maroon car parked next to it. The sight of it struck fear in your heart and you immediately turned on your heel to leave the garage. You walked the short blocks to the park, looking over your shoulder the entire way there. You got to the park as quick as you could and found Mrs. Beverly’s grandson amongst a group of kids. After he told you he was going out with some friends for ice cream, you took a seat on the bleachers to catch your breath. You didn’t blame the strange looks the children were giving you. You knew you looked a mess. After taking a moment to breathe, you began your walk home.

It wasn’t long before you heard a car driving behind you. You slowly turned around and saw the same maroon car that was following you. You felt sick to your stomach when you realized no one was around to help you. You turned back around and kept walking, trying to stay as calm as possible. You could see the car following you out of your peripheral vision and quickened your pace. You got to your apartment but kept walking, not trusting yourself to get to safety in time. The possibility of getting into the elevator or stairwell with whoever was following you was too great. You walked a few more blocks until your reached Toms neighborhood. You ducked behind a giant bush and ran through his neighbors backyards to make a quick escape. When you didn’t see the car behind you anymore, you darted to his house and banged on his front door. He opened it in no time and you rushed inside, shutting the door behind you and locking it. You leaned your back against the door and panted, all while Tom stared at you quizzically.

“Hey.” You said sheepishly. You knew you looked crazy. And you knew the way you spoke to him the day before made the situation even worse.

“Hey.” He said softly. You could tell he was hurt and it broke you into pieces. He turned around and went back to the kitchen, wordlessly inviting you inside. You shut the curtains before you joined him and made sure the windows were locked.

“I was just making some pasta. You’re welcome to join me because I don’t know how to measure things. I’m pretty sure I made enough for a football team and who are you talking too?” The subject of his sentence quickly diverged, making you jump a little.

“What?” You asked, surprised by his assertive tone. The playfulness he usually had with you was long gone.

“You keep mentioning somebody that you’re talking to. The guy who left the note. Probably the same guy who gave you those flowers.” Tom said bitterly and you looked down in shame. “Is he the reason you don’t want to see me?”

“That’s not…no, Tom.” Your voice was weak as you silently pleaded with him not to start something.

“I just want to know, okay? I don’t care if you’re seeing somebody.” He paused, knowing he was lying. “It’s just weird that you didn’t tell me. We’re best friends-“

“-I know.” You cut in.

“I thought we told each other everything.” He looked at you and shrugged.

“We don’t.” You said quietly, feeling fear rise in your throat again.

“Why not? Did I do something? Do you not trust me?” He asked as he leaned on the counter. You rubbed your neck and swallowed hard, glancing over your shoulder out of habit.

“I don’t know who to trust anymore.” You whispered as a tear slipped from your eye. Toms angry body language shifted to that oj sympathy and he walked around the kitchen island to rest his hands on your shoulders.

“Is something wrong?” He asked gently as he rubbed your shoulders. You bit your lip tearfully as you nodded.

“What’s going on? You can tell me.” He said as he took the seat next to you.

“I’ve been seeing someone.” You admitted for the first time.

“I know that-“

“No.” You cut him off in fear of losing your nerve. “I’ve been seeing a car. The same maroon car every day now for a month. I thought it was a coincidence at first but then I saw the license plate and now I see it everywhere. It’s parked outside the stores I’m in, it’s in my parking garage at work,” You welled up with tears as you recalled the sightings and Tom took your hands in his, “and it followed me home tonight. I-I didn’t know what to do. I just panicked and came here. I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” He asked as he took a napkin from the table and wiped your eyes. You smiled gratefully and took the napkin from him.

“Because it could be outside right now.” You said lowly, and Tom could see the fear in your eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were being followed?” He asked, desperate to know why you kept something of this nature from him.

“I’m scared, Tom.” You breathed. “I’m scared everyday. Whoever it is, they’re not just following me. They know things about me. They knew about my dog being sick. They sent me flowers on my birthday to my workplace. If I told you, it could’ve put you at risk.”

“I’m calling the police.” Tom said definitively and went to his phone. “Do you remember the license plate number?” He asked as he held the phone to his ear. “Yeah, hi, I need an officer over at 123 Internet Street. It’s about a possible stalker.”

“They told me not to go to the police.” You got out of your chair and pulled him away from his phone. He immediately went into a drawer and pulled out a pad and a pen.

“Well they didn’t tell me that.” He stated. “Here. Write down the plate number.” He slid through pad towards you.

“Tom-“ You tried to get him to stop.

“Write it down. Now.” He slammed the pen down in front of you, making you jump back. You obeyed his orders and took the pen, writing the license plate number down. You sheepishly slid the pad towards him and his eyes softened when he realized he raised his voice at you.

“I’m such an idiot.” He sniffled, feeling himself get emotional over the situation. You were scared enough and he had made you feel even worse.

“There’re no way you could’ve known.” You put your hand on his but he yanked it away and baled it into a fist, banging the table.

“Oh, yeah?” He challenged. “So I couldn’t have asked you why you’ve been looking over your shoulder lately? Or why you stopped wanting to hang out in public places? How about when you stopped wanting to see me? None of those could’ve let me know something was going on?”

“Please, Tom.” You begged him as you took his face in your hands to calm him down. “Don’t blame yourself for this. I could’ve told you.”

“No. I should’ve known.” He shook his head. “I knew you were acting funny but all I could think about was who sent you those goddamn flowers.” He said through gritted teeth and he hit the table.

“Why are you still hung up on that?” You took your hands off his face, angry now that he wasn’t listening.

“Now is really not the time.” He blew out a hot breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m already full of nerves, Tom. Whatever it is, just tell me.” You pleaded with him. He looked at you, taking you in for everything you were. You raised your eyebrows, asking him tell you what he was feeling, and he obliged.

“Y/n, for the past few years I-“ He began.

“Police. Open up.” A banging on the door interrupted his moment.

“I’ll…I’ll get it.” You said quietly and went to the door. Tom wiped his face, knowing this wasn’t the right time. You opened the door to two female officers.

“We got a call about a 1036M. What seems to be the problem?” The officer asked you. Tom appeared behind you and opened the door wider.

“My friend believes she’s being stalked.” Tom spoke, but the officers eyes never left you.

“Is this your boyfriend?” She asked you, nodded towards Tom.

“No.” You shook your head and she nodded.

“I’m her-“ Tom tried to explain.

“I think you ought to let her speak.” The officer looked at him sternly. “Is there another room we can speak in?” She asked you kindly.

“Oh, sure. We can go in the bedroom, right Tom?” You asked him.

“Yeah, it’s right this way.” He said, beginning to lead you towards the room.

“I’m sure she can show me.” The officer told him. Her tone changed from sweet to sassy when she addressed Tom. If you weren’t so stressed, you might have laughed.

“Come with me.” You told her and the other officer followed. You and Tom exchanging strange looks as you left the room. She shut the bedroom door behind you as you took a seat on the bed.

“You know, he’s a really nice guy.” You laughed softly.

“The 911 dispatcher heard you when he made the call. We hear a distressed woman, we take every precaution.” The officer explained and you smiled in appreciation. “I also like being rude to men.”

You nodded in understanding as he took out her notepad.

“Can you explain your situation, honey?” She asked you sweetly, and you nodded.

“I think I’m being stalked.” You told her. “I’ve been seeing the same car following me around. And I’ve been getting notes.”

“Notes?” She asked, looking up from her notepad where she was writing everything down.

“Like, love notes.” You explained. “They contain personal details in them.”

“Do you have these notes on your person?” She asked you.

“Yes.” You said, digging in your purse and pulling out the notes you hadn’t crumbled. The officer took them and handed them to the other officer, who put them in a plastic bag.

“Can you describe the car for me, sweetie?” The first officer asked you.

“It’s maroon and the license plate is 7TYP256. I think it’s a station wagon or something.” You said as you looked between the two officers.

“Can you run a license plate for me?” The second officer said into her intercom. “Plate number is 7TYP256, over.”

“That should be a few minutes.” The first officer told you. “Have you ever seen the person leaving these notes?”

“No, but one was left in my house.” You remembered, your mouth drying out at the memory.

“Was anything taken?” She asked you. Tom leaned against the wall on the other side, trying to listen in.

“Nothing other than my ability to sleep at night.” You laughed humorlessly as some noise came through their radios.

“We got a hit on your plate.” The other officer spoke up. “The car belongs to an Andrew Whittemore. Do you recognize that name?”

“Yes.” You thought for a moment, trying to think of where you knew that name. “He was in my history class in college.” You realized. “He asked me out once was I blew him off. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Have you lived in the same apartment since college?” She asked you.

“Yes. He was even over once for a study group.” You began to panic, not knowing if knowing your stalker made the situation more or less scary.

“See here? He’s been convicted of stalking before. We put an APB out for him.” The first officer said as she showed you something on her screen. You looked and saw a picture of Andrew, older and more worn down from how you remembered him from college.

“Thanks.” You said simply, not knowing what else to say.

“That’s what we’re here for, baby.” The officer told you kindly. “Come on, lets go tell your not-boyfriend what’s going on.”

The three of you walked back into the living room, where Tom was seated on the couch. His posture was perfectly straight, something out of the normal for him. You had a feel he had rushed to the couch when he heard you coming and it made you smile. He made his way to you quickly and nodded at the officers, who were busy conversing with each other and listening to their police radio.

“Is everything okay?” He asked you, running his fingers from your elbows to your hands.

“Yeah.” You nodded, your nervous energy dissipating with his touch. “They actually found the guy.”

“They did?” He asked, looking at the officers with hope.

“We did.” She confirmed. “And my guys just found him a few blocks from here. He had a couple notes on him that were enough evidence to convict him. He’s been taken into custody.”

You sighed in relief and Tom pulled you into his body, letting your back rest against his chest.

“Is there anything else you need from me?” You asked the officers and they shook their heads.

“You’ll have to testify before a court, but don’t worry about that tonight.” One of them told you.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely and the leading officer gave you a warm smile.

“Of course. Have a nice night, ma’am.” They nodded at you before leaving. You stayed silent for a moment as Tom softly stroked your arm.

“What do we do now?” He asked, leaning down to press a comforting kiss to your shoulder. You smiled cheekily and looked up at him.

“Didn’t you say you made some pasta?”

A few hours later, you had washed the dishes together and were relaxing on the couch, your feet in Toms lap.

“It’s late.” You realized when you saw the clock under his TV. “I should probably go.”

“Do you feel safe in that apartment?” He asked you as he rubbed your ankle bone.

“I honestly don’t think I’m ever gonna feel safe again.” You chuckled softly, rubbing your hands over your arms. He watched your sympathetically, wishing there was something more he could do.

“He’s in prison, darling. He can’t get to you.” He said softly. You shrugged and looked at him through your lashes.

“What happens when he gets out?” You whispered. “What’s stopping him from driving right over to my apartment and waiting for me?”

“I’ve been thinking of moving.” Tom said suddenly, giving you a playful smile.

“You and me both.” You laughed and rubbed your tired eyes.

“What if we got a place together?” He scooted a little closer to you. “Somewhere in London, maybe, since you like the city so much.”

“Really?” You lit up, liking the idea already.

“Really.” He smiled. “And you can stay here until you feel ready to go home. I’ll swing by your place tomorrow and get some clothes.”

“I’d like that, Tom. Thank you.” You wrapped your arms around him and stayed there in his embrace. He tilted his face a little to place a kiss on your cheek, looking at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

“I’m happy to do it. You don’t have to thank me.” He said as you pulled out of each other’s embrace. Your hand slid off his shoulder and rested on his chest, where you clutched his shirt slightly, bunching up the fabric to keep him close.

“What were you gonna say before the police came?” You spoke softly.

“I don’t remember.” He lied, not meeting your gaze.

“Don’t lose your nerve now.” You urge. Tom studied your face and took a deep breath.

“I really value your friendship.” He began. “And if I’m overstepping, stop me at anytime but, do you ever want more?”

“More?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’m happy with how we are, believe me. But I can’t help from wanting, I don’t know, more.” He repeated, watching closely for your reaction. “Like, when I kiss you on the cheek sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I just moved over just a few inches and actually kissed you. Or when we’re sitting next to each other on the couch, and I’m cold, and you’re cold, what’s stopping me from pulling you into my lap to warm us both up? I know best friends don’t do that stuff but, I’ve always felt like we’re-“

“More than best friends?” You laughed softly as you finished his sentence.

“Yeah.” He smoked in relief when you understood. “It’s hard to explain. Like, I’m not pinning after you, but if you wanted to be more than friends, I’d want that too. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

“Funnily enough, I do.” You replied as a smile tugged at your lips.

“Good. Because I’m totally pinning after you.” He admitted with a nervous chuckle. You stared at him and made a decision that if you could face a stalker tonight, you could face your best friend that you were crushing on.

“Tom?” You asked, a coy smile on your face.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head, looking at you fondly with his signature soft brown eyes.

��Pull me into your lap.” You instructed. “Let’s find out what really would happen if you actually kissed me.”

Tag List 🏷

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x yn #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #peter parker x reader #marvel #spiderman #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fluff

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cloudywriter · 4 years ago

Text

camp staghorn - 4

it’s finally here - been a second ik. updates may be a tad slow these coming two weeks because so much stuff is about to be going on but hang tight. i might extend the story and just have the parts be a little shorter so it’s more manageable because right now it’s suppose to be around 9 parts. anyway, enjoy!

masterlist, AO3, main masterlist

~~~

Hours later the memory of Rowan’s face as he wrapped the towel around her was still drifting around Aelin’s mind like a feather in the wind.

He looked so unguarded, his features soft and his perpetual frown absent. Aelin wished she could have paused time right there. She wished she could’ve taken a moment to study him. It made her want to pick up a pencil and sketch him though the most she could draw would be a lopsided stick figure. If she were an artist she would’ve made him her muse.

Her campers, however, demanded revenge, an eye for an eye. As far as they were concerned, Rowan had made a direct attack on Aelin. A punishable offense. They’d been eagerly chattering all afternoon, developing plan after plan of intricate ways to right Rowan’s wrong. Aelin, though, was a little preoccupied.

She desperately needed to snap out of it, she needed to splash some cold water on her face and come back to reality. Rowan had trespassed into their camp site and outwardly tampered with their plumbing, she couldn’t let it go now.

No, Aelin Galathynius wasn’t really the kind of girl who let things go. It didn’t matter how attractive the perpetrator was.

Aelin and her girls now found themselves roaming aimlessly through the main camp. Technically it was their rest time when they were supposed to cool down and get out of the sun for a while. They were on a different mission though, they needed to scope out Rowan’s camp.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before they were found. His boys were loud and rambunctious their voices led Aelin’s group right to them like a bread trail in the woods. They were on the rock wall, taking turns racing each other up while the others cheered from below.

Each boy was suited up in harnesses and helmets. Aelin might’ve spent a little too long checking out Rowan. He was at the bottom of the wall with a rope attached to his harness, acting as one of the counselors managing the boys as they climbed up and then propelled down.

Aelin deduced it was the perfect time to strike, they were distracted and unsuspecting. He likely didn’t intend for her to have a new plan up her sleeve so soon.

Aelin and her girls kept their distance, crouched behind a line of tall pine trees that acted as the perfect cover.

“Well, ladies, what’s the plan?” Aelin inquired.

The girls gave each other a few affirming nods, silently agreeing upon a plan.

“We think we should put a butt load of salt into their water jugs back at camp,” Ansel finally spoke up.

“You think?”

“Yeah, they’ll have to be thirsty now and drink all their water. Then they’ll have to fill them up when they get to camp,” Borte declared.

Aelin decided to let her girls take the lead on this one and agreed. “Well, let’s go grab all the salt shakers from the dining hall.”

The girls nodded their heads in excitement, racing back down the path. Aelin followed behind, making sure none of their commotion drew unwanted attention.

After conjuring up at least 14 salt shakers and even an extra container of salt they found in a cabinet they trekked to cabin 1E as denoted on the map in the front of the dining hall.

That map has turned out to be quite convenient indeed.

They went to work quickly, splitting up and unscrewing the lids of the three multi-gallon water dispensers around the boys’ camp. Their hour of rest was quickly coming to a close and they needed to execute their plan quickly.

Aelin and the girls dumped generous amounts of salt into each jug. Ansel even made rounds stirring each one with a stick.

“Where did you get that stick?” Aelin asked.

“The ground,” Ansel replied simply, continuing to stir in the white granules.

“And you're stirring their water with it?” Aelin clarified.

“They’ll survive,” Ansel said earnestly as she removed the stick from one water jug and started on another. Aelin only shrugged, she probably wasn’t wrong.

The girls heard laughter from afar and perked up.

“Put the lids back on!” Aelin commanded quietly. The girls scrambled to cover the water again and camouflage themselves in the forest.

Aelin tightened the lid on the remaining jug and raced to join her girls concealed behind the trees and undergrowth.

The laughing got louder as the group got closer and closer, making their way up the rough dirt path. When they came into view Aelin could tell with their sweaty, flushed faces that they were definitely in need of water.

Much to Aelin’s luck as soon as Rowan came over the slight incline he started filling his empty water bottle with the dispenser situated just outside his camp’s cabin. The other boys also lined up at the various water stations, taking turns.

“Rowan,” one of the boys spoke up. “This water tastes funny.”

“Camp water always tastes funny,” another boy replied. “I’m sure it’s okay,” Rowan insisted. He squirted some water over his face in an attempt to cool off after being in the hot sun for hours. His cheeks were red, heated by the sun, it made his green eyes impossibly greener to the point they resembled the bright green of the surrounding foliage. He ran a hand down his face and through his hair.

Immediately, as soon as the water hit the boys’ tongues, they started spitting it out, Rowan included. A few yucks and why is it so salty could be heard, but the best part was definitely the boys’ faces. Even Rowan’s was morphed into an expression of pure repulse.

Aelin’s girls struggled to contain their giggles, clamping their hands over their mouths in a futile attempt to stifle them. Rowan seemed to be the only boy to clue into the muffled noises coming from the forest that definitely weren’t the chatter of songbirds. Aelin could tell his eyes were searching the surrounding greenery, on the lookout for anything amiss.

“Alright, I’ll go get us some fresh water, okay guys?” Rowan decided.

The boys nodded their agreement, a few still wiping at their mouths. Rowan turned around, starting down the path back to the main camp once again. A few of the girls around Aelin gave each other silent high fives, celebrating their successful prank. One more point for Aelin.

Aelin was about to suggest that they move out and get ready to feign innocence back at lunch when a pair of thick arms wrapped around her waist and hoisted her up.

“Thought you were sneaky, huh?” Rowan spoke directly into Aelin’s ear, his breath ruffling the golden blonde hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

Rowan spun her around and exclaimed to his boys, “I’ve caught the offender!”

Her campers were playing along, pulling at Rowan’s shirt, trying to save their counselor. Even Aelin was laughing as she was trying to wiggle out of Rowan’s strong embrace but he kept her back pressed firmly to his chest.

“What should we do with her boys?” Rowan asked.

“Make her walk the plank!” A boy with curly brown hair shouted, punching his fist in the air.

“Alright,” Rowan conceded and began dramatically leading Aelin towards the dock down by the lake.

“No! Rowan, no, please!” Aelin began struggling but she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face.

“What else do you suggest, princess? I can’t just let you go free after committing such a crime.”

Aelin shifted just enough so she could face Rowan better, “I’ll do anything,” she breathed in such a way that she knew it would catch Rowan off guard. Just as she predicted, Rowan’s arms loosened for a second. Men were just too easy.

Aelin took the moment of reprieve gratefully and tore out of Rowan’s grasp, dashing back into the forest for cover. Rowan chased her, twigs snapping close behind. She bolted, swatting low hanging branches out of her way and gritting her teeth as thorns tore at her shins but she couldn’t afford to be caught again. She could hear Rowan following but losing ground as the forest grew denser.

Aelin took the moment of reprieve gratefully and tore out of Rowan’s grasp, dashing back into the forest for cover. She knew Rowan was chasing after her by the sound of twigs snapping close behind. She increased her speed, swatting at low hanging branches and gritting her teeth as thorns tore at her shins, but she couldn’t afford to be caught again. Rowan began to lose ground as the forest grew denser while Aelin was able to maneuver through from years of experience playing hide and seek in the woods with Aedion.

The forest suddenly opened up into a small meadow, long grass and bright wildflowers swayed back and forth with the breeze. Aelin looked back to determine Rowan’s position for only a moment when he was on her, pulling her down into the delicate green grass that spread across the field like a blanket.

They were both panting and could still hear the shouting of their campers through the trees. Aelin and Rowan were both on their backs, gulping down air.

“You know I’ll have to get you back for that now.”

Aelin pinched his side, “I know.”

Rowan only swatted her hand away before pushing himself back up to his feet. He held a hand out for Aelin, an offer. Aelin decided to take it, allowing him to effortlessly pull her to her own feet. He held onto her hand for a beat longer than necessary before letting it return back to her side.

Rowan was studying Aelin, making her suddenly feel self-conscious. Was there grass in her hair?

“What are you staring at?” Aelin finally caved.

Rowan smirked. “Nothing, just thinking about how I should repay you for that salt water fiasco.”

“Do your worst, Whitethorn.”

“I intend to, Galathynius.”

~~~

hope y’all like it so far & you’ll get some more rowan’s part of the story & his revenge in the next part. very fun. xoxo. let me know if you wanna be added to my rowaelin taglist!

taglist: @live-the-fangirl-life // @rowaelinismyotp // @gosuckadickghostman // @camilamartinezdunne //

#rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin fluff #camp staghorn

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formeandmyfics · 4 years ago

Text

DUCHESS OF KELLYFORNIA

A Jugenea Love Letter

Note: This personal letter to Judy Garland, from her husband Gene Kelly, was found in Mr. Kelly’s personal belongings after he passed away. It’s possible that he acquired it after the passing of Ms. Garland. It is dated as June 19, 1954. Kelly refers to a phone call she takes from Cukor, assumed to be George Cukor whom was directing Garland in ‘A Star is Born’ at the time, while Kelly's 'Brigadoon' came out the same year.

Duchess of Kellyfornia,

I’m distracted.

Curled up in the chair in the corner of our bedroom, as I often do when waiting for you, I’ve been going over post-production notes. But then you walked in.

Right now, you’re sitting at your vanity, ‘turning into Judy Garland’ as you and the kids often say when you get all dolled up. You may not know this, baby, but I know your whole routine. You take absolutely no notice of me, as my presence is a second nature to you, so you’ve told me once before. I wonder if you’ve ever noticed how observant I am, watching your every little detail. If you shall ever forget, don’t you worry, I can describe your regimen as easily as I know where each freckle is placed on your skin.

Your hair is always first. Tonight, you’ve chosen a simple French-twist. Easy up-do for you, easy access for me. Just you wait. Next, the skin hydration. You’re rubbing lotion in as I write this. I’ve always noticed you start at your feet, then your elbows, then your knees. Why not work your way up, I've always wondered, but you always take a detour. Next, a drop of perfume is always placed in the areas that I get the most reaction...well, most areas.

I snicker at this. You can’t hear me though, you’re too busy humming to the radio. You tell people you don’t sing at home, but you often forget to mention you hum more than you speak. I can attest to that.

The make-up has always been my favorite to watch. Your skill is artistic- like. Your powder is placed evenly, so precise, so never to look dry or flaky. Your eye liner pencil never falters on your lids and the efficiency you apply your lashes comes from all those years of practice, I know.

And now, my darling, the lips. You fill them in with a color like cherries in the spring, like a velvet crayon staying in the lines. Oh, those lips...that mouth. I especially love the crease on your lower. I often trace it as much as you do with the scar on my cheek. Our little proclivities.

I’m waiting for you to glance in the mirror at me, as I can see my own reflection in view. And, like clock-work, you do. Just a glance, to make sure I’m still there, though you don’t speak. This is your time, I am merely just a fly on the wall for now. After you get dressed, you will then acknowledge me by asking for a zip or wanting my opinion on how you look. You know I always say the same thing every day, but you ask anyway. And I love you for it.

Distracted again, by the children’s laughter outside, they are running around the backyard with the Bogart’s kids catching fire flies as the sun sets. It’s a beautiful sight.

As you take a call from Cukor, I have to write a memory to you. I hope when you read this it will bring a smile to your face. A particularly special night in the summer of ‘42, when we were filming, do you recall the time we went to La Cienega park? We worked overtime, but didn’t want to go home. We had no time together in days, so we escaped somewhere outside the confines of our trailers. The park was closed at sundown, but we went anyway. No one was there. I remember what you chose to wear – a white summer dress. Your hair was down and kind of a mess, but you looked like some goddess to me.

Running free, you walked ahead, observing the flowers and the coy pond, the sycamore trees...it was as if you had never seen these things before. Yet, another page I’m writing, I don’t care how long this will be, I’m going to keep at it.

We stumbled upon a show of fire flies, all in one open area. I remember their pulsing lights all around us. I had never seen so many in one area before. It was lovely. You caught one in your hand but when you looked at it, it never flew away. It just stayed there. I stood there, staring at you, as the yellow light from its body pulsed bright and dim, shining onto your face. All woman, you had such an innocence to you, still do, but that night was significant for me. We had only been together a few weeks then, but I felt this thing, almost a tangible feeling, in my chest and I knew that I was falling for you. We laid in the cool grass that night, talking and laughing and kissing. The kissing was never rushed then, even though we had to go back to our ‘other lives’.

I have to be honest with you, I’m getting a little emotional writing this as I hear you walk past me, mumbling something about work tomorrow. I cannot pay attention, I don’t dare look up, for you might ask me what’s wrong and I don’t want to break this moment, not yet.

It’s funny how a simple and beautiful moment like what I just looked at behind me, can stir up such a vivid memory over a decade ago, as if I’m still living it. But, now I'm living this. We’re married, our families are combined, we have a child of our own, we’re trying for another, darling, this is our reality. Can you believe it? We don’t have to sneak around, we don’t have to worry about someone finding out, we don’t have to stick to a trailer or dressing room to make love. Now, I can fuck you anywhere, kiss you anytime and show you off!

If only we could have seen the future, we could have skipped all that heartache if we knew we’d eventually end up together. Granted, we aren’t a fairytale by any means. Even the Prince and his Bride argue right, but I think we’re the best Hollywood love story out there, dammit.

Oh, you’re asking me if I’m ready. Better finish and say, when you read this, come find me if I’m not there, but don’t tell me what you thought my dear

...show me instead.

Love, your Harry,

#judy garland #gene kelly #jugenea #fan fiction #judygarland #genekelly

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ghosttotheparty · 4 years ago

Text

while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

8. Oh, it’s like I’m looking down from the ceiling above AO3

“I just don’t see why I can’t call her or something,” Lucas says dryly, mixing the sugar into his coffee.

“We’ve talked about this,” his dad huffs from behind him, where he’s sitting at the table. “She needs space to recover.”

Lucas lifts the spoon and looks at the sugar, sparkling in the spoon, and drops it back in the mug, stirring more aggressively.

“Yeah, but she has space,” he says without turning to look at him. “I think she could heal a little better if she had support.”

“She has support.”

“She has doctors and pills,” Lucas says. “Which helps, but having her son support her would help too.”

“You can write her a letter,” he says dismissively.

Lucas tosses the spoon into the sink loudly.

“Why would I write her a letter like it’s the fucking nineteenth century,” he says “when I can Skype her or something?” He turns to lean against the counter, but his father is still looking at his laptop in front of him, doing fucking whatever. “Her doctor told me I can schedule a call and—”

“No.”

Lucas grips the countertop behind him, until his nails are digging into it, until it feels like it might crack and crumble. He takes a sharp inhale before speaking.

“She won’t even get a letter for a while, I wanna have an actual conversation with her.”

“I said no.”

“You’re not even listening—”

“I don’t need to listen. I gave you an answer.”

Lucas stares at the back of his head, his heart pounding, livid at his insouciance, at how he just doesn’t care.

“I…” Lucas starts, shaking his head. “I just think if we actually talked about it, you could see what I mean.”

“Lucas…” his father huffs, like he’s the exasperated one. “I don’t have time for this right now.”

“I tried talking to you about it last night— I need your permission to call her,” he says adamantly.

“You’re not getting it,” he says calmly. “Give her space .”

“She—”

“Lucas, drop it,” he snaps finally, turning to look over his shoulder. He looks angry, and a part of Lucas feels gratified. Fucking finally he looks, even if just a fraction, as angry as Lucas feels. (Another part of him is startled. Every time he gets angry, it’s this quick, this sudden. It’s always sharp anger, preceded by silence, by indifference, until he snaps.) “You’re not getting permission. You can write her a letter.”

Lucas states back, relaxing his face. A part of him wants to give his father the same treatment, the same unreasonable coolness, the dryness. A part of him wants to walk out, and leave him angry.

He doesn’t.

“Would you even send it if I wrote one?” he asks calmly.

His father is quiet, still staring with furrowed brows.

“God, you really just don’t like her,” Lucas says. “You just don’t want me to talk to her.”

“You don’t need to.”

“She’s my mother,” he says, leaning forward, losing some of the stoicism he’s trying to maintain.

“And I’m your father.”

“You didn’t raise me,” Lucas snaps. “And I’m fucking glad you didn’t,” he mutters as he walks out of the room, leaving his father sputtering some nonsense, bullshit that Lucas doesn’t even bother acknowledging.

He shuts him up by slamming his bedroom door (or maybe he just can’t hear him anymore), and he stands there for a few seconds, just shaking, just trembling, just trying and trying and trying to take a deep breath, but it doesn’t work, and he explodes.

“Motherfucker!”

He swipes his hand across the top of one of the cardboard boxes (the goddamn cardboard boxes), snatching a sketchbook and flinging it behind himself, throwing it into the door.

His eyes squeeze shut and he falls to his knees as the sketchbook hits the door loudly, splitting open, and the papers fly in the air, falling around him. He hears the pages hit the ground, soft scrapes against the uneven wood that sound like the screeches of metal on the inside of Lucas’s skull.

He whimpers, his eyes squeezing shut tighter and tighter until it hurts as he presses his hands over his ears, drowning out the sound of his father tossing silverware into the drawer, the loud, shrill clattering, the drawer slamming shut like it’s in competition with Lucas’s bedroom door. Lucas’s head dips lower until his forehead presses into the floor, gritting his teeth against the whimpers that escape him as his father begins to shout at him through the doors, through the walls.

Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup.

Lucas doesn’t realise he’s speaking out loud, softly murmuring the words to the floor, until he finally does shut up, until the apartment lays deathly silent, as if in apocalypse. Lucas opens his eyes and stops whispering, staring at the floor. It’s so close that it’s blurry, swirls of dusty brown and age. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the edge of a sheet of paper that floated down next to him.

He looks at the drawing, slowly, tentatively moving his hands away from his ears as he lifts his head. His eyes focus on the sketch.

He almost wants to look away from it, almost wants to crawl closer to it and snatch it from the ground in a tight fist, almost wants to crumple it and tear it up until it’s dust.

Instead he stares at it, only breaking eye contact with it when he startled, jumping and wincing as the front door slams shut in the dead silence of the apartment. It echoes through Lucas’s head as he deflates, sighing and collapsing onto the floor.

He moans softly, pressing his forehead against the grainy wood, lifting his arms to press them to his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he sighs heavily.

Piece of shit.

He ends up climbing into bed, tugging the blanket over his head and blocking out the sunlight. It still comes through the blanket, pressing against his eyelids in faint shades of red and purple.

He pulls it down when his phone vibrates, and he looks at it dejectedly, his eyes hooded as the screen lights up and it buzzes against the floor. When he lifts his head he can read Jens’s name on the screen, but he lets his head fall and he rolls away before he can read what Jens is saying.

He stares at the blank wall, biting his trembling lip when his phone buzzes again.

And again.

- - -

Lucas only comes out from under the blanket when he can’t stay still any more, when he gets tired of bouncing his foot against his mattress and tapping his fingertips against the floor with his hand hanging off the side of his bed just to hear the noise.

His father still hasn’t returned, (Lucas wonders briefly where he is, where he could be. Out drinking? With friends? Lucas would be surprised if he has any.) but Lucas still walks as lightly as possible to the kitchen, carefully stepping over the creaky floorboards in the hallway like his dad is going to come out of nowhere.

He opens the fridge (to stare for a while before shutting it and leaving it like he usually does), but stops when he sees his forgotten coffee.

The mug is cold to the touch so he pours it into a bigger glass with some ice and sticks a straw in it, taking a sip and wincing at its bitterness (though he doesn’t bother finding more sugar) as he goes back to his room.

He kicks some paper out of the way when he enters his room, navigating it in the sudden dimness he hadn’t noticed until now. There’s light coming through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the floor, and they shift like illusions as the papers slide across the floor.

He doesn’t bother trying to pick them up. He barely spares them a glance. He knows them well. He could redraw them in his sleep.

They’re all people. Some of the pages are covered with messy pencil sketches of Kes and Jayden and Isa and Noah, smudged and blended under Lucas’s hand. He never fixed them, or tried to avoid the smudges. None of the drawings felt like real drawings, like actual portraits he wanted to put effort into. They just made him feel better. Some of them are random people from the internet, photos he’s screenshotted from Pinterest, because he likes the slope of their noses and the angle of their eyes.

And then there’s Jens.

Lucas is embarrassed, if he’s honest. He’d never show them to anyone. He barely even looks at them himself, except the few times he gets stuck, looking at it like Jens is right in front of him, even though he’s only ever seen him in Instagram photos and over Facetime and Skype.

Some of his drawings even capture the graininess of the photos, the blur of his screen as Jens grins at him. (Somehow the drawings give Lucas the same swoop in his stomach and flutter in his chest.)

Lucas sets his coffee on the ground next to his mattress before grabbing the drawings off the ground, quickly, rushed, his cheeks burning even though he’s completely alone. He stuffs them into a box, ignoring the way they bunch and wrinkle and fold so they fit before he slams it shut, pressing the worn and papered tape over the seam harshly so it stays closed.

He grabs his phone from the ground before flipping onto his bed, huffing and leaning against the wall before picking up the coffee and taking a few gulps to nurse his headache. (Though the caffeine probably won’t help much in the long run.)

He scrolls through his notifications as he sips the coffee.

Jens hey do you wanna zoom with the guys?? lucas???? l u c a s lu :(((

Moyo bro you there?? we miss you 💔

Robbe hey we’re video chatting if you want to join! :)

Aaron lucas lucas lucas lucas lucas lucas lucas

Jens is everything okay? call me when you want

The final message was sent a while after the others, and Lucas’s chest tightens.

He takes one last gulp of coffee before he sets the cup down (the ice cubes were watering it down anyway) and slides back so his head is propped up against his tower of pillows, and he calls him.

He answers quickly, before Lucas’s head is even settled.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Lucas says lightly, and even his expression softens. “‘S fine.”

Jens is quiet for a second before he says, “You don’t wanna talk about it?”

Lucas really can’t tell if it’s a question or not. Either way, his face falls and he squeezes his eyes shut as he inhales deeply. Jens can see right through him.

“Not really,” he says quietly.

“That’s okay,” Jens says softly. “Would you rather talk about how Nick is definitely in love with Gatby?”

Lucas startles and scoffs before a giggle is ripped right out of his chest.

“What?”

“You don’t see it? It’s so obvious!”

“I mean— I’m not arguing with you, I just…” He closes his eyes again, grinning at the ceiling. “Do you have textual evidence?” he asks, annunciating and imitating Ms Peeters.

“Uh, the book?” Jens says sassily, and Lucas almost giggles again. He can just imagine the furrow of Jens’s eyebrows and jut of his chin. “He follows Gatsby everywhere, he’s all he thinks about!”

I’d follow you anywhere.

“He’s the narrator,” Lucas says, ignoring the thought.

“Okay, and why do you think— What’s his name? Fitz— Fitzgerald?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Why do you think Fitzgerald chose to make Nick the narrator instead of choosing to use third person narration?”

Lucas pauses, processing his question.

“What, are you my final?”

A laugh bursts out of Jens.

“I don’t know,” Lucas sighs. “Why do you think?”

“Uh…” Jens sighs thoughtfully and there’s a rustle of fabric. Lucas wonders if he’s laying down too. “I think he just thought the gays needed a win.”

Lucas laughs loudly, rolling onto his side and shaking head, his eyes squeezing shut under his smile.

“I don’t think people were that invested in us back then,” he says as he settles.

And then he freezes, his eyes flying open.

He didn’t mean to let out so soon.

He’d been thinking about it, how to go about telling Jens that he’s embarrassingly gay without scaring him off. (Though he also reminded himself that Jens’s best friend is gay. Though, he also reminded himself, Robbe’s known Jens a lot longer than he has.)

He stayed up last night with it on his mind, whether it’s worth it or not, telling Jens he’s gay, and risk Jens thinking he likes him. (He wouldn’t be wrong, of course. That’s another thing that kept Lucas up: the way the mere thought of him, or his voice, makes Lucas’s heart flutter, makes his breath shorten, the way the fucking thought of seeing him in person makes Lucas gasp in excitement. He has it bad.)

“Maybe not, but you don’t think Fitzgerald was a little gay?” Jens says, paying no mind, and Lucas’s eyes open to the stack of boxes in front of him.

“What?” he says, laughing.

“You don’t think so?”

“He had a wife.”

“Oh, did he?”

“Yeah, her name was Zelda.”

“That’s a dope name. Okay, whatever, he had a wife. Sure. He still could have been a little gay.”

“I guess?”

“No straight person speaks that poetically.”

Lucas snorts, rolling over more until he’s almost laying on his stomach. He rests his chin on her forearm, holding his phone to his ear as he looks outside, seeing the city between the blinds.

“Then that would prove that Nick is gay, not Gatsby.”

“I never said Gatsby was gay,” Jens says, followed by another rustling sound and a soft huff of breath, like he’s mirroring Lucas. “Just the author. And Nick.”

“So it’s about unrequited romance?” Lucas says, his chest tightening slightly. He takes a deep breath as quietly as he can, feeling suddenly like his lungs won’t fill quite right.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jens says softly. “He’s watching Gatsby fall in love with Daisy, that’s heartbreaking.”

Lucas swallows.

“Gatsby was already in love with Daisy.”

“Right.” Jens takes a breath and Lucas closes his eyes for a second. He wonders what it would be like to fall asleep like this, with his phone pressed to his ear, with Jens’s voice whispering to him. “Nick was falling in love with Gatsby, and watching Gatsby be in love with someone else. Is that worse?”

Lucas thinks for a second, about the day, the second he realised his crush on Kes.

He was sitting across the table from him at a cafe, and Kes had kicked him in the shin by accident before looking under the table and kicking him again. Lucas had laughed and tried to kick him back but missed, kicking the table so hard it jostled, and Kes burst with laughter as Lucas hissed “Shit!” and grabbed the edge of the table to steady it.

Lucas had listened to Kes laugh. And looked at the way Kes was looking at him, his eyes bright with amusement. He’d even dropped his phone to laugh before setting his forehead on the table when Lucas shushed him, seeing a woman at another table turn to look.

And he remembers watching Kes fall for Isa.

Watching kiss her and pull her close when all Lucas wanted to hold his hand.

“I think it might be.”

Jens hums thoughtfully.

“We could write an essay about that.”

“Oh,” Lucas says, blinking. “We could.”

“Ms Peeters would definitely like it. She likes in-depth analyses. Even if they make no sense.”

Lucas chuckles, trying to forget about Kes.

It’s not hard to forget right now.

Not with Jens’s voice in his ear.

“We still have to finish reading it,” Lucas says.

“Of course.” Jens sighs. “I can see why you like it so much.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

They’re quiet for a second, and Lucas looks out the window. It’s dark now, and there are still bright windows scattered around the city. The street lamp across the street from his building flickers. Lucas wonders if stars flicker before they go out too.

“Lu?” Jens says softly, and Lucas closes his eyes. No one ever called him that before Jens. (No one does now either. He wonders if anyone else will. He hopes not.)

“Mmhmm?”

“Are you better now?”

“Yeah,” he says after a pause. “I am, actually.” You have that effect on me, he doesn’t add.

“Do you wanna talk about it now?”

Lucas smiles softly. It doesn’t feel like Jens is just curious. Like if Lucas were to say no, Jens would just say that’s okay.

Which gives him more bravery.

“It’s just…” he starts, huffing softly. “My dad. I’m so sick of him.”

Jens hums quietly.

Lucas squeezes his eyes shut and his lip quivers.

“I just—” he chokes. “I’m so fucking tired of this place.”

“Which place?”

“Just— I don’t know,” he says before burying his face in his arm. “This city, this apartment.” He lifts his head. “Mainly this apartment. All these fucking boxes.”

“When we— When we can meet up,” Jens stammers out, “I’ll take you places.” He sounds so sincere, so desperate, that Lucas’s heart squeezes. He shuts his eyes, hanging onto every word. “Wherever you want. Wherever we can go. I’ll leave Lotte with my dad, and we can stay out as long as you need to.”

Lucas muffles a sob into his arm, clutching the phone like a lifeline.

“And until then we can call whenever you want, and we can call my friends—” He cuts off. “Oh!”

Lucas rubs his face on his sleeve, letting out a breath.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, uhm…”

Lucas can sense his hesitation, and smiles.

“Tell me.”

“My friends and I were gonna have another call, I thought you’d like to join?” He pauses again. “The guys, but also some others.”

“Will they like me?” Lucas asks, only half joking. His voice is small.

“Of course.”

“When?”

“I don’t know yet, probably Friday? But they talked about Thursday, I’ll text you when we figure it out.”

“Okay.”

“And you can call or text any of them whenever, if you need a distraction or…”

“Jens?” Lucas whispers after a quiet second.

“Yeah?”

Lucas shuts his eyes again.

“Thank you.”

- - -

There aren’t many other people Lucas talks to from school. He exchanges messages with Mohamed from literature for a little bit, but the conversation doesn’t really go anywhere. The only other message he gets is from a girl, Élina, who he doesn’t recognise, but most of her posts were photographed at school. (Lucas wandered around the campus after arriving in Antwerp, just to see. There was no one there, save for an older woman who looked at Lucas disdainfully.)

Her message, heyyyyy youre new right?, makes Lucas cringe, reading it in the same voice as the girls that used to approach him at parties. The girls that he would flirt back with, doing everything in his power to ignore the uncomfortable churn in his stomach, the twisting of his nerves as the girls reached out and pushed his curls back or brushed their fingertips over his jaw and freckles. It made him so viscerally uncomfortable that for a while he wondered if he could be attracted to anyone at all. He even did research, finding out about the spectrums of asexuality and aromanticism, trying to find what fit, but nothing ever did. It was then that he decided he should probably experiment, and eventually he realised he doesn’t mind hands touching his hair and face softly or eyes looking at him like that when it’s another boy.

He still pretended, though. Even when his phone had the notifications set to not appear on his screen, notifications from pretty boys and their photos and slick words, he would press girls against walls and listen to their giggles and whispers, ignoring the ugly thoughts he couldn’t stop thinking.

He’s tired of pretending.

So when Élina sends him a message one night as he waits for Jens to get Lotte to sleep, a message that reads sooo do you have a girlfriend 👀, he sets his jaw and takes a deep breath before responding.

élina i’m gay

She responds with the laughing emoji, and he waits as she types, until lol no worries appears, followed by lucky boys ;).

He exhales and responds with a smiley face.

- - -

“Hey,” Lucas says softly when Moyo appears on his screen.

“Hey,” he says back, whispering. “Why are we quiet?”

Lucas chuckles, wrinkling his nose at him.

“My dad’s in the living room,” he explains. “You don’t have to be quiet. I have headphones.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Where is everyone?”

“They’re coming,” Moyo says, checking his phone. “How’ve you been?”

Lucas hesitates, wondering if he should tell him anything he’s told Jens. But he doesn’t want to fuck up the mood before the party’s even started.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ve been doing homework and stuff.”

“Gross.”

“Copying Jens’s maths.”

“As you should.”

“Oh my god!” Lucas says, setting his laptop on his bed as he remembers suddenly.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I just…” He pauses as he reaches to grab his sketchbook from the ground next to him. “I had something for you, I just remembered.” He sits back to see Moyo’s eyebrows raised.

“For me?”

“Something to show you, yeah.” He grabs his phone. “I’ll text you a picture, hold on.”

He waits as it sends, awkwardly tilting his head back and forth until Moyo lets out an Oh!

“Holy— Oh my god!” His voice has risen several octaves, and Lucas giggles, his eyes squinting under his grin. “That’s me!”

“Yeah!”

“You actually— Oh my god.” Moyo pulls his phone close to his face, hiding himself from Lucas as he looks at the photo of the sketch more intently.

“I said you have a nice face.”

“Lucaaaassss,” Moyo whines, and Lucas giggles again, leaning down and resting his chin on his hands happily. “This is so cool.”

Lucas is relieved, if he’s honest. He’d done the drawing late last night, looking back and forth between his sketchbook and a photo from Moyo’s Instagram.

“You like it?”

Moyo lets out an indignant noise, looking at Lucas with wide eyes.

“I fucking love it, bro.”

“Yeah?”

Moyo’s box shifts as Lucas grins at him, and Jens appears next to him.

“Hey,” Jens says brightly as Lucas’s eyes move to him. “What’s up?”

“Can I show him, Luc?” Moyo asks excitedly, and it takes Lucas a second to rip his eyes away from Jens’s pixelated face to answer, “Yeah, course.”

“I’ll text it.”

“What’s going on?” Jens asks, confused, and a little thrill goes through Lucas at the sight of his wrinkled brow.

“Lucas drew me!”

Jens’s eyebrows raise and he grins.

“Yeah?”

Lucas’s face burns when Jens receives the photo, when Jens exclaims that it’s so fucking good, man, when Jens looks up at him through the camera, and Lucas can feel his eyes on him, his delight.

“You wanted to draw someone and you chose Moyo?” Jens asks, grinning as Moyo lets out an offended “Hey!”

Lucas’s face burns again, and he hopes Jens (and Moyo, he supposes) can’t see his cheeks bloom. He shrugs, forcing a grin.

“I said he has a nice face.”

As Moyo playfully shoos at him, saying “Oh, stop it,” and looking back at the drawing, Jens’s eyebrows quirk up and his eyes widen as he leans forward slightly.

Oh.

Oh no.

Lucas glances at Moyo, who is still looking down, and then back at Jens, shaking his head. Jens’s brows raise more and he starts to smile, starts to beam, amusement in his eyes.

No, Lucas mouths, shaking his head harder, but before they can continue their silent conversation, the boxes shift again and a girl’s voice says, “What’s up, fuckers?”

“Luca,” Moyo says indignantly, as Jens laughs. It takes Lucas a second to look away from Jens to the girl, who has her hand clapped over her mouth.

“I don’t know you,” she says, dropping it and leaning close. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he assures her. “We’re basically already friends.”

“I’m Luca,” she says, holding a hand out to the camera.

“Lucas.”

He copies her and they shake, both laughing lightly.

“Where is everyone?” Luca asks.

“They’ll be here soon,” Jens says.

It takes a little while for them all to arrive.

Zoë comes in next (she smiles when Lucas compliments her hair), followed by Aaron and Amber who, Lucas has to agree with Aaron, is very pretty. Not Lucas’s type (obviously), but pretty nonetheless. Robbe and Sander arrive next, almost simultaneously, and after an onslaught of teasing from Moyo and Luca, Jens interrupts to tell Lucas to show Sander his art.

“Uhhh…” Lucas grabs at his phone before looking up again. “Moyo.”

“On it,” Moyo says sharply, looking away and lifting his phone.

Lucas flushes under Sander’s praise.

Yasmina joins next, already smiling as she appears on Lucas’s screen. She’s wearing a yellow hijab, and the brightness of her smile with the soft fabric makes Lucas think of the sun. (He tells her, exclaiming “You look like sunshine!” to which she responds with a squeal and a bright, flushed, broad smile.)

Jana appears last.

She’s smiling when she appears too, but it’s a smaller smile, almost sad.

“Hey,” Zoë says when Jana’s arrival interrupts conversation. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Jana says dismissively. “Where’s the new kid? I gotta find you.” Her eyes scan her screen and Lucas waves his hand. “Ah!”

“Lucas,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest.

“Jana,” she says with a smile.

She’s sweet. Her laugh is nice.

Lucas knows he doesn’t really have a reason to not like her. But he can’t seem to help it as he listens to her tease Jens, to Jens tease her. As he watches Jens’s eyes while Jana speaks, as he watches Jana’s eyes as Jens speaks. There’s nothing for him really to go on, nothing really to suggest anything between them except Lucas’s overthinking.

He can’t stop overthinking.

He can’t even tell if Jens’s eyes are really softening when Jana speaks or if it’s just Lucas’s mind telling him they are, or if Jens is really saying Jana in a certain way.

(He can’t really tell if Jana is Daisy or not.)

It’s dark when everyone leaves. Dark dark. In everyone’s room, except Amber, who leaves all her lights on, including a lamp next to her. Zoë leaves first, because We have school tomorrow!, followed by Robbe because he’s actively falling asleep.

Jana leaves last, still chatting with Jens, who involves Lucas for his input. It’s sweet, especially as Lucas just… sits there, listening and watching.

He still gives her a friendly bye-bye wave when she leaves. It’s not her fault he’s the way he is. And she really is nice.

“So,” Jens says firmly when it’s just them, rocking forward and making the same face he did earlier, when Moyo wasn’t looking.

“No,” Lucas answers, already shaking his head.

“You don’t know what I’m gonna say!” Jens exclaims, delighted. His voice is hushed, and he’s wearing headphones (he’d gotten them out about halfway through the call), looking awfully lovely.

“I know exactly what you’re going to say, and the answer is no.”

“No what?”

“No,” Lucas insists, not really wanting to say it. “I don’t have a crush on Moyo.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jens makes a face full of doubt, complete with raised eyebrows and a downward tilted chin.

“I don’t.”

“You said he has a nice face,” Jens teases.

“He does,” Lucas insists. “But so does… Yasmina. That doesn’t mean I have a crush on her.”

“…Okay, fair.”

Lucas doesn’t tell him about the drawings.

The ones stuffed into the boxes in his room, hidden away where he doesn’t have to see them, the ones of photos from Jens’s Instagram, the ones of subtle screenshots Lucas takes during their Facetime calls, the ones of Jens focussing on his maths homework while Lucas pretends to pay attention. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tell him about them. He doesn’t know what he’ll do with them.

“What did you think of the girls?” Jens asks, setting his chin on her forearm. He’s laying on his stomach, and Lucas wants to memorise the image: Jens looking up at him with sleep in his eyes, looking awfully precious.

“They’re really nice,” Lucas says honestly. He almost mirrors him, but instead he moves onto his side, resting his legs around the laptop and laying on his head on a curled arm. “Amber makes me think of someone I know in Utrecht.”

“Is she also a human strawberry?”

Lucas blinks.

“Actually, yeah. That’s…”

“I’m a genius,” Jens sighs, and Lucas makes a face.

“Fuck you,” Jens laughs, his eyes squinting, and then closing completely as he yawns into his arm.

“You should sleep.”

“You should sleep,” Jens retorts, laying his head down and looking at Lucas. His eyelids are low. Lucas’s heart skips a beat. “I don’t wanna go to bed,” Jens complains, oblivious to Lucas’s internal crisis of the admiration of sleepy Jens.

“We have school tomorrow,” he points out.

“You’re worth it,” Jens mumbles.

And Lucas fucking f a l l s .

“Cheesy bitch,” he says, ignoring his heart’s free-fall, and Jens giggles. It’s a sleepy laugh, raw and unfiltered, and Lucas smiles at it.

“Jens?” Lucas asks softly after a minute, and Jens’s eyes flutter open. Maybe he was asleep. But he smiles when his eyes settle on Lucas.

“Mmhmm?”

“Did you mean it? That you… That you’ll take me around when we can meet up?”

Jens’s brows furrow for a second and he lifts his head.

“Yeah, of course.” He sets his chin on his arm. “I’ll take you wherever. We’ll have to stay distanced for a while but…” He shrugs. “I’ll keep you out of your apartment.”

Lucas nuzzles into his arm and Jens lays his head down again, still looking at him.

“You don’t think it’ll be awkward?” Lucas says. “Last time I met up with someone from the internet it was super awkward.”

He doesn’t mention that he’d met the boy on a dating app, and that they’d hooked up and left.

“I won’t let it be,” Jens says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll let my full extrovert personality come out.” He sighs. “You can be awkward if you want. I won’t.”

“Okay,” Lucas whispers. He’s not sure if Jens hears.

#i dont even remember the last time I updated this #idek if anyones reading it lmao #but yall i swear im still writing this #i have a lot going on but I haven't abandoned my boys #anyway #go stretch and drink water #eat something yummy #tell someone you love them #wtfock #skam nl #wtfock fic #skam nl fic #vds #van der stoffels #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #while the world ends around us (make believe with me)#ninety percent of the things i made italicized arent italicized im so mad what the fuck @ ao3

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thebrotherssalvatore321 · 4 years ago

Text

Keeping Secrets Ch. 40

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Pairing: Katie(Oc)xKlaus. Warnings: None.

Klaus woke up lying on his side with his arm draped over Katie’s stomach. As his eyes traveled up her body he found that she was already awake, her un-manicured fingers fiddling with the silver pendant that hung around her neck. “I apologize.”

Katie blinked out of her thoughts and looked over at him with a frown as she turned onto her side and tucked her arm under her pillow. “For what?”

“I made you one promise…and I’ve broken it.” he told her and she shook her head at him in confusion. “I told you I wouldn’t let anyone keep you from making the sky yours. You didn’t want to settle down and have a family yet here you are. Tied down by me and a child that no one asked if you wanted.”

“When did I say I didn’t want to settle down and have a family?” she asked as she slid her hand up his chest to rest on his neck.

“When we were talking about the cure and why you didn’t want to take it.” he pointed out.

She shook her head understanding how he could have gotten that impression. “I said I didn’t want a human man or a human family. We’re not human.” She corrected him. “I don’t know about you, but I tried not to look too far into our future. I wanted to take things slow for once…like glacially slow when it came to the serious stuff, but it's kind of impossible to move that slow now. So I’ll admit that had this pregnancy not been possible and if we were still together in say…twenty or so years and if it felt like the right time, I would have brought up the idea of adoption and talked things out with you and figured out if it was something we would want.” She slid her hand back down to rest on his chest. “But nature skipped ahead and decided for us. If I’m being honest, I’m not mad about it, I’m just sorry if this baby and I roped you in and tied you down.”

“I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I like being tied down by you.” he told her, making a small smile pull at the corner of her lips.

“Elijah was spot on when he said this baby is a gift. You’ve once again given me more than I ever could have asked for.” She told him honestly and the intense look of love in his eyes almost made her heart stop. “So you haven’t broken your promise and clipped my wings. You’ve given them something to wrap around and hold onto.”

“Our child…will be just as loved and spoiled as you are.” He slipped his hand down her side to her outer thigh that he grabbed and pulled up over his hip. His hand on her combined with the fact that he pretty much just said he loved her caused butterflies to stir within her.

She still wasn’t ready to say those three little words, so instead she pushed him to lie on his back, straddled him and pressed her lips to his letting how much he meant to her flow into him. His tongue slipped between her lips and found hers, pulling a moan from somewhere deep inside her as his arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. His kisses were like no other. Where Damon’s had wrecked her train of thought, Klaus’s fueled the engine. His hands that gently caressed her skin were more than electric. They set her ablaze and had her wanting to feel his touch everywhere all at once.

When he rolled them over and attacked her neck with kisses and nibbles she turned her head to the side giving him better access as she moaned, “Klaus.” Her legs wrapped around his waist pulling him to her as she dug her fingertips into his bare back. He kissed down her neck to her chest then back up to her lips, grinding into her, teasing her through the two layers of fabric. “God, you feel good.”

He chuckled as he rolled them back over and sat up, bringing her with him. He grabbed the front of her thin pajama tank top and ripped it open. She smiled when he broke the kiss and watched her face as he held her back with one hand and slid the other over her breast, kneading it before he gently twisted her nipped between his thumb and pointer finger making her breath hitch and a moan leave her lips before she bit the bottom one. The lust the action brought to her eyes was mirrored in his as he slipped his hand down her chest, pushing her to lie back on to the bed.

TVDTVDTVD

A few seconds passed as they came down off their high before Klaus grabbed the comforter and pulled it over them. She intertwined her legs with his and looked him in the eyes. “Have I told you you’re amazing recently?” she asked, bringing a smile to his lips as he shook his head no. “Well you are.” She grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together.

“Have you noticed that you no longer revel in the calm after the storm?” he asked. Since she had come back from her shattered soul, she no longer wanted to cuddle in silence after they made love. She just nodded. “Why is that?”

“Because I came back different.” She answered. “If I would have simply flipped my switch back on, without Elijah doing what he did, I would still be beating myself up over all the people I killed, but…I’m not. Even before I made the decision to become a vampire I struggled with this…darkness, inside of me. The same part of me that wanted to tie my grandfather to a chair and break every bone in his body and beat him as he so mercilessly beat me. It was there even when I lived as Hannah. I would have poisoned Father had my sister not stopped me, but when I came back it’s like I’ve learned to accept it and control it.”

He let go of her hand and cupped her cheek in his hand. “And you say there’s nothing admirable about you.”

She smiled and slipped her hand over his. “My mind is naturally a calmer place these days, so there really isn’t a calm after the storm anymore.” She took his hand off her face and kissed his palm. “It doesn’t mean I’m going to go around murdering people for the hell of it, it just means that if I have to kill again I’ll feel bad, but it’s who I am and I can’t change it.”

TVDTVDTVD

A week turned into a month then into two. Klaus, much to Katie’s dismay, had been taking his time with figuring out how to get Elijah back.

Currently Kate sat on a stool in front of an easel with a pallet in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, receiving a lesson from Klaus. She didn’t think art would be something she would be into. She didn’t think she was creative enough to turn a blank canvas into something beautiful the way Klaus did, but she had to say painting was relaxing and she now understood why it was one of Klaus’s passions.

Klaus stood at his easel that was positioned so that she could see what he was doing. Every once in a while he would stop painting and give her time to copy what he had just done. More than once he tried to look at her canvas, but every time he did she pointed her paintbrush at him and threatened to turn him into her canvas, getting an amused smile from him. “I do not hear progress.” He pointed out knowing she could hear him despite the ear buds in her ears filling them with a playlist of alternative rock music and a few pop songs.

“I’m thinking.” She told him defensively.

“What is there to think about?” he asked with a confused look as he stopped painting and turned around.

“It’s more like what I’m trying not to think about.” She told him with a flirty smirk and he gave her a look that told her to explain. “Your butt looks really good in the jeans you’re wearing. It’s kind of hard to stop myself from thinking about painting it with edible paint just so I can bite it.”

He laughed and tried to walk over to her, but she pointed her brush at him with a warning look. “If you have drawn a stick figure on that canvas I’ll never give you another lesson.” He told her only half serious.

“Yes you will and no I haven’t.” she told him then started painting again. “I aim to impress.” She pointed out then took her ear buds out. “Now turn back around.” She told him with a twirl of her finger.

He smiled and shook his head at her as he turned around and started painting again. “Edible paint is definitely going on the shopping list.”

Katie laughed and got back to her painting. “So am I the first girl you’ve given a painting lesson to?” she asked curiously.

“If I say no will you be disappointed?” he asked, not looking away from his canvas.

“No. I’m sure you’ve had a lot of lady friends in your one thousand years on this earth.” she told him honestly.

“Lady friends yes, girlfriends however…not as many as you might think.” He answered. “But no, this isn’t the first time I’ve given a lesson to a woman.” He paused, giving her time to catch up. “This is the first time my student wouldn’t let me see their progress though.”

“I wouldn’t sing you an incomplete song. So I’m not going to show you an incomplete painting.” She told him, not looking away from the brush in her hand that smeared tan paint over the canvas carving out the archway that Klaus had penciled onto the canvas as a guide.

“You need more paint on your brush.” He critiqued without even being able to see what she was doing.

“How can you tell?” she asked looking at her brush.

“If I can hear the bristles of the brush scraping against the canvas your brush is too dry.” He told her so she filled her brush with paint again like he had shown her then held it above the canvas for him to see. “Better.” She got back to her painting and when she caught up to him she looked up, letting him know she was ready to move on.

Only after she finished the finale steps and was satisfied with her work did she allow Klaus to walk around the easel to look at what she had done. After a few seconds of him appraising the painting she couldn’t help breaking the silence. “You can say it sucks. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

“It doesn’t suck. I actually think you have potential.” He said with a point at the painting.

“You have potential.” She echoed back. “That’s the same thing my English teacher told me about my creative writing project.” She told him then looked over her shoulder to where he stood slightly behind her with his hands behind his back. “It sucked.” She whisper yelled.

“Perhaps you simply lack confidence.” He argued and she rolled her eyes at him and looked at her still wet painting. “It is not bad considering you’d never even touched a paint brush before today.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and set his chin on her shoulder. “You aimed to impress and hit the bull’s eye.”

“I think you’re full of it, but it doesn’t matter. You know why?” she asked as she hopped down off the stool and set her paint pallet on it.

He wrapped his long sleeve shirt covered arms around her waist and pulled her into him, “Why?”

“Because I had fun and I found it relaxing. Which was the main goal of this lesson was it not?” she asked, letting her eyes travel his face.

“It was.” He answered then caught her lips with his. As they kissed a wave of playfulness overcame her and she opened her eyes and looked over at her abandoned paint pallet. Her pointer finger touched the blob of green paint and as they kissed she drew a heart on his cheek. At the feel of the cold wet paint he stopped kissing her and sighed, not opening his eyes. “You did not just-” she booped him on the nose with her paint covered finger tip, cutting him off and he opened his eyes, her playfulness mirrored in them.

He growled and wiped his nose on her cheek making her yelp and giggle. They were jerked out of their fun when Rebekah’s voice practically shook the walls, “Klaus!” Katie jumped from the sharp unexpected tone and Klaus rolled his eyes. “Get out here and tell me where our brother’s at you narcissistic, backstabbing waker!”

Klaus sighed, went to the doors to the room and pulled them open, “Enough with all the shouting.” Katie went to the bathroom and washed the paint from her face then brought the wet cloth to Klaus so he could do the same. “I assume the six dead vampires were your doing?” he asked.

“They were very rude. Trying to victimize a poor, innocent girl just trying to find her way to the quarter. So sorry. Were they friends of yours?” Rebekah smiled. “Oh that’s right, you don't have any friends.”

“I do have friends. I have Katie.” He argued.

Rebekah looked at Katie who leaned her hip on the brown leather couch Klaus was standing next to. “Oh, right, your baby momma.” She told Klaus then looked at Katie. “Your besties are very upset with you for missing graduation and pretty much disappearing off the face of the earth.”

“They can continue to be upset with me because I can’t make myself lie to them and I can’t tell them the truth. All I can do is leave them be.” Katie replied.

“You’re choice.” She brushed it off and looked at Katie’s stomach. “I was expecting to see some kind of supernatural, miracle, baby bump, guess you’re not showing yet.” She pointed out.

Katie smoothed her flowing tank top down showing Rebekah the small bump of her stomach. “I don’t exactly have a missed period to go off of, but I think I’m somewhere around 16 or 17 weeks.”

“Really?” Klaus asked with a look over at her and she hummed and nodded. “How do you know how far along you are?”

“Considering the baby’s heartbeat was so small and quiet when Sophie told me I was pregnant I can only assume that I was around six to seven weeks at that point.” she explained liking the curiosity on Klaus’s face. “And it’s not an exact science, but my stomach matches the sixteen and seventeen week mark of every week by week stomach transformation picture I could find online.”

“We’re off topic.” Rebekah spoke up.

“Right, we were talking about my friends. I also have Marcel.” Klaus told her. “You remember him don’t you? Yes, of course you do. He fancies himself the king of the quarter now, and he has these rules about killing vampires. It’ll be fun to see what sort of punishment he comes up with for you.”

“I don’t care about Marcel or his rules. Elijah told me that he promised Katie he would be here for her and he does not welsh on promises. Where is he?” Rebekah demanded.

“I would argue that he is wishy washy when it comes to his promises to Katie.” Klaus sat down on the couch and pulled Katie down to sit next to him with her legs draped over his lap. “Perhaps he’s on holiday, or taking a long autumn nap upstairs.” He pointed up with a smirk. “Well, go on. Take a look around.” Rebekah walked past him. “You remember this house as well as I.”

Rebekah turned around and looked at him, “I remember everything.” She then looked at Katie. “Care for an eye opening look at the father of your child?” she held her hand out to Katie. “Or are you still on vervain?”

“I’m not on vervain. I don’t know if it will hurt the baby. So sure, why not?” Katie got out of Klaus’s lap and slapped her hand into Rebekah’s. She was taken back to what looked like the mid 1800’s. A party was taking place in the house they were currently living in.

“I remember how the drunken fool of a governor hid away all of our vampire sins in exchange for gold.” Rebekah’s voice served as a commentary to what Katie was seeing in her mind's eye. Klaus stood in front of the fireplace with a set of twin women on his arms. He gave Rebekah a grin as he headed upstairs with them. “I remember the lavish parties he threw as if to impress you.” Rebekah walked over to a handsome, expensively dressed man and kissed him. “I remember finding a moment of affection with the governor’s son, Emil.” The view changed to the upstairs landing where Klaus sat on a sofa with the twins, both with bite marks on their neck, both passed out if not dead while he fed on one of their wrists. “And I remember even Elijah was happy with Celeste.” Elijah was kissing the neck of a beautiful almond skinned woman that had her back against the wall.

“Your brother, he has gone too far.” Celeste spoke with a French accent.

Elijah looked away from the woman to Klaus. “Niklaus, there is no hope for you, is there?” Klaus just looked at Elijah and bit into the woman’s wrist with a growl.

“Are we interrupting?” Rebekah asked as she walked over to them holding Emil’s hand.

“Yes.” Klaus answered, dropping the woman’s hand.

“No.” Elijah answered, not fully turning away from Celeste.

“Dearest Elijah,” Rebekah started talking, making Elijah move to the woman’s side so that Rebekah had his full attention, “You’ve only ever wished happiness for me. Emil and I are in love. Please let me turn him.”

Klaus started laughing. Elijah and Rebekah ignored him. “Rebekah, the governor has graciously agreed to hide a lot of our…” Elijah paused and looked back at Klaus and the two dead women, “indiscretions.” He looked back at Rebekah. “It would not do to turn his only son into one of us.”

“Please. For me.” Rebekah begged.

“It’s not gonna happen, sister.” Klaus stood up. “If we turned every man you dropped your knickers for, then human beings would cease to exist and we’d have no bloody food.”

Katie bit her lips closed, keeping her comments to herself.

“How dare you sir!” Emil stepped up to Klaus. “You would do well to-”

Klaus grabbed him by his neck and started walking over to the railing. Elijah and Rebekah begged him to stop, but he threw him over the railing, killing him. Rebekah started sobbing.

Rebekah let go of Katie’s hand and gave her a look that asked what she thought of what she just saw. “You get around and he can be an ass. Neither of these things are news to me or my business to judge.”

“No wonder he likes you so much, you gloss over his terrible qualities.” Rebekah told her with an eye roll.

“Emil wasn’t good enough for you.” Klaus spoke up.

“Nobody was good enough for me, Nik, you made sure of that.” Rebekah told him as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Now where’s Elijah?”

Klaus' phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocket, looked at it then stood up and put it back and walked over to Katie. “Drinks with Marcel again?” she asked as he grabbed her sides and looked down at her.

“Elijah told me your plan to take apart Marcel’s empire piece by piece. I don’t remember it involving you two drinking New Orleans dry together.” Rebekah complained.

Klaus moved to stand next to Katie with his arm around her waist. “I know you don’t have many friends, Rebekah, but what some friends do when they get together is they drink. And when they drink, they tell secrets. Marcel has somehow found a way to control the entirety of witches in the quarter, and I aim to uncover the how so I might take it for myself. Although I assure you, finding Elijah is on my honey-do list.” He turned back to Katie.

“Have a bourbon for me.” she told him wishing she could go with him and get out of the house.

“I will.” He pecked her on the lips and they all went to the door. Klaus pulled it open, but he stopped and looked back at Rebekah. “Oh, and welcome home, little sister.”

Rebekah rolled her eyes as Klaus left then looked at Katie. “You two are disgustingly sweet together.” Katie let a small smile play at the corners of her lips. “Too bad it won’t last long.” Her smile fell. “Nik doesn’t settle down. He’s most likely just playing with you until he gets his hands on whatever is cooking in your tum.”

Katie’s face turned hard, “Believe what you want, Rebekah, I don’t care. Just don’t try to drag me into your disputes with your brother.” She left Rebekah standing in the doorway.

Katie was in the parlor writing in her journal when she heard that Klaus was back. He and Rebekah were arguing about Elijah, eventually he told her what he had done to and with Elijah. “Katie!”

“Yes?” Katie called tiredly knowing Rebekah would just keep shouting until she found her.

“Did you know that he handed Elijah over to Marcel?” Rebekah asked with a point at Klaus who was standing behind her and Katie nodded. “And you let him hand him over?”

Katie leaned back in the arm chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, do I have a voice now?” Katie asked with an attitude induced cock of her head. “I thought I was just his play thing until he ‘gets his hands on whatever is cooking in my tum.’.” She made air quotes around Rebekah’s words then picked her pen back up and went back to the entry she was working on. When she was done with the entry she went outside and found Rebekah sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, taking in the night air. She sat down in the chair next to Rebekah. “Seriously, Rebekah, what’s your problem with me?”

“I didn’t mind you being with Klaus at first because you needed the stick removed from your ass, but you were supposed to choose my good brother. Not get knocked up by my bad one.” She told her, making Katie frown at her. “You’re too good for him.” she admitted making Katie remember that Klaus killed Emil. “Emil wasn’t the only boyfriend of mine that Klaus killed. He did it again, and again, every time I found someone to care about. He just kept doing it until finally I stopped falling in love. He said he was protecting me from my mistakes, that no one was good enough for his little sister. Until one day someone was.”

“Marcel, I’m guessing.” Katie asked then a thought struck her. “You’re not going to try to kill me to get back at him are you?”

“I’d never kill a pregnant woman.” she answered. “And you guessed right. Klaus caught Marcel kissing me and because Marcel was like a son to him and he couldn’t kill him. So he daggered me to give me a lesson in what I could and couldn’t take from him. I stayed in that coffin for fifty-two years. When I woke up he told me he had given Marcel a choice, un-dagger me and live out his human years with me or leave me and Klaus would turn him just as Marcel had always wanted. Marcel chose vampirism over me.”

“Ouch.” Katie commented. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, I got over it and moved on eventually.” Rebekah assured her.

“So now that you know that Marcel has Elijah, why aren’t you going after Elijah yourself? You’re an immortal just like Klaus. The only thing that can kill you is the white oak stake and I’m pretty sure Marcel doesn’t have it.” Katie asked.

“You should know the answer to that question by now.” Rebekah replied. “I did not overlook my coffin downstairs.”

Katie bit her lips closed and looked around in thought. After a few seconds she pulled out her phone and started a text message to Rebekah that she didn’t intend on sending. “Klaus does not know this, but those daggers are not where he thinks they are. I found them and have hidden them.” She held the phone out to Rebekah. After reading it she looked up at Katie with a smirk. Katie erased the message. “Like I told Klaus, it takes a village and I need both of my villagers free of daggers.”

“Perhaps Elijah is right, you might just be exactly what Klaus needs.” Rebekah told her then stood up and walked away.

Katie went to the room that she and Klaus now shared and found him lying in bed but not asleep. “I found out why Rebekah’s been such a bitch to me.” she told him quietly as she changed into a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top.

“And why is that?” he asked.

“Apparently I’m too good for you.” she answered.

“I could have told you that.” he told her.

“I don’t think she believes you deserve to be happy after denying her happiness so many times.” Katie thought out loud.

“Do you agree with her?” he asked, his eyes taking in her growing stomach before she pulled the tank top over her head.

“Of course not.” She answered, her tone implying that his question was stupid.

“Good.” He told her with a smile as she slid into bed and laid down next to him resting her head on his shoulder as he slid his hand over her stomach.

TVDTVDTVD

The next morning she woke up to Klaus rubbing her shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Why?” she groaned not opening her eyes.

“You’re sweating.” He wiped his hand over her forehead and she opened her eyes to see moisture on his fingers. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked knowing vampires don’t sweat unless there is something really wrong with them, like thinking a piece of white oak stake was working its way to their heart.

“I feel okay. I’m just hot.” She sighed realizing that the sheets were sticking to her skin. As she threw them off of her and sat up her stomach growled. “And hungry.” She pushed herself out of bed and walked over to the thermostat on the wall. “It’s eighty degrees in this house. I’m hot because it’s hot in here.” she said with a confused shake of her head. “And I’m not hungry for blood.” She looked at Klaus with a frown. “What the hell is happening to me?”

“I do not know.” He whispered looking down at her with worry clear in his wide blue eyes.

“Do you think Sophie’s doing this?” she asked as she tried to turn the temperature down, but it was already set to sixty eight. The air conditioning clearly wasn’t working.

“I will find out and have someone see to the air conditioning. In the meantime, you find a way to cool down and eat something.” He told her as he started getting dressed.

Katie threw the window to the room open and stuck her head out feeling a warm breeze on her face. “Well that’s not going to cut it.” she sighed then looked down and saw the pool. When she turned around she saw that Klaus was already gone. She didn’t have a swim suit so she threw on a set of underwear, a tank top and some Nike shorts then grabbed a bowl of cereal out of the kitchen and ate it as she went out to the pool. Thankfully since it was just now sun up the water was nice and cool.

She had eaten two bowls of granola cereal and was floating on her back in the middle of the pool when Klaus and Sophie found her. She swam over to the edge of the pool and Sophie kneeled down. “Witches are not the cause.” Klaus told her.

“He said you woke up hot and hungry.” Sophie said and she nodded. “Anything else feel off?”

“No, not that I’m aware of.” Katie said with a shrug.

“Are you still craving blood?” Sophie asked and to answer her question Katie let the blood rush to her eyes then pushed it back. “I’ll take that as a yes. Does the sun still burn?” Klaus stepped to the side, putting Katie in his shadow. She took off her daylight ring and set it on the edge of the pool then held her hand outside the shadow. Her skin sizzled and she jerked her hand back and put her ring back on. “What about speed?” Katie got out of the pool then whooshed around it. She then looked up at the pool house roof and jumped, landing on top of it. She hopped back down and whooshed over to Sophie. To test her healing, knowing that if she didn’t heal Klaus had her back, she bit her wrist. The three of them watched as the teeth marks healed.

“So what’s the diagnosis?” Klaus asked.

“I’m not a vampire doctor, but I think this is nature’s way of keeping a balance. You’re not supposed to be able to get pregnant. So nature is making you human to compensate. I can only guess that as your pregnancy advances you are going to start getting more human traits and possibly lose your vampire ones.”

“The hits just keep on coming don’t they?” Katie sighed and walked over to a lounge chair and sat down.

“And by the time she gives birth?” Klaus asked.

“Who knows?” Sophie shrugged. “She could still be a vampire or she could be completely human by then.” They all got quiet for a moment, lost in thought. “If you guys are done with me I have a restaurant I need to get back to.”

“Yeah, we’re done.” Katie told her looking up at her from where she’d been staring down at the concrete. “Thanks.”

As Sophie walked away Klaus walked over to Katie and sat down next to her. She propped her head up with her elbow on her leg and cheek in her hand. Klaus pulled her into his side. “Vampire or human, I will not let anything happen to you.”

She wanted to tell him not to make promises he couldn’t keep. Hybrid or not even he couldn’t save her from the claws of death if they came for her. Instead she wrapped her arms around his waist not caring that she was soaking his thin long sleeved shirt and pressed her face into his chest.

After a while she pulled back and moved around to lie back on the lounger with her legs in his lap. “So where are we on the air conditioning front?”

He pulled his phone out and looked at his texts. “They should be here any minute.” Not two seconds after he said that a van with a company logo on the side of it pulled up in the drive out front.

“Awesome. Until they’re done with that I’m gonna be out here,” she told him as they both stood up, “taking a swim to deal with the muggy Louisiana heat.” She grabbed her cell phone and turned on some music before she dove into the pool.

When Klaus came to tell her that the air was fixed he found her doing handstands in the pool. When she came back up for air she saw him smiling at her. “I always forget you were a cheerleader.”

“Should I find ways to remind you?” she asked with an arched brow as she swam over to the steps and walked up them.

“Perhaps you should ask Caroline to send you your uniform.” He told her with a smirk and his hands folded in front of him.

“I might just do that.” she laughed then saw the air conditioning van leave. “Is it fixed?”

“Yes, it should be cool soon.” He told her, placing his hand on her cheek, hating what this pregnancy was doing to her.

They were walking through the back door when Rebekah found them. “You were right. The girl, Cami, she’s the key. Marcel likes her, and because of that I got to see the secret weapon of his that you’ve been going on about.”

Katie had heard about the secret weapon that let Marcel have control over the witches, but she had no idea who Cami was. She made a mental note to ask Klaus about her later. “Well, don’t stand on ceremony. What is it?” Klaus asked.

“It’s not a what, it’s a who. A girl, Davina. She can’t be more than 16 and I have never felt power like that.” Rebekah told him.

“A witch.” Klaus gathered.

“She’s not just any witch. She’s something I’ve never seen before, something beyond powerful and now because of you she has Elijah. Who knows what she could do to him.” Rebekah told them.

“Where is she?” Klaus asked.

Rebekah opened her mouth to answer, but stopped. “That clever bitch…I don’t know.”

“Why not?” Katie asked curiously.

“She wiped my memory of the location.” Rebekah answered then looked at Klaus. “Marcel possesses a weapon bigger and more powerful than an original and you handed our brother to him!” she yelled at him. “How many times will Elijah forgive you? How long until his hope for your redemption finally dies?” she turned and headed for the door.

“I did what I had to do!” Klaus yelled at her. “Marcel took our home.”

“And our home is worthless without family!” Rebekah turned and yelled back. “I am finding Elijah, whatever it takes. Are you going to help me?”

“Whatever it takes.” He agreed then looked back at Katie, who had been standing a few feet away from the arguing siblings, then back at Rebekah.

“I’m…gonna go dry off.” Katie said with a point up stairs.

“Yes why are you soaked anyway?” Rebekah asked.

“I’ll let Klaus take this one.” Katie told her then went upstairs and left Klaus to tell or not tell Rebekah about the new development.

TVDTVDTVD

That afternoon she was sitting on the bed, working on a song in the back of her journal with earbuds in her ears when Klaus walked in and looked over her shoulder at the book. I will hold my head up high. You will never see me cry. I’ll smile and say I’m good, but I would fall apart if I could. She wrote a line then scratched it out, stared at the book for a second, wrote something else then scratched it out again, sighed then threw the book into the corner of the room with an aggravated growl. He pulled an ear bud out making her jump and look behind her. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know you’re suffering from writer's block.” He told her and she took the other bud out of her ear. “What’s weighing you down, Little Phoenix?” he sat down beside her and pulled his leg up on the bed.

“The fact that your little phoenix may very well be burning out for the last time.” She told him quietly not looking at him, but at the brown, tan and red comforter on their bed.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed and pulled her into him, “you are not going to die, do you hear me?”

“We don’t know that.” she argued. “What if having this baby takes everything out of me and I simply slip away?” a tear slipped down her cheek and he wiped it away. “What if by the time this baby comes I am 100 percent human? What if-”

He put his hand over her mouth to shut her up and when he moved his hand she bit her lips shut. “We could spend the coming months asking what-ifs.” he pointed out. “Or we could take things day by day and make the most of each passing moment.” Katie took in a deep breath as she lifted her shoulders then let them fall as she let the breath out. “We are in un-traversed territory. Do not let your mind run away with you, yes?”

“Okay.” She told him with a nod.

“Yeah?” he asked again, looking for a little more oomph from her.

“Yeah.” She answered again, but it wasn’t good enough.

“Smile.” He told her and she pulled her lips back awkwardly showing off her perfect teeth. “You’re silently growling at me again, Love. Smile or I will find a way to make you smile.”

She pursed her lips and glared at him exaggeratedly making him realize that she was now messing with him. When he started tickling her sides and attacked her neck with a growl, a genuine laugh left her. “Okay, okay, okay. You win. I’m smiling.” She laughed and he pulled away to look her in the eyes and she slipped her hand over his cheek. “Thank you, Big Bad Wolf.”

“Any time, Little Phoenix.” He replied then pressed his lips to hers. When the kiss broke she pulled her tank top over her head, then took his thin long sleeved shirt off him and pulled it over her head. She gathered up the sleeves that hung over her hands in her fist and wrapped her arms around herself. “If you are cold I can turn the air up.” He told her with a smirk.

“I know where the thermostat is at, but this way I get to smell like you.” she argued and sniffed her shoulder. He shook his head and moved around so that he was leaning back on the head board then pulled her into his lap. “Plus I like the view.” He chuckled at her. “Seriously though, if you don’t want me to wear your shirts I won’t. I know some guys complain that girls' boobs stretch out the fabric and they don’t fit right anymore.”

“Believe it or not most men find it quite sexy when their woman wears their shirt.” He assured her and she smiled, a bit of a blush coloring her cheeks for the first time in a while. She got quiet, memorizing his lean muscular torso as she trailed the fingertips of one hand over it. “What’s on your mind love?” he asked knowing from her hand that played with her necklace that she was thinking about something more than just how much she liked the view.

“Who’s Cami?” she asked, not looking up from her hands on his torso.

“A bartender at Rousseau’s.” he answered simply.

“A bartender is somehow the key to finding Davina?” she asked, trying to make sense of the information he’d been withholding. He’d been giving her detailed play by plays of his outings, but he hadn’t mentioned Cami.

“She has caught Marcel’s eye and she’s human. We can use that against him.” he explained.

“I’ve only met Marcel once, but he totally had an ‘I’m hot, I know it and I’m a total player’ vibe going on. What’s so special about a bartender that would make a guy like him so interested?” She asked.

“She’s beautiful and an abnormal physiology major, so she’s smart.” He answered.

“Beautiful, smart, probably able to read you like an open book…doesn’t sound like your type at all.” Katie replied with an attitude.

“Is that jealousy I hear?” he asked with a bit of a frown.

“A little, yeah.” She answered, not one for being vague or playing silly immature games.

“I thought you trusted me.” he pointed out.

“I do it’s just…” she sighed, hating that she was being like this, but she couldn’t help it. “You haven’t mentioned her and apparently she has a decent part to play in the destruction of Marcel’s kingdom. Meanwhile I’m stuck here while you go out and about without any kind of indication that you’re taken. And you’re hot and as far as anyone knows available and the thought of someone hitting on you makes me want to punch something.” she closed her eyes and shook her head. “I know I’m being insecure and silly and jealous an-” he cut her off with a kiss then pulled away and cupped her cheek in his hand.

“I haven’t told you about her because if I did I’d have to tell you that I compelled her to go on a date with Marcel tonight then to tell me where he goes and who he sees. I’d have to tell you that I am toying with a woman’s emotions and making her date a man she sees as bad for her in order to use her as a spy.” he explained. “I knew you wouldn’t approve and you are stressed enough as it is. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

She sighed and brushed her fingers through her hair. “I…have a confession.” He pursed his lips with a frown and tilted his head at her. “I found the daggers that you hid under Rebekah’s coffin and moved them. I didn’t tell you because I knew you would get mad when I tell you that I’m not going to tell you where I put them.”

Klaus moved to the edge of the bed, opened the bottom drawer of his bedside table, took out a false bottom and pulled out two daggers wrapped in a dark blue cloth. “You mean these daggers?” he asked as he showed them to her.

“You knew?” she asked with a confused frown and he nodded. “Are you mad?”

“I was at first, but I know you just as well as you now me, Sweetheart.” He told her with a smirk. “You’re protecting your village. Doing your best to ensure our baby has the best possible life. I can’t be mad at you for that.”

“And I can’t be mad at you for using Cami to get to Marcel. I’m sorry for getting jealous and for moving the daggers.” She told him as she scratched the back of her neck, ashamed of her actions.

“It seems we have underestimated each other.” he told her.

“Well, your super heightened personality trait is your temper so…” she pointed out.

“Yes, but yours is your open minded understanding.” He countered. “And it seems that when it comes to you…you have rubbed off on me.” she blinked and gave him a fleeting smile. “No more secrets.”

“No more secrets.” She agreed with a nod.

He took a deep breath as he picked up the daggers and wrapped them back up in the cloth then sighed as he said, “I am going to regret this…” he grabbed her hand and put the daggers in it then closed her hand around them. “Hide them better this time. That loose brick was way too easy to spot.”

“Well, I did learn my object hiding skills from the same guy who hid the moonstone in a bowl of soaps and a white oak stake in the pile of firewood.” She shrugged. “You sure you won’t hate me the next time you feel like daggering one of your siblings?”

“I’m sure I’ll be livid, but I could never hate you.” he answered as he watched her lean over the edge of the bed and put the daggers back where he’d gotten them from to be hidden later.

“And you already know I could never hate you.” she told him as she moved back to sit in his lap. “So did you tell Rebekah about the new development with me and this pregnancy?” she asked as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Yes I did.” He answered.

“And now that a rush has been put on the order of one original brother, what’s the plan?” she asked.

“I’m simply going to ask Marcel for him back.” he answered simply.

“And if he tells you no?” she asked

“War.” He answered as if it were the obvious answer.

“Awesome.” She sighed and let her head fall forward onto his chest. After a few minutes she lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. “So I’ve been wondering for a while now-”

“Uh oh.” He commented.

“It’s not an uh oh.” She told him with a shake of her head and a pointed look. “What did you look like when you were a kid? You’ve seen baby pictures of me and pictures of me growing up, but I’ve only ever seen you as you are now, and in the early to mid 1800’s when you had long hair. I like it like this, by the way.” She said with a point to his short hair.

Klaus took her hand and kissed the underside of her wrist and the image of a young boy looking at his reflection in the trickling water of a river took over her mind's eye. He looked to be around nine or ten with light blond hair that stopped at his eyebrows, blue eyes and cheeks that Katie liked to call pinch-able. When he took his lips from her wrist the image faded. “You were a cute kid.” She told him with a small smile.

“And you were a chubby kid.” He told her with a cheeky smile.

“I grew out of it…eventually.” She told him defensively. “Speaking of which, I’m hungry.” She pushed herself off of him and headed down to the kitchen.

He watched her start cooking dinner. “Elijah said you couldn’t cook.”

“I couldn’t cook in the eighteen hundreds.” Katie corrected him. “And I really don’t like cooking now since I was forced to take home economics by my misogynistic grandfather.” She told him. “But I can, if I have to.” He watched her place two chicken breasts on a cutting board. “Do you like chicken parmesan?” she asked as she started looking through the drawers in the kitchen for a meat mallet. He hummed a positive answer. “Good because it’s the only thing we have the ingredients for and it also happens to be one of my best dishes.” He watched her pound the chicken breasts flat then start getting ready to batter the chicken. “I should probably start eating healthier now that I can’t rely on my vampire metabolism to keep me from gaining weight.” She pointed at him with the mallet, “So no more ice cream apologies.”

“Should I remove the four pints from the freezer then?” he asked with a point at the refrigerator.

“Hold up, let’s not go that far.” He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Okay, yeah maybe.” She sighed. “I think being a vampire has spoiled me even more than you have.”

After watching her cook for a few minutes he hopped down off the stool and placed his hands on her hips turning her to face him then pecked her on the lips. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?�� she asked with a motion to the oven.

“It’s a surprise.” He answered then kissed her again and let her go. “I’ll be back before dinner is ready.”

TVDTVDTVD

She was setting the table in the small dining room when Klaus walked in with a bottle of already chilled wine and two glasses and set them on the table. “It’s non-alcoholic.” He pointed out before she could say anything.

While she got their plates he poured the wine then sat down for dinner. After they had eaten half of the dinner she asked, “So…what do you think?”

“If I didn’t know you didn’t like cooking I would suggest you go to culinary school and become a chef.” He told her, making her smile with pride. They tried the wine at the same time and she was relieved when he made a face and forced himself to swallow. Katie couldn’t even make herself swallow it and spit it back into the glass. “You’re cooking is a hit and my beverage choice was a miserable plop.”

“I appreciate the thought.” Katie told him trying to make him feel better.

“No worries I always have a plan B.” he told her and a woman walked into the room, set a clean wine glass down in front of them then cut her wrist and filled Katie’s glass then Klaus’s. “I thought you might be getting tired of cold blood bags.”

Katie took a drink and hummed at the flavor and warmth of it. “You thought right.” The woman walked over to stand next to the fireplace and tucked her hands neatly in front of her. “You gotta bring girls home more often.” She told him as she set her glass down. When she looked up at him she saw a suggestive smirk on his face. “That…is not how I meant that.” she pointed out with an awkward look.

“I know, love.” He laughed. “And I would bring you fresh blood more often, but this town has rules about feeding on the locals. I still don’t know who’s local and who’s not. So I nabbed one of the tourists from Marcel’s party before she drank too much or was fed on by any of Marcel’s nightwalkers.” She looked over at the girls hand to see and M stamped on it with black ink.

“You’re awesome.” She told him with a smile then took another drink of the blood.

He was starting to understand that ‘you’re awesome’ was her version of I love you. The thought made him start to wonder when she was going to let herself say it and give into him. They were having a child together and dealing with everything her pregnancy brought with it. What was it going to take for her to finally let herself fully have him?

They ate in silence until they were done. “You’ve gotten quiet on me, Big Bad Wolf.” she pointed out. “Something on your mind?”

“Nope, just enjoying your cooking before it gets cold.” He answered with a shake of his head.

She didn’t believe him, but she let it go. “So, since we can’t go out on dates, what do you say we sit down at least once a week and have dinner together?”

“Will you cook?” he asked with an interested look as he put his elbows on the table and placed his hands together.

“Of course.” She answered.

“I thought you didn’t like cooking.” He pointed at her.

“I like cooking for you.” she admitted with a shy smile. “I can’t impress you with my sad painting skills, but I can with my cooking.”

“Then it’s a date.” He told her then sat back in the chair and Katie smiled.

“You think Sophie would share her gumbo recipe with me?” she asked curiously.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to even smell it without getting sick.” He said with an amused smirk.

“Now that the morning sickness has backed off for the most part I’ve kind of been craving it.” she admitted and he smiled, happy that she was finding things about New Orleans that she liked.

TVDTVDTVD

That night they laid in bed, Katie on her back with Klaus’s hand on her stomach as they both listened to the baby’s heartbeat. “What do you want it to be?” she asked curiously.

“Healthy.” He answered.

“No, what gender?” she laughed.

“A strong, beautiful, green eyed, auburn or copper haired girl so I can spoil like her mother.” He looked up from her stomach to her eyes. “What about you?”

“I want a strong, sweet, blond headed, blue eyed boy like his handsome father.” She answered. “A prince to take over his father’s kingdom one day. That way his father can show his mother the world.” She smiled when Klaus smiled and pressed his lips to hers not taking his hand off her stomach.

#the originals #the originals fanfiction #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x oc #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson x oc fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson x oc #elijah mikaelson x oc fanfiction #the originals oc fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 5 years ago

Text

Kingdom Collisions II

I've just finished a book and it made me cry so happily I thought I'd post a fanfic to commemorate it. Also I'm probably going to start an AWAE/AoGG account soon because I cannot fathom living my life without a space dedicated to my darling loves. Anyway that isn't relevant to the post. This is just a fun little fic I've been writing on the side to try incorporate more descriptions into my writing (I'm a known dialogue whore). I see fit to write it whenever I feel like, so updates may be far and few between, however I do hope you enjoy whatever does come out. I adore this moody ansgty side to jercy. It's been fun to explore.

Masterlist, cat-eye aquamarine

Leave me alone.

[we have known loneliness forever]

Why did I ever agree to this?

[so we do not quite know what it is like]

I never asked you to say yes!

[to want]

Fuck you.

[one another]

-lonliness is a two-sided conversation//badpoetry

Percy doesn't even look at his husband. Doesn't acknowledge his perfect hair, or blazing eyes, or how close they're sitting. He just stares directly out the car window, arms folded across his chest. The rolling hills and wild lavender dance past his vision as the car bounces along the gravel road. They are almost to their destination, to solid ground and quiet, peace. Despite the circumstances he is excited to be back at the cabin his family has owned for so many years. He relishes in the fact that he can escape somewhere that is untainted by the rest of his life. Throngs of people, and public demand, and never ending scrutiny.

He is nothing short of pissed that he has to share his safe place with someone he despises so sweetly it is honey on his tongue to talk to them. But his mother had insisted if they were to act like a married couple they would have to go on a honeymoon and he had only agreed if he could choose the place. She wanted to send them to some private beach in Spain where they could pretend to be alone, oblivious to the paparazzi that were sure to follow, and the people who wanted to meet not one but two crown princes. It was his final stance that if he were being forced to spend time with his husband, it would at least be where he could enjoy it.

"Prince," A crackling voice says through the speakers.

Percy clicks a button on the arm rest, "Yes Mr James?"

"The security team has secured the area, would you like us to drop the bags off before you head inside or after?"

"Whenever suits you Mr James, I'm going for a walk."

Jason who had since then, fallen asleep, jolts awake as they go over a particularly bumpy area.

"And your husband Prince?"

"Ask him yourself, I'm sure he has much to say on the matter." Percy huffs, turning away.

"Prince Grace,"

Jason glares at Percy unimpressed with his dismissal and his rudeness towards the driver.

"Yes James sir?"

"Would you like your bags dropped off before or after you enter the area?"

"Before please, I feel it will help me settle in much easier if everything is already there."

Percy wants to scoff, who talks like that? This pretentious, stuck-up, goodie two-shoes is who. He wants to stick his tongue out, settle their rivalry like five year olds battling to see who can scowl for longer. Mostly, desperately he just wants to get out of this damn car. His leg bounces in time with the bumps, and his hands fidget in his lap. For all his princely training nobody ever managed to get him to sit perfectly still. His mother had finally given up and started carrying drawing pads and pencils wherever she went.

"Can you stop moving!" Jason growls.

"If it bothers you so much get out and walk." He spits back.

An eye roll is the reply but by then the car finally rumbles to a stop and a security detail is opening their doors.

"Princes,"

"Thank you Madison, Arlo." He manages to grit before he stomps off down the path and disappears into the woods.

"Where are you going?" He hears his husband yell. He doesn't bother to reply, someone will tell the Prince.

He kicks at the dark soil and pulls breath after breath into his lungs. He needs to calm down. Just then his ears catch the soft bubbling of a stream and he heads in the direction of the noise. The woods are quiet and cool. A soft breeze flutters between velvety leaves and needled pines, stirring the undergrowth. He wants to become one with the trees, become a branch that sways in greeting and grows friends, and feels the wind wrapping around it every evening. He just wants to stop being human for a little while.

And then the stream is underneath him, soaking his fancy shoes and fine thread socks. He laughs, tugs them off and sits down in the middle of the cold, flowing water. He can feel it run into him like ice in his veins. He dips a finger in, then another, his whole hand and shudders at the smooth caress. It has been so long since he just got to be. Here in this little stream, pants soaking, hands turning blue he has never felt so faraway, out of his body. The world narrows to his fingertips, to the bead of water running down his ankle and joining its family once more. His brain is far and long forgotten, simply taking up space in his skull. He decides right then and there that if he ever comes back to this world he'll come back as a rock in the stream. To live in this beautiful, ever-moving world, where the cold is a kiss and you can never meet the same drop of water twice seems a good life indeed.

Just then he hears a rustle behind him. In an instant he’s on his feet, pulling a dagger from his suit jacket, a white-knuckled grip on the hilt.

"Whoever you are come out right now. I am not in the mood."

"Relax," A deep smooth voice says, "It's just me."

"Oh," He pulls his lips up in half disappointment, half relief it wasn't danger. "What do you want?"

"Mr James wants to know if you want five or ten of the guards here for the remainder of the time here."

"I want zero." He frowned, "I just want to be left in peace for the next few days."

"Well it's not an option so choose." Practical, always so practical.

"Leave five here, there's three other cabins about half a mile out on either side of ours that should be enough space. Everyone else can go home."

"Of course, I'll leave you to it then." Jason nods, stands there awkwardly for a moment longer and then disappears into the greenery once more.

Percy doesn't know what to do, doesn't know whether he should scream or cry or laugh.

He hadn't let himself think too hard about the events of the last few weeks. He had shoved every feeling but contempt and general dislike deep deep down into his cage and threw the key into the deepest parts of his ocean of thoughts. He wasn't sure he had the strength to unpack everything that had happened. When his mother had came to him all those weeks ago a heartbroken look in her eyes he knew whatever had happened would be nothing short of a disaster. Within the week he was promised to Crown Prince Jason Grace of Caelum and had been shoved into endless, meetings in which wedding arrangements and economic agreements had to be made.

He didn't even meet the Prince till the night before they were to be wed but by then Percy had despised the whole ordeal so intensely he hadn't any happiness or hope left in him to be kind to the Prince. And even if he did gave some it would have vanished completely upon their introduction. Jason looked at him with such calculating authority he had reminded Percy of an old tutor who thought children should be seen and not heard, and learn whatever was given to them without question. Jason had been stiff, and unyielding, and looked just as unhappy or even unhappier to be meeting him. At dinner Jason only spoke when spoken too, he didn't fidget even once, and worst of all he somehow still managed to charm his mother in about five seconds. One dimpled smile, and a cute story about his first time riding a horse and Queen Sally Jackson had accepted him as one of their own. Percy on the other hand was ignored the entire dinner, and on the walk in the gardens, at the insistence of his advisor, they hardly said two words to each other. Whether it was because Jason was lost in his own world or letting his displeasure for the whole ordeal simmer and burn into their company as Percy was he would never know. Either way the walk ended with a gruff, formal goodbye before they headed to their rooms.

Percy shuts out the politics of the arrangement and how his life has turned into this unrecognizable hurricane of chaos. He cups some of water in his hands and drops it over his curls. Letting it drip down his temples and catch on his collarbones. The coolness soothes him, as water has always done. Finally when his blood is no longer boiling with hidden anger he steps out of the stream, picking up his discarded shoes and socks and sinks into the earth with each step.

The cabin has a soft orange glow in the windows, and the many cars that escorted them have disappeared. He throws his belongings by the door, shucks his pants off and steps inside. The interior is just as he remembers it. Where the castle was dripping with opulence and royalty, the cabin was simple and stripped to the bare essentials. He had always loved the place. Even when he was little and his mom would whisk him away for a secret weekend. She would pack hoards of cookies and ice-cream and light the fire immediately. They would sit on the soft, fleece rug, her with a book and him with his sketchpad, sipping cocoa and spooning ice cream straight from the tub. Then he didn't have to be the prince one day inheriting the crown and she didn't have to be the Queen dealing with every problem under the sun. They hadn't been back in a good few years and he misses everything about the space. He is silently grateful that Jason has lit the fire. Something familiar to hold onto.

"You're back." The Golden Prince says.

"Astute observation." He rolls his eyes but the blonde doesn't look up from whatever he's doing.

Percy walks into the space, shrugging his suit jacket off and unbuttoning his wrinkled white shirt. He hears a sharp inhale and glances up to see a red cheeked Jason staring at him.

"Why aren't you wearing any pants?"

"Oh," He laughs softly, "Yea they were wet so I took them off before I came in."

He sputters and blushes, glancing down and then peaking back up again.

"You alright there Prince?"

Jason clears his throat, and Percy watches that golden Adam's apple bob. His skin prickles with heat and he knows its time to go.

"I'm going to shower. I'll give you a tour afterwards if you want."

"That would be great."

With a nod in which they both avoid eye contact and general pleasantry he disappears into one of the three rooms of the cabin.

His shower is scorching, water pummeling against tired muscles. His mother always says a good shower and steaming cup of tea can fix more problems than a board of professionals. So far she hasn't been wrong.

"Hey," He walks back into the lounge sometime later, looking down as he ties the string on his pants, "You ready?"

The house is dead quiet, save for the crackle of the fire and the soft wind that whispers in the grooves of the floor.

"Jason?" He frowns, moving to stand in front of him.

The Prince is fast asleep, head lolling forward, book still clasped in his hands. Percy takes in his husband for the first time. Unobstructed by either of their waking emotions, or the general hustling that had shrouded their lives. Jason, he grudgingly admits, is beautiful. His hair looks soft and golden, and when it catches the light of the fire he's sure it's made from sunshine itself. And his skin is such a startling contrast to Percy's rich brown colour. The Prince's body, now folded into an awkward bent angle as he lay across the velvet-cushioned chair, is lithe and graceful. Corded with muscle but somehow still smooth in a way only an uptight Prince with a personal trainer may ever achieve. At least, he thinks sordidly, if I'm forced to marry someone he is as darling as Jason.

The blonde stirs softly, hand twitching, before he settles back into his position. As awkward and unhappy the two are with each other Percy can't leave him here. He's sure the Prince will bend into a chair himself if he slept like that all night long. So he gently taps his husband's shoulder, waking him almost immediately. Jason has never been a particularly heavy sleeper, and it is worse when he finds himself in a place he doesn't know. He blinks up at the world, blue eyes bright. They reminds Percy of the cat-eye aquamarine, the gemstone sat at the base of every crown ever made for his kingdom. He wonders what it says that the colour of his husband's eyes are also the colour he most associates with home. Just as quickly he expels those thoughts, content to bask in his clear dispassion and irritation for as long as this should last.

Jason scrubs a hand over his face, "Sorry you wanted to take me on a tour?"

"No, no there's time for that tomorrow. Why don't you head up to bed."

"Oh, okay. Goodnight then,"

"Goodnight Prince," He says stiffly.

"Sleep easy."

A nod in return and they both retire to their rooms, content to put the last week far behind them. Bury it under dreams, and hopes, and the promise of a tomorrow where nothing has tarnished it yet.

Percy left his window open, watched the tree outside it sway gently. Maybe tomorrow he would climb it and become acquainted with the birds in the nest.

He falls asleep, finally, to the chirp of crickets and the soft rustle of whispering leaves.

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