#ignoring the laundry that needs be done. its cozy time.

[spade-club]

Dehydrated...

[avengersassemble-fics]

Stark’s Girl

part 013/015 “i’m not going anywhere”

previous part // next part

masterlist

word count 3.1k

The Avengers Compound has not changed one bit, albeit the lack of people roaming the halls was hard to ignore. Your first couple months with Nat had gone relatively smoothly and you didn’t have a single blackout episode yet, but you had been taking precautions. You didn’t tune into the news, opting instead for streamed episodes of that Office show tony demanded you finish. Natasha had introduced you to podcasts, but you were careful to avoid any of the ones about “Moving on After the Blip,” or “Remembering before the Blip,” because you were sure you’d lose it. Sometimes you chose to just listen to soft classical music, which was your choice for today. It was the weekend, things had been quiet on the communication end for Natasha, so she dismissed you for a couple days (not that she wouldn’t be able to call for you if she needed, but the idea of having free time was nice.)

Every week you set aside some time to come to the deserted half of the Residence hall.. The rooms that once were lived in by other Avengers were abandoned, and this was one of the most glaring reminders of what was lost four years ago. You had a pattern that you always stuck to, and you always started with Sam’s room, clearing off any dust that may have accumulated and repositioned the knick knacks that adorned the shelves that lined the walls. There were pictures of him with his flight partner wearing the wings that Sam had made his own. 

Vision’s room was a little more bare. And by a little more you mean it was basically two chairs and a painting. Nonetheless you made sure the painting always hung straight and no dust dared to stay on the famous Mulberry Tree. Sometimes you’d stop and wonder why Vision had chosen this painting out of everything, and almost always you opted for the answer that Vision admired Van Gogh’s acknowledgement of no matter his place in the world, all he could do was carry on and paint. Maybe that resonated with Vision, especially given his connection with Wanda.

Wanda’s room was more homey, you had always admired what she had done with the place. There had been a number of times she’d let you come in with a bowl of popcorn and you both would watch old timey sitcoms together. You took great care in making sure her room was exactly how she left it, and made sure to replace the vanilla sage wall scent just in case.

The last room that you often avoided was Steve’s. Nat said that he stopped by often for laundry purposes and to check in, but you had yet to see him since you moved back in. Was it an invasion of privacy or was it a nice gesture since you’d done everyone else’s? With a deep breath and steady hand, you pushed open Steve’s door and turned the light on and took in the sight.

It was almost exactly how you remembered it. The bed remained untouched all this time, still made perfectly just how Steve had done every morning. No one must’ve come in here in awhile, or maybe Steve did the last time he had come to see Nat, because there was a faint hint of his cologne in the air. You did notice that the small touches Steve did have in here were long gone, the only hint that anything had adorned the shelving in the room was the faint outlines that were slowly but surely being covered by dust. You hesitantly ran a dust rag over the shelving, going row by row before beeping interrupted your cleaning regime.

“Stupid earphones,” you grumbled and took them out your ear and shoved them into your pockets. You made a note to self to charge them when you went back to your room (and not run them through the washer like you did with tony’s pair that one time). You reached down for the windex to spray the mirror that hung on the wall when you gasped at the sight of someone standing behind you.

“What the hell, Steve,” you exclaimed. 

Steve stood in the doorway holding a basket with what looked like a heap of clothing in it. The small smile that graced his face let you know that he was amused, and not afraid to show it. “So we’re breaking and entering now?”

The callback to your first meeting post-Siberia fallout didn’t fall flat. You stood a little straighter and motioned towards the door. “I um.. I did the other’s and thought I should do yours too.”

“That’s a nice gesture,” Steve confirmed. He took small strides into the room, never giving off more than a casual vibe, and set his basket down on the bed. Steve proceeded to start folding the clothes he pulled out and you weren’t sure if you should leave or not, but the feeling was quickly squashed. “Don’t let me stop you from your routine.”

The term he used made you raise a brow, but you also didn’t question him on how he knew of your routine. Instead, you turned back to the mirror and sprayed it down, and wiped away the liquid with paper towels. The only sound in the room was the light squeaks made from your wipes, and the soft sound of his clothes falling into folded piles. When you finished you turned around and set the windex in the carrier you had with more cleaning supplies which caused him to look up from what he was doing. “Right I should.. Get out your way.”

You grabbed the carrier with no objection from Steve and made your way to the door. As much as it pained you to admit it, sometimes you missed his company. Steve had always been the one person you felt at home with, besides Tony and his family of course. But with Steve it was like.. Like how Pepper and Morgan were to Tony.. His family. Steve had begun to feel like yours, and maybe that’s why it was hard to not have that anymore. But his voice tore you from your thoughts, and froze you in your tracks. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“What?” You asked, unsure if he was even speaking to you. You turned around to him and he indeed was looking your way, folding a shirt in the process.

“Have you had dinner?” He asked again.

“Uh,” you checked your wrist and the watch you were wearing blinked back up at you that it was 6:45. “Actually no I haven’t.”

“Nat was planning on a late night to catch Rhodey on an update on a mission,” Steve started, placing the shirt he was folding down behind him and meeting your gaze again. “I was thinking Thai?”

You didn’t answer right away, averting your gaze to the floor in thought, which made Steve smile. “Oh come on.. I know it’s your favorite.”

You couldn’t help but laugh and raise a brow at him. “We’ve resorted to bribery?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Steve admitted. You found yourself biting your lip and finally gave him a nod.

“Alright, I’m game, but only if I get some of those little cheese rolls,” you countered. Steve nodded with a grin on his face.

“Deal. I have another load finishing but let’s meet in the kitchen in.. Thirty?” He asked.

You nodded in agreement and took a step back out the room, “Thiry.”

It was a nerve wrecking thirty minutes. Did you dress up? Why would you even dress up? Steve was just being.. Nice. That was all! And you weren’t so easily swayed with the offer of food, though the grumbling in your stomach said otherwise. When you had caught a glimpse of yourself you hurriedly changed out of the disheveled shirt you had been wearing and threw on some sweater you had found in your closet. It was warm and cozy, but also more put together. Did you want to look put together? God, why were you even stressing out like this? Steve and you were done, finished, over.. But you couldn’t help but think back to his smile. The damn smile was enough to make your head feel light. You tapped your phone against your thigh when a message came thru from Nat, and you scoffed at it.

Nat: Give me a heads up if things get steamy, I don’t want to hear make up sex tonight.

You weren’t going to reply, even when she double texted using that winky face emoji with its tongue out. You opened your bedside drawer and tossed your phone in there and decided you weren't going to stress about this anymore. You were going to go down to the kitchen and enjoy your favorite food from your favorite place (did Steve remember that too?) and.. See what happens. Go with the flow is what Tony always told you right? You didn’t want to stop and think if that applied to dealing with Steve again, and instead threw open your door and made your way to the kitchen.

The sweet and savory aroma that filled your nose as you came into sight was welcomed, and the sight of the familiar logo of the restaurant made you even more giddy. Steve did remember. He was pulling out take out boxes and the given chopsticks and dressings when he glanced up to see you approaching, and cracked a smile while he continued to lay everything out. “I think I remembered everything.. Shrimp pad thai, level three spice.. Let’s see..”

He drifted off as you watched him pull out another smaller box and give a little nod to himself. “Soft spring rolls with the peanut sauce,” he paused and pulled the small container of liquid out of the bag. “And as promised, an order of cheese rolls.”

He set everything aside and you chuckled, “Wow you really remembered everything down to the sauce.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of my word,” he motioned to the rest of the common space. “Maybe we can watch something while we eat?”

“Sounds good to me,” you agreed, and carefully with stacked takeout boxes, Steve and you made your way over to the common area, sitting on the same couch but with a comfortable space between you two. The night divulged into the two of you eating dinner, and Steve had picked one of the shows Wanda had introduced him to, called I Love Lucy. You weren't sure how long you both had stayed in the same spots, but the food was long gone, and it was pitch black outside. But you were.. Comfortable. You were enjoying his presence, though you both did still keep your distance. It was significantly colder now since there wasn’t much movement in the room, and you sat back with your legs under you and arms crossed over your body, your sweater no longer much help.

Steve took notice a while ago and had periodically checked his watch. The time neared closer to 11, and knowing you sooner or later you would fall out. The lights may have been dimmed but he could see the way your hands pulled your sweater cuffs to cover your fingers. But you didn’t make a move, which he didn’t know why. Well.. He kind of knew why because he had felt the same way. He was just as nervous as you were, but he didn’t want to see you suffer in silence. “It’s gotten a bit chilly, I’m gonna grab a blanket real quick.”

You had let out a small mhm, and Steve stood and walked over to the cabinets that surrounded the tv you both were watching, and grabbed one to use. He proceeded to sit back where he had been all night, and spread the blanket over his lap. As he fiddled with the fabric he glanced your way and saw you eyeing the soft cover, and he lifted the part closest to you. “There’s plenty to share if you want?”

You weren’t so hesitant this time. Steve only held the blanket open for you for a few seconds before you grabbed a hold of it and slid yourself closer to him so the blanket covered you fully. You glanced his way as you made yourself comfortable right by his side, and cleared your throat. “Thank you.”

You knew what he was doing, you weren’t completely blind to it, but you also were grateful that he wasn’t making it a big deal. Because it wasn’t right? It was just two adults watching tv, who had dinner together, and sharing a blanket. Totally, completely innocent. You were forced to refocus on the screen when Steve shifted next to you, and his arm draped on the couch behind you.

Innocent enough.. Right?

Steve was relaxing, he was getting comfortable. A few minutes passed before you decided to unwind a bit too. You relaxed deeper into the couch and pulled the blanket up a little higher, and let out a content sigh. In all honesty you couldn’t remember the last time you felt at peace like this. And it was thanks to Steve, which was a little infuriating to admit (because he knew what he was doing, you were sure of that). 

Steve was unsure what was running through your mind, but he knew it must’ve been working a hundred miles a minute. He tried his best to focus on the episodes that passed by, not even aware of how much time had passed when he felt you fall into his side. He glanced down and there you were, laying into his side with closed eyes, and it made him check his watch. Sure enough it was past midnight, which was right on time for you. He could hear the heavy exhales, and he moved very carefully.

The arm he had draped on the back of the couch (in all honesty, in preparation for this moment) he lowered down to hook around you, and used his hand to pull the blanket up higher. Steve kept his arm wrapped around you and relaxed back into the couch, then with his free hand he grabbed the remote and shut the tv off, the bright light fading from the room. The only cast of light came from further down the hall, and allowed him to fully gaze down at you.

Steve had forgotten how peaceful you looked while sleeping, even despite what he knew was running through your mind. So Steve did what he thought was best, he closed his eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep too.

Nat was not prepared to walk into the kitchen early in the morning and catch Rogers and you cuddling on the common room couch. But boy was she living for it. During her morning routine she had a shit eating grin on her face, and prepared her coffee as silently as she could. The coffee pot warmed up with a soft hum, she had made sure to load it with coffee grounds quietly, and when it was ready to be poured she opened up the cabinet, grabbed a mug, and closed it as loud as she could.

Bang.

The sudden noise was enough to startle you, causing your eyes to peel open and be met with the glaring sunlight that poured into..

Oh no. The common room. You were still in the common room.

Your eyes darted to where the sound had come from and there was Nat smiling into her coffee mug, and you slowly shifted your gaze up to Steve who was just waking up. You were now very aware that he was holding you which therefore meant you were cuddling with him. You had never gotten up so fast in your life, pulling the blanket up with you. Steve glanced Natasha’s way and then back at you, who was rolling the blanket up rapidly. “Oh-”

“I’m so sorry,” you offered, and even offered him the blanket back. Steve, with a raised brow, took the balled up blanket with one hand and you proceeded to shake his other. “Thank you for the dinner, Steve.”

And then you were gone in a flash. Steve sighed and set the balled up blanket down and rubbed his face with his hand when a chuckle from the kitchen. Natasha took a couple steps closer to him, and rested her shoulder against a wall. “You’re certainly playing with fire.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Steve replied as he stood from the couch. Natasha shrugged and tapped her fingers against the mug in her hands. “We fell asleep.”

“All I’m saying is you told me you were going to just ask to have dinner and call it a night.. But here we are,” she couldn’t help but laugh at the end of that statement and Steve rolled his eyes. “Sorry, it’s just.. Well it’s kind of cute how much you’re trying to deny you didn’t plan this.”

Steve shook his head, and without another word to Natasha he headed to your room. It was a familiar route, right down the hall from his old room, and the door was closed when he finally got there. He lightly tapped his knuckles against the door and rested his shoulder against the frame. He could hear the creak from your bed and your feet hit the floor, and in a few seconds you pulled open the door and blinked up at him.

“Hi,” Steve offered.

“Hi,” you replied back. You didn’t move and neither did he and Steve sighed.

“I’m sorry if that was.. Too much. Just wanted some company last night and lost track of time-”

“I’m sorry for falling asleep on you,” you cut him off. Steve couldn’t help the lopsided smile that spread over his face.

“It’s not a problem at all,” he reassured you. For a second a smile formed over your lips, but then it faded, and your expression fell.

“Steve… What are we doing here?” You asked him point blank. Steve inhaled deeply before lightly shrugging his shoulders.

“I guess I’m just.. Trying to do the right thing,” Steve offered. You smiled sadly at him and he motioned his hand at you. “I missed you and just.. I wanted to do something nice.”

“It was nice, Steve,” you whispered to him before taking a deep breath. “But I’m.. Not ready-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered to you. You met his gaze and he shook his head lightly at you, not breaking that eye contact. “As long as it takes.. I’ll wait.”

Steve meant what he said, and sure enough he started to come by more. He offered his companionship and in slow strides you accepted his invitations.. But one question looms.

Was Steve going to keep his word?

- - - - - - - - - -

taglist // message me to be added or feel free to add yourself!!

@elliee1497 @iizabxlla @bulbasor-charmander-2020 @littlemoistcarrot @dottirose @meraki–mei @littledaph @fckdusername @bisexuwhale9669 @mottergirl99 @vxidnik @anabutnotpro @ilovesupersoldiers @incorrect-artist @caseymcflurry @robindoesntloveme @cherryara @fightforspring @annetries @petlaufeyson @weasleyisourjedi @loganrwebb @marinettepotterandplagg @snarky–starky @emotionalcal @feelmyroarrrr @chewymoustachio @cass4nova @holy-rosewater @natdrunk @botchedzucchini  @booksarebae2000​  @chelseaxaz  @stealapizzamyheart

[sockablock]

When in sudden need of a place to stay, Caleb Widogast finds a room for rent at a price so low he can’t believe his luck. Ignoring the concerns of his friends, he moves in and quickly finds himself tangled up in the life of one Essek Thelyss, a reclusive scholar who may be even stranger than Caleb himself...

(start) - (previous) - (next)

Chapter 2: A Name to the Face

The sun lanced arcs across Caleb’s face as he set his phone down on the nightstand, and yawned.

He’d gotten used to sleeping in strange places during the last few years of his life, and there was a part of him that missed the coziness of his room back in his and Nott’s apartment. But the other part of him, namely the part comprised of bruises from too-narrow walls—relished in this chance to stretch out a little.

Eventually, he managed to sit up. The mattress did not dip sullenly with his weight, indicative of its newness and quality.

He glanced around. The door was closed, though Frumpkin was nowhere to be seen. Then again, mundane cats were already hard enough to confine; as a feline of the fey persuasion, Frumpkin went where Frumpkin pleased.

Caleb took his sweet time making the bed, adjusting the blinds, peering out the window over quiet streets, before eventually rifling through his cardboard boxes for something proper to wear. He also made a mental note to, at some point, ask Mr. Thelyss how the laundry worked.

Then he straightened his collar, took a deep breath, and wandered out into the kitchen.

—

Jester was nose-deep in a box of cinnamon rolls when Beauregard emerged from the shower. Peals of steam curled past the doorframe and dissipated out into the hallway.

“I thought those were supposed to last us the week,” Beau said when she noticed her roommate. “Didn’t we decide we wouldn’t go back to the bakery until Thursday?”

“Oh, but Beau,” icing shimmered in the corner of Jester’s mouth. “Beau, they’re just so tasty. I can’t resist.”

Beauregard pulled the towel off her head and gave her hair one last muss-up. Then she slung herself backwards into a chair and stole some frosting.

“Fair enough,” she licked a finger. “Just be sure to save something for Yasha when she gets back.”

“Back?” Jester’s cheerful demeanor vanished. “Oh, no, did she leave again? I thought she was done doing that!”

“Oh, no she didn’t run off, I think she just went to some errands, or something?” Beau scratched the side of her head. “She mentioned something about seeing a butcher.”

“Oh.” Jester relaxed. “Well that’s alright, then. Though we don’t really cook much.”

“Maybe she’s trying something new. It’s better than eating rats all the time, right?”

Jester gave this due consideration. “I think she only did that once. And then Fjord threw up, so she decided to stop.”

“Hm,” Beau shrugged. “I guess that’s nice of her. Oh, hey, speaking of stopping, what the hell is up with Caleb? Has he responded? With pictures and actual information?”

Jester groaned. “He’s being a real butt about it. He’s obviously there, but he isn’t sending us anything good.”

Beau raised a cinnamon roll. “The bastard.”  

— 

In the light of day, Mr. Thelyss’s kitchen gleamed with tidiness and disuse. In fact, it seemed like only the coffeemaker and microwave ever got any attention from their owner.

Caleb added another step to his mental moving day to-do-list: find the nearest grocery store and get some cereal. And coffee. And maybe a loaf of bread, if he was feeling extravagant.

He settled instead for pouring himself a glass of water and vowing that he would at least pick up lunch once he actually ventured outside. He slid into the kitchen, found a neutral-looking glass cup, and filled it up in the sink.

When he turned, he realized that something was different about the counter.

The little box of cheesecake was gone.

There was a note left, however. It read: Thank you very much, Mr. Widogast.

So, Caleb thought to himself. This meant that his mystery landlord had come home at some point in the night. And…as his gaze drifted past the kitchen and over to the front door of the apartment…yes, there in the foyer was a pair of shoes and a fine, but thin, black cloak.

Caleb had never seen anything like it before. It seemed as if the pattern had been designed to almost be worn like some kind of long poncho. Its hem brushed just over the floor.

What kind of person would wear something like this? The amused thought of vampire briefly flickered through his mind, but he shook it off and chalked it up to spending too much time with Jester.

He glanced back at the note. Something in him also registered: charmingly polite.

He shook his head. Speaking of Jester, he still had a promise to fulfill…

— 

“Fjord, those are ugly.”

“What? I think they look nice—”

“Nice won’t cut it! I need something amazing! It’s been months since I’ve last seen Yeza. I have to really blow him away.”

“Look, what you see is what we’ve got. And anyway, what’s wrong with Delphiniums—”

Nott was standing on a small turquoise stool that some of the more vertically-challenged customers of the Blooming Grove required to reach the counter. Her finger was swaying dangerously underneath the nose of a long-time friend and even longer-time frenemy, Fjord, currently on register duty.

All around them, the sweet and mellow scent of dozens upon dozens of coastal flowers twirled and trilled and danced through the air. Large windows set into the pale green walls let in sunlight and a view of the gardens out back.

“They’re blue!” Nott screeched. “I don’t want blue, Yeza’s going to think I’m not happy to see him!”

“Everyone likes blue,” Fjord said defensively. “Just look at Jester. She’s practically got a fan club. Fine, fine,” he added, when her expression didn’t change, “I can do you some roses—”

“Roses are cliché.”

“They’re a goddamn symbol of love, Nott.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I don’t just want a symbol of love, I want a symbol of…of passion. Of devotion. Of l—”

“Look, just wait a bit, and Caduceus will be back. He’s the one who actually knows the names of all these things,” Fjord sighed. “He’ll be able to tell you if those even are Delphiniums.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“How have you managed to keep this job, Fjord?”

“I don’t have to help you, you know.”

“Technically, I think you d—"

And then, their phones buzzed.

—

— 

Nott glanced back at Fjord.

“Do you think he doesn’t know?”

Fjord shrugged. “Let’s just see what he says.”

Nott groaned. “It’ll probably be hours until we find out.”

—

—

“He’s going to die tonight, then,” said Beau, kicking off her sneakers. The front door shut behind her with a click. “That’s, like, the first rule to committing a crime. Don’t let them see your face.”

“I think it’s kind of romantic,” Jester said. Now she was in the living room, sprawled across the couch. “It’s like…a forbidden meeting. Maybe he’ll never find out what Essie looks like. Isn’t that sad?”

“Essek,” Beau corrected, and set her keys aside. “And I don’t see what’s so sad about that.”

“Oh, but it is,” Jester lavished in her sigh. “The saddest and loneliest kind of thing. To never see who you’re living with? If you can’t even put a face to the name, you might as well be sharing your house with a ghost.”

Beau raised an eyebrow. “That’s…a little dramatic, but I see what you mean. Anyway, this is a point against the guy. In my books, that is. And I’m keeping track.”

“Oh? How many points does he have?”

Beau joined her on the couch and crossed her arms. “Not many. He’s mysterious, and weird. Those are negatives. Standoffish, if he didn’t even greet Caleb on the first day. And if he isn’t a criminal, and is actually renting out a place that cheap, he must be a total idiot. Or desperate.”

“For what?” Jester asked.

She shrugged. “Who knows? The company?”

— 

Essek was, as a matter of fact, quite desperate. Desperate for another five minutes of sleep.

It was now long after the Mighty Nein had given up on their interrogation, though he was not aware of this. Instead, what was most on his mind was the strange…the odd vibrating right next to his head.

Blindly, he reached out to slap his alarm. His hand connected, but the noise did not stop.

Then he realized that it was coming from the other side of the bed.

He shuffled around to take a peek.

An eye was staring back at him. Large and blue.

“What in the name of the L—”

The cat yawned, and its mouth stretched open to reveal rows of teeth.

Essek hesitated. He rubbed his face.

“How did…what is…”

And then the puzzle pieces slid into place.  

He racked his brain for the name.

“F…Fr…Frumpkin?” he guessed.

The cat yawned again. This time, it followed the gesture up with a mrpf, and unfurled its body. And stretched.

“Hm,” said Essek. “He did…warn me, but…I am not sure if I approve of you coming in here like this. Without announcement, especially.”

Frumpkin stared back up at him. He tilted his head and put on his most endearing expression.

“Well,” Essek relented in the onslaught of this, “at least you don’t seem to be the kind that sheds. Actually…”

He leaned in as close as he dared, a pair of icy eyes tracking his every movement.

“…actually, I’m not at all sure what kind of kitty you are. Your ears are…very long. And your markings are…”

And then Essek realized.

“A familiar?”

Frumpkin blinked at him.

— 

Caleb had found the grocery store on his second try, and had also made note of a bookstore and bus stop on the way there. Now, after a long day of scouting out the neighborhood, he was back in his bedroom again, sorting clothes. No use in holding off, after all, not even if it made him feel slightly strange to be putting all his things away in someone else’s bedroom.

He picked up a t-shirt and examined the back. STAFF, it read. He had no idea for what. The Broad Barn’s secondhand clothing pile was vague at best and hazardous at worst.

Another part of Caleb, the part not fully consumed by the current task at hand, registered the faintest sound outside. It was ruled out as being not important.

Caleb produced another shirt. This one had a picture of a cat on it, red beams of light shooting out from its eyes. This had been a New Dawn present from—surprising to everyone—Yasha.

It had thus far found a long and happy life as the top half of Caleb’s pajamas. He’d tried to wear it in public once, and been bullied mercilessly by Beauregard.

On the other side of the room, past the drawers and the bed, was a small folding table that had been set up by Essek, likely as a desk. It was the sort of low contraption that eliminated any possibility of chairs, but it made a lot of sense for apartment living and was sized well enough for sitting on the floor. It was miles above Caleb’s old arrangement, a piece of plywood on a milk crate.

Right now, this new desk was covered in reams upon reams of notebook paper. Contrary to expectation, however, this paper was not lined with the standard narrow rule of most academic stationary. Instead, a pattern of lines and circles extended out from the center of the page, covering every inch in an odd spiral. Dozens upon dozens of these sheets were strewn about now, with hasty pencil-markings splattered across the page.

A particularly keen-eyed individual might have noticed that some of the markings were crossed-out. Redoubled, re-arranged, re-placed, or removed.

A particularly keen-eyed individual with the right kind of background would have noticed immediately that many of these runes were transmutative.

Back on his side of the bed, Caleb was humming.

— 

When the cat—the familiar, likely a fey one, at that—did not decide to claw Essek’s eyes out, he gingerly picked it up under its forearms and carried it out of his bedroom.

He entered the living room, and saw that it was empty. The curtains were drawn open, however, and at this point the late-summer sun was just beginning to crest low over the horizon.

Essek raised an eyebrow at Frumpkin. “So. Where is your master, hm?”

Frumpkin meowed. It meant absolutely nothing to Essek, but he nodded anyway on principle.

“I understand that you are…well, from what I think I know about ordinary cats, you might like to wander around. But the same rules that apply to your wizard apply to you as well, okay?”

He walked Frumpkin into the living room and put him down on the couch.

“I would appreciate it if you did not enter my bedroom without invitation. The study as well, yes? Meow if you understand.”

Frumpkin stared at him. Frumpkin opened his mouth. Frumpkin closed it again.

It was a vague enough gesture that Essek could not tell if this was a response. He sighed.

“This is why I never bothered with getting one of you, you know. And I’m not even talking about the food bills. Er…do you eat?”

Frumpkin repeated the gesture. Essek repeated it back at the cat in a burst of childish impulse, then caught himself.

Gods, talking to Verin yesterday must have put him in an odd mood. And his brother had kept going on and on about life back in Rosohna, about how wonderful it is, Essek, how much Mother misses you, Essek, how I wish you’d visit, Essek—all that nostalgia couldn’t be good for the mind. Especially when unsolicited.

Still, this did not stop him from checking his messages in the kitchen while he waited for his morning—afternoon—evening—coffee to brew. In the background, Frumpkin rolled over on the sofa. Verin had mentioned something that he’d wanted to talk about, that he’d send over later…

Essek opened up their conversation. Then he scowled.

— 

A solitary figure stalked through the dimming streets of Nicodranas. She stretched, working out the knots in her back, upper arms, feeling the scabs on her knuckles and their sting.

She grinned, wide and toothy, in the sunset.

Unconventional, but it worked.

— 

Caleb had a perfect memory, and never forget anything. As such, the three core tenets of his tenancy in this apartment were virtually scored into his mind.

Be quiet. Be organized. And do the recycling.

Now he stood outside the apartment complex. The winding streets formed a gentle little plaza where the neighboring buildings all shared an open space, which included the public recycling cans.

There hadn’t actually been that much to take out, aside from an empty carton of ramen, a few cat food tins, and some assorted items that Mr. Thelyss must have left behind last night. Still, Caleb had wanted to prove how serious he was about following the Code of Conduct, and so had made the journey downstairs to be a responsible citizen.

The breeze wound around his ankles. Nearby, a few kids were running around with their mother, and a jogger moseyed past their street. It was a peaceful sight, underscored by the distant call of gulls and a setting sun.

Caleb had just nudged open the lid of the recycling bin when the shouting began.

Actually, it was less of a shouting and more of a heated argument, augmented by the harsh syllables of a language that Caleb did not recognize.

If he had, it would have sounded something like this:

“—impossible! I refuse. I did not give my permission—”

“Permission? Why would she need your permission—”

“Because it is my house! And this is my city—”

“Your city? Brother, you’ve only been there a few months—”

“It’s been a year and a half, Verin. A peaceful year and a half, mind.”

“Really? Well, I am certain it will remain that. And anyway, she’s not even going there for you.”

“Hah! I have a feeling that she is visiting Nicodranas expressly to do so. The gala is just an excuse for her to come here and poke into everything I’m doing—”

“Look, look, don’t shout at me. I am just the messenger. If you’re so upset, go and call Mother—”

Caleb swung the bag into the can. As he closed the lid, his curiosity got the better of him and he found himself surreptitiously scanning the perimeter with the universal creep of eavesdroppers everywhere.

Quickly, he found the source of the sound. There was a figure standing in front of his building, pacing back and forth underneath the awning, waving one hand around in frustration. The shadows prevented him from getting a better look, but the figure seemed lithe, and very annoyed.

Caleb would have to slip past him to get back inside.

Tactically, he pulled out his phone and pretended to be incredibly engrossed with its contents. Luckily, it seemed to work—and out of the corner of his eye he even noticed the figure hastily stepping aside.

Then, unluckily, the figure followed him.

Caleb didn’t dare look up. But he could feel the stranger’s presence trail him all the way into the elevator, then settle down next to him as the doors slid shut.

Caleb went to hit the number four. So did the stranger. Their fingers collided.

“Ah—"

“Scheisse, I am sor—”

And then he stopped.

Caleb Widogast was decidedly not a man of the world. He’d never left the continent of Wildemount, for instance, nor could he claim to have seen everything it had to offer. But he had fancied himself rather well-read, and believed that he perhaps had experienced more than the average person.

This was the first time in his life that he’d seen a dark elf.

He knew that they existed, of course, but in the way that he knew the names of far-off places, as distant trivia irrelevant to his life. He knew, for example, that they were native to Xhorhas, and that many of their societies lived underground. He knew that their closest civilization was ruled by a powerful queen. He also knew that in less-polite circles, some Empire elites still believed them to be backwater savages and monsters.

This one was wearing a green t-shirt. His hair was a messy sweep to one side.

“—ry.” He finished, as quickly as he could.

The dark elf shrugged. His eyes—a pale slate gray—took in Caleb’s appearance, then the number they’d both pressed.

“I do not recall ever seeing you,” the elf said. His voice was still a little strained, as if something from before—that argument, perhaps—was bothering him immensely.

“I, ah, I’m new,” Caleb said.

The elf raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

Then he turned back around to stare at the door. Caleb was more than happy not to engage. He just hoped he hadn’t stared long enough to offend a potential neighbor.

The elevator rose three floors. On the fourth one, it stopped.

He quickly ducked out, sandals pattering on the ground, and it was only once he’d gotten to the door of his apartment and started to punch in the code that he realized the elf was still behind him, still standing there, still annoyed, and so he turned—

— 

“Excuse me,” said Essek tetchily. “Why are you entering my home?”

The human blinked.

“Er…this is…where I live.”

“What? But—”

For the second time that day, Essek realized.

“Um,” said Caleb Widogast. “Would your last name...happen to be ‘Thelyss’?”

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

[inkribbon796]

Like a House of Cards Ch. 6: A Family of Eggshells

Summary: There’s precious little time remaining, and the city is set to change forever.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

It had all happened so fast for them. One moment they were all enjoying their time on the ship, and then the Host had come in to whisk them away because one of the Suits was coming to attack them. Of course, he hadn’t said that to Dark, but as they were waiting in the hallway the person that came around the corner wasn’t a hitman in a dark suit. It was Chase Brody, without a mask,

“Look Average, get out of the way, one of the Suits is coming down here,” King called out.

“The Host’s brothers and sister are mistaken, that is Clubs,” the Host corrected.

“Nah, can’t be right, he doesn’t actually use real guns, an’ Clubs’s killed like, a lot ‘a people,”[1] Yancy argued.

Illinois moved to start placing magical barriers, because if the Host said that was a Suit, Illinois was going to believe him.

“Illinois,” Brody called out, “did the Host tell yeh[2] why I’m here? I bet he didn’t.”

“Illinois should not listen to Brody,” the Host ordered.

“Why, ‘cause[3] we’re on the same side?” Brody sounded pissed. “Cause yeh’ve been lyin’ to him fer weeks? ‘Cause yeh ne’er cared about Dark.”[4]

“Brody has spoken a bold-faced lie!” the Host shouted. “Brody wants to kill the Madman and the Host is trying to prevent it.”

“He can’t die,” Brody dismissed. “All I’m gonna do is shoot him once an’ let him just fook off. I don’t know why yeh put us through this shite when yeh could’a just left us alone.”[5]

Just then the dome was shaken by the first hit from Logan’s robot. The walls flicked in and out of existence for a second and in that brief moment, Brody slipped through the wall.

He raced through the dining area and pulled a gun on Wilford and pulled the trigger, the magical round strike exactly where the very angry sniper had meant to hit: the left temple. Wil’s magic counteracting most of the blow, a light bruise and some blood from gazed skin would be all he would suffer from this wound.

But the dome cracked one final time and Brody raced for Dark who was braced with magic to attack. The dome snapped back to a smaller size and trapped Dark and the Suit inside.

Illinois took a second to realize what had happened, and raced over. He spared a glance to Wil who was grumbling as he picked himself up and motioned for Illinois to go on. So Illinois raced to the barrier and threw as much magic and physical force at the dome but it held much stronger than when the dome was larger.

“No!” Illinois screamed, trying to force a way in. “Come on, open.”

“Here, let me,” Wil tried to pick himself up and try to break down the dome but it refused to give. “Fiesty little bugger, ain’tcha[6]?”

“There is little point when the Anomaly isn’t done yet,” the Host walked up. “Clubs isn’t going to kill or hurt the Entity. They’re in fact in the single most protected spot in the city, at the moment.”

“Yeah, but we need to get him out,” Illinois told the Host.

The Host frowned, “Of course the Host and his family do but they need enough aura and the Host will have to get Marvin and Nate to help with that. If he could find a couple of the Sides that would help.”

“That was Clubs, what does he actually want?” Illinois demanded. “Bullshit time is over.”

“Clubs . . . he . . . Brody,” the Host began, trying to find a way to calm Illinois without making the situation worse.

“Host, this isn’t the time to be cryptic,” Illinois demanded. “What does he want?”

“Clubs wants Dark to be safe and to have vengeance for the Entity’s sake in equal measure,” Host forced himself to say.

“Well then this seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding then,” Wil huffed out. “Maybe we could talk to him then.”

“Brody is not interested in talking anymore,” the Host said.

Wil shrugged, and pulled out a gun out of thin air, “Oh well, we tried.”

“What does he want with the Ol’[7] Man then?” Yancy asked, and he looked around and saw the beanstalk shooting up into the sky. “The fook[8] is that?”

“Not our concern right now,” Illinois dismissed. “What does he want with Dark?”

“The Host already told Illinois,” the Host tried to evade.

“You’re being vague,” Illinois grumbled. “What does Clubs want and why does he look like Bro Average?”

“Because it is him,” the Host answered quietly.

Illinois glared at the Host in suspicion before looking at the dome, “Why is he so interested in him then?”

“Because in fifteen minutes Illinois and his siblings will lose one father and the other will grow distant in grief, and the Host has been desperately trying to prevent it. After the Madman dies, Brody and the Entity will—”

Illinois stormed off, wanting to get away from the situation, mostly because his mind couldn’t wrap itself around what the Host had told him.

Eric followed him over, Bim close on his heels. The rest of their family followed much slower, at least trying to pretend to give Illinois some privacy of thought.

When Eric and Bim finally caught up to him, Illinois was sitting on a pile of rubble. Eric came to sit down next to him, looking nervous. “Want to talk?”

“I just,” Illinois faltered, taking a deep breath. “I never thought about the possibility of there being another man in his life. They’ve always been together.”

“Maybe the old man got sick of Dad, he’s such a fucking hardass,” Bim thought out loud.

The adventurer turned to glare at his adopted brother, getting back on his feet, “Maybe it had less to do with the fact that Dark somehow betrayed Wil, and more to do with the fact that your dad is a cheating bastard who fucks everything that moves.”

“My dad?” Bim huffed in a rage.

“Now boys, there’s no need to—” Wil tried to cut in, but he was promptly ignored as he was walking up.

“Yes, your dad,” Illinois spat back, starting to get angrier. “Because maybe that fucker’s wrong, or maybe the rest of you actually don’t care because I spent fifteen damn, fucking years reversing whatever shit you managed to do in your first five.”

“Ex-fucking-cuse you?” Bim spat, his eyes going wild with anger, aura curling around him. “I didn’t do anything.”

“He never wanted any of us calling him dad, after five years of spending time with you. I kinda get it.” Illinois accused. “You had to have done something!”

“Guys, stop it,” Yan begged.

“Come on, we’s shouldn’t be fightin’,”[9] Yancy pushed his way in-between them.

“Get out of the way, Yanc,” Illinois shouted, pulling his lucky coin out of his pocket.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be placing the blame on me, I was never good enough!” Bim argued back. “He had to replace me with you!”

“I shouldn’t have had to replace you if you were a better fucking person!” Illinois shouted.

“Fuck,” King was just watching, trying to stay quiet before his brothers turned on him.

“Enough!” The Host shouted, his aura yanking Bim and Illinois apart.

“Boys, boys,” Wil moved in. “There’s no need for this, your father and I love all of you the same.”

“Not true, Illinois is the favorite,” Bim spat.

“I’m not the favorite, you are,” Illinois spat back.

“The Host said STOP!” The Host demanded, concentrating. “Now if Bim and Illinois are done airing their family’s dirty laundry where anyone can hear, there’s precious time and the hunters are closing in.”

“Fuck,” Illinois growled and most of the group headed back to the dome while King and Host went to go and find Marvin and Nate to help pop the barrier.

Dark woke up slowly, like being roused from a deep sleep. Groaning, Dark looked around to see he was in a bedroom, in a bed that wasn’t his and a home that wasn’t the Manor. Quickly Dark got out of bed and found he was still in his white suit. Which he found he appreciated a lot more the more he thought about it.

When he got to the door he opened it easily with his aura. There was no lock or barrier of any kind. And there was the sharp smell of bacon coming down from the hallway.

The only other doors he found were off to the side of the bedroom he’d been in that lead to a full walk in closest that contained all types of suits and clothes. In the hallway that was a bedroom with a bunk bed and a mass of clothes and toys strewn about inside. There was a hallway closet, an immaculately kept office that Dark found that he wouldn’t have designed the placement and decorations of any better if he had tried, and a hallway bathroom.

Following the scent of home cooked breakfast and bacon, Dark saw Brody standing in the kitchen. The hitman turned around and smiled at the Entity.

“Finally awake?” Brody smiled. “Good, I was a little worried.”

He separated out food and coffee onto two spots of the table, seated for four. As Dark watched from a cautious distance.

“I figured yeh didn’t trust me enough ta eat anythin’ I made, but I made some fer yeh anyways,”[10] Brody offered. “I got yer[11] coffee, just the way yeh[2] like it.”

“You’re right,” Dark scoffed, looking around. “I’m not going to take or eat anything you give me.”

Chase gave a wry, amused chuckle, sipping on his coffee. “I figured.”

Dark looked at the three shoes by the door, one pair of adult sized boots, and two pairs of black and white child-sized shoes. They were such small shoes, judging by the size the children who wore them couldn’t be any older than three or four. A nostalgic pang hit Dark as he remembered when Bim had been that small. It had been an incredibly difficult time in his life, but he didn’t regret a second of it.

“What do you want?” Dark demanded.

“I already have what I want,” Brody smiled as he sat back in his chair. “Yer in here safe, an’ in about fifteen minutes the barrier will dissipate on its own an’ yeh’ll be free ta go. In fact, I’m not e’en keepin’ yeh here. Host just turned on the Anomaly an’ we’re stuck here until it pops again. So I figured we should kick back an’ relax until it does.”[12]

Dark shielded himself in his aura and looked around the place. It seemed like a cozy home. There was a box full of toys in the living room, more evidence that the children who lived here were on the young and small side. “Who’s house is this?”

“Legally my name’s on all the papers,” Brody told him. “I live here with my family. It’s a nice place, not too big, not too small. The boys love it.”

“Yes, I saw the toys,” Dark tried stalling for time as he spread what aura he could spare from shielding himself to investigate the place. The front door wouldn’t budge, it was like it was a painting on a wall rather than functional . . . as were the windows and the back door. “And the shoes.”

“Oh yeah,” Brody hummed, he was staring at Dark.

Which was weird because there was no malice in the state and he’d taken great pains to make himself as comfortable in the kitchen chair as possible, so if he struck then Dark would have more than enough time to counter.

“Just tell me what you actually want,” Dark huffed out, unused to such singular attention. “Is it information?”

“I just want ta[13] spend time with yeh[2],” Brody frowned, “an’ I already told yeh, I don’t want any money or anythin’ like that.”[14]

Then his smile came back, “Besides, there’s nothin’ about yeh that I don’t already know. I know about Marc an’ about the fact that he an’ his whole family stole e’erythin’ from yeh. I know about what a shitebag yer ex was. I e’en know that there’s this lovely spot behind yer ear that yeh—”[15]

“Enough,” Dark spat, a dark grey-purple blush spreading across his face. “I do not appreciate being made fun of. Why keep me here if you didn’t want something? Everyone wants something.”

Brody waved his hand in dismissal, “That right there is our problem, but soon it won’t be a problem. The barrier will collapse an’ yeh’ll be free ta go about yer day. An’ I’ll be here, waitin’ fer yeh if yeh need anythin’ from me.”[16]

The house seemed to shake as an incessant pounding attacked the door. The protective dome around them shaking. With a couple shakes, the coffee mug intended for Dark rattled and fell off the table, shattering on the floor in a mess of lukewarm coffee and broken ceramic.

“Fook,”[8] Chase grumbled and ran to the door to throw his weight and aura at it to try and keep it closed. “Fook[8] off, Host.”

The house flickered twice and the tentative magic snapped. Brody saw four sources of magic pointed right at him: Nate, Marvin, the Host, and Illinois.

Their combined magic knocked Brody to the side.

“Darky!” Wilford rushed over as Dark saw in the distance the hunters start to converge on their location, finally getting through the destroyed parts of the city.

The Guildmaster and Dark took one look at each other in the chaos of the commotion around them. She took as much magic as she could collect, having saved up as much strength and aid from the myriad of magical items and trinkets she had collected over the weeks and months while the Suits — Spade in particular — had attacked her hunters and fired it at Clubs first but as he was removed Dark was still in the path of destruction. Which wasn’t a trade off she was lamenting.

And then Wilford cut right in front of Dark, trying to see if he was okay.

In an act of panic, born from the months he’d been on edge with the Suits, Dark threw a portal in front of him and Wilford unwittingly stepped through it. The portal took him several feet to the right and the Entity was hit by the full might of the single strongest attack he had ever felt in the hundreds of years of the demon’s existence.

The strike cut through the aura that he tried to gather up to shield himself, it hit Damien first whose soul was in the front. Celine screamed inside their shared mind . . . and the body flickered briefly to the much smaller and weaker being that had once inhabited it before the combined force of the Entity had pushed them out.

Toppling backwards, Dark blacked out and fell to the ground. The body’s form flicking dangerously between all of their appearances as Dark’s souls were starting to crack and break at the seams.

And Dark’s souls weren’t the only ones screaming.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. Nah, can’t be right, he doesn’t actually use real guns, and Clubs has killed like, a lot of people,

2. you

3. because

4. Because you’ve been lying to him for weeks? Because you never cared about Dark.

5. All I’m going to do is shoot him once and let him just fuck off. I don’t know why you put us through this shit when you could have just left us alone.

6. aren’t you?

7. Old

8. fuck

9. Come on, we shouldn’t be fighting

10. I figured you didn’t trust me enough to eat anything I made, but I made some for you anyways

11. your

12. You’re in here safe, and in about fifteen minutes the barrier will dissipate on its own and you’ll be free to go. In fact, I’m not even keeping you here. Host just turned on the Anomaly and we’re stuck here until it pops again. So I figured we should kick back and relax until it does.

13. to

14. and I already told you, I don’t want any money or anything like that.

15. Besides, there’s nothing about you that I don’t already know. I know about Marc and about the fact that he and his whole family stole everything from you. I know about what a shitbag your ex was. I even know that there’s this lovely spot behind your ear that you—

16. That right there is our problem, but soon it won’t be a problem. The barrier will collapse and you will be free to go about your day. And I’ll be here, waiting for you if you need anything from me.

[stennnn06]

A Simple Favor

Lena's office is still decorated the same way Sam remembers it -- still stark white and coldly modern -- but the L-Corp logo has been replaced by one much more tragic. Sam chances a glance around, absorbing the small changes around her and sighs. The flowers on Lena’s desk are dyed a deep, dark purple, and they stand out in the way that they simply don’t belong. A stain on a perfect white shirt, glaring and piercing and wrong. Her old desk always had a vase of beautiful white flowers, and for some reason, their absence seems the most tragic of all. 

Sam wonders if she would have noticed right away. Like if she walked into the office just as an unsuspecting guest on business, if she would see the way Lena’s legacy has been cast aside. She knows that’s absurd, because how would she even know to think about it that way? But something deep down inside grabs hold of her, this fantastic idea that maybe she just knows Lena better than anyone else.  

But in reality, this “new Earth”, because that’s a thing now, started off mostly the same, until Lena called her and informed her that everything is in fact, different. And it’s all wrong. 

Of course it is.

She felt it, sort of. She felt odd, like when a laptop insists it needs an update only to restart and seem to work a little bit worse. It felt weird to sing Lex’s praises, but she chalked it up to being stressed and tired and altogether not that interested. But when Lena looked her in the eye and showed her the truth -- the real truth, and not some version that apparently everyone believes now -- well, that certainly explained something. It’s awful, too, in all the ways Lena comes out of this scenario a little more broken, a little more hopeless. Sam remembers the way she started from ashes and worked and clawed her way to something resembling respect in a mere four years. How she took her family name and resurrected it with hope and goodness, and how none of that even matters anymore. 

L-Corp is gone, because it never existed, and Lena is back in the shadows, because in this version of events, she never left. 

So yeah, everything is different, but not the fundamental stuff. Not the stuff that Sam wouldn't mind being different. Like her hopeless feelings for Lena, and the fact that even in this timeline, they aren't together. Or how her heart flies out of her chest anytime Lena looks at her a certain way, and how they still have this connection that seems to only get stronger and more poignant despite the distance. Sam thought for sure it would fade at least a little once she went back to Metropolis -- or, you know, when the Earth literally ended --  but all that's happened is everything has managed to get a little bit worse. 

She still can’t get over the idea that apparently there used to be a multiverse, and now it's all been consolidated into one. But more than that, she marvels at the fact that regardless of worlds ending and colliding, she’s still in the same place, and hopelessly in love with Lena Luthor.

Nothing could ever just be simple, could it? 

So now she’s back in National City, because somehow, Lena's charm and soft, emotional pleading got Sam on a plane to fly across the country and meet with her in person in order to figure "all of this" out, whatever that might mean. What she doesn't say is it wouldn't have taken even that much for her to fly across the country for Lena. Just a simple text -- a simple request that says "I need you", and Sam would have been there with bells on. 

She hates that after all this time, it's still the truth, but she doesn't say it out loud. She's sure Lena's at least somewhat aware of it, otherwise she wouldn’t have brought herself to call. So that’s the good part. As long as she doesn't have to admit too much, maybe there's still hope.

At least she's got that.

"Got a hot date?" Sam asks pointedly, nodding in Lena's direction after what must have been the tenth time in so many minutes that her friend has checked her watch. Correction, her boss, which is still weird, and will always be weird, in some way or another.

"Hm?" Lena mumbles, absentmindedly, as she brings herself back to the conversation. She's distracted, and she knows it, but she can't really let Sam know the source of her discomfort because everything is about to get so much worse. She’s really done it now. There’s no way this idea of hers isn’t going to backfire, but Sam’s here, and she’s willing, and oh, what a complicated day this is going to be. She frowns as Sam's words settle. 

"Relax, I'm kidding," Sam chuckles, shaking her head. "I know you don't date."

Lena's frown deepens further, but before she can respond, a knock on the door causes her to actually jump.

"Easy there, killer," Sam replies, frowning slightly as she turns around to face the door. "Are you expecting an assassination attempt today or--"

"Come in!" Lena calls out calmly, flashing Sam a stern look that immediately gets her to swallow her words. She points in her direction. "You. Be good."

"I'm always--" Sam starts to say, but when a brunette with wide blue eyes and a pout that can be seen for miles comes strolling into the office, her jokes cease to be amusing. "Good," she finishes quietly, as her brain still tries to process what the actual fuck is going on here.

"Drea," Lena croons, walking around her desk with open arms. "I'm so glad you could make it."

Drea? We're back to "Drea"?, Sam thinks, avoiding the overly cozy introduction in front of her and focusing instead on the impressive thread count of the blanket draped over Lena's couch. Hand stitched, she thinks, and probably more than her entire mortgage. Classic Lena. At least some things haven’t changed. 

"Lena," Andrea breathes, just as expressive, just as relieved, and it's enough to set Sam on fire. 

This Earth sucks, Sam almost says, but instead she plasters on a smile and sucks the air through her teeth.

After an hour of staring into each other's eyes with longing, Lena clears her throat and Sam stands up, offering a tragically unarmed hand. 

"Andrea," she says. Short, to the point, and definitely not a nickname. 

"Samantha," Andrea glances at Lena like she's unsure, before a cold, professional smile takes over her face. "What a surprise."

"Isn't it?" Sam replies, shaking Andrea's limp hand with far more force than necessary. She focuses her stare on Lena, pouring every single ounce of ‘what the fuck’ energy that she can summon, but Lena only stands passive. 

Samantha. No one calls her Samantha. Only… no, literally no one calls her Samantha. Unless they're being a total asshat. So, in context, it makes sense. 

"Been a long time," Andrea offers, taking her hand back and flexing her fingers. She avoids Sam's eyes when she talks, because staring too long into those deep, dark eyes, and she knows what will happen. The jealousy will flare, the unnecessary anger will start to simmer. Sam Arias has always been the one that got in the way, the one that Andrea has convinced herself ruined everything, even though its only partially true. And here she is, as infuriating as ever, standing there with a smug smile like she knows something Andrea doesn't. 

"Sort of feels like just yesterday," Sam counters, simply to argue. Lena's eyes narrow, a very clear "play nice" expression on her face, but Sam pretends she doesn't notice. She'll pay for it later, but that's fine. She can't lose the high ground. Andrea is one of those people that forces that out of her-- that competitiveness, that contrary, argumentative side. It's like she has to disagree with her just for the sake of disagreement. She could walk in the room eating crackers and Sam would swear off crackers for the rest of her life simply because of the way Andrea chewed them. They're that level of petty.

There’s a whole laundry list of reasons why, depending on who you ask, but it all boils down to one thing: Sam just really, really can’t stand Andrea Rojas.

Sure, there’s also the fact that Andrea has always been a little in love with Lena, but that’s just fucking unnecessary.

Andrea looks at Lena again, almost pleading, but she’s met with a vacant expression. It doesn’t surprise her, not really. It wouldn't be Lena if she gave up her hand all in one play. Andrea sighs. 

"I'm really glad you both could be here," Lena interrupts, dragging her narrowed eyes from Sam to Andrea. "Before we get started, I'm assuming we'll all want some wine."

“Understatement,” Sam mumbles, and Lena pretends to ignore her.

"Red, if you have it," Andrea says, nodding in approval, as she takes a seat across the office on Lena's couch. She certainly doesn’t hesitate to make herself at home, Sam notes. She eyes the blanket -- the one with the expensive hand stitching--before moving it to the side. She smoothes the creases in her overly expensive suit pants and sits down gingerly, like the couch is going to do permanent damage. Sam rolls her eyes.

"Sam?"

"Whatever you're having," Sam mutters without pulling her eyes from Andrea and her annoying, smug face. The way she pinches her lips together, like a cranky librarian, but one who’s had lip injections, makes Sam want to just shake Lena and say “Her? Really?”

She has half a mind to ask Lena for an entirely different bottle of wine, just to be difficult-- maybe a white to really stick it to Andrea, but she knows Lena will call her out. Besides, everyone knows red is superior, so white wine will just make her look pathetic. She isn't a Chardonnay girl, never has been, despite the mom label. Lena's expression softens at the fact that she’s being agreeable and she nods as she pours the contents of the bottle into three waiting glasses.

Everything Lena does is overly elegant, and Sam is immediately transfixed just watching her do something as simple as pour a glass of wine. The small bracelet on her wrist clinks delicately against the glass, kissing the side, and her jaw clenches slightly as she eyes the level of the liquid. She's precise and calculated in all her movements, deliberately graceful in ways Sam can't really articulate. It’s an even pour, no more no less, and it comes from hours in a lab pouring liquids with exact measurements. Lena doesn’t even have to try anymore, everything is just easily balanced and perfect. It’s impressive and a bit unnerving. 

Before Sam can think of a witty comment, a perfect glass of red wine is being placed in her hand. She shakes herself out of it and offers a sheepish smile.

"Thanks," she grins, and Lena's smile is soft and grateful. 

And just like that, it’s only the two of them in the room, and this is a normal evening, and Sam allows herself to be pulled under Lena’s spell. She doesn’t know why she’s here, not entirely, but she knows Lena needs something, and Sam is going to help her get it. It doesn’t matter what it is. She already knows her answer is yes.

“Lena, what year is this label?” Andrea drawls, swirling the liquid around her glass like some kind of connoisseur. 

Oh right, Andrea. Suddenly, Sam’s pulled back to reality, where she’s very much in the middle of a very awkward meeting, and her mind immediately goes to try to figure out how Andrea factors into all of this.

“2001,” Lena replies with a smug smile. Andrea smirks, and Sam has to resist rolling her eyes. 

“How is everything at CatCo?” Lena starts, placing her glass delicately on a coaster and crossing her legs, leaning toward Andrea in a cozy, gossipy way. “I hope they aren’t giving you a hard time.”

"Yes, I heard you've taken over the reigns there," Sam interjects, a casual attempt at remaining in the conversation. One that says "I know what you've been up to" and less "I'm impressed", but she allows it to fall however Andrea wants to receive it. 

"I have," Andrea nods, taking a long sip of her wine. "Thanks to Lena, I've been kept busy."

"I'm just grateful to have it in such good hands," Lena praises, and Sam feels the wine get stuck in her throat. “I’ve been pulled in so many directions since selling it, I don’t know how I would have managed. So, truly, thank you.”

Andrea's cheeks flush slightly at the sincerity, and Lena's eyes do that thing where they flutter and dip as she brings her glass to her lips. Suddenly it's a thousand degrees and Sam wants to pour the rest of her glass over Andrea's head. But she doesn’t. She’s classy, after all. 

"I took a quiz on their website the other day," Sam says instead, talking more to Lena than Andrea. "About what type of plant I am. It was riveting."

"And what did you get, Venus fly trap?" Lena quips, grinning. It should hit harsher than it does, but it's the playful version of Lena that Sam misses the most, and she can't find it in her to be mad.

"I happen to be a delicious hibiscus, thank you very much," Sam chuckles. "Anyway, I see CatCo headlines plastered all over the internet these days. ‘You’ll never guess what this man did on top of a skyscraper!’” she quotes, dramatically. “Traffic must be at an all time high.”

“That’s our goal.” Andrea’s eyebrows raise in an annoyed way, like this should be obvious, which thrills Sam. She couldn’t care less about CatCo and their absurd online quizzes, but the fact that Andrea is turning the publication into a distraction instead of a destination is delicious.

“So what type of plant are you, Andrea?” Sam asks, fiddling with the lapel of her blazer.

“I must have missed that one,” Andrea says with an air of boredom that only Andrea could perfect. 

“Well, anyway, hard hitting journalism is overrated,” Sam concludes, raising her glass in salute. “Click bait is the new target. Congratulations on all that."

"Mm," Andrea twists her lips and sizes Sam up as she takes a long sip from her glass. 

Sam is relaxed and handsome, in a carefree annoying way that no one has any business being if they’re going to be in business. She’s charming and irritating all at once, and Andrea knows Lena has a soft spot a mile long reserved especially for her. Not that it’s any of Andrea’s concern anymore. But it used to be, once, and it probably could be again, if Sam didn’t insist on being around constantly. Andrea knows she’s probably perfectly fine out of context, but she’ll never be able to get past the fact that Lena chose Sam over her. Even if her actions were justified.

Andrea studies the edge of her glass as she stews in her feelings. 

What kind of bad luck must it be to be one-upped by Sam in one universe, only to have her come back for round two in another?

“Anyway, I know you’re wondering why I asked you here,” Lena interrupts, and all the attention in the room focuses on her. “And now that you both know the truth about what happened, and this Earth, I think you’ll agree that we have to do something. I don’t care what the media says, my brother cannot be trusted. He’s no more the man of tomorrow than he was before Crisis, and I intend to find out what his endgame really is.”

“You could have said that over the phone,” Sam remarks, and Lena dismisses her with a soft chuckle.

“But then I wouldn’t be me, now would I?” She grins, and Sam shrugs. “Anyway, that being said, I’ve agreed to partner with him.”

“You what?” Andrea and Sam both react, looking at each other with horrified expressions. More at the fact that their responses were perfectly choreographed and a little less at what Lena actually just said, but horror nonetheless. 

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Andrea says, and Sam points at her and nods. 

“I have no choice. I have to be on his side, at least in the short term. I need to stay on his good side, as long as he will allow it, so I can buy time and figure out what to do next. Which is where--” she points at the two of them, “you two come in.”

“But he knows you can’t possibly trust him,” Sam argues. “So how do you know he’s going to really let you in?”

“That’s the thing with Lex,” Lena says with a long sigh. She shakes her head with a disappointed smile, the one she always gets when talking about her family. Sam’s heart sinks at the fact that Lena was cursed to get a supposed second chance with them, only to have all her old memories remain in tact. It seems particularly cruel as she looks in her eyes. “He doesn’t trust me, and I don’t trust him, and when this partnership is no longer beneficial, he will turn on me. Or, I will turn on him. Whoever gets to it first. There’s no emotional attachment, no need to worry about getting my heart broken. He’s already done that beyond repair. This is strictly a business deal so I can get what I want. All the while, we find ways to expose him.”

“This sounds very Charlie’s Angels, Lena,” Andrea smiles through heavy eyelashes. “I love it.”

"It's going to feel a bit like that, especially at first," Lena finishes, placing her glass down and studying her two oldest friends. It’s a gamble, she knows. She can’t really trust anyone, even the ones she’s known the longest, but she’s running out of options. Despite the chaos of crisis, and the fact that apparently a multiverse exists, somehow, she’s still here, and somehow, her two oldest friends are by her side. That’s more than she can say for a lot of people, and so if she has to work with Lex, she’d like to fall back on an alliance that doesn’t double as a minefield.

Even if she knows this one is far more dangerous.

"You can't be serious--" Sam interrupts. "And in this scenario, Lex is Charlie?"

"For now," Lena agrees, her face turning devious, almost sinister. It’s the face she gets when her mind is churning, when she’s ten years ahead of everyone else in the room. Sam’s chest seizes. “It won’t always be like that, though.”

“You realize what you’re asking us for, right?” Sam can’t help but push back, at least a little bit, even though she knows there’s no way she’s going to refuse. “To help you by helping Lex?”

“I do,” Lena replies, nodding once. “And you don’t have to say yes. But there’s more to it than that, and at the end of the day, it’s really all of us that you’ll be helping. So I know it isn’t the most attractive thing but--” Lena focuses her eyes intensely, like she’s looking deep into Sam’s soul. “It’s what I’m offering. I needed you both to know the truth before I move forward.”

“And we all--” Andrea turns to Sam with a disappointed scowl before returning to Lena. “Have to be on the same page if this is going to work, correct?”

“You two have to work together, yes,” Lena agrees, looking between them. “Will that be a problem?”

“If it’s not for her, then it won’t be for me,” Andrea counters, her eyes narrowing. 

Oh, great, so this is all on her now, Sam thinks. Well, far be it for her to spoil a party. 

“I won’t have any problems,” Sam finishes, shrugging. If Andrea thinks she’s going to cozy up to Lena by herself, she’s got another thing coming. “I’m in.”

“You jump, I jump,” Andrea tops her with that infuriating and overly dramatic Titanic quote, and Sam almost takes back her acceptance. Titanic. Are they kidding?

“You don’t know what this means to me,” Lena breathes in relief, like she’s been holding her breath since they all sat down. Her eyes glimmer with anticipation, like she’s just starting a brand new project, and Sam loses all feelings of hesitation. Just like that.

Sam shakes her head as she polishes off her glass. She places it down on the table and forcefully taps her knees. “So when do we start?”

[rosierossette]

Tempting - Ch. 3

Chapter 3 of my Tempting Loki series -

Work Summary: Working as a Temp for Tony Stark you only expected your life to revolve around sending emails and important papers for Tony Stark. However, all that changed when Loki came to live with the Avengers. Two years later, they still don’t trust Loki and need someone to constantly watch over him and keep him from causing Mischief. Given the magical ability to control Loki with your words, your journey begins as you try to carefully tread the line between keeping Loki safe and keeping others from harm. But trying to control Loki has more problems than you’re ready for, and soon you discover why he’s the God of Mischief, and how much he’s willing to sacrifice for his freedom.

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

A/N: Oh My Goodness it’s finally being posted! You guys don’t understand how much I LOVE this chapter! I had such a great time writing it, and hearing the response from my Beta Reader about it brought me so much happiness! As always I’ve linked the previous chapters in this work, so if you need a refresher go ahead and do that! Let me know what you guys think of it, and thank you so much for the continued support of my work! <3

Word Count: 4,543

Loki was less than excited about the news of you watching him permanently when Thor visited him that night. While Stark paid to have your things moved to the Tower, you were busy decorating your room, pretending not to hear the sound of Loki throwing a fit. Unfortunately for you, Stark thought it might be a good idea to have your room down the same corridor as Loki’s, which meant you could hear all the nasty words about you coming from his mouth. 

Thor was trying his hardest to shut Loki up, but Loki was incorrigible. Soon lightning filled the sky, the terrible roar of the thunder was the loudest you’d ever heard it. The tower shook with every strike, and you could hear the muffled voices of Thor and Loki arguing. You were busy trying to sort through the large pile of furniture ahead of you, a lovely gift from Tony as you were moving into the Tower with all the Avengers. Trying your hardest to pretend you couldn’t hear what they were arguing back, you studied the pile of laundry you also needed to deal with. 

Crash. The sound of glass shattering was heard against your wall, right where yours and Loki’s rooms connected. You cursed as you ran down the hallway. You were already sick of this permanent arrangement, and the Avengers hadn’t even left yet. 

“Loki, shut up!” You screamed as you slammed the door to his room open, the door pounding against the wall behind it with a bang. Loki and Thor had both turned to you startled, Loki’s mouth involuntarily slammed shut.

You immediately paused at the sight of Loki’s room. It was beautiful, although you felt even that word didn’t describe his room perfectly. Loki’s room had a strange golden glow about it. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were no longer on earth, or at least it looked unlike any part of earth you had seen. It looked just like Thor had described Asgard. Massive windows overlooking an alluring scene of waterfalls and birds coasting through the air. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun only adding to its beauty rather than taking away from it. Loki’s room was huge. 

Your room was nice and spacious, but it seemed like a broom closet compared to Loki’s. 

The walls and floor both had the same glow about them. And as you looked around, you noticed there was a huge bookshelf covered with books, most in a language you didn’t recognize. You turned in shock and amazement to admire more of the room when you finally noticed Loki and Thor. 

You shook your head, remembering why you came in.

“It is 10 o’clock at night, Thor is causing a lightning storm outside, and I’m trying to get stuff done before I pass out for the night!” You tapped your foot impatiently. “So if you’re both done having a fit at each other like children,” You gestured for Thor to leave, and he stormed out. 

He turned to look at the both of you before adding, “Loki, Lady (L/N),” He nodded to each of you, sending an angry look to Loki especially, before disappearing down the long hall. 

When you could no longer hear the sound of Thor’s footsteps you turned to him. “I’m sorry about casting that spell,” You spoke hurriedly. “I didn’t actually mean to do it, I was angry and well, people usually say ‘shut up’ when they’re angry, right?” Loki’s eyes never softened, he didn’t even move.  

“I release you from my spell.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes. This whole situation is ridiculous.

The look in Loki’s eyes was dark, filled with anger and annoyance, and it was your only warning before he magically shoved you out of his room in a green haze, the door slamming behind you. The air was knocked out of you, so you stood there attempting to remember how to breathe for a moment. When you finally calmed down enough to walk, you went back to your room. 

You threw yourself down on the bed, landing on the piles of clothes you were procrastinating working on putting away. Your room was still a mess but your mind was elsewhere. The image of what you were sure was Asgard flashed across your mind. It was absolutely breathtaking. For the first time since meeting Loki and Thor, you were actually disappointed that you were only mortal. You’d love to see the real Asgard sometime. 

Keep dreaming sister. 

“Alright fine, so I’m not going to Asgard anytime soon. That doesn’t give me an excuse to live in filth.” You muttered loudly to yourself as you jumped up to finish cleaning your new room. You finally came to a decision about where to move your furniture, and then promptly and unapologetically took all your clothes on your bed and moved them to the designated ‘laundry chair’. 

“Perfection,” You admired your handiwork, pointedly ignoring the pile of laundry you probably wouldn’t touch for another two weeks. At least. 

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

“Dinner is ready,” Friday’s voice filled the tower. It was six o’clock on a Thursday evening, and you felt your stomach rumble at the declaration. It had been too long since the small sandwich you had fixed yourself for lunch.

You’d been finishing some paperwork for Stark in his lab when you entered the kitchen and saw all the Avengers. They were….wearing normal clothes. You’d been working here for less than a year, and you had never seen them in anything other than their suits. Usually, when you saw them, they were either getting ready for a mission or working out for one. 

Your bewildered expression must’ve been evident when Natasha came up to you holding a plate of food, teasing, “We don’t always wear our suits. We’re only human.” She laughed at her joke. “Well, I guess some of us are.” She winked at you as she walked by to sit on the couch. The mom jeans and white tee she wore seemed so foreign on her, they seemed too casual,  but she didn’t look uncomfortable at all. In fact, she looked quite cozy. 

“(L/N), come get some food before Sam eats it all,” Stark called to you from the kitchen. When you walked in you laughed at the spread before you. Across the counter laid buckets of fried chicken, there were several containers of mashed potatoes, way more rolls than you had ever seen at once, and a small, sad container of coleslaw. 

“Um….” You snorted when you saw the coleslaw. “Who did this?” 

Wanda looked up from her plate, “Their coleslaw is absolutely disgusting (L/N). I didn’t want to buy any, but someone decided they couldn’t live without it.” Her eyes trailed towards Stark. 

“I will not be insulted for wanting some sort of healthy food with all this fast food junk you guys buy.” Stark didn’t even look away from his plate. 

“I offered to make some, Tony,” Steve spoke up, “But you said mine didn’t meet your standards.” Steve made a look towards the offending coleslaw. “At least the lettuce in mine isn’t swimming in water.” 

Stark scoffed. “Right, Cap. Well, your coleslaw is the same as what Pepper’s grandmother makes.” Stark made a vomiting noise, “It’s disgusting. I enjoy the look of swimming lettuce.” 

You shook your head but decided to fix yourself food instead of getting involved. Obviously, they were both wrong. Your coleslaw was absolutely the superior one. 

But like the wise temp you were, you didn’t say anything. 

You noticed that all the paper plates were gone. Shrugging, you moved towards the plate cabinet, opening the door before shrieking loudly as a ginormous rat pounced out of the cupboard, barely missing you as you ran backward. Falling on your butt, you only noticed once you had stopped to take a breath that there was a slightly green tinge around the rat. 

“LOKI!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, swiftly getting up and swiping at the fake rodent. You ignored the sounds of the Avengers snickering at your misfortune, and you muttered about Loki and his ridiculous sense of humor as you stood. Idiot God, who does that?!

Soon your anger melted away as you sat and enjoyed dinner with the Avengers. It didn’t happen regularly that they weren’t busy with their constant schedules, and you were happy they were so relaxed. Dinner, music, pleasant conversation, the evening went by in a whirl with you enjoying every moment. 

After you finally finished with helping the others clean, you walked back to your room. You were happy, full, and ready to sleep for the next twelve years. You walked to your room before pausing in the hall, staring at the direction of Loki’s room. Shaking your head, you opened the door. Your first view of your room was the ginormous hole in the floor behind your door. As clear as day, you could see the room three floors down and you stumbled backward, your adrenaline causing your heart to pound wildly, your chest heaving as you tried to remember how to breathe. 

You closed your eyes for a moment; your head pounding, your heart working blood through your system too fast. You couldn’t breathe enough. You laid down, your arms covering your eyes. You felt the shame course through you as the panic started to wear away. You finally could breathe again. Your chest rose rapidly, while your lungs remembered how to breathe properly.

When you finally were able to think properly, you stood and looked over towards the hole, expecting to see several floors through it. What you saw instead was your carpet, the floor showing no signs there ever was a hole, to begin with. Carefully you put a foot where the spot was, and all you felt was the floor. Your rage grew, your blood boiling.

Loki. 

You ran to his room, turned the door handle and slammed into the hardwood when the door refused to grant you access. No matter how hard you tried, it would not budge. “Loki, what the hell is wrong with you?” You slammed your hand against his door with precision on each word. “That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced.” 

You heard his muffled words through the door, “You can keep banging on my door, but I’m still not letting you in.” Loki suddenly appeared in front of you, and you almost fell over to avoid being toppled over by him. He stood, leaning against the hard wooden door, a look of contempt covered his features. “What do you want?” The bored tone in his voice made you growl internally. 

“What in the seven hells is wrong with you?!” You righted yourself, standing directly in front of him, you still weren’t even close to his height. You stood up straight, attempting to close the distance, your eyes never leaving his. “Why would you do something like that?” If he was thrown off by the amount of sheer rage in your voice he hid it well, simply shrugging.

The urge to strangle him became almost unbearable, you turned, livid, going back to your room. As you walked away you gestured wildly with your hands to yourself your nails clawing at the air, growling once again. 

You turned around to flash one more dirty look Loki’s way when you saw his mouth twitch up. He was smirking, the piece of shit. Loki’s brow raised, and you turned to head into your room, slamming the door behind you as he slowly entered his room again. 

As you paced your room you struggled to figure out how to make him stop. 

You could just - you know - use that little magic ability you got. Just a thought. 

You shook the thought away. Not good enough. Besides, you’d just end up making him angrier at you, and you weren’t sure what to do if he got angrier. 

Then it came to you. If I’m not going to just tell him off….you came up with an idea, and smiled mischievously. 

Two could play at this game.

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

You had encountered only a couple issues with Loki again, all of them seemed like he was challenging you, egging you on. He was mocking you, that much you were sure of. If you hadn’t stopped him already, he was sure you weren’t going to do much about it. And you weren’t in a hurry to change his mind. Patience is a virtue.

Finally, your moment came. He finally stepped up his pranks again, this time by locking you in your room. By locking, he, of course, decided to get rid of the door, leaving you stranded in your room for about three hours before he got bored and moved on. When he finally thought you worthy of releasing, you had a whole plan figured out, and if things went well, you would be the winner of his stupid game. 

Well, at least for a couple of hours. But you decided not to think too hard about that. 

It took a few hours, but you finally ran into Loki. Unfortunately, your spell only worked if Loki could actually hear it. It was bittersweet: It meant you could see his face as you controlled him, but it also meant you couldn’t do it from a safe distance.

When he walked past you, you swiftly turned your mind towards his. “Loki, when you play a prank on someone or use your magic to inconvenience anyone, you have to kiss the person you’re standing next to.” 

When Loki turned to you, rage contorting his features, you simply winked and blew a kiss his way. 

It wasn’t long before you heard yelling from one of the Avengers as your spell did its job. True to your word, every time Loki decided to play a prank on someone, he had to kiss the poor soul standing next to him. 

It worked out perfectly that his first unintentional victim had been Steve Rodgers. Although you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t secretly hoped it would be Stark. Thinking about the look on Stark’s face made you giggle as you headed towards the sounds of Steve’s stuttering.

“What is wrong with you?” Steve repeated the question multiple times, his face was one of complete shock. His hand rested over his mouth. His words were fuzzy as they tried to escape through his hand. 

Loki looked just as shocked and looked over towards the sounds of footsteps, his face turning to stone when he saw it was you. “(Y/N).....” 

“Are you blaming me for you suddenly jumping Steve, Loki?” You feigned a shocked look, earning an even deadly glare from Loki. “Why would I put a spell on you to kiss Steve?” You walked over and rubbed Steve’s back, faking your concern when all you wanted to do was laugh out loud. 

Although you did feel a little bit bad. Poor Steve hadn’t seen it coming.

Loki stared daggers at you, and from behind Steve, you smiled widely. You laughed softly when Loki walked away, his steps thumping loud on the tile flooring. 

This means war little mortal, you could hear his voice sneering in your mind. I hope you’re prepared for the consequences.

You smirked as you headed towards the kitchen. I was born ready, Good luck with kissing everyone in the tower.

The slight pain you received as a reply told you everything you needed to know. Especially when Sam cried out this time. 

“LOKI!” 

A couple of days of Loki kissing everyone in the tower (you both had successfully avoided being around one another, Natasha was the only one left. But the look on Stark’s face when he became another kissing victim made everything worth it to you). You had been sitting, facing the window in the hall, sketching out a picture of the beautiful city below. You could hear Thor’s angry footsteps, appearing in the hallway connecting yours and Loki’s room.

“The two of you had better come out before I break both of your doors down.” Thor’s voice was low, but there was a terrifying power in his words. Thor noticed your presence and nodded towards you, the movement stiff. 

You stood, staring at Thor in confusion at the same time Loki walked out of his room. You both had turned towards each other, and immediate icy glares were shared between the two of you. Had Thor not been in such a belligerent mood, he would’ve laughed at your antics. You both stood in front of him. Loki with his arms crossed, looking as bored as ever. You with your hands on your hips, your brow raised at Thor’s anger. 

“What do we owe this lovely surprise, brother?” Sarcastic boredom were the words that came immediately to mind at the sound of his voice. 

“I’m here to tell both of you to stop your petty fighting,” Thor stared pointedly at Loki and then at you. “You both are causing unneeded wreckage to the tower and to everyone’s emotional stability.” 

You had a hunch Thor wasn’t here of his own accord. You also had an image of Steve’s face and snorted out loud, earning a look from Thor that clearly said not now. 

“I’m here to ask both of you to stop before I’m forced to take drastic measures,” Thor spoke after a moment of silence. He stared at you until you both nodded. “Good.” Then he left as speedily as he came. 

You both stared after him for a while before you spoke, “We’re not listening to him, right?” 

Silence. 

“Absolutely not.” Loki agreed.

You paused for a moment before speaking again. “Wanna join forces and prank Thor?” 

“Yes.”

You nodded, and silence filled the hall again. 

After a moment, both of you finally turned to go to your rooms. When you were at your door, you paused, noticing Loki do so as well. “Would-” You hesitated for a moment. “Would you like to come in? Just to talk about what we’re gonna do?”

“No,” Loki replied speedily. You nodded and started to head into your room. You paused in the doorway when you heard his soft voice say, “But I’ll meet you at midnight in the living room.” His door clicking behind him as you walked in was the last sound you heard from him.

You smiled softly, were you really about to do this?. “Deal.” You walked into your room, and hurriedly checked the clock. 

9:53

You groaned softly. Was it worth going to bed now, only to wake up in a few hours tired and bitter? Not really. Sighing, you looked around your room and spotted that pile of laundry you’d been avoiding. Guess we’ll waste time actually cleaning. Shocking.

When you finished hanging up the way too large pile of laundry, you checked the clock again. 10:30. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you flopped down on your bed groaning loudly, already bored. What were you supposed to do to get the time to pass by quicker? 

How about you pick up a book to read, instead of being loud and obnoxious. Loki’s snarky voice snuck into your mind. You frowned. 

Rude. I’m not even talking. 

Your mind is scattered all over the place, and I can’t read with you sending your thoughts over here. You could practically see the annoyance on his face. Read woman, and let me have peace.

You rolled your eyes, but took his advice and picked up the first book you could find. 

Soon time passed by too rapidly, and you nearly jumped when you heard Loki’s voice once again. Let's go little one. You stood, stretched out your muscles as much as possible and headed towards the living room, walking behind Loki, every step in sync. 

“So how are we going to do this?” You asked as soon as Loki sat down on the chair opposite you. 

“I might have a few ideas,” Loki stared you in the face. “But it could get a bit….,” he paused. “A bit smelly.” 

You paused for only a moment, “Let’s do it.” 

And every moment after that you’d be more careful about what you’d agree to. Especially when it was followed by the sneakiest smile you’d ever seen on Loki’s lips. 

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

You woke up to the sound of your alarm clock going off, and you groaned sleepily. The annoying ding ding only increased the pounding in your head due to not enough sleep. It was nine in the morning, but you still hadn’t slept too well, since Loki and you had stayed up way too late preparing everything for the little prank. You could still smell the prank all over you. 

I am never, ever, doing that ever again. 

You jumped up and hurriedly took a shower, preparing yourself for the day. Loki had said that the rest was up to Thor, but that you would definitely know when the trap worked. You’d be lying if you said that didn’t worry you at all. You’d told him you didn’t want to do anything too drastic, but you were starting to worry you both might have different definitions on the word drastic. 

When you were finally ready, you headed out the door, already smelling way better. As you closed your door behind you Loki opened his and walked out, winking at you as he headed towards the kitchen in a green t-shirt, and black jeans. You smiled and followed him.

There were a few Avengers still eating in the kitchen, but for the most part, it wasn’t too busy. Wanda and Vision were sitting at the table chatting, and Bucky was watching some game show as he ate bacon and eggs. Your stomach grumbled loudly, and you took it as your cue to make something quick and easy. Your two favorite words when it came to food in the morning. 

You grabbed your ingredients and put them together before finally sitting at the table with your prize in front of you.

Delicious peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

You smiled to yourself as you took a bite. You hadn’t eaten this sandwich in years, the last time being when your grandmother made you one before your first day of kindergarten. Feeling someone staring at you, you looked up and noticed Loki eyeing your sandwich with a look of curiosity. 

“Did you want one Loki?” You gestured towards the glorious sandwich in front of you. 

“I’m good, thanks.” He kept staring at your sandwiches. 

You got up, grabbed a plate and gave the other sandwich on your plate to him. “It’s not the best thing I’ve ever made, but I enjoy eating it.” 

He nodded his thanks before grabbing the offered sandwich and taking a bite. When he took a bite he stared at the sandwich in his hand, then at you, then back to the sandwich. You giggled softly at his response before sitting back down and enjoying your own sandwich. Loki came and sat down next to you, the both of you enjoying your sandwiches in silence. 

Suddenly there was a loud roar heard throughout the tower. There was a loud CLAP as thunder and lightning shook the building. You and Loki looked towards one another before booking it out of the kitchen as fast as possible. The sounds of Wanda calling after you were drowned out by the angriest sound you had ever heard in your life. 

“LOKI! (Y/N)!” Your names were howled. You both tried to keep from laughing. You could hear Thor catching up to both of you. Loki turned a corner sharply, grabbing your hand as you attempted to keep up. When Thor’s howling became almost deafening, you both ran into the first door you saw, shutting it behind you before darkness enveloped both of you. 

You were breathing loudly, all the running had killed your ability to breathe properly. Loki placed a hand over your mouth lightly, still allowing you to breathe while he held a finger up to his mouth. 

Be quiet! His voice spoke into your mind, his eyes sending warnings your way. 

Thor had suddenly stopped yelling your names. You hadn’t realized, you were too busy trying to breathe. 

You could hear his footsteps, slowly getting closer when a horrible smell filled the area around you. You nearly gagged. Maybe dropping Thor into the sewer hadn’t been such a good idea. You looked towards Loki and saw him shake his head, a real smile on his face. You paused. You hadn’t actually seen a real smile on him before, and it was even more shocking for you when you were filled with the desire for him to never stop smiling. Something told you he wasn’t meant to be so bitter all the time.

This is one of my best ideas yet, Loki’s voice filled your head, and you saw him struggle to keep from laughing. You covered his mouth with one of your hands. He looked surprised but didn’t pull away. The look in his eyes made something inside you flutter, and you were suddenly aware of the sounds of both your heartbeats filling the closet you hide in. 

When you both saw Thor’s shadow stop right in front of the door you involuntarily moved closer together. Your head rested on his chest, his head on top of your head. You hold your breath, your hands both resting on your stomach. You felt his hands move and wrap around you. You breathed in and immediately could smell Loki. He smelled fresh. You couldn’t explain his smell. It wasn’t like anything you’d smelled before. 

When Thor finally leaves, taking the stench with him, you finally look up to smile at Loki, stopping when you realize how close your faces actually are. Your noses almost touched, you could feel his warm breath on your lips. You both pause, searching the other’s face. Neither of you moves, you just wait. You don’t know what it is you’re waiting for, but you know it’ll be worth it in the end.

When you finally start to move, the closet door whips wide open, revealing a very angry Thor. He’s soaking wet, and the sewer smell is overpowering. He opens his mouth to yell at both of you before pausing, taking in your questionable position 

You both jump apart as much as the small closet would allow, looking sheepishly at one another. You can feel your face turn slightly pink as Thor mutters, “Pardon me, Brother,” before he speed-walks away from you. You look over at Loki and notice a slight pink tinge to his cheeks, and you feel your cheeks heat up even more. You can’t even look at each other. His arms lay uselessly at his sides and yours are wrapped around your torso. 

“I should go,” you point towards where you think your bedroom is. “I’ve got a lot of work to do for Stark…” 

“Yes, right,” Loki stutters. “I do as well. I mean, not for Stark, I just have a lot of- a lot of work I need to do…” his voice drifts off. 

You can’t run away from each other quickly enough.

[jj-lynn21]

Cozy Cove: Old wounds

Previous in Cozy Cove: Saved by an Angel ,   A side of tits with your pancakes,   Fires Burn Ho , Spending the Nights, Learning and Loving,   The end id not always the end,  Axel Grease ,  Big Decisions, Sex and Jet Skis, Late night fun ,  Old Wounds , Storms pass, Dangerous Waters

Warnings: smut talk, very angsty, talk of a parent leaving children, fear of alcohol abuse. 

A silver of afternoon bright sunshine snakes its way through where the blackout curtains come together. It beamed right on to still sleeping Axel and Susie. She further buries her face in Axel’s chest.

He snorts covering his eyes with his free hand. The other resting on her back, “Close the curtain, baby girl.”

Susie whines without moving.

“I got it Mr. Axel,” Carol whispered. “Rest as long as you need, I will clean quietly.”

“Thanks, Carol,” Axel mumbled. “Put coffee on?”

“Of course, Sir,” She picked up some cloths on the floor and put them in his dirty cloths basket to go do laundry. 

A half hour later, the couple woke slowly to the smell of coffee. Susie stretched rolling to her other side. Axel kissed her shoulder softly before getting up, grabbing some cloths and heading to the shower. The hot water felt amazing as he stood there with his head down, palms flat against the wall, as the water beats over him.  

The door slides open for Susie to get in with him. She wraps her arms around him and lays on his back. Axel stands. He turns towards her smiling down as droplets of water tumble off his hair, down his nose to the tip of hers.

“How are you doing this morning Babe?” He grabs a shampoo bottle squirting some in his palm. “Turn around.” He starts to wash her hair.  

Susie turned closing her eyes as she leaned her head back a bit for Axel to wash her hair. “I’m a little sort, Daddy.” She muttered.  

Axel grinned, “Not when anyone is in the house Babe. That little game is between you and me. Would you like to have an interview for that mechanics job you want? We can make it like a game.” He rinses her hair and adds conditioner combing it out gentle.

“Yes, I would love that.” She smiles wide keeping her eyes shut as Axel rinses her hair. “Only I don’t think of that as a game, Axel. An interview with any company is to be taken seriously.”

“Maybe you are always to Serious Susie Q, but I guess I will find that out in a few hours.” He washes every part of her.

Susie giggles, “I am perfectly capable of washing myself, Axel.”

“I know,” he smiled. “I just like to take care of you if it is alright?”

“I guess it’s fine,” She turned as he rinsed her with the handheld shower head.  

“Now go get a nice sundress on,” He opened the back of the shower door. “I believe Carol has coffee, donuts, and fruit for us to have for breakfast. She always has good treats when she comes to clean.”  

He stays in the shower to wash when she gets out. She does what he tells her without a second thought. Her only thoughts were how nice it felt for him to get her clean and of course, coffee. When Susie ventures out to the kitchen she saw to coffee mugs, a basket of fruit and box. On further inspection she looks in the clear window at the top of the box to see a myriad of donut holes in a variety of flavors.  

Carol rushes over to pour her some coffee, “Good morning Miss. Do you like the flavored creamer that is in the refrigerator?”

“Thank you, Carol,” She smiles. “I would like the creamer. You can call me Susie.”

“Sure thing, Miss Susie.” She gets the creamer and pours it until Susie holds her hand up to stop.  

Axel Comes out in Camo board shorts drying his hair with a towel. As soon as Carol sees him, she pours his coffee, adds a little sugar to it before starting back to straighten up the bedroom.

“Thank you, Carol,” Axel yells after her. “We will be out of your hair for a few hours after breakfast.”

“You are welcome Mr. Axel,” She rambled, “You need to eat more. You are to thin.”

“If you say so Carol.” Axel laughed, “Carol has been the family housekeeper as long as I can remember. She also took care of me and my brother Josh when my mom,” He looked down fidgeting with his fingers before taking a sip of coffee. “When she left us.” He popped a sprinkle covered donut hole in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Axel.” Susie took his hand from across the table. “Can I ask what happened? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

Axel shrugged, “I was about thirteen and saw how my Mom was kind of flirty with guys other than my Dad. It was disgusting. I think her leaving was the best thing that ever happened to him. But he was pretty pissed when I told him that.  

“Josh was only eight. He cried a lot for a few weeks as far I remember. He needed a Mother. Carol tried her best to fill the void. Eric was trying to get a degree in something when she left. I can’t remember what. I just remember he came home on break and never went back. Dad was disappointed. I was happy. My mom couldn’t embarrass me when she hit on my teachers.” He popped another donut hole.

Susie ate a strawberry cream filled and sipped her coffee not sure what to say. Her parents never seemed to notice anyone else but each other. And they could sometimes be amorous in public which was embarrassing for her. It was embarrassing for her now. It was ten times worse when she was thirteen. But She didn’t think it was nearly as embarrassing as Axel’s situation.

“How about we take a walk on the beach,” He sighed. “The ocean air always clears my head in the morning. Then I’ll take you to the garage to do that interview. I don’t think you are dressed correctly for an interview, but I’ll let that slide since I told you what to wear and you look fine as Hell.”

“I guess it pays to know the owner,” She giggled. “If you give me the mechanics job,” She picked up another donut hole licking the glaze off before slowing sucking it into your mouth to eat. “I’ll give you another kind of job.”

“Hell no,” Axel got up. “That would be sexual harassment Miss. We don’t play with rules laid out against such things at my garage. That is the worst interview tactic you can have in this day and age, Susie Q. I hope that isn’t your usual interview technique.”

She blushes, “No, of course not Axel. I was just kind of joking.”

“I take my business serious,” He leans down to her ear. “Also fuck jobs. So, one does not mix with the other. Unless my girlfriend wants to suck my cock during my break.” He grins. “Let’s go.”  

They walk out down the back stairs to the beach. The sun is blazing. The farther they walk the more sun bathers and families liter the beach with their towels, blankets, chairs and umbrellas. Axel and Susie ignore it all as they walk together silently for a while.  

“Axel,” Susie keeps walking with him as they talk.

“Yeah?” He picks her hand up to kiss it gentle. Some waves splash over their feet.

“I’m sorry your Mother left you when you needed her.” She squeaked out quietly.

“I never needed shit from her,” Axel grumbled. A small tear escaped his right eye.  “I just feel bad for Josh. Him being upset was worse than her leaving. But we all got over it. No use talking about her anymore, alright?”

“Okay,” Susie leaned on him as he put his arm around her shoulders. “Just know I’ll listen if you ever need too...”

“I won’t, so just drop it,” he growled before taking a deep breath to calm down. “Let’s grab a pineapple rum slushy at the snack house. Then walk back to get the bike. You have an important interview in about an hour.”  

“Your right; I do.” Susie Beamed. “Should I be drinking before my interview?”

“These aren’t very strong,” He gets up to the outdoor counter. “Can we get two spiked pineapple slushies?”

“Sure thing, Axel,” The counter person said. “I am bringing my viper in for a tune up tomorrow. Will you be working?”

“No, I’m off this weekend, Dwayne but Danny is excellent.” Axel praises his worker. “He will have your motorcycle running perfectly when he is done.”

“Cool man, thanks.” Dwayne hands them their drinks.

“Thanks for keeping everyone cool with these drinks,” Axel raises his drink to Dwayne before walking off with Susie.

They walked back on the edge of the even more crowded beach and ocean entrance. They had drunk their slushies by the time they got to his motorcycle.

“I haven’t walked the beach to get a slushy since I was a kid,” Axel smiled. “Of course, in those days I didn’t get the extra kick. Not that this has much of a kick.” He got on his ride. “Let’s go baby girl.”

She crossed her arms and shook her head, “No, I know you said there wasn’t much rum in that, but I could taste it. I’m not sure you should be driving.”  

“Really?” Axel glared. “Just get on the fucking bike. I’m fine. The legal limit here is 08% blood alcohol. According to intoxalock.com it takes about five drinks an hour for someone my weight to reach a .08%. I had a dash of rum. I don’t drink more than one drink of any kind if I am going to drive. I won’t put in us in danger like that.”

She stands there staring at him without budging.

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me.” He gets back off the bike.

“I trust you fine Axel,” She bites her bottom lip nervously. “I just don’t trust the alcohol in your system”

“Yeah, that isn’t a thing.” He grabs her upper arm. “I have no problem taking a fucking breathalyzer test at the Lifeguard stand.

His temper flared as they made their way to the closest Lifeguard tower. “ Hey Roni, you have a minute to prove to my girl one fucking rum slushy doesn’t make me to drunk to drive. She doesn’t fucking trust my word. Sorry wrong words. She doesn’t trust the fucking alcohol.” Axel smirks.

She looks down at Axel and Susie. He looks pissed. Susie has tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She tries not to let it show how upset she is about the situation.  

“I just...” Susie starts.

“I don’t need to hear anything but a sorry from you, young lady,” Axel chides.

“Um yeah Axel,” Roni hoped down from her tower. “But give the girl a break, would you.”

Axel glared, “test, please.”

She gets the test out of her bag, “I think you know how to blow in this.”

Axel nods. “I’m ready.”

Roni puts the breathalyzer between Axel’s lips. Hits a button, “Now, blow, blow, blow, blow, and … your good.” She shows the results to Axel and Susie. “You are at .005. Your fine Axel. Susie, Axel can actually drink a few drinks in an hour and still drive fine. But I know he doesn’t. You want to check yours?”

“Yeah, make sure your judgement isn’t impaired to judge me,” Axel mumbles.

Susie rolls her eyes, “fine, I’ll do it to.”  

“Okay then Susie,” Roni wipes the mouthpiece with an alcohol pad before putting it in Susie's mouth. “blow, blow, blow, blow, and … your good.” She shows the results. “You are .07. Your quite a light weight.” She laughs. “Still you would pass a test. But Axel is driving, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Axel said proudly. “Thank you, Roni. You going to the garage with me still Susie Q.?”  

Axel and Susie start walking away.

“Of course, I am,” Susie assured him. “I still have an important interview, don’t I?”

“Yeah, if you don’t think you drank too much to deal with it?” Axel smirked.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She whined.

Axel got on his motorcycle and revved the engine waiting for her to get on. “I think a little girl that acts like you have today needs punished, but we will discuss that later.”

He speeds off cutting through the late afternoon traffic like it didn’t even exist. Susie held tight around him thinking she would almost fall off as they leaned into a sharp turn nearly touching the ground. He skids into his packing spot In front of the garage.  

Axel sets up the kicks stand before getting off. “Give me five minutes before knocking on my office door.”

“I can do that,” Susie said meekly. She waited as instructed before heading into the garage with a smile plastered on her face. She nodded to the guys fixing a few cars and scrubbing down the place like their life depended on it. She knocked on the office door.

Axel answered the door with a clip board in hand, “Good afternoon Miss,” he looked at the clipboard. “Quinnby. You’re a little late.”

Susie was more nervous than she had ever been in an interview. “I’m sorry, I...”

Axel put his hand up to stop her as he sat down. “It says her you have some technical training in auto mechanics. What kinds of vehicles have you worked on?”

“I worked in a group on a few different cars and a truck,” She answered crossing her legs at the ankle. “I know I can learn a lot here.”

“I’m sure you could,” He leaned back clasping his hands behind his head. “Tell me what you like to do for fun?”  

“I read.’ She wasn’t sure why the question was significant, but it had been asked of her before in interviewed. “I have been reading mechanics journals and magazines and learning about water sports.”

“What is the most interesting article you have read?” Axel prodded.

“They are all fascinating,” She fidgeted a little.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked. “What article was the most interesting?”

“I read Popular Mechanics and Rider.” She pauses. “There was a cool article on fuel efficient High Mileage Carburetors. And an older article that talked about a guy who built a carburetor for his sedan which vaporized the fuel and enabled his V8 to get over 100 mpg.”  

Axel nodded and got up, “Thank you Miss Quinnby. I have many applicants to see but I will call you if you get the job here.”

Susie got up as Axel opened the door for her to leave, “Your welcome Mr. Cluney.” She walked out thinking Axel would follow her. He shut the door behind her instead leaving her a little baffled.  

Inside the room Axel’s anger raged as he mumbled to himself. “fucking can’t trust me but wants to hide out here and expects a fucking job...” He punches his fist against the wall a few times. Blood ran from his knuckles. “Can’t fucking believe females. Fucking whores to get what they want. Expect me to just forgive and forget all their treachery.” He banged his head against the wall and screamed. “FUCK I AM MORON FOR TRUSTING ANYONE!”  

When Axel doesn’t come out for a few minutes, she tries to go back in. The door is locked, so she calls out, “Axel?”  

Axel splashes some water on his face. He took a few deep breaths as he walked to the door opening it, “I’m fine. Let’s get you a ticket back home or wherever you want to go but here. Here is not the place for you to hide.”

Susie’s mouth dropped open as Axel brushed past her without a look. She followed him without a sound waiting for a better time to ask him, what the hell he is thinking.  

“Danny, Dwayne is bringing his Viper in tomorrow for a tune up. Buff out any scratches he has on the house.” Axel ordered. “I told him you would do it since you’re my best mechanic when I’m not here.”  

The other guys scoffed at Axel’s remark. Axel glared, “Anyone have an opinion they want to share just step right up.” They all turned back to what they were doing. “Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought.” Axel gets on his motorcycle. He waits impatiently for Susie.  

She comes out, “Axel, what’s going on? You are obviously upset.”

“No more fucking public displays.” He revved the motor. “You want to talk you come with me now.”

“But I think you are too upset to drive,” Susie squeaked.

“Of course, you do,” Axel sped off yelling, “You know where I live.”

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 11/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774 

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Rey swept a lock of hair behind her ear as she shouldered her bag and put a leash on BB8. The place was cozy, with rustic wood paneling and classic leather futons. She recognized a few members of The Knights as she entered the lobby. The drummer, the backup singer, and the towering, black-clad silhouette of Ben himself. He had his back turned to her, his shoulders even broader than she last remembered.

“Looking for someone?”

Rey jumped, turning around. Mohawk girl—the one who had been all over Ben at the concert last time—stood frowning before her. It felt like the room temperature had plummeted, and Rey tried her best to recover her sangfroid.

“Hello, I’m Rey. You’re the guitarist aren’t you? I really liked your concert in Denver that night...Ben said I should come by.”

“What do you want with Kylo?”

Rey noted that her companion was sticking to their stage names and she decided to do the same.

“I don’t mean any harm, he did me a favor a while ago and I want to thank him, that’s all,” she tried to remain casual.

“I’ll pass it on. Anything else?”

Okay...she hadn’t realized he had a security team. And she was done with being manhandled and manipulated. For two whole weeks she had been treated like some half-witted puppet on a string. She stood a little taller in her heels.

“Yes, actually. I’ve got a date with Kylo, and since you seem to be his secretary, we’ll have two coffees, thanks,” she replied tartly.

Without waiting for a response, she left mohawk lady and walked towards Ben at a steady pace. Noticing her approach, the girl talking to Ben signaled for him to turn around.  

Rey smiled nervously. Were they going to come to blows again? For a fraction of a second she imagined his unforgiving glare, the same one he had when he ran into her in the street. A look that had frightened her, actually.

But he turned on his heels and smiled.

Was that a smile? The corner of his mouth curved into something wicked, a smirk somewhere between satisfaction and victory.

Rey barely had time to open her mouth before BB8 started growling and twisting at the end of her leash. She looked at the dog in surprise, BB had always been so well behaved! Now the dog crouched defensively on her front paws, bearing her teeth and snarling menacingly.

Ben too, was no longer smiling. His eyes were locked on the dog and his expression was equally defiant and bitter.

Shocked, Rey pulled on BB8’s leash to regain her attention and reprimanded her through gritted teeth, “BB8! Stop it! What’s gotten into you? You should be ashamed of yourself!”

But the dog kept growling, back arched. She barked aggressively when Ben tried to move. Rey grabbed her by the collar as she addressed him with an apologetic smile. “Pardon me,” she said, rolling her eyes slightly in embarrassment, “I’ll go put her in the car so she can calm down.”

Again, she didn’t wait for a response as she made a beeline for the sliding doors of the entrance, holding BB8 firmly by the collar.

She made it to the parking in record time, brusquely putting the dog in the backseat. BB yelped, casing her anger to evaporate. She turned to the canine and scratched her gently. “Well, BB? What was that all about? You can’t just harass people like that. Stay here—the window is slightly open and your water bowl is right there. You need to relax,” she took a good look around before whispering, “but if that blonde woman returns, don’t hold back, alright?” She petted her a little more before closing the door firmly. Just as she finished locking the car, Ben appeared before her, as tall as ever.

“Is that your car?”

Rey chewed her lip, suddenly hyper-conscious of the embarrassingly sorry state of such a hunk of junk.

“Yes. Well, not really. It’s on loan to me for the duration of the road trip.”

“And this antediluvian thing still works?”

“For now, yeah. We’ll see how long it’ll last on the road,” she replied.

She didn’t know what else to say. Ben shifted, looking past her into the car. He stepped back swiftly as BB8 appeared at the window, barking with rage. Rey grimaced apologetically.

“Evidently, BB8 doesn’t like you very much. Sorry, it’s the first time I’ve seen her react like this. She’s usually really adorable,” Rey admitted.

“I don’t think I like her very much either.” Ben retorted, and Rey couldn’t tell whether that was a jab or just plain cynicism on his part. “Is she your dog?”

“Yes. Well, not really. She’s on loan to me for the duration of the road trip. Didn’t we have this conversation already?”

“Do you want a coffee?”

Rey’s face lit up. Her kingdom for a coffee!   She turned around and made the "I’m watching you" gesture to BB8 before walking towards the hotel.

“I think a coffee would do me some good, yeah.” She said as she turned to Ben.

“Wouldn’t you like to take a shower first?”

She stopped in her tracks. Is that how he wanted to play it? Lifting her eyes to his, she held his gaze. His eyes widened, the corners of his mouth curving slightly. Oh, he was going to pay for that. She was going to take him up on it. Her hands fisted at her hips.

“Actually, I would, thanks. And are there any washing machines available at the hotel? I’d like to do a load of laundry as well,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“I..think so.”

“Perfect,” she said, holding out her hand to him. He looked at it in confusion.

“I need your room key,” she clarified, “So that I can take a shower. That’s what you meant, right?”

Ben chewed on his lip, fumbling in his pockets. After a moment of hesitation, he handed her a mag-stripe card. They made it back to the lobby area when Rey decided to continue pushing her luck. She turned to Ben with an angelic smile. “Which room again?” she asked loudly.

“Er...212,” he responded, sensing that the situation was getting out of hand.

“Thanks, for everything.” she grinned, not waiting for a response as she headed to the elevators. She flashed what’s-her-name a saccharine artificial smile on her way out (Rey didn’t know her name but she knew her type). To her satisfaction, the poor girl was absolutely tongue-tied.

When the elevator doors closed, Syed exploded. She turned to Ben, seething with rage. “Who was that bitch?”

Ben looked down on her with disdain. At full height, he was a good head or so taller than her. “Your new mission,” he articulated, his expression stony. “She’ll be under surveillance from now on and it goes without saying that she’ll be under your protection. If anything happens to her I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s out of the question,” Syed tried, but her voice had lost some of its confidence.

“I’m absolutely serious,” Ben continued, ignoring her protest, “And practice discretion. You’ve done enough to make her notice you, it’s time you worked to make her forget you. Make sure she doesn’t suspect anything.”

Syed’s steady stream of insults continued all the way to the elevator. Ben sighed wistfully as the doors closed once again. He needed to put an end to this problem; hell hath no fury like Syed. He shouldn’t have slept with her. It was fun while it lasted but he hadn’t anticipated the complications. Their physical relationship had put an end to the strict professional hierarchy that had existed until then. Now Syed was freewheeling. He would have to keep an eye on her.

Arriving in front of his room, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have the key—Rey had run off with it. He supposed he could knock, or text her. But then what? Be alone with a hotel room with her? When she was about to get out of the shower, no less? He imagined her then, wrapped in a hotel towel, her hair in damp waves. It troubled him so.  The last time they were alone together in a hotel room, nothing had gone to plan. He had left the room furious and drenched in coffee.

But that night...he closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. That night at the Four Seasons, Rey had been drunk and disoriented from the trauma. She had gotten into his arms and he had carried her to the room. And she had been so light, so fragile. And even when he set her down on the bed, she was held onto his neck. Ben bit his lip at the thought.

He had wanted to gently let go of her, but she hugged him tighter, blindly seeking his mouth. "Finn, please." She uttered the name over and over, speaking in half-coherent phrases of love, regret, and sadness.

It took every once of Ben’s inner strength and patience to not respond in kind. Not to return her touches, to break the kiss. To leave her lying on the bed, alone. But he had kept the feeling of her breath on his skin, shuddering at the near-painful tension.

When his legs gave out, present-day Ben sank to the ground, his elbows resting on his knees. He leaned his head back and contemplated the ornate ceiling. He turned at the sound of a throat clearing. It was Rey. She was standing there in the empty corridor. It was hard to tell which of them was more surprised to find the other in this particular location.

“What are you doing here?” she was the first to break the silence.

“I could ask you the same,” Ben replied, “Weren’t you supposed to take a shower inside?”

Rey’s lips twisted into a flustered pout. “It’s just—I mean we barely know each other. I couldn’t bring myself to go into your room, with your stuff everywhere and...undress in your bathroom, and I didn’t bring a change of clothes...”

“I see.”

She leaned against the wall and slid down next to him. “Here,” she said, handing him the mag-stripe card again, “I won’t be needing this.”

“Thank you,” he said, sliding it into his pocket.

“So, what now? Do you still want to order us some coffee?”

Ben’s eyes widened at the thought. “Right here, in the middle of the hallway?”

“And why not? We can’t use your room—that would be too intimate—and the lobby is out of question—your guard dog looks ready to bite me, and mine is more than willing to bite you. Can’t we just stay here in neutral territory and order room service?”

Lord, where could he start...Ben wanted to start by scoffing at both instances of the term guard dog, followed by addressing her exact perceptions of intimacy...except he was able to convey exactly none of that through the lump in his throat. His body temperature spiked; Rey tended to have that effect on him. She left him speechless, breathless, and mildly confused. It was intoxicating, really. Her mere presence was a unique form of intoxication.

And so, room service found them in the hallway, sitting in the exact same positions. They were handed a cardboard tray, with two large disposable cups of coffee. Rey took the liberty of ordering foam and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top of hers. She moaned in appreciation on the very first sip.

Still scalding, the coffee was a magic, revitalizing potion to Rey. Her mind and body were once again restored thanks to that sweet magic ambrosia. She took her bag in hand again, ready for unfinished business.

She turned to Ben, “I still want to get ahold of that washing machine though, the shower can wait but the laundry can’t. Want to come with me?”

Ben’s muscles rippled as his got to his feet. “A rendez-vous in the laundry room with you? How could I possibly refuse?”

He didn’t say much as they made their way to the laundry room on the other side of the building. They took the stairs in order to completely avoid the lobby. Rey was surprisingly quiet as well, as though she was miles away. Ben guessed she was trying to find the right words. Maybe she would finally broach the subject of her sudden willingness to see him again?

Once her clothes were stuffed into the washing machine, she selected the “15-min express” cycle and paid the five dollar fee. After finishing and disposing of the last of her coffee, she turned to him again. This time he could tell that she was ready to talk. She raised her gold-flecked eyes to his. “Ben, there’s actually a reason I sent you that text the other night,” she began.

“You mean, other than the fact that you couldn’t resist seeing me again?” He grinned.

“Ben—I’m not kidding.”

Me neither, he thought wistfully.

“Someone tried to steal my car the other day and now I’m not sure I want to travel alone.” She finally admitted.

Ben froze. Should he play the fool here? It seemed Phasma had made a rookie mistake, typical. Now it was up to Ben to keep Rey calm. He had to figure out the extent of her relationship with those rebels.

“Okay...were you assaulted, what happened?”

“No, nothing like that, just taken by surprise. And scared. She looked like she was trying to force the door open, and I’m sure she was following me, ever since Denver. And so I was wondering if—“

“Do you want to submit a complaint to the authorities? I’ll come with you,” he offered.

“No, no it’s not that bad,” Rey bristled, “I was hoping I could follow you on your tour across the States. I don’t feel like travelling alone and my only constraint is that I have to be in San Francisco by the 15th of July.” She shrugged, fidgeting a little.

“Well? Is that a yes or a no? I mean, either way I have to take this dog to a complete stranger with a garbage phone number,” she added, “so you know my life is going great, absolutely peachy, right now and I just—“

Ben looked down at her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked really fragile. Still, he touched her tentatively, ready to retract his hand if she rejected it. But she didn’t.

“Alright, I get it,” he seemingly conceded her point, “you can follow us on tour.”

It was perfect. She was suddenly under his protection. And of her own volition.

Everything was going to be great from now on. Well—everything except for one.

Syed is going to kill me.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Bedside Stories ch.3 (baon)

Summary: Edge is finally home, ready for a week of relaxation and healing! Yeah, about that...

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Domestic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, 

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

So, thing was, Stretch loved Edge. Like, really loved him. It was hard to believe a few years ago if he’d stumbled across Edge drowning in a lake, he probably would have offered him a nice glass of ice water. To be honest, Stretch didn’t even like to think about those days because it had a lot less to do with Edge and a hell of a lot more to do with him being a raging dick, but eh, it happened, they’d worked through the hedge maze of their issues, and the prize at the center was finding the love of his life.

A few bumps in the road didn’t change that, a little stupidity shared on both sides. He loved Edge, Edge loved him and that was a fact.

So it was kinda nostalgic, in a way, how much Stretch wanted to murder him.

Okay, not really, but he might’ve considered a little light maiming, if Edge already being maimed wasn’t the main issue at hand.

Literally zero people ever would be surprised that Captain Control Issues was a very shitty patient. Stretch liked to think that he personally raised annoying doctors until they cut him loose to a new artform, destined for museums and private galleries alike. But Edge, ah, he didn’t argue with doctors or nurses or brothers or husbands or whoever took the time to wander into his life to give some much needed medical advice, no sir.

What he did was politely allow them to state their piece and then completely ignore it and do whatever he decided was the best course of action instead, and if that ended up with him passed out on the bathroom floor that one time after a nasty bout of Monster flu, welp, next time he’d probably just try harder not to get caught.

The irony of him demanding to be able to take care of, oh, everyone and not allowing anyone to give back the favor was bitterly delicious.

Getting Edge to promise to behave was a pretty good first move, but that had problems of its own. To begin with, Edge tended not to give promises the weight that Stretch thought they deserved, and he didn’t much feel guilty if he decided it was in everyone’s best interest to break it.

Two, even if he was keeping to the letter of the promise that did not mean he couldn’t be an asshole about it.

Stretch could admit he’d probably been setting himself up for a fail by asking Blue to give them a ride home from the hospital. His reasoning for doing it made sense at the time; Blue was feeling a little left out by his big bro, so while Andy could’ve done it and would’ve probably rejoiced to be asked, Blue had been freaking ecstatic.

Problem was, there was only so much ecstasy to go around and Blue took up all the best shares.

The drive home was like getting served up a nice, rare slice of hell, with Blue chattering nonstop about how Edge needed to follow the doc’s directions and that he needed to listen to Papy, and that he’d be happy to come over and help out with chores and he could clean the kitchen, do laundry, whatever they needed, they only had to ask and Blue would be there in a flash, starry-eyed and ready to work!

Edge’s noncommittal grunts morphed into strained silence, then to something very nearly a subsonic growl of restrained murder, especially when Blue mentioned touching the kitchen. Stretch could only desperately go for the diversions, not an easy task when he was origamied into the tiny backseat, prying his knee out of his mouth long enough to change topics.

He’d felt like a batter at a baseball game filled with maniacal clowns that’d tied one hand behind his back so he was stuck desperately swinging at any ball that got hurled in his direction on the off chance he’d get the miracle of a home run.

The straw that finally broke his wounded camel’s back was Blue innocently asked if Edge had scheduled his mental health assessment yet, and that was interesting for two reasons; one, that he obviously hadn’t and two, that Stretch didn’t know about it, which was a little bit of bullshit. There was already one person in this relationship who liked to lie by omission, they didn’t need two.

“you need to get an assessment?” Stretch asked, cautiously, because he could read a room, thanks, “for what?”

After a long moment of deafening silence, Edge said, “Everyone involved in the incident is required before they return to work, and, no, I haven’t scheduled it yet.”

Stretch got the nuance in that right quick, he was pretty damn familiar with his baby’s quirks, and the growl layered under his voice meant, ‘I do not want to talk about this, so I cordially request you stop, lest I am forced to do something awful that I will feel guilty about for days.’

Shame Blue wasn’t fluent in Edge-ese, since he immediately started in, “Oh, but you should, it’s wonderful! I stayed for a few hours just to chat and--”

“I will get around to it!”

That snarl was loud enough to echo in the car and Stretch cringed as Blue fell silent. This...this sucked, this was awful, a parody of all the times Blue interceded when he and Edge were still at each other’s throats, only Stretch wasn’t nearly as damn good at it, he didn’t want his husband and his brother fighting, but anxiety was choking him as he tried to think of what to say to take things down a notch.

Blue beat him to it, saying with easy mildness, “All right.”

He snapped on the radio, and that he chose an easy listening channel that Edge was fond of was a pretty nice concession in Stretch’s opinion.

He wasn’t so sure Edge agreed. The car had barely stopped when Edge was out the door, simmering gently while he waited for Stretch unfold himself from the backseat and get his crutches out of the trunk. Stretch only offered them silently, watching as his husband bumped his way up to the porch, balancing awkwardly on one leg to unlock the door, which he shut firmly behind him.

Okay, yeah, got that loud and clear.

Seemed like Blue wasn’t as oblivious to the early stages of homicide in the air as Stretch thought, because he didn’t follow, only left the car running as he got out. It was so frustrating, Blue’s heart was always in the right place and damn if there was anything Stretch could think to do about the sadness in his smile as he said, “Why don’t I just bring over a casserole later?”

“that’d be great, bro,” Stretch said honestly, even as he waffled helplessly. He knelt and pulled him in for a hug, holding on tight. That Blue snuggled in happily made him feel a little better, and he whispered against the side of his brother’s skull, “keep me from trying to burn down the kitchen making dinner.”

Blue nodded, his chin digging into Stretch’s shoulder. “Tell Edge I hope he feels better soon? And if you do need anything, please call.”

“i will,” Stretch promised, then lingering outside to watch his brother drive away. Only then did he go in and that was when the real battle began.

Here he was, ready and willing to give his baby anything and everything he could possibly need to help him heal and what the survey was coming back with was that what Edge wanted was absolutely nothing.

Help getting into the shower? Nope. Help propping his leg up on the precise stack of pillows he’d insisted on making himself? Nada. Food at least he took with grudging thanks, eating it with sharp, precise bites while he sat glaring at either the television or his phone. Stretch almost told him if he didn’t pay attention, he was gonna bite off a finger, but eh, there were times when it didn’t pay to test your luck.

Three days in and about the only thing Stretch could be grateful for was that they didn’t have any hair because both of them would’ve been ripping it out in handfuls by now. If Edge was going stir-crazy in slow increments, then Stretch was just plain going nuts. He was sick of watching the news, sick and sickened, all the debates back and forth about the responsibility of Monsters for what’d happened. Two Humans died in the explosion, but no Monsters had and somehow people were adding two plus none and getting bullshit because conspiracy theories were sprouting up like daisies over that. Even worse, since the trip hadn’t been advertised all the junk blogs were howling about deception and plots. Like any other ambassador for any other country went on the press junket before they went out of town?

It was all so stupid and Edge was working on jittering his way to bonkers because he wasn’t allowed to do anything about it. Normally Edge didn’t need much in the way of sleep, but that didn’t apply so much when his body was trying to heal. He should be getting plenty of rest, snoozing away in their bed with Stretch cozied in next to him or sprawled out on the sofa, his leg safely propped up while some ancient black and white movie rambled on in the background. Instead, he was staying up way too late watching the damn news, and if Stretch had known Edge was going to be laser focused it, he would have blocked the stupid channels. Shadows were starting to show under his sockets, faint reddish stains and yeah, he was keeping off his feet, but it wasn’t like the doc knew he was supposed to order Edge to sleep. His fault for assuming the Director of Operations for the Monster Embassy had the common sense of a baby moldsmal.

The fourth day was kicker.

Stretch’s pitiful cooking skills were getting one hell of a workout since he didn’t want Edge to have to live on casseroles and frozen leftovers the whole time he was convalescing. Grilled cheese at least he could manage, he’d helped Edge make it often enough, and he forced himself to stay right by the stove while it was cooking, no wandering off for one second, no quick check of his twitter. He stared that toasting bread down until he was golden perfection. Okay, yeah, the cheese was sort of oozing out of the sides but close enough. That along with some of Edge’s homemade tomato soup was a pretty good lunch and Stretch carefully put it all on a tray to take it out to the living room.

Edge was sitting exactly where he’d been for the past three days, in the corner of the sofa with his cast propped up on a very precisely placed stack of pillows. The side table next to him was filled with pens and notebooks alongside scatterings of post-it notes. He was watching something on the tv with painful intensity, scribbling furiously.

It was hard not to snap at him that he wasn’t supposed to be working, especially since he technically wasn’t because nothing he was doing was getting to any of the folks at the Embassy. Frankly that only made it more irritating, all this stress was for nothing.

“hey, it’s about that time,” Stretch said with forced cheer, carrying the tray over.

“I’m not hungry,” Edge said curtly. He didn’t look up, still writing furiously.

“except you should be, because you barely ate this morning,” Stretch said, calling on reserves of patience that he’d been storing up since he heard Edge would need to stay home for a week.

That only got him a scowl add-in, free of charge, “I don’t want them, I’m fine.”

Stretch gritted his teeth and breathed out through them. “except for how you’re totally not fine. you have a leg that is barely healed from being broken and you need to eat something so you can take your meds.”

“I’m not hungry and I don’t need them right now,” Edge repeated, sharper. “I’m trying to listen to this.”

For fuck’s sake, it reminded him of Blue when he was a toddler and didn’t want to stop playing even for lunch, but the brief mental picture of Red trying to deal with a stubborn babybones Edge wasn’t enough to calm Stretch’s growing irritation. “except you don’t need to listen to it, you’re off the clock. what you do need is to eat something and take your pills per the doctor’s instructions because you told me you would. you promised me.”

Intellectually, Stretch knew what came next was an accident. Edge was only gesturing, a sudden, fierce sweep of his arm filled with all his frustrations that was supposed to punctuate a snarl of what he thought about doctors and promises, and fuckall else that was bringing him down. He didn’t mean to clip the side of the tray, sending soup and sandwiches flying. Totally an accident and that was the truth.

That didn’t stop Stretch from yelping in surprise as he was promptly covered from brow bone to crotch with soup. It didn’t hurt or anything, it wasn’t that hot, but he could only stand there, stunned, blinking at Edge who looked equally shocked through a dripping curtain of tomato.

Okay, yeah, looked like here was a good place for a time out.

Silently, Stretch turned on heel and went right back into the kitchen, ignoring Edge calling his name. He snagged a dish towel and wiped off his soupy face, then tried the same with his sweatshirt and pants as much as he could.

Through the door, he could hear the thump and bump of a skeleton on crutches, Edge would be coming through it any second now.

Stretch didn’t wait around for it. He shortcutted out, even though that was a surefire guarantee that he’d never get the damn stains out of his sweatshirt; apparently a trip through the void made it a lot harder to shout it out.

He only went as far as the porch, dusting the tiny drift of snow off the steps to sit down as he pulled out a pack of smokes. He lit one, inhaling deeply and letting the soothing nicotine wash over him, easing the low simmer of his temper. He couldn’t help being a little amused that it tasted a bit like tomato soup.

The cigarette was nearly burned down to the filter by the time the front door opened. Stretch didn’t look up as Edge limped out, standing behind him, leaning heavily on his crutches as he said softly, “I’m sorry.”

Stretch exhaled a cloud of smoke and said, “gonna need more specifics than that. sorry for redecorating my shirt? sorry for being a shit? sorry for working your ass off when you’re supposed to be resting?”

There was a long silence, the crutches creaking as Edge shifted his weight. “Am I allowed to choose all of the above?”

Wasn’t possible to hide his smile and Stretch could nearly feel the tension easing in the air, “sure. can you come down here?”

“Yes, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to get back up.”

Carefully, Edge eased his way down, his casted foot stretched out in front of him as he settled on the stairs next to Stretch. Not that they stayed next to each other for long, Stretch went ahead and curled around him from the side angle, one leg across his lap and the other knee braced against Edge’s spine. Made it easy to wrap his arms around his baby and pull him in close, pressing a kiss against the side of his skull.

He cupped a hand at the back of Edge’s skull, smoothing along the curve with his thumb. “babe, i know you’re trying to help, but you really need to take care of yourself first. you’re supposed to let me help you, you know?”

Edge leaned into his touch, but his words were firm as he said, “I need to do this.”

“why?”

“I need New New Home to be safe, I need you to be safe.” It almost sounded like a confession and Stretch wondered what was going on in his husband’s beautiful, battered skull. How much he was beating himself up for what happened, because, what, he couldn’t predict the future?

“baby, i need you to be safe, too. safe and healthy and taken care of, no,” Stretch insisted when Edge tried to interrupt. “listen to me now. i let you run a little wild with the protectiveness because i know it’s something you need, okay, but, we’re married, full partnership. that means sometimes i protect you and take care of you, i don’t give a shit what nonsense red’s pounded into your skull. it’s my turn now.”

He waited until Edge nodded, reluctantly but it was there. “and i get that you need to see what’s going on with the embassy, but you aren’t going to be any good to them if you go back exhausted. you need to take care of yourself. let me help. turn off the tv for the day, hide your phone in your desk, and get some rest.

For a long moment there was nothing but the hush that came with lightly falling snow, then Edge sighed heavily, “Okay. “ He swallowed hard and the dregs of shame in his voice made an ache rise in Stretch’s soul as he said, softly, “I feel like I’m doing everything wrong for you lately.”

Stretch pressed a rough kiss against the side of Edge’s skull, breathed in hard the scent of his magic faintly tainted with tomato. “might feel that way, but you’re not, babe. i promise. come on, let’s try something different, yeah?

He helped Edge wobble to his feet and followed him inside, biting back a couple choice words when he saw Edge’d already cleaned up the soup disaster. Not worth an argument and Edge did let him help to get settled on the sofa, his cast propped up on its pillow nest.

“comfortable? in any pain?” For once he wasn’t going to fuss about the pain meds.

“Yes and no, in that order.

“Great.” And without preamble, Stretch pulled his sweatshirt over his head, then pushed his track pants down to puddle at his feet. Didn’t bother to try for seductive, there wasn’t much need, anyway. Edge was usually seduced by him breathing, proved it by staring with wide sockets as Stretch sauntered over. “think you could use a distraction, don’t you?”

“I...yes. Yes.” The word shifted closer to a moan as Stretch straddled him, and he could say with a good amount of smug pride that very soon, Edge was pretty damn distracted.

Afterward, while Edge was sleeping peacefully on the sofa, Stretch went upstairs for some fresh clothes, taking a second to scrub the last dregs of tomato off his bones, ugh, used soup wasn’t much of an aphrodisiac, but he’d made do. Letting it linger like the world’s worst perfume was out of the question, though, people downwind would think he was Sans. He scribbled a quick note to leave on the coffee table and paused, looking down at his husband.

The blanket rose and fell with every breath, and beneath it, Edge was still bare to his bones. His sockets were finally closed in sleep, all the tight stress-lines on his face eased, making him seem oddly young, or maybe just his age. Looking at him, Stretch felt a surge of love so strong it made tears sting. He leaned down and pressed the lightest kiss against Edge’s forehead, the softest touch. He didn’t stir, days of exhaustion catching up to him, although Stretch liked to think it had something to do with the last pleasant hour, too.

He left Edge sleeping and headed out to the bus stop, settling into his seat as the bus droned on to Ebott. There was someone who owed him a favor and Stretch was about to call it in.

~~*~~

tbc

[uncultureddirt]

Day Zero (Part 1/4) - Park Jisung (Post Apoc!AU)

~REQUESTED~

“I hope she can trust me.”

Warnings: language, implied violence

Escape. Escape is not a single noun or verb. Escape is not something defined by a highly educated red man who decided to print it in a thick book to educate a population. No, escape is not something heard or read, escape is felt. 

You had done it. You were feeling it. With each foot pushing into the flaky dirt you were moving far away from captivity. You were moving closer to freedom. You were escaping and you couldn’t look back. The dark room loomed in your mind as you ran. You could still feel their cold hands pulling you from your mother, the numbers inked on their skin and thieving souls stripping you of your food and clothes. You swore you could hear it, their calls surrounding you at every angle. 

“That little shit’s stealing! Grab her!”

“Just close your eyes, it doesn’t hurt that bad.” 

“Don’t let her out of your sight.” 

You shook your head as you sprinted, trying to expel the dark words. The blood and sweat mixture dripping from your face began to dampen the collar of your shirt. You didn’t care; a stained shirt was the least of your problems.

“Just a bit longer y/n. We’ll be safe soon,” you whispered to yourself in between breaths. 

You were flying over the dirt. You had never run this fast in your entire life. Hours ago you had thrown yourself through a window and for a short while, you felt invincible. You beat them and you were going to survive. But after miles in a full sprint, your body gave in. Your body couldn’t be healed by a confident mentality. You needed to rest, but you couldn’t. Not just yet. Your muscles could no longer forge forward and the cuts which polluted your body stung with the exposure to the sharp night air. Your body collapsed in front of a small shed. 

“No. Don’t die. Not now. We’re so close. Get inside. Y/n get inside.” Your mind was throbbing, moving in sync with the beat of your tired heart. You dragged yourself up to stand and limply pushed open the door. Fear finally hit you and became rampant inside of you. Your weakened state made you a key victim, a state of prime vulnerability. Once inside, your eyes scanned the small building. Leaning against the door to close it, you began to shut your eyes. Everything in your body began to slow as you felt safe. It was empty; you were alone. 

 “Who the fuck are you?” The voice shook you and your eyes burst open. Into your vision came a dark-haired mousy looking boy. He held a rifle in his hands. And speaking again, “I said who the fuck are you?” His confidence was a mask of his own fear. He stared at you intensely, hoping you wouldn't strike at him. But you couldn’t sense his fear over your own. Attacking wasn’t an option, he had a rifle, and you knew better than to try anything funny.

“Please don’t hurt me. I don’t have any weapons.”

“Who are you with?” He said with his gun still help up firmly in his grasp and furrowed his brows deeply. 

“Nobody. I swear. I just escaped Tartix. Please don’t hurt me.” Your eyes fell to the wood floor as they began to well. Your body was at the height of its tolerance and you fell to your knees. You could only withstand so much emotional and physical exhaustion at a time. You could not go anymore. Your voice broke as you repeated your words, “Please don’t hurt me.” 

His face flinched at the name ‘Tartix.’ His eyes began to look sorry and he lowered the gun. His defense fell. There was no reason to hurt a victim. He looked at you up and down and then spoke in a low voice, “You’re hurt.” 

“It's a few cuts.” You wiped the tears dripping down your face, trying to conceal your pain. 

“They did this to you?” he came closer, “the Tartix guys?” 

“You know them?” You looked up at him, confused. He wasn’t going to hurt you?

He didn’t answer, he only continued to examine you. “Your clothes are a mess.”

“I know,” you said softly. You watched him lift up your arm and wince at the rip in your coat which exposed a large wound. 

“Follow me.” He turned around and began to walk towards a room in the back in the shed.  

~ 

He brought you to a small room and began to dunk a dishtowel in a tin bucket of water. You sat down in the chair before him and breathed deeply as he pressed the cool towel on your face. He was silent as he cleaned your cuts. He met your eyes once and you spoke, breaking the silence that stiffly pervaded the room. 

“Thank you.” 

He viewed the towel in his grasp, noticing the blood had prominently decorated the fabric. 

 “You needed it. What’s your name?” 

“Y/n.” 

“I’m Jisung. Sorry, this place is a dump.” He turned around and began to wring out the towel and put it in a crate. Dirty laundry, you hoped. 

“It's nice. Better than where I was” 

“I think anything's better than that.” He attempted to smile softly. Turning around again, he opened up a box, pulling out a black long sleeve and thick flannel. “Take these, they’re warm and don’t have holes all over them.” He laughed lightly as he handed them over. The simple gesture was something your life had been vacant of for too long. You almost failed to react.

“I can’t take these they-”

“You need them more than I do.” You eyed the stack of clothing in his hands and agreed. He was right. Your clothes were rags, covered in dirt, blood, and holes. 

“Thank you.” 

He sat down on the floor across from your chair, leaning against what seemed like a bed. Jisung dragged his hand through his messy black hair, exposing his forehead. You felt your stomach tighten as he leaned his head back. A small panic overtook your body while you watched him. When he turned his head away from you, it became even clearer. At the side of his neck was the number 23 sloppily printed in black. 

~

You tried to ignore it but each time you looked at him it's all you could see. That damn number. Was he with them? That gang who kidnapped you? Was he one of them? The men who broke you down until you gave up everything you had? Survival meant that you would do anything to stay alive, though Tartix took the “at any cost” to an extreme. The want, no, the need to kill anyone who got in their way wasn’t a motto, it was a simple norm of their life. The boy who you just allowed to clean your cuts and give you clothes couldn’t be with them. He couldn’t. 

Your thoughts were whirling that night. Jisung had given you his bed, volunteering to sleep in the next room on the floor. Though you silently feared him, having no clue of who he really was, you were thankful for his current acts of kindness. Could he be trusted? Despite the fatigue plaguing your mind and body, you couldn’t sleep. You lay face-up on the heap of blankets staring at the darkness above you. You had no clue whether it was okay to put your guard down again or not.

Maybe he was going to take you back to them. His kindness was just a blanket on your cold and tired body.

Jisung mirrored you in the next room. His back ached as it pressed against the cold wood, but that wasn’t what was keeping him up. His heart hurt. He felt sorry for you. How many people had Tartix taken? How many people had they broken? Your broken face was imprinted in his mind and he suddenly felt the need to get up. He walked into your room and stood in the doorway. It was pitch black, but he felt that there was a possibility that you weren’t asleep.

“Y/n?” 

“Yes?” You were awake.

“I’m sorry about the gun.” And with that, he left to once again huddle on the floor, hoping to become fall asleep, even if only for an hour that night. 

~

You slowly sat up in the bed composed of old sweaters and blankets. Despite its haphazard appearance, it proved to be cozy for the time you spent in it. You didn’t remember falling asleep that night. You thought your brain was too invested in thought to allow itself to rest. The air was stiff inside that back room. Your eyes sifted through each corner, noting the stacks of boxes filled with various items. You stood up, deciding you needed some real air and began to walk towards the door. You slowed as you approached the front room, Jisung wasn’t there. You tilted your head slightly, but headed outside anyway. 

“Oh. Uh, hi. Good morning,” you said, feeling slightly alarmed to find Jisung sitting on the single step outside, “I didn’t know you were out here. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I, um, I can go back in-”

“No, you can stay out here with me. Being in that place can be suffocating sometimes.” He looked up at you and smiled softly.

You sat down next to him and tilted your head back, letting the sun fall directly across your face. He began to speak again, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you stared up at the sky. “I'm sorry if that was a lame excuse for a bed. I hope you slept alright.” 

It was the first bed you’d slept on in years. Whether an enemy or ally, you weren’t sure yet, but you wanted to believe the latter. To not be scared and by yourself just felt so… nice. Besides, it’d been a long time since you had anyone you could call a friend. Maybe you would entertain the friendship, at least for now.

“It was great. I really don’t know how to even thank you,” you exhaled deeply, “there's just so much fear in this day and age that sometimes it can get really tough going through all of this alone. So thank you. I needed a reminder that I wasn’t.” 

“You weren’t what?”

“Alone.”

You both sat there letting the sound of the wind fill the stillness. There was something about silent company that could feel so comforting sometimes. A vocal connection can only mean so much, for it’s the connection that two souls feel when welcoming each other’s mere presence to be just as fulfilling as a conversation that a bond can truly strengthen. 

~

You counted the days, watching the rise and fall of the sun as it would be replaced by the night. The world which was once full of dead grass, abandoned vehicles, worry, and sadness was now all replaced by it. Companionship. Replaced by him. Jisung. 

Nothing ever came up about the tattoo on his neck. Perhaps it was just a tattoo after all. Perhaps there was no affiliation to the forsaken group who had abused you for so many years. From what you saw, Jisung didn’t have a single bad bone in his body. Maybe he wasn’t the greatest cook, and maybe he was a little bit awkward at times, and maybe he wasn’t the most organized person, but he had a good heart. You could tell that much.

You would spend the nights around a tiny flame of light. The small glow flickering upon his face, smiling at you as you spoke. You would talk about your fears, your wants, your life before the world turned itself inside out.  

“Life before Day Zero.” You laid on your stomach, resting your head on your hands. 

He looked over at you, “If only I knew you before this mess. We would've gotten along well. I mean not that we don’t now it's just-”

“Différent. I know.” You finished his sentence because you knew what he meant. You knew what he felt. 

There was an understanding between you two which made talking easy. Thoughts flowed effortlessly among you. It all made sense. It was almost as if you’ve known him your whole life. You spent your time alone thinking of his deep voice and the words he would say. There was something comforting about it, like a song playing sweetly in your ears. 

“I'm kinda tired Jisung. I think I'm gonna go to sleep.” you said standing up and brushing off the front of your shirt. 

“Okay,” he stood up with the candle in his hand, “It's a bit dark, don’t trip over all my shit.” He snorted at his own heckle.

“I’ll try not to, even though it's everywhere. It's like a maze to get to the back room,” you said back jokingly. 

He lit the path for you. Following slowly behind with the candle, “Y/n,” he whined your name, “don't make fun of my home.” He began to laugh again. 

Before walking directly towards the bed you turned around in the doorway. Your face was slightly below his as you watched the candle flame flicker in his eyes. At that moment you felt slightly in awe over him. His soft features paired with his strong jaw were emphasized in the dim yellow flame. There was something so boyish, yet so gentle and sweet about him. 

“Your home is lovely. Goodnight.” You smiled and turned around, walking further from the flame and deeper into the darkness. 

“Goodnight y/n.” he replied softly. 

~

Your sleep was abruptly halted. You felt large hands gripping your arms, shaking your body aggressively. Your eyes shot open, heart pounding in your chest, fearing what you would see when you opened them. The room was dark and you saw a dark figure above you. The lighting blurred out any details to help you identify the person. It could only have been Jisung, right? But if it was, why was he so frantic? And as your eyes began to adjust to the night you made out his face. 

“Jisung?” 

He was panting, and voice sounded rushed, almost fearful. “We gotta go. I'm serious, get up now. We gotta go y/n.” 

You stared up at him with wide eyes until you heard it. A noise you never wanted to wake up to ever again. A noise that made you think back to your time in that cold and dark room. Your time before Jisung. A noise that made you feel fear for the first time since you dragged yourself to his little shed in the middle of the night.

Boom.

A gunshot. 

~

To be continued...

[jawnjendes]

i don’t know why | shawn mendes

university au a totally perfect summer babey, shawn x goth gf

AN: u know how life imitates art or vice versa???? yeah sometimes i hate that. anyway i thought i was gonna slow down with updates but i had one (1) free day before i move (tomorrow) so here is this do with her what you will

******let me know if you wanna be tagged in future chapters

masterlist | playlist

In the past, if there was ever a time I could trade 120°F weather for literally anything else, I would have taken it. I would have given anything to stay in Toronto over the summer if it meant I wouldn’t experience heat exhaustion from the moment I stepped outside. I would sell intense SoCal weather to Satan for a single cornchip.

It’s halfway through May, and I still wore a long sleeve and jeans when I went out. It rained sometimes, and when it didn’t, it was cloudy. I could appreciate the coziness that accompanied the weather, but for the time of year, it was also putting me into a weird headspace. I couldn’t shake the feeling of my body unconsciously waiting for sweltering, dry desert heat. I was supposed to be in shorts and a tanktop in my hometown, and Shawn was supposed to be there with me. We were both supposed to be facing the chaos that was my extended family.

On top of that, I was hating having to go to the dealership five times a week. That was all I had going for me now that school was out. I didn’t even work five days during the semester. I never worked in the summer at all in the last few years, and again, I was wearing sweaters in May.

On the bright side, Shawn went to his first therapy session, and it went well for him. Said he had a breakthrough, and ways to combat the night terrors, but he had more that night anyway. I had to time when his body would start twitching, and then wake him up 15 minutes prior. It worked well, and it brought some relief to us and our sleep. I was just glad he was finally doing something about all of this, even if he was still reluctant to talk to me about it.

Sometimes, we were on different wavelengths. Shawn was in the process of getting his perkiness back, and it showed when my pessimism was out and about. There was a balance of light and dark between us, and today Shawn had all of the light.

I decided to go barefaced today. I felt the need to not hide how tired and done I was with the world and its bullshit. My eyebrows were incredibly sparse, and the under eye bags were just a little sunken in. While I was eating solid food again, I was lacking in other nutrients, therefore I was still dropping weight. Why hide it, right?

Shawn just had to point out that I was not wearing makeup, and I just had to take it the wrong way.

“I can’t look pretty all the time,” I snapped.

“But you do look pretty all the time,” he replied, unfazed.

I rolled my eyes and turned away from the bathroom mirror. Shawn was standing next to me, putting product in his freshly washed hair when he noticed my body language.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I have nothing to complain about. I should be grateful.

I left the bathroom and went to change into my uniform. My company shirt needed a wash, but I made a mental note to douse myself in perfume before I left. I was also on my last pair of clean white leggings, which gave me another thing to do when I got home because Shawn doesn’t do laundry. He waits for his mom to come over and do everything for him.

He came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, in his white Sting t-shirt and black jeans. I don’t know why I envied the fact that his only uniform was a stupid apron. Or the fact that he actually looked forward to going to work.

“Okay,” he spoke firmly, “not that long ago, you were pushing me to talk, now it’s your turn. What’s wrong?”

I sighed, not wanting to destroy the last chances I had at pulling myself together before my shift. “It’s nothing. I’m totally happy to be here.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what I said.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

My skin was crawling with unreasonable annoyance. I wanted to yell at him, and for what? Was it his fault that my insides were the actual worst?

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Then I looked at him, and the underlying sadness started to creep in. “I just miss my parents… and California. I kinda wish I was there.”

Shawn’s eyebrows scrunched together. His tone was something I was not expecting in the slightest. “You don’t wanna live here?”

It didn’t take much to get me back to my angry state. “I didn’t say that,” I defensively argued. “I said I-”

He interrupted me. “No, no. You don’t wanna be here. You don’t wanna live with me. It makes sense, you’ve been moody this whole time!”

My eyes narrowed into a death glare. “What, am I not allowed to miss my hometown? Am I not supposed to be angry that my large intestine refused to cooperate and part of it had to be removed? Should I not be pissed off that I’m eating bland rice everyday?”

He looked more confused than angry. “I think you should be happy you made it, that you’re okay now.”

I scoffed. “I should be happy? I don’t get to go home until December! I don’t get to see my family this summer! It’s almost June and I’m wearing a fucking sweater!”

“Don’t you hate the desert?”

“You don’t understand!” I yelled. Well, I did it.

“What don’t I understand?” Shawn shot back, raising his own voice. “You hate living here, right? You want to leave, eh?”

“I never said that!” My fingers pulled at the hair on my scalp. “I’m pissed that this is how I ended up living with you! And I wasn’t ready to live with you to begin with! I’m pissed that I won’t get to see my family until the end of the year! And I’m pissed that I’m the one who almost died and you’re the one who’s traumatized!”

That definitely silenced him. Shawn's face fell in a way I had never seen before. My rage faltered a little bit, but not enough to take back anything I said. He asked what was wrong, and I told him. I was too impatient to wait for him to say something, so I grabbed my purse and my keys and I was out of the apartment in a flash.

~

Under normal circumstances, I was very good at keeping my personal problems under wraps for the sake of remaining poised and professional. A customer could yell at me and throw a tantrum, and I'd keep my face neutral and polite. When I ended things with Luca, I feigned composure so well that I was named employee of the month.

But no, a stupid fight with my boyfriend threatened my professional-but-mildly-bitchy reputation! I was able to be polite to customers, both over the phone and in person, but I was testy to any coworker that came within a five foot radius of my desk. The finance, sales, and parts managers all fell victim to my signature death stare at various points in the morning. I was honestly shocked I wasn't fired by lunch.

Shortly after my lunch break, Stacy made her departure, leaving me with Jason and Luca. I gave them the cold shoulder from the moment they entered the office, a signal for them to leave me the fuck alone. They obliged, but they still clowned around at the back of the office.

"Dude," Jason said in his stoned out drawl, "they should replace lube… with hand sanitizer."

Luca chuckled. "The fuck? What'd you smoke today?"

"Nah, dawg," he continued, "replace lotion, with IcyHot."

I had my back to them, so they didn't see the puzzled expression on my face. As if I haven't heard such crackheadery like this before. Sometimes it made me laugh, but obviously not today.

"Okay, I got one," Luca said between laughs. "Replaces pads… with aluminum foil."

"Replace tampons with paintbrushes."

"Or! Sticks of dynamite!"

There was only half a brain cell in this room, clearly. That half was taken by Jason, who had a customer come in asking for him. He left the office, giving Luca a smug look through the small window.

There were plenty of people still in the building. The other managers, sans Stacy, and the rest of the salesmen were running around doing boring business things. I wished I had things to do, like file repair orders in the filing closet that was nowhere near this office. Or add up more gas receipts… Or have a long, pointless conversation with a customer over the phone. I literally wished I could do anything to avoid the fact that I was alone with Luca for the first time in months.

Of course, he could never keep his mouth shut.

"So, did your boyfriend break up with you?" he asked in a teasing, childish tone.

I ignored him and pretended to be busy with car repair orders. I didn't even know how to read them most of the time.

"You know I helped Shawnie boy write a song," Luca went on.

My blood boiled remembering how badly Mercy was ruined for me. The real meaning behind the lyrics messed me up more than I liked to admit. I hadn't listened to that song in months because of him, apart from when Shawn would perform it. Still, spite kept my mouth shut.

"Answer me, you little whore," Luca deadpanned. "Thought we were cool."

No, I do not know where the logic is behind that. Luca's mind was unlike anything I've ever encountered, and I can't believe I used to find it so attractive and endearing. I used to take his degrading name calling as terms of endearment. Maybe it was in a twisted way. But that was then. Now, he couldn't even compare to the man I had now.

Luca grew impatient, and decided to approach my desk. He leaned against the surface, practically sitting on it, and his brown eyes burned a hole into the side of my head.

"That song was about you."

Brand new information!

"And I'm assuming you've heard it," he continued. "So you know how I really feel."

Finally, I huffed out a sigh and looked up at him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you know it's true and it gets to you." He smirked, showing off dimples that I used to adore. He talked like this was some sort of challenge, and god knows he loved to challenge me.

"You're a lot of things," I said, "but you're not a liar. Why start now?"

"I'm not a liar. You just don't wanna believe that someone could love you."

I really did not know where to start with that. He never loved me because he frequently went to me when he was bored and horny. He never loved me because he didn't want the things I wanted, and instead of letting me go, he kept stringing me along. He knew I wouldn't leave.

I  scoffed and got to my feet, not wanting to be looked down on anymore. "You don't know that. You don't know anything about me."

Luca turned his whole body towards me. He was still smirking as he fixed the stupid RayBans perched on his nose. "If anyone's gonna know anything about you, it's me. I know you better than anyone here. I probably know you better than Shawn does. And you hate that, huh?"

He was the only person who wasn't intimidated by my death stare. He was the only person who made me powerless and small. And yeah, I really fucking hated that.

"Oh, so now you suddenly wanna admit that? Now I'm worth something to you?" I spat.

Whatever cockiness Luca had on suddenly faltered. He took a step back, ready to shut down, but I wasn't having it anymore.

"You had feelings, eh?" I asked, internally cursing the vernacular that planted itself into my vocabulary. "So where was all of that last year? Where was all of that when I was tearing myself apart to put you back together?"

"I never asked you to fix me," Luca said. "You just didn't want to fix yourself. I know I was just another person you didn't want to commit to in the long run."

"I wanted you to-" I tried to say, but he interrupted me.

"Oh, I bet you wanted me to be your boyfriend. But I know a crazy bitch when I see one. Doesn't look like anything's changed. Wonder how Shawn deals with you."

It felt like the glass bubble surrounding me was shattered with a sledgehammer. It felt like the wind was knocked out of me, or like my spirit had been forcibly removed from my body. My face was hot to the touch, and angry tears were threatening to come out of my eyes. Everything around me suddenly turned grey and went in slow motion. This feeling in my chest was dull and aching, and I wasn't sure how to deal with it.

Even when Jason entered the office again, I still felt like I was floating. Luca went back to his desk, and my body moved back into my chair. Memories of finishing up my shift were spotty. This darkness was awfully familiar.

I found myself wandering around Walmart after work. My legs felt numb, but they moved and worked like they should. My breath was constantly getting caught in my throat, and my spirit was just following its vessel around the store. I felt like I could collapse at any moment, and I could just let the ground swallow me whole. I tried looking at the video games in the electronic section to get myself back to normal, but I just felt numb. I ended up buying a stick of deodorant and an ice cream bar I couldn't eat.

~

Shawn was already home when I got there, and he still wasn't talking to me. There wasn't anything in me that wanted to try to fix that. He needed to sit with his angry boi feelings anyway. My body moved past the living room, where he was sitting watching Netflix. He looked at me, I saw it from my peripherals, but I just silently turned into the bedroom.

I spent the next hour leaning against the wall in the shower, hot water coming down on my back. I had a specific Halsey song on repeat blaring through the bathroom, even though my spirit floating above my body knew it wouldn't help the situation. I just needed to feel something.

"Tell me how's it feel sitting up there

Feeling so high but too far away to hold me

You know I'm the one who put you up there

Name in the sky, does it ever get lonely?"

Eventually, I was back on Earth, and the water was cold. My limbs ached as I moved around again to shut the shower off, but at least I was feeling something. Once the noise from the running water was gone, I was forced to hear more of that damn song. I still didn't bother to change it as I stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around myself.

"Gave love 'bout a hundred tries

Just running from the demons in your mind

Then I took yours and made 'em mine

I didn't notice cuz my love was blind"

I made quick work of drying off and getting dressed. I didn't bother with putting leave-in conditioner in my hair or moisturizing my skin. I stared down at the sink and processed what went down at work.

"I didn't ask you to fix me. You just didn't wanna fix yourself. I know a crazy bitch when I see one. Doesn't look like anything's changed."

Shouldn't you want to fix the one you love when they're down? Wouldn't you do anything you can to ensure that the one you love would be okay? Why else would I give up therapy so Shawn could take my place?

Oh, crap. Shawn.

Before I knew it, I was walking out of the bathroom, back to the living room. Shawn was still on the couch, take out box in hand. I watched him eat pasta as I leaned against the doorway. My voice came out raspy and wavering, but still coherent.

"I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to snap at you."

Talking alone caused a crying fit to form in my chest and throat. I turned on my heel, not expecting much of anything until-

"Did you eat?"

I stopped in my tracks, but I didn't face him. I cleared my throat before speaking again. "Not hungry."

"Hey, I know we fought, but you still need to eat."

"That's, that's not why…" I trailed off. This was a time where I wanted to sit and cry in his arms, something I never did. (The hospital doesn't count - I was under the influence of morphine.) I knew he was still mad at me, though. I couldn't ask him for anything. The only thing I could do was clear my throat some more.

Mad as he was, Shawn was still persistent. "Do you feel sick?"

Yes, but not the way he was probably thinking. I wouldn't even know how to explain it.

"No," I said simply.

I heard Shawn move from the couch, but I still kept my back to him.

"Is something-"

I cut across him. "Don't try to be nice to me. You don't have to after the way I acted."

"We had an argument, we didn't break up," Shawn said.

Slowly, I turned my head to look back at him. The only thing between us was the doorway. Shawn didn't seem as wound up as he did this morning, but that didn't mean he probably wasn't feeling it anymore. I didn't want to risk another fight.

"I didn't mean anything I said this morning," I told him, my voice still small. I couldn't find it in me to fake composure. "I like living with you, and I appreciate everything you've done for me."

He nodded. "I'm sorry too. I understand that you miss your family. I miss mine, and they're only a half hour drive from here."

If I didn't have this surgery then I would be at home and I wouldn't have been irrationally shaken to the core by Luca's words. I could literally be in my childhood bed right now.

"Yeah," I mumbled, reaching my threshold. "Yeah, I do miss home."

Shawn then waved me over. "Come on. Come here."

I felt like I was going to fall apart as I stepped out of the small bedroom. My knees shook slightly, but Shawn took my hand and led me into the spacious area, over to the couch. He watched me as I sat down. I must have looked like a right mess if he was giving me careful eyes, like I might break into pieces at any given moment.

He got up and grabbed the grey, woolen blanket from the other end of the couch and draped it over my lap. "So… how was work?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." I stared at the TV, but I didn't really care about what was on.

"Alright. Do you wanna play Breath of the Wild?"

Tears welled up in my eyes in a split second, and I rapidly nodded my head and sobbed out, "Yeah…"

[geniuslab]

Carnival Rides (M)

→ Pairing: Seokjin x reader

→ Genre: Fluff, smut, summer carnival AU

→ Word Count: 11.4k

→ Summary: Working at your parents’ funnel cake stand during the summer sounds like a decent enough gig. But you didn’t quite plan for the exhausting heat or the cute gelato guy who would make it his mission to get you to like him. Warning: This ride will get you wet!

→ What to Expect: car sex, a little bit of public indecency (again), unprotected sex (wear condoms pls), and bad puns

→ A/N: Special thanks to @jinandtonics for the cringe car puns and @jooniper for providing me with unlimited carnival ride puns (including the title, get it?). I love you girls 💕

Also, this is a submission for @hobigolightly‘s summer fic contest, thank you so much for the opportunity!!

The batter sizzled as you poured it into the hot oil. You’d lost track of how many funnel cakes you’d made in the past few hours, so much so that it had become second nature to you. Your hair stuck to your forehead, the heat making you sweat. No matter how many fans you aimed toward you, they were no match for the hot, humid summer air.

Working for your parents’ funnel cake stand originally sounded like a good idea. You’d get to spend the summer outdoors, and you always loved being outside. You got free access to all of the fairs and carnivals you were set up at, and you could sneak as much food as you desired, so long as you served customers first. What you hadn’t considered, however, was that summer outdoors was incredibly hot, the fairs were really only fun for the first couple days, and you could only eat so much fried food before you got sick of it.

“If I have one more person pay me all in change, I’m going to scream,” Jungkook huffed after you handed your last customer their funnel cake. The line had thankfully ended, and the air was full of laughter and the shuffle of people leaving the fair.

“Think of it as summer school,” you replied, beginning to clean up your station. Jungkook groaned and opened the register to start taking out the money.

You were beyond grateful that the night was done, and you turned everything off with a sigh of relief. A slight summer breeze rustled your hair and you closed your eyes, exhaustion from the day making you want to lie down and take a nap.

“It’s only July, we have an entire month left of this,” Jungkook said while he was counting the money. You brushed powdered sugar off your shorts, effectively rubbing it into them. You’d have to wash them anyway; every day ended in a load of laundry and a cold shower.

“Don’t remind me, please.”

You constantly told yourself that the money you were making now would help fund your trip to Italy next summer. Plus, it kept you busy while you were on break from school.

“Next summer, I’m working inside the rec hall where the air conditioning is.”

“Who’s gonna give you a job?” you asked with a chuckle and started wiping things down. “You only got this one because you’re the little nephew who needed something to do all summer.”

“First, I’m only a couple years younger than you,” Jungkook started. “Second, I’m doing your parents a favor by working here.”

“Does complaining run in the family?” a familiar voice asked, and you smiled as you turned to see Namjoon leaning over the counter.

“We’re constantly fueled by our whining,” you replied with a shrug.

“Got any funnel cake left?” Namjoon eyed the inside of your stand and you shook your head.

“Nope, I am not starting everything up again just for you to have a funnel cake.”

Namjoon pouted but you ignored him. Instead, you grabbed a cup and filled it with some lemonade. His dimples came out as you handed it to him, and you filled one up for yourself as well. The refreshing liquid soothed your dry throat and cooled you down just a little.

“How did today go?” you asked and leaned against the counter.

“I was out in the sun all day long.”

You rolled your eyes. “I saw you going into the rec center for at least 10 bathroom breaks. Besides, hot oil beats sun any day. Try again.”

“I sweated through one shirt so bad that I had to get another one out of my car.”

“I have so much powdered sugar in my hair that I won’t be able to get it all out for weeks.”

Namjoon’s eyes twinkled and he leaned forward. “Some kid threw up all over the ride. Twice.”

“Ugh, you were saving that one for last!” You scowled and put your drink down. “You know I can’t beat that.”

“You guys realize that whoever wins this weird contest actually lost, right?” Jungkook chimed in, finally having counted up all the money and put it into a pouch.

“Were you or were you not just complaining when I walked up here?” Namjoon asked and took a sip of his lemonade.

“We’re all hypocrites here,” you conceded.

You heard loud laughter, and you narrowed your eyes as you looked across the fair. It had shut down for the night, only a few stragglers were left. Two men, one tall with broad shoulders, and another one who was smaller and skinnier, were walking out of the rec center. They seemed to be in the middle of a hilarious conversation, the taller one hunched over with his hand on the other’s shoulder as they both laughed.

“At least we have the right to complain,” Jungkook mumbled.

“What an easy job,” Namjoon agreed and looked at the men walking out. None of you knew their names, but you all knew they worked at the gelato stand inside the rec center.

“I’d love to stand in the air conditioning all day passing out gelato,” you said, bitterness woven into your voice.

You were practically shooting daggers at them, not like they noticed. You’d worked ‘with’ them for a month already, but they never came over to your stand or bothered to socialize with the rest of the employees here. They stayed in their cozy, cool corner of the fair and only came out to leave.

“I told you working inside is the best gig,” Jungkook said. “That’s where I’ll be next summer.”

“And I’ll hopefully be in Italy,” you retorted and took a sip of your lemonade as you watched the two men talk. Did they even have to clean up their stand?

“I bet their bosses wrap everything up for them, they just get to leave when they want,” Namjoon grumbled.

“You three are absolutely insufferable,” a new voice teasingly chimed in, and you all looked over to Ji Eun. Even though she’d been outside in the heat for hours, her hair was still flawlessly straight and untangled, and her clothing was immaculate. She worked at the information booth, and even though she had one of the easiest jobs, no one had it in them to complain about her. She might have had it easy in comparison to you three, but her voice was way too sweet and her smile way too blinding to ever get mad at.

Jungkook nearly tripped over himself to walk over to her and lean over the counter. You shot Namjoon a knowing look and he rolled his eyes. Pretty much everyone knew Jungkook had a massive crush on her, including Ji Eun herself. Despite that, she shot him a sweet smile and stopped in front of your stand.

“Come on, even you have to envy the gelato guys,” Namjoon said.

Ji Eun shrugged. “I guess it’s cooler inside, but we’re all working regardless. I don’t really understand the point of complaining.”

You finished your lemonade and threw it out, collecting the trash and tying up the bag as the others talked. Even though you adored her, you didn’t much feel like a pep talk tonight. All you wanted was to get back home and take a shower.

“They’re really nice! Seokjin is super funny, I think you’d like him!” you heard her telling them, and you looked behind you to see that Jungkook’s shoulders were slumped.

You busied yourself in the back, and by the time you were done Ji Eun and Namjoon had left.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but I hate them even more now,” Jungkook said under his breath and helped you finish and lock everything up. You laughed and patted him on the back as you two walked out.

“Now you have a name for one of them, go write about it in your diary.”

Jungkook picked up his pace to overtake you and shot you the finger, and your laughter rang out across the fair. Even the gelato guys looked back at you while they walked out, but you just let your hair loose and threw your hands up to weave their way through the wind as you walked toward your freedom.

“It’s supposed to be even hotter today,” Jungkook sighed the next day as you opened up shop. The fair would open its gates soon, and you sighed along with him as you tied your hair up in a bun.

“Is that even possible?”

Jungkook nodded, a grimace on his face.

“My mom said she’s having Taehyung and Jimin join us halfway through so that we can take off.”

“That’s the best thing you’ve ever said to me,” Jungkook replied. Taehyung and Jimin worked at your parent’s brick and mortar store, and they so rarely volunteered to work the funnel cake stand. Usually, if one of you had to take a break it meant the other would get slammed with both register and cooking. You weren’t the most popular funnel cake stand by any means, but you kept up a fairly steady stream of customers. After several hours, both of you were usually beat. Being able to leave early was a blessing, and you were already planning on getting into a nice bath as soon as you got home.

“Do you wanna start on register?” Jungkook asked with hopeful eyes, interrupting your daydream of bubble bath and candles.

“Too lazy for math?” you asked but walked up to the front. He kissed your cheek and practically skipped to the back so that he could prep the ingredients.

“You realize it gets hot next to that frier, right?”

“If it means I don’t have to associate with anyone or count one more coin, I will happily do it today.”

You rolled your eyes but broke open a coin wrapper and filled the register.

“What time do the others come in?” he asked a few minutes later as he waited for the oil to heat up.

“I think they’re coming in at around six. Why, are you hoping to meet up with your girlfriend after work?”

Jungkook scowled at you but the blush on his cheeks betrayed him. “I was thinking maybe I could bring her some funnel cake and hang out at the information booth for a little bit.”

“Young love,” you sighed wistfully, and then narrowly dodged the towel that he threw at you across the stand.

“I’m going to wait until you get a crush on someone here and then you’ll never hear the end of it.”

You shook your head and looked across the fair at people filing in. Despite it still being before noon, you knew people would be coming soon enough to get their share of fried dough.

“I don’t see that happening. Besides, I’m only here to make enough money so I don’t have to be here next summer. A summer fling is the last thing on my list.”

“Alright, we’ll see about that.”

A customer walked up before you could shoot back a retort, forcing you to put a big smile on your face and ignore the annoying relative behind you.

A few hours and several dozen customers later, things quieted down for a moment. There was a performance going on further down the way, and it seemed like most people had grabbed their food and headed there. You wiped the sweat off your forehead with the hem of your shirt, and when you dropped it back down you saw that someone was standing in front of you at the counter.

Not just someone, but the gelato guy with the broad shoulders. His hair was light blonde, and he stood with his hands behind his back and a big grin on his face.

“I came for some funnel cake but I wasn’t expecting a view,” he said, and you had to keep your jaw from dropping. You tugged on the hem of your shirt and he laughed.

“I didn’t actually see anything,” he assured you and leaned against the counter.

“Still not the best way to introduce yourself to someone,” you mumbled, not completely sure if you were referring to his joke or you nearly flashing him.

“What am I making?” Jungkook asked from the back, and you threw your pointer finger up to let him know that you were still taking the order.

“What do you want?” you asked, perhaps a little too abrasively.

“I actually came to drop something off,” he said, and when his arms came out from behind his back you saw he was holding onto two cups of gelato. You hated how your mouth started watering the second you saw it. Being surrounded by fried dough all day in the heat made creamy, cold gelato look like heaven in a cup.

“Really?” you asked.

He nodded and held them out to you, and when you grabbed yours your hand brushed against his. You shivered a little, but you figured it was because of the condensation dripping down your arm from the cup. You wiped it off and shot him a small smile.

“I wanted to come say hello…” He seemed to be waiting for something, and you realized he was waiting for you to introduce yourself.

“I’m Y/N, this is my cousin Jungkook.”

Jungkook came over to see what was up, and you saw his face shift from confusion over who you were talking to, to happiness because of free gelato, to disappointment when he saw who was handing it to him.

“Are you Seokjin?” he asked, remembering the name of the guy Ji Eun was saying was so nice yesterday.

“I am, how did you know?” Seokjin looked down at his shirt as if expecting a nametag to be there, and when he looked up Jungkook had already walked off without a thank you.

“He’s not very chatty, is he?” he asked. You shook your head and took a bite of the gelato, trying not to show your absolute bliss on your face as you ate it.

“So what finally brings you over here after a month of vending at the same fairs?” you asked when you were done with your spoonful.

“I could ask you why you never came to visit us this entire past month,” he quipped back.

You ran your tongue across your teeth and released with a pop, your eyes narrowed. “I’m not the one inside all day. When I get breaks, I don’t have much time to just walk around.”

You took another bite and he lifted his brow. “Enjoying that free gelato?”

“I’m surprised you came out of the safety of air conditioning to bring it to me.” You set it down, not wanting to give him any more satisfaction out of you enjoying it.

“How old are you?” he asked suddenly.

“I don’t have to tell you that.”

“I feel like you’re younger than me. Did no one ever tell you to respect your elders?”

You laughed at that and squinted your eyes at him, unable to keep an incredulous smile off your face. “I’m twenty one, and I can respect or not respect whoever I want.”

“I’m twenty four and I think you should respect anyone who gives you free food.”

“Is that why you brought this all the way out here in the heat, for respect?”

Seokjin’s jaw dropped and he let out a laugh. “You’re a handful.”

“I’m a girl who’s worked out in the heat for hours and has very little patience left.”

He threw his hands up as a peace offering. “How about this? Since you have to suffer outside all day long, whenever you come inside I’ll give you free gelato.”

You narrowed your eyes again. “Why would you give me free gelato when I just told you off?”

“Because I like you,” he said with a wink.

“This doesn’t mean you get free funnel cake any time you dare to walk outside.”

Seokjin’s smile fell. “Not even one for the road?”

You saw someone approaching him from behind and you shook your head. “No, and someone’s coming so you need to leave.”

He pouted but then backed up and blew you an exaggerated kiss. “One of these days I’ll get to taste your funnel cake.”

“Not for free!” you yelled at him as he walked away. You helped the customer and then sat down in your stool, finally finishing the gelato he’d brought you. Jungkook was sitting on the other stool looking down at his gelato as if it had assaulted him.

“It’s really good,” he said, frustration seeping into his voice.

You agreed, and both of you sat in silence eating the delicious gelato, cursing the person who brought it to you.

When your relief came, you practically bolted out of the funnel cake stand. You barely said hello to Taehyung and Jimin before you were gone, not wanting to spend another minute among the batter and powdered sugar. Namjoon was always either on the Ferris wheel or the pharaoh ride, so you wove your way through the crowd in search of him. You spotted him at the Ferris wheel, and he waved you over when his eyes met yours.

“Taking a break?” he asked as he took tickets from two people and let them onto the next car before moving it up for the next customers.

You came up to his side and did a little dance. “I’m off for the day!”

“And you’re still here?!” He looked you up and down as if you were crazy.

“I didn’t want to leave without seeing my favorite guy.”

“That’s cute, but you’re only saying that because I let you ride the Ferris wheel alone at night after we close.”

“And you only call me your favorite girl because I give you free lemonade and funnel cake, so I think we’re even.”

Namjoon smiled at you. “Perhaps,” he teased.

You stole his stool since he wasn’t sitting on it, and you let your hair down out of its bun with a relieved sigh.

“Did the gelato guy hit you up too yesterday?” you asked.

“No, he hit you up?” He turned to you with his eyebrows high, and the next person in line cleared their throat loudly to get his attention.

“Yeah, he came with some gelato.”

“Why?”

You shrugged even though Namjoon could only see you out of the corner of his eye. “He said he wanted to come say hello, I’m not sure why he waited a month to do it.”

“Maybe he found out you guys make the best funnel cake around.”

“It all tastes the same, Namjoon.”

“Your guess is as good as mine, then,” he said and stopped the next person in line. The ride was full, and he started it and leaned on the ride controls to look at you.

“Can’t believe he finally left the AC.”

“That’s what I said!”

Namjoon laughed and brushed his hair out of his face. “Did you give him hell?”

“I made it clear he couldn’t mooch funnel cake off of me, if that’s what he was after.”

“Good, only I get free funnel cake.”

You rolled your eyes and fanned yourself.

“Are you staying here tonight even though you’re off?” he asked you, eyeing you trying to cool off.

“No, you don’t have to give me any free rides tonight,” you responded. “I have a date with my bathtub.”

Namjoon sighed. “That sounds so nice.”

The ride ended and he started up taking tickets again once everyone was off, repeating the same cycle as always. When the next batch had all gotten on, a familiar face showed up in front of the line with a plate full of funnel cake in his hands.

You looked from the funnel cake, to his blonde hair, to his deep brown eyes.

“How many breaks do you get?” you asked Seokjin.

“Why do the workings of my job make you so angry?” he asked and pulled a piece of funnel cake off and popped it into his mouth.

“It’s how these things work,” Namjoon cut in. “We’re all a team, and anyone who has it easy is mutually hated.”

“Except for Ji Eun.”

“Except for Ji Eun,” Namjoon agreed.

Seokjin looked between you two, trying to figure out if you were serious.

“Are you getting on the ride?” Namjoon asked. He held his hand out for the tickets even though he’d just started the ride and it would be a few minutes before he’d have to collect Seokjin’s tickets anyway.

Seokjin just handed him the tickets and then turned his attention to you.

“You wonder why us people inside never come out. It’s hot out here and you guys are hostile.”

“We like to stew in our aggravation. Why are you coming out now, by the way?”

Seokjin shrugged. “I noticed there are interesting people out here.”

Your cheeks grew hot when you realized he was talking about you.

He popped another piece of funnel cake into his mouth and then gave you a wink.

“Did you get that at my stand?” you asked.

“Maybe. Maybe not. You won’t give me free funnel cake and there are plenty of other ones around here.”

“Were you looking for my girl?” Namjoon asked and threw his arm around your shoulders. Seokjin looked at his arm and then between you two again.

“I can’t tell when you guys are being serious.”

You shrugged Namjoon’s arm off but smiled when you saw that Seokjin seemed slightly put off by the idea of you being with Namjoon. Is that why he had searched for your stand? Not to get free funnel cake, but to see you? Even if he liked you from afar, you had no idea how he even saw you considering you avoided him when you went inside for your breaks and he always left before you’d closed up for the night.

No, he was probably hoping you’d be there and would cave and give him free food.

“I heard you gave Y/N free gelato yesterday,” Namjoon said and slowed down the ride to start letting people off.

“Yeah, I can bring you some if that means you won’t hate me anymore.”

“Deal.”

Seokjin laughed and held his free hand out for Namjoon to shake. “It didn’t work with her, but I’m still working on it.”

“Why does it matter if I like you or not?” you asked.

“We’re not oblivious in there, you know,” he responded. “We see you all glaring at us, and I’m here to make peace.”

“I bet he’s making peace before we end up at a fair that doesn’t have any air conditioned buildings for them to set up shop in,” Namjoon said.

Your jaw dropped and you turned to Seokjin. “Is that true?”

He shrugged and took another bite. “Maybe.”

“If you think you’ll get a good lot at the next one because you’re getting people to like you with free gelato, you’re wrong!” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You can take the lot next to all the cattle,” Namjoon said.

“So you’ll be at the next fair too?” Seokjin asked you, ignoring the last part of the conversation.

“Why wouldn’t I? We all just hop from one location to the next during festival season.”

“Good.” He winked again and then stepped out of line.

“You’re next up and you already gave me your tickets!” Namjoon yelled after him.

“I got what I wanted!” he said and waved before blending into the crowd.

“What was that about?!” you asked Namjoon, and when you looked up at him he was looking at you with a smirk.

“I think he’s taken a liking to you.”

“He doesn’t even know me,” you huffed and hopped off the stool. Namjoon took it instantly and sighed when he sat down, ready for another round of tickets.

“Maybe he wants to taste your funnel cake.”

You balled your fists up at his words which mimicked Seokjin’s yesterday, but you stormed off before you’d get tempted to push him off the stool and leave the Ferris wheel unattended.

You moved locations soon after, now vending at a carnival that was free to enter. You weren’t sure if that would mean people would be more or less willing to spend money on food, but the lines seemed to be about the same as always. Once again there was another air conditioned building, and Seokjin’s gelato stand was in there as per usual.

Namjoon was right: he did want to taste your funnel cake. Literally. Every single day, Seokjin swung around your stand to order a plate full of funnel cake. And every day, you refused to give it to him for free. This didn’t stop him from visiting though, and he always seemed to find a way to visit when it was least busy so that he could stand around and make conversation with you. Jungkook continued to ignore him, but even when you were in the back, Seokjin weaseled his way around the stand and found a way to talk to you.

Although you wouldn’t admit it, not even to yourself, his company wasn’t half bad. His bad jokes and infectious laughter brought a smile to your face every time, and you begrudgingly let it happen.

You sighed one day, resigned, when he came into your stand from the back and grabbed your stool. Jungkook had left on break, so you were jumping around from the register to the frier.

“If you’re going to invade my space, then you might as well be helpful.” You pointed to the front, where the register and a line of people waited.

“But this is my break!” Seokjin yelled.

“You have to pay for all the funnel cake somehow, right?”

Seokjin sighed and then moved the stool up to the front so he could start taking orders.

“Does this mean you’ll like me now?” he asked when the line finally died down and you grabbed a rag to wipe the sweat off your forehead.

“No.”

“What do I have to do to win you over?”

You rolled your eyes. “I still don’t understand why that’s so important to you.”

“Because everyone likes me. Even Namjoon gives me free rides now when I bring him gelato. But you don’t like me for some reason.”

You busied yourself with opening a new bag of powdered sugar, answering him over your shoulder, “Not everyone has to like you, you know.”

“True, but everyone does. Except for you.”

You ignored him, instead choosing to groan over how heavy the bag of powdered sugar was as you moved it from one side of the stand to the other.

“Why do you work this job if you hate it so much?”

You let out a loud breath as you set down the bag and looked up at him. “I don’t hate it that much. But I wanna make enough money to visit Italy next summer.”

Seokjin was silently staring at you, his eyes wide.

“What?” you asked and straightened up.

“You do realize what’s in Italy, right?”

You furrowed your brows, unsure of where he was going with this. “No, what?”

“Gelato!”

You groaned and threw your head back.

“Y/N, I sell gelato. I’m practically Italy itself.”

“Selling a product that’s common in Italy doesn’t mean anything.”

Seokjin just crossed his arms and looked you up and down. “Now I really don’t know why you don’t like me. You want to visit Italy, land of the gelato, but you won’t accept my free gelato.”

“Maybe I don’t want to taste your gelato,” you snapped at him.

His eyebrows shot up and the corner of his lips raised as well. “Touché.”

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asked, back from his break.

“I’ll get you to like me one way or another,” Seokjin said, ignoring Jungkook. He got off the stool and blew you an exaggerated kiss before disappearing out the back.

“What’s going on with you two?” Jungkook asked and took his place on the stool.

You sighed and got the batter ready as another customer got in line. “I have no idea.”

“Namjoon, over here!”

It was a week later, and you excitedly called over your friend, a plate of funnel cake already made for him.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been that excited to see me. What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asked when he came up to the counter. He already had his uniform off, the shirt slung over his shoulder as he sported the tank he always wore under it.

“Jimin missed a few hours at work this week so he’s filling in the last hours of my shift tonight. I’m a free woman in half an hour!”

Namjoon pulled off a piece of funnel cake and ate it before saying, “That’s something to celebrate.”

You hummed in agreement. “I might actually stay for a little while and go on some of the carnival rides. You heading home?”

“Yeah, but if you want on anything for free, just find Hoseok. I talk about you a lot, so he knows you.”

“You talk about me? Why, Namjoon are you smitten with me?” You put your hand on your chest and batted your eyelashes at him.

He just shook his head with a low chuckle. “No, but someone else might be.”

You followed his line of sight and saw Seokjin leaving the rec center, his hand combing through his hair as if he were filming a shampoo commercial. He was gorgeous and he knew it, which frustrated you to no end.

“He doesn’t like me like that,” you said. “He’s only trying because he knows I don’t like him and that aggravates him.”

“You sure about that?” Namjoon asked, his eyes now on you.

“Yeah, his intentions are pretty clear to me.”

“No, I mean are you sure you don’t like him?”

You cut your eyes back to him and dropped your jaw. “I thought it was very clear that I don’t like him. He’s chaotic and annoying.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” Namjoon said and backed away before you could reach over the counter and smack him.

“No more free funnel cake for you!” you shouted, but he only laughed and walked away.

Later that night, Jimin came to fill in and you finally left the stand and let your hair loose. The sun was going down, making the lights on all the rides look almost magical. Even though you spent every day here, you had to admit that the charm of a carnival was still not lost on you. There was something so inexplicably special about walking around in the summer heat, surrounded by laughter and excited screams and the smell of cotton candy and fried food. You felt like no matter how annoyed you got with working fairs, no matter how many days you stood out in the heat handing out food, you still would find something special in the air when you walked around it at night.

In a way, it made you feel like a kid again.

You stopped by a stand and got a slushie, reveling in the way that it cooled you down as you sipped. You wouldn’t stay for too long; you were still incredibly tired from a day’s work. But you wanted to at least go on the Ferris wheel and ride it while all the lights were still on, crowds of people below and the whole world stretched out in front of you.

The line wasn’t too long, so you got into it and waved at Namjoon’s coworker, Hoseok.

“Going for a ride?” a voice asked behind you, and you squeezed your eyes shut when you realized who it was.

“Why are you here?” you asked. “Do you take more breaks than you work?”

When you opened your eyes and looked behind you, Seokjin was standing there with a smile on his face.

“I’ve barely taken any breaks today, I’ll have you know.”

“And you just so happened decided to go on the Ferris wheel when I did?”

He shrugged but the smirk on his face suggested that he’d seen you walk past.

“I didn’t see you yesterday,” you said for some reason, not even sure why. But you had sort of gotten used to his frequent visits, and part of you missed him yesterday.

“You noticed I wasn’t here? That’s so sweet of you, maybe you are starting to like me after all.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to face the front of the line. There were only a few couples in front of you, each with their hands together. The sight made your heart pang for a quick second before you shook it off. The ride had ended, and Hoseok started letting the couples on. When it was your turn at the front, Hoseok smiled at you and let you on without a ticket.

You hopped into the car excitedly, but then Hoseok ushered Seokjin in with you and you started shaking your head.

“No, I wanna ride alone!”

“Can’t do that for you,” Hoseok said, although the smile on his face suggested that he was up to something. “Two people to a car, that’s how it always is.’

“That’s never how it is!” you objected. “Namjoon always lets me ride alone!”

Hoseok shrugged and Seokjin sat down next to you with a grin.

“Have fun, you two,” he winked and closed the door, and you dropped your jaw in horror as he sent your car up so he could fill the next one.

“Did you pay him to do that or something?” you asked Seokjin and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Surprisingly, no.” He looked delightedly surprised.

You huffed and sat back in your seat, vowing to ignore him the whole ride and just look at your surroundings instead.

“Do you really hate me that much?” he asked, his usual cocky tone gone. In fact, his voice was softer and quieter than usual, almost carrying a note of hurt in it. It was as if he was afraid of hearing your answer.

Your usual snarky response got caught up in your throat and you shook your head no.

“Why do you act like it so much?” he asked.

“I don’t like act it,” you said, although you knew that wasn’t true. Every time he showed up, you rolled your eyes in disdain. Why did you make such a fact of showing him how much you didn’t like him?

“Is this like how kids bully the other kids they have a crush on?” Seokjin asked, his tone back to normal.

“It is not!” you yelled, and you were grateful that the sun had gone down and the shadows hid the fact that you were blushing. You did not have a crush on him, that’s not why you so exaggeratedly acted like you didn’t like him. Then again, you didn’t really know why you didn’t like him. It just seemed like the right thing to do, him being in the elite few who got to work inside all day long at the fair.

As if he could read your thoughts, he sighed and asked, “It’s not really because I work inside, is it? What is with you people hating us so much?”

You shrugged and played with the hem of your shorts which were fraying.

“It’s not that, I just—”

“I work for free, just so you know,” Seokjin interrupted you. You looked up at him in surprise. “It’s my family’s business, and I help them run it in the summer.”

You felt a pit in your stomach, no longer having a valid excuse to not like him. All this time you gave him so much shit, and he wasn’t even getting paid to be here, unlike you. Not like that excuse was even valid in the first place, paid or not. Had your annoyance with him all been an act, even to yourself? He wanted you to like him, so you supposed you’d made it a point to not like him.

You bit your lip and looked at the ground, embarrassed by how childish you’d been.

“And I don’t come outside all that much, other than when I come to see you, because I take online courses and I spend any of my free time studying for them.”

“Oh…” you said, letting your lackluster response trail off into the air.

“You don’t have to like me, you know,” Seokjin said. “But I like you, and the least you could do is not hate me for false reasons.”

“I don’t hate you!” you said. “I like you, Seokjin.”

He laughed and bumped his shoulder into yours. “So this is like a playground crush, then?”

You blushed again and pushed him away from you. “No! I guess I just never wanted to give you the satisfaction; you annoyed me endlessly trying to get me to like you.”

“Does this mean I’ll get free funnel cake now?”

“No!”

Seokjin’s laughter was so loud that you were sure people below could hear it.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I hated you,” you said seriously, scanning his face. “I got so caught up in proving you wrong that I didn’t even know why I didn’t like you.”

“Are you getting sappy on me now?” he asked. “Go back to yelling at me, I liked that better.”

“You want me to yell at you?” You furrowed your brows.

“Degradation, I’m into that,” he said with a wink and you groaned and turned away from him to look out into the night.

“Now that you don’t actually hate me, stop by and get some gelato some time. It’s not Italy, but it’s as close to it as you can get right now.”

You felt that something special again as you looked over the fair. Your car had reached its turn to pause at the top, and looking at all the glittering and flashing lights made it feel like magic was flowing through your veins. And finally getting along with Seokjin, both because you understood him better now and because you realized you never really disliked him at all, made you relax in your seat.

“I might.”

And, surprisingly, you did. The following week, you escaped the summer heat on your break and made your way into the rec center. You wove through different vendors’ stalls, lots of handmade jewelry and kitchenware, until you arrived in front of the gelato stand you were looking for.

“Can I help you?” someone asked, and you noticed it was the guy that Seokjin frequently walked out with. Yoongi, if you were remembering correctly from the numerous times Seokjin interrupted you at work and talked your ear off while you cooked.

“Is Seokjin here?” you asked, looking around.

“Yeah, he went on break a few minutes ago. He should be back soon though.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for him. Thanks.” You smiled shyly and looked at the different flavors of gelato they had to offer. Relieved that he didn’t have to help you, Yoongi sat down in his chair with a big sigh and closed his eyes.

You’d tried the vanilla when Seokjin had originally brought it to you, but you hadn’t known they offered so many flavors. You walked slowly down the counter, reading the names of the flavors through the glass and chewing on your lip as you decided which flavor to get.

“Do you want to test any of the flavors first?” you heard, and when you looked behind you Seokjin was walking up with a book tucked under his arm.

“There’s so many to choose from, so I think that would be helpful.”

He smiled at you and got behind the counter. As he put his gloves on, he kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You didn’t know why, but a blush started creeping up your neck and you concentrated on looking at the gelato and not him.

“Start with this one, it’s turtle cheesecake and absolutely divine. I made it myself.” He held out a small spoon of it.

“No way,” you said and took it from him.

“Yes way. Do I not look talented enough to stir ingredients together?”

You didn’t answer, just tried the gelato and had to stop yourself from moaning as caramel hit your tongue.

“You like that one, don’t you?” he asked with a huge grin on his face.

“It’s nice, I guess,” you admitted.

“It’s pretty cool, if I say so myself.”

“Did you just make a pun?” you asked and threw the spoon into the tiny trash can they had on top of the counter.

“Yeah, was it too cheesy?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help from smiling at his boisterous laughter that followed his joke. His smile mimicked yours when you told him you’d keep trying different flavors, and you spent the rest of your break testing out gelato and listening to the different kinds of jokes he could make as he handed them to you.

As summer rolled on, you started taking more breaks to visit Seokjin. You told yourself it was just to get free gelato, but the more you visited him, the less you wanted gelato and the more you just liked bantering with him back and forth.

It wasn’t something you could quite explain, but Seokjin gave you that same warm feeling that you had when you’d walk around the fair at night, that feeling like everything was where it should be but also that air of excitement that anything could happen.

“You’ve been eating a lot of gelato lately,” Namjoon said to you as you passed him on your way back to your stand one day.

“It’s summer, it’s hot, and this is cold and refreshing,” you quipped back.

“You’re sure it doesn’t have anything to do with the guy who gives it to you?” he asked teasingly, and you hurried off so you wouldn’t have to listen to his laughter.

Unfortunately, when you arrived back from break, Jungkook also looked at the cup of gelato in your hands and raised his eyebrows.

“Is that where you keep running off to?” he asked.

You sighed and finished your last scoop of gelato, throwing the cup in the bin and ignoring Jungkook’s comment. It wasn’t that you were annoyed by being teased, but every time someone teased you about liking Seokjin you felt a flutter in your stomach. You liked Seokjin, but you didn’t like Seokjin. Right?

Jungkook stayed quiet for a bit while you got a rush of customers, but as the night wound down and the customers started leaving, you two got a break to start cleaning up.

“I never thought you’d cozy up with the gelato boy,” he said and you sighed loudly.

“I’m just bringing peace between our two worlds, you know?”

“That is such a load of bullshit,” he laughed. “Oh my god, you actually like him!”

“Shut up, I do not!” you yelled. A couple people walking past your stand gave you a funny look and you turned your back to them.

“Oh this is so great, I finally get to tease you about having a crush on someone here. This is payback for Ji Eun.”

“It is not, because I do not like Seokjin!”

Jungkook laughed and you threw a rag at him.

“Just leave,” you said.

“Are you kicking me out because I’m teasing you?”

“No, you’re annoying me and we’re closing in twenty minutes anyway so get out of my hair!”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said and slipped out the back of the stand, coming around the front to look at you over the counter. “I’m only teasing, you know. But you getting so upset is a little suspicious.”

You shot him a dirty look and he bounced back from the counter. “I’m just saying! Anyway, have fun cleaning up!”

A scowl was on your face as he walked away, and you felt the weird flutter in your stomach again. The truth was, you really did enjoy spending time with Seokjin now. But you figured it was the same way you liked spending time with Namjoon or Ji Eun or any of the other people here. He made you blush, though, and his jokes were annoyingly endearing. And he made you feel a sort of excited calm, such a weird juxtaposition of feelings mixed into one that made being with him almost intoxicating.

You tried to shake your thoughts off by busying yourself with cleaning up. Almost no one was left, so you started wiping things down and turning everything off for the night. You were folding up a bag of powdered sugar when your hands slipped and it plumed out of the bag like smoke, surrounding you in sugar.

When the cloud of white died down, you saw that you were covered in sugar from the waist up. You tasted sugar on your lips, and you groaned at the thought of how sticky it would get in a matter of minutes. You tried using a damp cloth to get it off, but you soon gave up and made your way to the bathrooms in the rec center, needing a steady stream of water and a lot more towels to clean it off of you.

Seokjin was on his way out as you entered the building, and his eyes widened as he took in your sugar-covered appearance.

“Don’t ask,” you muttered and dipped into the bathroom, Seokjin’s laughter behind you.

Several minutes and a handful of wet towels later, you exited the bathroom relatively clean. At least, clean enough to get in your car and head home so you could take a shower. Seokjin was still standing outside of the bathroom when you got out, and you gave him a questioning look but left without speaking a word to him. He followed you out, his footsteps getting quicker so he could come up to your side and walk with you.

“Do you need any help?” he asked.

You ignored his question and asked your own. “Why are you still here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He was trying to keep the laughter out of his voice but was failing.

“I’m fine, it was just some powdered sugar.”

“You’re sweet enough without having to pour sugar all over yourself, you know,” he said, trying to get you to laugh. But you were not in the mood, and even though his jokes usually made you laugh, you ignored him when you got to your stand and started locking everything up so you could get out of there.

You saw Seokjin’s smile fall out of the corner of your eye, and he gently touched your elbow. “You’re genuinely upset, is something else wrong?”

“This entire day has been frustrating,” you snapped, and he flinched back at your harsh tone.

“You were fine just a little while ago when you came to see me.”

“That was my first mistake,” you sighed, and the instant it left your lips you regretted it. Seokjin’s face fell and he took a step back.

“I thought we were past this,” he said. “If you really don’t like me, you don’t have to talk to me anymore.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” You scrambled to lock everything up as he walked away. As soon as the bolt slid home, you ran after him and grabbed onto his shoulder to make him stop.

“It wasn’t frustrating because I came to see you, but the things that happened because of it are what frustrated me,” you explained.

Seokjin’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

The fluttering in your stomach started again, reaching an all time high. “It was frustrating because everyone keeps teasing me about you.”

“Why are they teasing you?”

You bit your lip. “Because they think I like you. And I’m not up for petty teasing.”

“But do you?” he asked.

“Do I what?” Your head was swimming, a mix of the hot air and the increasing fluttering in your stomach making you a little dizzy.

“Do you like me?”

Your instant response was to brush it off and roll your eyes, but Seokjin grabbed your hand and the fluttering in your stomach practically lurched you toward him, as if you needed to be as close as possible. His eyes scanned your face as you battled the urge to tell him what you weren’t even telling yourself. Under his soft gaze, you crumbled.

“I might,” you finally answered.

His lips turned into a small smile, and you dropped your head out of embarrassment. Of course you had to go and make things awkward with a guy you had to see practically every single day this summer. At least there were only a few weeks left, surely you could avoid him until—

He lifted your chin and broke your line of thought. His smile was bigger than you’d ever seen it.

“Do you know why I brought you gelato when I did?” he asked.

You shook your head no, wondering what kind of rejection this was.

“Because the night before that, I saw you walking out of work with your hands in the air and your hair was free and you looked so happy and absolutely beautiful that I had to meet you and find out who you were.”

You stood there silently, not sure how to respond. Your head felt light and you swung a little, just enough for Seokjin to drop his hand to your waist to help steady you. His touch felt electric even through your shirt.

“And I kept coming back even after I met you because there’s something so amazing about you that draws me toward you,” he continued. “Every single day I like you more and more, I can’t believe that hasn’t been incredibly obvious.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, a bit breathless.

“Y/N, I’ve been falling in love with you this entire time.”

Frozen in shock, you let him lift your chin up a little higher and watched as his eyes dropped to your lips.

“I thought shit like this only happened in romance novels,” you mumbled, unable to think of anything else.

“Well, I do look like I could be on the cover of one,” he said and you finally relaxed, letting out a small giggle.

“Just kiss me already,” you said, and he pulled you closer and dipped his plush lips down to meet yours. If his touch was electric, his kiss was nearly indescribable. The second his lips touched yours it was like pouring oil on fire, heat licking up from your feet and wrapping around your bodies. You touched his lips with the tip of your tongue, and when he opened his mouth against yours you practically moaned.

He tugged you backwards a bit so that you’d be in between too stalls and not right out in the open. You didn’t stop kissing him the entire time you moved, so enraptured in him that you didn’t want to let go.

Once you were out of sight of others, you kissed him even harder, your hands tangled in his blonde hair and then running down his neck to his broad shoulders. He chuckled against your mouth and you finally broke away from him to see why he was laughing at you.

“What?” you asked between your ragged breaths.

“I’m just thinking about doing things with you up against this stand right here but a picture of a clown is staring right at us and he looks very disapproving.”

You looked behind you and saw what he was referring to, a giant painted clown on the side of one of the rides that did, in fact, look like it was not pleased with your antics. And then you realized that pressed against your stomach was Seokjin, and he was quite hard.

Looking between you two and then up at his face, you knew exactly what things he’d been thinking about. And though it had only been a few moments since you’d first kissed him, you needed him more than you could even put into words.

The dampness between your legs agreed, and you pulled him out into the open and tugged him toward the parking lot.

“Your place or mine?” he joked behind you, and you turned to walk backwards and pushed your body against his.

“Depends on whose is closer.”

His eyes widened at your words. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

“Holy shit,” he muttered and walked a bit faster, practically pushing you so you could get out of the fairgrounds as fast as possible.

“I live half an hour away from here,” he said.

“Shit, I live even further.”

“That’s way too fucking long,” he groaned, and you agreed.

An idea popped into your head, one fueled by lust and maybe a little bit of stupidity. But you needed him so badly that you really didn’t care.

“My car has a fairly roomy backseat,” you said.

Seokjin’s eyes twinkled devilishly at your words. “But car sex is so exhausting.”

“Did you seriously just make a pun about car sex?” you asked, feeling for your keys in your back pocket.

“Yeah, don’t you want me to take you for a ride?”

You groaned out of annoyance and also sexual frustration, wanting to both fuck him and slap him. You grabbed your keys and unlocked your car which was now only a few feet away, deciding on wanting to fuck him far more than slap him, although if he kept making puns the entire time you might kick him out of the car and drive away.

“I’ve got my own gear shift,” he said, this time laughing at his own joke and you shut him up by kissing him. You ran your hand up his shirt and his laughter died in his throat as you gently trailed your nails along his skin.

“Enough with the jokes, just fuck me already,” you said and then got into the backseat of your car, inching backward and biting your lip as you looked at him. “You don’t even need a condom if you’re clean, I’m on the pill.”

He scrambled in after you, not wasting a second longer. When he shut the door you locked it, and the lights in the car went out so that you two were surrounded by darkness. The lot was almost completely empty, devoid of lights or any cars around you. Public sex wasn’t really your thing, but it was highly unlikely that someone would come across you two. And yet, the idea thrilled you in a twisted way.

You sat back across the seats and he situated himself between your legs, hovering over you to finally push his lips against yours again. You squeezed your thighs against him and pulled him as close as possible, grinding your core into his stomach.

“You’re really impatient, you know that?” he asked, but he sat up slightly to take his shirt off. He threw it somewhere up near the front and then turned his attention back to you. His fingers played along the hem of your shirt and you moved so he could take it off of you.

When you were finally freed of your shirt, you started working on the clasp of your bra. He licked his lips as he watched, and when you took it off he traced his eyes over your breasts before dipping his head low and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth.

You moaned and arched your back up into him, your fingers wrapping tightly into his hair. He flicked his tongue against your nipple and sucked, and when he was satisfied and your thighs were shaking, he moved over to give equal attention to the other.

“I’m so sensitive, oh my god,” you barely got out, so caught up in pleasure that it was hard to speak.

He let go of your nipple and looked up at you. “You taste like sugar.”

“Well, I did spill a bunch of sugar on myself just a little while ago, as you know.”

He shook his head and kissed your collarbone. “No, your skin is just so sweet.”

Your pussy throbbed at his words, and no amount of grinding up against him was going to satisfy you any longer.

“I really need you,” you groaned and tugged on his hair a little. He broke away to focus on taking off his pants. While he shimmied them off, you took yours off as well and let them fall off your legs into a ball on the floor. It was difficult navigating in such a confined space, but somehow the gentle bumps and the slight fumbling only made you needier, the constant touching just adding to your desire.

You took your underwear off too, and when you two finally looked at each other, eyes adjusted to the dark, the lust practically hung in the air between you two. Seokjin had his dick in his hands, and he pumped it a few times as he eyed you up and down.

“You’re even more gorgeous than I ever could’ve possibly imagined,” he murmured.

You flicked your eyes down to his dick, hard and red and standing at attention waiting to enter you. “And you’re really fucking hot,” you said, all eloquence going straight out the window.

“Can I uh...park in your spot?” he asked, and when you started pushing him off of you he started laughing. “Okay fine, no more jokes!”

“Please fuck me already before I kick you out,” you said, and he ran his hand up and down his dick a couple more times before he gently pushed you back down against the seats. You’d never had sex in a car before, and you had to admit that the angle of your neck against the door was a bit uncomfortable. Seokjin had one knee up on the seat, the other foot on the floor, and all concerns about comfort flew out of your mind when he rubbed his dick against your dripping pussy, collecting your juices and lubricating himself. He slid in with a hiss, far too slow for your liking.

“I can take a lot more than that,” you said. He pushed your knees up so that they were almost level with your face, and with one hand on the door behind you and the other gripping your side, he slid out and then thrust back in.

“I’m not sure how fast I can go in this small of a space,” he grunted out between thrusts, setting a slow but steady pace.

“You can go faster than that,” you goaded, and when you ran your fingers from his shoulders down his back he moaned and thrust in faster.

“I didn’t realize how demanding you were,” he said, sweat already on his brow and matting his shiny hair down.

“Fuck me harder, asshole,” you replied, and you felt him shudder against you.

“The degradation thing was a joke,” he said, but his pace had picked up even faster than before, and his hand was digging into your hip now so hard that he’d surely leave bruises.

“Whatever you say, baby,” you teased, and the pet name made him curse and grip you even harder.

“I can’t wait to find out all your kinks,” you said, and he moved his hand away from your hip to find your clit, his thumb pushing down on it and making you scream.

“You should be quiet unless you want someone to catch us. Unless that’s one of your kinks?” he teased back.

You clenched around him and both of you moaned together. Your hips started bucking up to meet his, skin slapping against skin. The noise was only amplified in the small space, and the windows were fogging up. You could feel your orgasm just on the horizon, a fuse quickly running out and ready to blow.

Lights passed the car and you both froze for a second, but they disappeared, most likely an employee on their way home. Your heart was racing, and your hips involuntarily moved against his.

“You really do have a thing for getting caught, don’t you?” he asked and you could see his grin.

You clenched around him again and thrusted upwards, too fucked out to deal with his teasing right now. You were so close, teetering on the edge.

“You feel so fucking good, please just let me cum,” you whined.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned and moved his hips. When he started thrusting into you again he set a blinding pace, and you moaned unabashedly.

You knew the car had to be shaking, and the thought that someone seeing it from afar and knowing exactly what was happening made your toes curl.

“I’m gonna cum,” you cried out, wanting to drag out the sensation but far too weak to resist it for much longer.

Seokjin increased his pace even more, and his cock filling you up paired with his finger on your clit tipped you over the edge. Despite his warning about getting caught, you screamed as you came, your hips shuddering against his.

He followed you right after, spilling into you and crashing his lips into yours as his hips slowed down. Your breath intermingled, and you pressed your forehead against his as you both came down from your highs. You spent several moments lying there together, the sound of your breathing filling up the car.

“I never even imagined sex in a car could feel that good,” he mumbled against your lips when he finally pulled out. The loss of him inside you made you whine.

“Got enough energy for round two at my place? Or maybe the driver’s seat?” you asked. When you pulled away, the grin on his face gave you your answer.

Even though you had the best night of sex that you’d ever experienced, work started up again the next day just like always. You dragged yourself in far more tired than usual, and Jungkook looked at the dark circles under your eyes and your very pleased smile on your face with confusion.

“Why do you look so miserable but so happy at the same time?” he asked as he opened the shutters for the day to start.

“I had a good but restless night,” you replied, and he must’ve sensed something in your voice which, coupled with your words, made him curl his lip up in disgust.

“Ew, I don’t need to hear about your wild nights.”

“Then don’t ask,” you said and threw an apron on.

He didn’t ask for any more information until around midday, when Seokjin swung by and a goofy little grin popped onto your face when you saw him walking up.

“I’ve never seen you that pleased to see your little boyfriend,” Jungkook joked. But then he saw the blush creeping onto your face, and when you gave Seokjin some funnel cake free of charge, he nearly fell off his stool.

“Wait, are you guys seriously a thing?” he asked, looking between you two.

“Mind your own business, kid,” Seokjin jokingly snapped back, but then he leaned over the counter and you did too, giving him a peck on the lips.

Jungkook’s strangled gasp made you both laugh and look at him.

“I was just teasing, I didn’t really think you two were a thing,” he said. But then his expression turned from horrified confusion to absolute excitement. “Wait, this means you’re not gonna date Ji Eun!”

“Was I ever going to date Ji Eun?” Seokjin asked.

“Bye, I’m going to go ask her out!” He practically stumbled out of the stand and left you alone with Seokjin. You poked your head around the counter and watched Jungkook running off to the information booth, an excited spring in his step.

“Who would’ve thought that you were his only competition,” you said, amused.

“Baby, it’s not even a competition. He’s lucky I liked you,” he replied and winked at you. You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling wide, and when you kissed him again you tasted sugar on his lips.

It was the final day of summer. Most vendors had cut their prices in half, eager to get rid of stock for the season. You were busy the entire day, making funnel cake after funnel cake and pouring countless cups of lemonade for customers who were taking advantage of the last breath of summer. You didn’t even notice it was closing time until you looked up and saw the lights flickering out on the rides, the fairgrounds relatively deserted.

“I’m definitely never working this again,” Jungkook said and sat down on the floor, equally exhausted. You sat down next to him and rested your head against the wall.

“At least you’re dating Ji Eun now, so you got something out of it.”

“Both of us got money and laid, but at what cost?”

“Ew, I don’t need to hear about that,” you said and pushed his shoulder so he’d fall over. He laughed and straightened up, and then you heard a knock on the wall. Seokjin peeked his head around and smiled when he saw you.

“Speaking of not wanting to hear things, I’m out of here,” Jungkook said, and even though it meant you would have to clean up alone, you let him leave. Despite his constant complaining, he wasn’t half bad as an employee, and he was partly how you had stayed sane all summer.

“I have a surprise for you,” Seokjin said when you two were alone, and he held his hand out for you to take it. You didn’t speak as he lead you through the fairgrounds, and you ended up at a destination that you knew well.

“Last night for free rides,” Namjoon said, and his classic dimples were visible as he looked between you two. He might have teased you when you were still questioning your feelings for Seokjin, but as soon as he found out you two were together he was nothing but supportive.

You got into the Ferris wheel car and Seokjin lagged behind.

“Aren’t you getting on?” you asked.

“Don’t you wanna ride alone?” he countered, mimicking your words from when you first got stuck riding the Ferris wheel with him.

“Please join me,” you said softly, and he followed you into the car and closed the door. When the wheel started moving, he took your hand into his and traced patterns into it.

“I’m going to miss seeing you every day,” he admitted.

“You can still see me every day,” you said and kissed him on the cheek. “Just because we’re not working together anymore doesn’t mean I won’t want to keep seeing you.”

Seokjin’s shoulders relaxed, and you hadn’t realized that had been worrying him.

“You’re not just some summer fling,” you told him, and you touched his face so he’d look you directly in the eye. “I was falling in love with you for as long as you were falling in love with me, I just didn’t know it yet.”

That feeling of calm and excitement, the one that made you feel like you were home but that you had the whole world stretched out in front of you, was always present when you were with Seokjin. He was your little piece of summer that you could keep with you always, no matter what the season or where you were.

He kissed you then, his lips soft against your own, and you didn’t even need to be on a Ferris wheel to feel like you were on top of the world.

“Now that we’re pros at fucking in confined spaces, do you think we could manage it up here?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Is that one of your kinks?” you giggled. “Do Ferris wheels get you going?”

“No, but you do.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m pretty sure that would be frowned upon, but I’ll make it up to you when we get home.”

“Sounds good,” he said and then you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I was going to have them shoot off fireworks, but then the guys told me that costs thousands and I nearly passed out.”

You giggled and curled up closer to him. “This is more than enough. You’re always more than enough.”

Lights twinkled below you, and sitting here with your hand in his, you felt like summer would never truly end.

(Masterlist)

[beca-mitchell]

Aubrey Posen's Guide to Using Social Media Effectively

summary: Aubrey learns that knowledge isn’t always power. In fact, she’d like to forget that she ever believed that.

aka this is an Aubrey-centric fic in which Aubrey learns that Beca and Chloe are seeing each other through various social media and how she deals with this.

word count: 6.5k

author’s note: Happy birthday @velmster!!!

Thank you for keeping me somewhat calm when we met bsnow. Thank you for helping me write my Pitch Perfect lectures. And thank you for being an incredible friend. I know how much you were looking forward to this story, so I really wanted to make sure it was finished for your bday! 

For everybody else, this story is based on a true story about how I found out my roommate and best friend were dating each other. Some embellishments here and there, but otherwise, yes I am crazy.

Also on AO3.

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.”

- Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Aubrey Posen dislikes social media.

It’s not that she’s old, it’s more that she just doesn’t get it. Every day, it seems like a new social media network is created and Aubrey has pretty much only just figured out how to make a Bitmoji for her Snapchat account.

It’s mildly irritating that Chloe spends most of her time on one social media platform or another, flitting between her laptop and phone and persistently attempting to show Aubrey cute photos of corgis.

Well, she doesn’t dislike the content, it’s just that social media seems like a really difficult thing to keep up with and she has to worry about not flunking out of her MBA program.

Her buzzing phone jolts her out of her musings.

Instagram: chloebeale has sent you a video.

Knowing Chloe, it’s probably a meme, a topical video, or just a cute fluffy video of a corgi or a pug. Somehow, Chloe still manages to suss out when she’s feeling down because the videos tend to be on point with everything she’s going through at the moment.

She supposes just one more Instagram video of a corgi lying on its back won’t hurt.

Living with Chloe after Barden only makes sense. By the time Chloe finally graduates from university, Aubrey is done with managing the lodge and wanting to pursue something a bit more prestigious again.

They somehow both end up in New York, though Chloe has started working for an advertising agency and Aubrey has started school at NYU. Aubrey recalls that living with Chloe for their first year of Bellas co-captaincy had only been natural - as much as it had been a necessity. They weren’t allowed to have the Bellas house all to themselves because their entire team would be primarily first years. Without the allure of having a full team, student government had elected to allocate their treasured house to yet another sorority on campus.

Back then, Aubrey immediately shot down Chloe’s idea to join the sorority. Instead, she got to work and found a cute two-bedroom townhouse, small enough for the two of them and yet large enough that she doesn’t necessarily have to see Chloe’s things encroaching on her personal space.

If Aubrey’s being honest, Chloe’s ‘things’ might be a misnomer.

The absolute parade of people she’s seen (and heard, on many occasions) leaving Chloe’s room in previous years? That might be more accurate. It had admittedly stopped when Chloe set her eyes on one Beca Mitchell in the fall of 2011 and Aubrey saw significantly less people leaving their comfortable little townhouse. Instead, she saw more of Beca Mitchell than she would have liked back then, absolutely pestering Chloe with her latest music innovations or whatever the hell she called them.

And the next year, Chloe stayed back at Barden for another year with Bellas (read: Beca), she helped Chloe wrangle their treasured Bellas house back from the sorority and the rest is history.

Now, in New York City, freshly graduated, Aubrey has a little trouble finding something as cozy considering rent prices in New York City and the budget they’re both working with. She finds a nice two-bedroom (read: two-closet) apartment in East Village, with a functioning bathroom, kitchen,and , thank God, a working dishwasher. It’s a steal, even if Aubrey had flirted a little with the landlord and his wife to get a good price.

It’s a steal and she doesn’t have to share a bedroom with Chloe. She won’t have to hear Titanium for the millionth time.

Ultimately, Chloe is a good roommate. She picks up after herself. She cooks. She cleans.

(Aubrey has heard nightmarish stories from Chloe about what it had been like when Beca and Fat Amy shared a room in the Bellas’ house.)

The thing about Chloe is that she really has no sense of personal space. She enjoys shoving her phone into Aubrey’s face to show her a funny text or a cute image. She’ll ask Aubrey loudly and inappropriately whether she needs more tampons halfway down the aisle in the supermarket. She tries to braid Aubrey’s hair sometimes when they’re both lazily waiting for their laundry in the dingy laundromat - emphasis on tries . She sets Aubrey up on about five blind dates only their third month into living together in Manhattan.

In fact, Chloe’s fairly infuriating because she does all these things without asking and never wants anything in return. She never talks about her own feelings - the ones that Aubrey has to draw out of her with painstaking precision. In fact, Aubrey sometimes worries that her obsession with Beca Mitchell might be getting out of hand. Aubrey tries to remind Chloe that Beca isn’t so bad without her ear monstrosities and that maybe Beca just needs time to see the light (read: Chloe), like she did with her ear piercings.

Chloe just smiles and asks her whether she wants to get McDonalds for dinner.

Aubrey would never ask for another best friend.

“You know what you should do? Download Tinder, Bree. I’m sure the selection here is much better than Georgia.”

“No.”

(She downloads Tinder.

It is admittedly not horrible.

She ignores the smug look Chloe shoots her.)

Aubrey should have seen it coming, in retrospect. There’s something about Beca Mitchell that makes Chloe completely lose her mind whenever they come within touching distance of each other. Aubrey can’t recall Chloe ever being so touchy with anybody else, especially not when she vehemently reassures Aubrey that they’re “just friends, besides Beca is seeing Jesse.”

It’s weak and they both know it, but Aubrey supposes that the fixation on Beca means that Aubrey will get some peace and quiet in their apartment for the time being.

Until one day, Beca is very much single. It’s not even news that comes directly from the woman herself since Beca pretty much moved immediately to Los Angeles after graduating to pursue the first label that offered her a job. No, the news comes from Fat Amy who actively updates their group’s Facebook chat with whatever gossip she can find...usually about the Bellas themselves.

It’s actually kind of deja-vu, seeing the hurricane that has seemingly gone through her home. Aubrey comes home to a mess of crumpled-up pieces of paper and about five empty cans of cider.

“Oh, Chloe,” she murmurs, reaching for the blanket draped over the back of the couch.

Sitting with Chloe on the couch while she sleeps restlessly? That’s kind of deja-vu as well.

Instagram: chloebeale has sent you a photo.

It’s a photo of Jesse with his arm around a woman’s shoulder.

chloebeale: i can’t believe he moved on already!!!!!

Aubrey scowls, typing back. She doesn’t understand how she has five separate conversations going on with Chloe. Can’t she stick to just one account?

aubreyposen: You’re literally in the living room. You couldn’t have shown this to me in person?

aubreyposen: why don’t you message Beca if this is bothering you so much?

An hour later, Aubrey notices the Seen receipt and suspicious lack of reply from Chloe.

Aubrey finds out that Beca is actually living in New York before Chloe does. It’s only because she bumps into her at their local Trader Joe’s and is about to berate Beca for not knowing how to use her eyes when she realizes-

“Beca?”

“Aubrey?”

Aubrey is pleased to note that Beca looks mildly terrified of her in that moment, but she can’t quite dispel the warmth that rises up when she sees her friend. She had missed Beca, despite all her original reservations about her.

“I’m going to hug you now,” Beca states, somewhat awkwardly before proceeding to do so. When she pulls back, she looks equally  astounded. “Wow, what the hell? This is crazy. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“In this Trader Joe’s?”

Beca laughs at that, shaking her head. “No, I just meant...here, I guess. Manhattan.”

“How would you? You never message us.”

The mild terror is back in Beca’s eyes, alongside a glimmer of genuine regret and sadness.

“I thought I knew what…” Beca trails off, looking absently at her full cart. “How is Chloe?” she asks, lowering her voice. “I never…”

In a sympathetic streak, Aubrey shakes her head, stopping that difficult line of thought. “Why don’t we set up a kind of reunion dinner or something? Get more Bellas down here.”

Beca brightens and relaxes at that. Aubrey takes the opportunity to critique Beca’s choice in fresh produce.

There’s nothing quite like a Bellas party, even if the entire evening had been hijacked by Fat Amy. Somehow, she manages to wrangle them all into a party near Columbia.

“Do you go here?” Aubrey asks. She realizes that she’s not exactly sure what Amy is doing in New York. They had kept in contact sparsely over the years, but Aubrey knows stuff about Amy mostly through Chloe’s updates over the years.

“No, not really,” Amy answers vaguely. Aubrey doesn’t bother pursuing that. “Hey, do you think Beca and Chloe will finally figure it out?”

“Figure what out?” Aubrey asks absently.

There’s a long silence while Amy drinks from her cup, watching her carefully.  Aubrey waits, raising an eyebrow in response to Amy’s silence. Amy finishes her entire drink first before saying “never mind.”

Aubrey shrugs and squints through the darkness. She still feels a protective streak flare up in her at the thought of her teammates, even though she’s long been off the Bellas’ team. She takes in how far they’ve come - how distant and precious their years at Barden seem now, compared to everything. She is so grateful for the experience. Even though these are mostly Chloe’s friends, if anything, Aubrey feels like there’s definitely a connection and bond with this set of Bellas - one that’s stronger than ever before. She begrudgingly attributes it to Beca’s hand in reshaping the Bellas, and though she’d love to maintain that she finds Beca irritating about 90% of the time, she knows how untrue it is and how much she considers Beca a friend.

Looking back up, Aubrey scans the crowd again, relaxing against the cushions of the couch, which she has deemed the perfect vantage point.

She pauses.

She thinks she sees Chloe grabbing Beca’s hand and pulling her out onto the makeshift dance floor and Beca’s expression indicates mild protest and discomfort, but she follows obligingly. Aubrey thinks she sees this because they disappear as quickly as it happens.

She actually doesn’t think too much of it until much later. She sees what appears to be Beca and Chloe in a heated argument on the couch she had once been sitting on, now haphazardly pushed to the side. They are angled towards each other with a familiar comfort emanating from both of them.

“-didn’t mean it! God, Beca,” Chloe is exclaiming - loud enough for Aubrey to hear as she passes on the way to the kitchen.

She wonders if it was a mistake, introducing Beca back into Chloe’s life so soon after her break-up with Jesse. She stops walking and hovers near the doorway, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

Aubrey watches the tension rise and fall in Chloe’s shoulders, the way she turns her body towards Beca. She can no longer hear their conversation, but she watches anyway because a part of her kind of wishes they’d figure it out and - oh , that’s what Amy meant.

Aubrey wonders if Chloe will finally leap at this very perfect opportunity to reveal her ever-growing feelings for Beca. It’s a constant back and forth between them. Aubrey had been mildly interested in this fixation back when they had first met Beca, but now she’s kind of tired and wishes they’d just get their crap together.

Aubrey doesn’t see them for the rest of the night, but she might have been fairly distracted by the competitive karaoke game going down between Flo and a few other students.

“I think you’re right,” Aubrey tells Amy the next day. She hands Amy a bottle of Advil and a water bottle. “About Beca and Chloe.”

“Of course I’m right,” Amy mumbles. “Hey, can you go grab me a burger from Shake Shack?”

Chloe (4:41 p.m.) I’m gonna be visiting my parents this weekend in Portland! Don’t wait up ;)

Aubrey (4:50 p.m.) Say hi for me! Also, we’re rescheduling movie night.

Chloe (4:51 p.m.) Totes!

It’s not uncommon for Chloe to visit her parents. She did fairly frequently while they were in school together. The quiet weekend means Aubrey can tackle that case study that had been evading her focus for the past few days and she can work on a few other assignments she wants to get out of the way.

She’s about a quarter through an assignment when she gets a text.

(Fat) Amy (5:29 p.m.) the big bm is away for the weekend. Want to hang?

Aubrey considers that heavily. She waits an hour before replying.

Aubrey (6:34 p.m.) Sure.

Aubrey (6:34 p.m.) Also, stop calling her that

Hanging out with Amy is kind of fun, Aubrey supposes, so long as she takes everything with a grain of salt. She lets Amy tell her about her part-time job as a mail courier and makes it a point to ignore her stories about her more peculiar clients and their oddities. She tuned out after the story about a man with long toenails and tries to ensure her dinner stays down.

Aubrey finally focuses when Amy says, seemingly out of the blue, “So, how are we getting Beca and Chloe to admit their feelings for each other?”

She considers denying it or feigning confusion.

It’s tempting because Aubrey has always enjoyed a good scheme, but she doesn’t want to interfere too much, knowing that Chloe will likely want her privacy on this front. “Aren’t they figuring stuff out themselves?” she asks.

Fat Amy scoffs. “Please. Your hair is going to be grey before they actually sort everything out. We need to give them that little push.”

It’s already sounding better than working on tedious assignments, but Aubrey’s still cautious. “We shouldn’t meddle,” she says half-heartedly. “We really shouldn’t.”

She receives a glare in response. “We definitely should,” Amy retorts.

Well, Aubrey doesn’t know how to disagree with that. “What’s the plan? We need a plan.”

Instagram: @becamitchell has posted for the first time in a while. Check out their post!

Aubrey frowns at this very specific notification. Why has Instagram deemed this as important material? That seems invasive - both to her and Beca. She opens it regardless and tilts her head, trying to suss out what exactly it is that Beca posted. It’s a photo of Coney Island with the sunset in the background.

She notices that Chloe has already liked the post. She shakes her head. Chloe’s addiction to social media will always evade her understanding.

(Fat) Amy (2:57 p.m.) SHE LIKED HER POST!!!!

Aubrey (2:57 p.m.) Calm down, she likes everybody’s posts.

That is true, as far as Aubrey is aware. Chloe likes everybody’s Instagram posts. It’s not really that which is most interesting to Aubrey. There is something more interesting about the fact that Beca had apparently been at Coney Island all day, especially since Aubrey distinctly recalls that Chloe mentioned she had been planning to go over the weekend.

Aubrey (3:01 p.m.) Do you know if Beca went with anybody to Coney Island?

(Fat) Amy (3:03 p.m.) No, she never tells me anything.

Aubrey (3:03 p.m.) understandable.

If Aubrey knew that scheming with Amy meant reactivating her Facebook account, she would have declined immediately.

“Do I just create a Facebook group or something?” Aubrey asks, frowning at her phone. “Why can’t we just text them and tell them we’re having a movie night at our place?”

“What era are you from?” Amy demands. “Just make a Facebook event. I know Beca needs her entire life scheduled or she’ll never show up to anything.”

Aubrey grumbles and sets up a Facebook event. “It’s literally just going to be the four of us,” she mutters. “This is so unnecessary.”

“Fine,” Amy exclaims. “Let’s invite the rest of the Bellas.”

“Amy, no!”

Her cry is to no avail as Amy immediately invites the Bellas and a few other people whose names Aubrey can’t quite recognize at first glance. Aubrey’s first thought is how their landlord is going to receive a few complaints over the weekend because of course Amy would somehow turn a small gathering into an impromptu party.

She sighs, mentally doing calculations in her head as to how much food she should buy as well as how many drinks she’ll need to get.

“This is going to be amazing, Aubrey. I’m so happy you agreed to this.”

She tacks on a couple extra drinks to her mental list because she’s sure she’ll need it.

Leading up to the movie night in question - an event that once only belonged to Aubrey and Chloe - Aubrey tries to figure out if Chloe and Beca are still talking to each other.

Chloe has been quieter and more reserved recently, though she cites stress from her job as the primary reason.

There’s a part of her that knows instinctively that Chloe likely had some kind of falling out with Beca, or maybe she’s mulling over her own feelings, but Aubrey just wishes Chloe would open up to her.

“Chloe?” she tries tentatively one evening while they’re scarfing down take-out from their favourite Chinese restaurant.

Chloe glances up at her from where she’s reading text messages on her phone. It’s a bit too far that Aubrey can’t quite see who she’s texting. “Yeah, what’s up, Bree?” Chloe asks, clicking her phone off casually.

“You’d...tell me if you were seeing somebody, right?”

There is a very brief pause, but a pause nonetheless.

Then, Chloe, as quiet as Aubrey has ever heard her, murmurs “yes,” softly. “I would.”

“That’s good to know.”

Aubrey lets it go for the moment. She has assignments to worry about and this damned Bellas party.

Chloe is ridiculously excited about the movie night extravaganza Aubrey and Amy planned. They somehow manage to wrangle 12 women into their tiny apartment, with enough seating (most of it improvised) for everybody.

They opt to watch horror movies, starting with It . Aubrey is not sure whose brilliant idea this is, but she feels like it could be either Lilly’s or Amy’s.

Aubrey grumbles as she retrieves another roll of paper towels from underneath the sink. Amy has somehow spilled her third drink of the night - none of which have been her own drinks.

Aubrey notes that Chloe isn’t being particularly helpful either because she’s immersed in a conversation with Beca on the loveseat - the most comfortable seat in their apartment currently. Chloe has her arm casually draped around the back of the couch to play with strands of Beca’s hair and Beca seems to either not notice or not care , but it’s then that Aubrey realizes that it’s neither . Beca is enjoying it if the smile on her face is any indication.

God, they’re dating, Aubrey thinks, resisting the urge to point at them and yell out her triumph.

Instead, she tilts her head, observing in silence.

They’re sharing a blanket too, which Chloe brought out from her room. Neither of them notices anything about the movie that’s playing and it’s dark enough that Aubrey only catches glimpses from time to time of their expressions.

It’s enough to see that Chloe has never quite looked so happy and Beca has never quite looked so relaxed.

The next time Aubrey glances at them, Beca has seemingly fallen asleep, completely pressed into Chloe’s side with her head tilted onto her shoulder. Chloe isn’t bothering to watch the movie at all even though her conversation partner has knocked out. Instead, she watches Beca, eyes trained on her the whole time.

Aubrey can’t help but smile even if it briefly hurts her that Chloe evidently didn’t bother telling her about this little development at all.

Mostly because it’s such a significant development in her best friend’s life.

(Aubrey is ridiculously happy for her. And Beca too.)

While sitting next to Chloe on their couch, Aubrey tries to focus on reading her textbook, but she finds her eyes drawn to Chloe’s phone because it continues to vibrate with a new message every two seconds.

Chancing a glance at her best friend, she sees the slow smile spread across Chloe’s face - a smile that is so smitten and grossly cute that it makes Aubrey shudder because she knows who Chloe is talking to without having to see the messages.

When Chloe gets up to retrieve their mail from downstairs, Aubrey bites her lip before pressing the button on Chloe’s phone. She sees a slew of messages from Beca. Except, it’s not just ‘Beca’. Chloe has changed her name on messenger to read as “grumpy becs” followed by three emojis: a blue heart, a raincloud, and a star.

The messages themselves are all the more incriminating, if the display name change weren’t enough.

Beca I miss you

Beca Just thought you should know or whatever

Beca When can I see you again?

That alone is enough to make Aubrey sit back firmly and contemplate. She vaguely wonders how long this has been going on - how long Chloe has been hiding this from her.

She wonders when Chloe will just tell her.

Her plan evolves.

Aubrey attempts to set Chloe up on a few dates, just to test the waters. She does so right in front of Beca. She’s really just testing the limits of Beca and Chloe’s strength because she still can’t quite believe that they’ve been hiding this from her for so long.

It was kind of cute at the beginning, now Aubrey is wondering how long it’ll take for either of them to crack. It’s like a fun game, sometimes.

Today, they’re enjoying brunch in Brooklyn. It had originally been Aubrey and Chloe’s pre-arranged brunch, but Chloe had tentatively asked Aubrey if Beca could come along because she was “feeling down from her job” and “we should totally show her this brunch place, Bree!”

Aubrey had agreed because she kind of just wanted to put Beca on the spot again. It’s a little fun to watch them both squirm.

“Chloe,” Aubrey states, primly folding her napkin. She waits until both Chloe and Beca have taken sips of their mimosas. “I would like to set you up on a date with one of my classmates.”

Chloe looks mildly curious, which is fine.

It’s Beca’s reaction that almost cracks Aubrey’s facade. She chokes on her drink and turns to Aubrey with wide eyes, like she can’t quite believe what she’s just heard.

“You would?” Chloe asks at the same time Beca asks, rather loudly, “Why?”

“I would,” Aubrey agrees, ignoring Beca. “I just think you’ve been single for so long. Not that you need somebody to make you happy. Just. Something to take your mind off things because I know how stressed you’ve been at work.”

“You’ve been stressed?” Beca asks, so softly that Aubrey momentarily forgets that she’s sitting across from Beca Mitchell. The amount of tenderness in Beca’s eyes directed straight at Chloe is kind of alarming if Aubrey didn’t already know they were in some kind of relationship.

“No, just,” Chloe sighs. She directs her attention fully to Beca. “A little. It’s just some personal things going on right now.”

Aubrey decides to let up on her line of questioning and drinks some water, watching them carefully. She decides not to bring it up again, feeling only more certain that they are dating , like officially.

When she gets up to go to the washroom, she can hear Chloe and Beca begin to whisper to each other, catching the tail end of their conversation: “-tell her?”

Aubrey smiles triumphantly.

“What made you bring that up today?” Chloe asks quietly, when they’re doing some weekend cleaning.

Aubrey frowns, focusing on a coffee stain plastered on their counter. She is sure she didn’t see this just a week ago and Chloe doesn’t drink coffee.

(Aubrey also knows that she always uses coasters and cleans up after herself.)

“What did I say?” Aubrey murmurs.

“About setting me up with somebody.”

Aubrey straightens, eyebrow rising slowly. “Chloe,” she starts.

“I’m happy right now,” Chloe says, not allowing her to finish. She fiddles nervously. “I can tell you that much. I appreciate the offer, but no.”

It warms Aubrey’s heart somewhat, when she notes the sincerity in Chloe’s tone. She can’t help the smile that rises on her lips and she nods encouragingly at Chloe to continue.

She wants to hear all about it - she wants to hear how happy Chloe is and how far they’ve come.

“Okay,” Aubrey says slowly. “You’re happy.”

Chloe bites her lip, looking like she’s about two seconds away from spilling everything. Aubrey restrains herself from excitedly wringing the cloth in her hands.

“I’m happy,” Chloe says after a moment, shrugging a little.

When she catches Aubrey staring at her, she smiles, a little apologetically and hurriedly returns to vacuuming.

Aubrey sighs.

She’ll accept that for now.

(She is so happy for Chloe.)

Amy sighs, stretching out completely on the couch and leaving a little place for Aubrey to perch herself at the end. “If only there were a way to see where they were at all times.”

Aubrey agrees absentmindedly, feeling like there’s something that she’s missing - maybe something that she has completely overlooked.

“Oh, hey, look. Beca’s in DUMBO.”

“That’s nice,” Aubrey replies. Something buzzes through her body. It feels like excitement. Maybe anxiety. Maybe indigestion from Amy’s food.

Vaguely she recalls that Chloe said she’d be away all weekend for an office retreat in -

She pauses.

In Brooklyn.

She latches onto it because she had given Chloe a little shit for it when she heard about it. She hadn’t understood why Chloe opted for separate lodging in Brooklyn when she had a perfectly good home in Manhattan, but now ...

Aubrey scrambles for her phone, nearly leaping clear over the couch and dislodging Amy in the process.

“Where are you going?” Amy calls, peeking over the couch. “Washroom?”

“No,” Aubrey says briskly. “Even better.” She swipes open her phone, navigating to Snapchat like Chloe once instructed her.  Opening it, she sees missed notifications from a number of people, including Chloe.

It takes her about an entire minute to click through all of the missed photos and videos from Chloe when she finally gets to one from just half an hour ago. A vague photo from somewhere that looks like it could be Brooklyn, but it’s not quite discernable to Aubrey.

She furrows her brow before pinching her fingers on the screen, enabling the map function.

She’ll never get over how creepy this is, but she’s is suddenly immensely grateful for it.

She notices that Chloe’s Bitmoji is back in what Aubrey assumes to be her Airbnb.

“This is the most useful thing that Snapchat has ever done,” Amy mutters as they stare at the little circle enclosing both Beca and Chloe’s tiny figures in the same space.

“They’re together!” Aubrey yells. “They’re in the same place! That’s what that means, right?”

Amy is nodding vigorously. “Yeah! Should we go over there now?’ She’s already grabbing her shoes from the front door.

Aubrey’s arm flies out. “No, no. We should…” She can’t stop the grin that stretches across her face. “We should send them a Snapchat.”

“Uh, what? Why?”

“So we can be sure. Amy, you don’t understand. She was so close to telling me. Maybe this will be the exact guilt trip she needs to finally tell me!”

It had not been the guilt trip Chloe needed.

She sent back a few selfies. Beca ignored Aubrey’s Snaps mostly, but at least it updated their locations frequently enough that Aubrey could tell exactly where they were all weekend.

Aubrey diligently keeps track of all their movements with this newfound power.

On Saturday, they spent most of the morning inside, before Chloe seemingly met up with other friends or coworkers for a few hours while Beca wandered around DUMBO again.

Then, they went for dinner at a place Aubrey had been dying to try.

Then, a movie.

Aubrey is shocked at how much information she suddenly has at her disposal. She feels simultaneously torn between continuing to keep this information from Chloe or just revealing all her cards at once.

She discusses this properly with Amy while they’re at Pinkberry on Sunday evening. Aubrey is expecting Chloe to return home soon, but her action plan has yet to be completed.

“Do we tell them we know?” Fat Amy asks as she continues piling toppings in her cup. "Oh, this is like that episode of FRIENDS. Excellent.”

“We?” Aubrey questions.

“Yeah, we’re partners in crime. Practically sisters.”

Aubrey shrugs at that. “Well, I’m thinking of just asking Chloe if she’s hiding something for me.”

“How well did that work out for you last time?”

Aubrey scowls at her friend. “She’ll tell me. I have all the evidence I need.”

“Ah, so you’re going to ambush her. You're an amazing best friend.”

“I’m going to gently nudge her,” Aubrey says delicately. She turns on her phone, navigating to her notes. “I have proof that she and Beca have been going on secret dates for at least the past three months. Maybe more.”

“Well, how are you going to bring it up?”

“I’m going to casually bring up all the places she was today.”

“Casual,” Amy agrees.

Aubrey opens Snapchat, wondering where Chloe is at the moment. Her eyes widen and she splutters, dropping her spoon.

“What is it?” Amy demands excitedly.

“Chloe’s home,” Aubrey says stiltedly. “And Beca’s with her.”

She has barely thought about talking to Beca about all of this. She obviously has to go through her whole spiel as Chloe’s best friend.

Amy is already standing and holding out Aubrey’s purse for her. “Let’s go.”

Aubrey stands, chair scraping back loudly. “Let’s get them.”

By the time they end up reaching Aubrey’s apartment, she is primarily trying to slow her breathing and put on an air of unaffected nonchalance. She makes extended eye contact with Amy before sliding her key into the lock.

Beca and Chloe are sitting on the loveseat again, though they’re not sitting close together. They’re chatting casually, facing each other. Both turn towards the door when it opens all the way.

“Hi roomie,” Chloe greets.

“Hi Aubrey. Amy,” Beca says, waving a little.

“Chloe. Beca.”

They all stare at each other for a moment before Amy breaks the awkward silence by moving to sit on the other couch, stretching out.

A million things run through Aubrey’s mind as she stares at Chloe and Beca. There are so many ways to go about this - so many opportunities for embarrassment and amusement.

Also, so many ways that they could continue to lie to her.

Chloe coughs, standing up quickly. “I’m just going to run to the bathroom. One sec, guys.”

Three pairs of eyes swivel to watch her leave.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Aubrey asks Beca once Chloe has disappeared to the washroom.

Beca stares back at her, a little insolently, a little nervously. “I don’t know. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” she fires back.

Aubrey is surprised at how easily Beca placed the ball back in her court. She practically handed it to her. Aubrey gracefully accepts.

Staring at Beca, Aubrey watches the way she seems to wither under her gaze. Aubrey’s not sure why it comes out exactly like this, but it does: “Not really,” she says slowly. “Except, maybe - Beca, please leave smaller hickeys on Chloe’s neck.”

Her voices rises a little at the end and her arms cross as she stares her down. Beca flushes deep red. Aubrey grins triumphantly when Beca squeaks "what?"

Beca seems to shrink into herself and she gapes, sinking into the couch a little. Amy unhelpfully laughs - or shrieks - and contributes nothing more to the conversation.

“You know, it was one thing when I thought you two were just trying out a friends with benefits thing, because God knows that you’ve both needed to get this fixation with each other out your system, but -” she holds up a finger when Beca opens her mouth. “-My roommate , Beca Mitchell? My best friend? How could you?”

Beca’s brow furrows. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re upset about, but I’m...I’m sorry-?”

“You two,” Aubrey says, sighing. She pulls out her phone, consulting the list of places they went all weekend. “All weekend, while Chloe was supposed to be away for work, and instead, you went to the movies, went to DUMBO, went for a nice stroll in the park,” she continues listing off places and Beca looks increasingly freaked out with each item.

Aubrey can hear Chloe rushing back down the hall. She heaves a breath when Chloe skids into view, eyes wide as she takes in how traumatized Beca looks, how delighted Fat Amy looks, and how pleased Aubrey looks.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice rising nervously in pitch.

Amy grins. “How long do you have, Chloe?”

Aubrey is about to settle down for bed after finishing off a bottle of wine with her friends. After all the drama, they had laughed it off - Beca more hesitantly than everybody else - and drank some wine, reminiscing on Barden and everything in between.

Chloe and Beca had cuddled immediately on the couch, limbs tangling, pleased smiles on their lips.

Now, Aubrey hears a quiet murmur of voices from the hallway.

“I tried to tell you,” Chloe whispers, hushed. “I knew she had an idea.”

“I really thought she didn’t,” Beca mutters back. “You didn’t tell me she’s fucking crazy. I felt like I was on episode of Maury or something. I've never been screamed at like that before.”

Aubrey scoffs. Beca is a baby. She had only raised her voice once. Hardly screaming.

Chloe laughs. “Hey, that’s my best friend you’re talking about, babe. I know her better than almost anybody else.”

“And I’m your girlfriend,” Beca says, in a voice that is so foreign to Aubrey. It is tender and affectionate.

Chloe giggles in response. “Well, I did try to warn you.”

“Chlo!”

Aubrey smiles.

Now that Beca and Chloe feel like they don’t need to hide anymore, Aubrey sees more of Beca than she ever did before, especially with how often she stays overnight. Especially on weekends.

Aubrey hears more of Beca’s music everyday. She also hears Chloe happily humming to herself whenever she’s making dinner.

Aubrey huffs, bumping into Beca on the way to the bathroom.

“Sorry,” Beca says, a little too cheerfully for Aubrey’s taste.

“I didn’t realize you were here,” Aubrey mumbles, blinking to make sure she’s not imagining Beca Mitchell in one of Chloe’s old oversized shirts in the middle of her hallway.

“Here I am,” Beca parries back.

“Bec!” Chloe’s voice calls from down the hall.

“Coming!”

Aubrey makes sure to take her time in the bathroom, hoping against hope that Beca and Chloe are going to sleep in.

She is very wrong.

Aubrey stares wide-eyed up at the ceiling, regretting her decision to forego the earplugs while she was in line at the check-out today.

This is her third traumatizing weekend in a row.

It is only 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning.

That’s early, even for Aubrey.

She doesn’t even want to think about whose idea this is.

Aubrey has had enough.

She barely resists the urge to just smack her hand against Chloe’s door to tell them to keep it down.

Aubrey (7:29 p.m.) Chloe Beale. Get out here. I have to tell you something.

She sends it off and doesn’t bother waiting for a reply considering she had just been freshly traumatized.

Aubrey privately wonders how Beca finds energy considering how much time she used to spend trying to make Bellas’ rehearsals difficult for everybody. Aubrey assumes Beca spends more time figuring out ways to annoy her than humanly possibly.

“Hey,” Chloe says, startling Aubrey out of her hypnotic trance by the stove. She turns to lower the heat on the stove before facing her friend. “Whatcha making?” Chloe asks, grabbing two - Aubrey’s eyes zero in on the action - water bottles from the fridge.

“Chloe, I have something to tell you,” Aubrey says briskly. She wants to get it over with. Chloe nods, uncapping one water bottle and taking a swig. Aubrey tries not to think about it too hard. “Chloe, you...I -” Aubrey tries to think about what Fat Amy would say, or even do. Chloe continues to stare at her, growing more concerned by the second. “I...no longer wish to have surround sound to your…” Aubrey puts her hand on her chin, tapping contemplatively. “Your...activities,” she finishes delicately. She mentally congratulates herself on her word choice.

It’s interesting, actually. Aubrey kind of wishes she had a secret camera set up somewhere because the next progression of events is simultaneously mortifying and hilarious. Chloe tilts her head in confusion, taking in Aubrey’s words. Aubrey only narrows her eyes further, willing her roommate to just...get the point, so neither of them have to be subjected to this awkward silence any longer.

“Oh,” Chloe says, finally. Quietly. Her cheeks grow red. It’s only temporary while Aubrey thinks that she can maintain the upper hand. Unfortunately, Chloe’s lack of boundaries means that she often bounces back from embarrassing moments with lightning quick reflexes. “I mean,” Chloe says, maintaining a hesitant tone. “It wasn’t me, right? I tried to tell Beca you’d be able to-”

Aubrey drops her spatula in the sink in horror. “No!” She wants to die. “I don’t want to - Jesus Christ, Chloe. Just, I’m letting you know that I can hear you, okay?!” Then, quieter, after a brief pause, “it was definitely you this morning,” she mutters.

Chloe blushes again, though she seems less embarrassed. “Oh, right.”

About an hour later, Aubrey finally settles back in bed with her laptop, determined to watch a movie and just relax for the rest of the night. She quickly stuffs her headphones into her ears, wary of the fact that both Chloe and Beca are still in the apartment.

Her phone buzzes just as she’s about to recline further into her pillows.

Chloe (8:47 p.m.) Oh, haha, I just saw your message.

Chloe (8:47 p.m.) gotchaaaa

Aubrey (8:48 p.m.) I hate you. And I hate Beca, too.

[wordsnstuff]

How To Actually Get Writing Done

-- I’ve seen so many posts on how to feel productive, but not too many on how to actually be productive. I do firmly believe in the power of mindset but that only does so much if you’re not actually going to sit down and get to work. I hope this is helpful to those who need it right now, whether you’re facing the end-of-the-year deadline or you’re trying to finish an essay before Christmas break is over or if you’re just trying to get out of a writing rut. This, as always, is my advice derived from personal experience and it may not work for everyone, but if this can so much as point you in the right direction, it has served its purpose.

Get Your Priorities Straight

Do you really want to spend this time writing? Or do you need to get that essay done? Is the laundry piling up in your closet, forming into the shape of a demon that’s going to scare the crap out of you tonight? If there is one thing I can pass onto you as advice, it’s to write with a clear mind. I’m not saying that you can’t write if you have other responsibilities, but writing to escape the million other things you know you need to do is not going to make that weight leave your shoulders and isn’t going to allow you to create good content either. it is much easier to be creative when the boring chores of reality aren’t nudging at your brain whenever you get stuck on a word that sounds wrong.

Eliminate All Distractions

Social media is not the only distraction there is that’s keeping you from writing. If you need to get stuff done, realize that maybe it isn’t wise to have two friends over to “study”. Be honest with yourself when the situation is starting to get critical. Do not set yourself up to fail by turning Netflix on in the background because “the noise just makes me feel more comfortable when I’m alone”. That’s what ASMR is for. Don’t make excuses for the fact that creating distractions is a form of procrastination.

Say No To Yourself

Your brain is going to tell you “Just one more YouTube video” or “Just a 30 minute power nap” or “I’ll have more time to write tomorrow anyway”. Ignore that voice. Recognize that that, forgive me if I offend you, is BS. You cannot have faith in the convenience of the future if you want to be a successful writer. If you constantly depend on the cozy belief that you will feel it tomorrow or that you don’t have anything going on tomorrow so you can spend today doing whatever and shove it all on future you, you are going to get slapped hard by reality a lot sooner than you think. Train your mind to hear that voice and respond with “no, there is a good to fair chance that something unexpected is going to pop up tomorrow and that right now is the only time I’ll get to get this done, so I’m going to power through and do it now” because it is much better to have it done early than be worrying about it later on.

Write What You’re Excited About First

So, it’s common sense that you’ll be more motivated to start writing when you’re excited about what you’re writing, so start with that. This is one of the oldest pieces of advice in the book, but it’s popular for a reason. If you need to, start at the end or the middle or a scene you’ve been thinking about a lot recently or whatever. Even if you go back and edit one of your past scenes to throw yourself back into your own story, it’s ok. It’s allowed. Do what you need to do to get into it.

Just Get Started

I promise you that writing is more fun and exciting and a lot easier than you think when you just do it. Even if you know that what is coming out of your pen is garbage, just enjoy it. Fool yourself into thinking it’s the best art there has ever been and sometime into the writing session it will become such. If you tell yourself what you’re writing is golden, it will become golden. Confidence is pretty much everything when it comes to writing, because the confidence shows in the final product at the end of the day. Just remember, like everything else in life, you just have to fake it until you make it.

Face Reality

You’re not going to get 10,000 words written and edited and ready for publishing in one day. You’re not going to wake up tomorrow any more motivated than you are right now. You aren’t going to suddenly feel ready to write your entire book if you spend an hour scrolling through inspirational quotes on Tumblr. You are never going to be more ready to write than you are now, so stop making excuses and procrastinating and read this as a sign: start now. Don’t second guess it, don’t spend time making your surroundings perfect and outlining the chapter ad nauseam. Just write. Right now.

Support Wordsnstuff!

Request A Writing Help Post/Themed Playlist/Writing Tips!

Send Me Poetry To Feature On Our Instagram!

Receive Updates & Participate In Polls On Our Twitter!

Like us and share on Facebook!

Read More On Our Masterlist & See our Frequently Asked Questions!

Tag What You Want Me To See With #wordsnstuff !

[theepitomeofamess]

Here's some fuckin Logicality for y'all 'causr I'm bout to math test am stress it's long I'm on mobile can't find the keep reading button I'm sorry:

Logan absolutely loves Patton's old cardigan. The soft knitted feel, the worn edges, the way Patton's scent is ingrained into every stitch, they way that it's just a tad big on him because despite Logan being taller, Patton's just a bit broader and softer - everything about it is comfortable in the way Logan so rarely allows himself to be.

Of course, he never lets the others see him wrap himself in the gray cloud. It's not like cosplaying as Sherlock - that's strictly to get in the mindset for deductive reasoning. It's not even like the unicorn onesie. That was embarrassing, sure, but the others don't judge that sort of thing easily, even when it's Logan.

The cardigan, it's worse than just embarrassment. It's sentimentality. If any of them found out that Logan - Mister "heart as cold and hard as the facts," the "calculator watch" of a robot in their little band of sides, the "I'm always serious, I wear a necktie" guy that never allows himself to let down an aesthetic standard for comfort's sake - liked something as soft and warm and comfortable and unlike him as Patton's cardigan, especially for the reason that it is Patton's, they would tear him to shreds. Roman would employ every one of his teasing remarks, and whether he intends for them to be hurtful or not, they bruise Logan's ego even more than they should. Virgil would give him that look. That damned look that says "I know what you're thinking, I know what you're feeling, and no, it will never get better than this. This moment will haunt you forever." And Patton... well, it would be another infinitesimal for him. It would just be more ammo, one more mistake for him to rub in his face any time he thought Logan needed to be taken down a peg or two, and God, Logan could barely stand the one that he already had.

So he never lets the others know. He usually steals it while the others are doing their own thing, when they finally leave him alone to work and he doesn't have to worry about being disturbed. He wears it at his desk - it makes everything the perfect temperature since he prefers his room cold - and if anybody knocks he throws it in his bottom desk drawer until he can find a moment to return it to its hanger.

Of course, most secrets aren't kept forever.

Patton's been doing laundry all day while Virgil's helping Dee with the dishes and Roman's adventuring in his room. Patton was putting away some of his things in his closet when he noticed that his cardigan was gone. It's not unusual for stuff to go missing for a day or two, it's just usually not his. Roman has a habit of stealing things from people who are getting on his nerves more than usual - Logan's necktie, Virgil's eyeshadow before he can put it on, the insoles out of all Deceit's shoes a la Eddie from "Friends" - but it's hardly ever Patton's and he can't think of anything that he's done that would lead Roman to steal his cardigan, especially since he hardly wears it anymore.

Naturally, Patton went to Roman first, but Roman had no idea where it was - he'd been adventuring all day. He was on his way to the kitchen to ask Virgil and Dee about it when he passed Logan's room. Might as well ask, he thought.

Patton mentally prepared himself for the barrage of harsh "why would I know where your sweater is" comments as he tapped gently on Logan's door. The lack of an answer wasn't unusual or even surprising, but it did force the release of a disappointed sigh.

Probably fell asleep at his desk again, Patton thought, taking the knob in hand to open the door. He was glad that Logan always kept his door open, only ever implementing a strict "knock first" policy. It made it easier for Patton to check on him when he might be overworking himself - easier than with Roman and Virgil, both of whom he had to either persuade to open the door or pick the lock in order to get them to bed. Still, for the guy who's always preaching self-care and mothering the rest of them, Logan was awful at-

Patton's eyes blew wide, hand rising to cover his grin, stifling a sound that fell somewhere between a gasp and a squeal.

Logan was definitely asleep at his desk. Asleep and curled up in Patton's cardigan. His nose and mouth were buried in the crook of his elbow, his upper arm pushing his glasses into an awkward angle and his hand hooking over his shoulder to hug himself close. His usually pushed-back hair fell in his face, and his tie sat on the other side of his desk. He was laying over what looked to be a copy of one of Roman's scripts, grammar errors and gaps in logic marked with the dark blue pen that was still lolling in Logan's left hand. He seemed perfectly relaxed, perfectly comfortable. He wasn't even grinding his teeth the way he did when he wasn't sleeping soundly - which was normally.

Patton closed the door as quickly as possible while making sure not to make a sound. He didn't like to disturb the others when they were finally getting good sleep - none of them really did, not even Logan or Prince "I need my Beauty Sleep" Roman.

Patton was careful about how he went about moving Logan. He seemed to be sleeping deeply, but that didn't mean he shouldn't be gentle with him or try not to jostle him. He managed to pick him up and get him over to his bed, noticing as he went the way the first few buttons of Logan's shirt were undone. Patton had seen beautiful things before, but hardly any of them could compete with Logan, comfy and tousled and relaxed and not trying to convince the world that he has a stick up his butt.

As he removed Logan's glasses, setting them on his nightstand so they didn't get bent, he noticed how Logan curled in on himself again, pulling himself into a tight hug, fingers curled around the edges of the cardigan's sleeves. Patton would've taken pictures if he didn't know that Logan would destroy them if he ever knew of their existence.

Logan has no idea which of them put him to bed that night, but he didn't take Patton's cardigan for weeks after that. It couldn't have been Roman - he'd never let Logan live it down in secrecy. It couldn't have been Patton, either, based on that same logic. Neither of them could keep a secret. It might have been Virgil, except that he hadn't made any underhand comments or given Logan that look yet. That left Deceit, but Logan couldn't imagine why he would have been in his room in the first place. He never went anywhere he wasn't comfortable, and if there was one place where he wasn't yet comfortable, it was the place that reminded him of everything that he wasn't, the place of facts and truths that he wanted to tell but couldn't.

Despite not knowing who it was and refusing to take it for fear of whoever it was waiting there for him to give him grief, Logan still found the cardigan on the back of his desk chair when he'd had a particularly stressful day or hadn't slept in a while. Once it was there, he couldn't force himself to deprive himself of the warm comfort he'd been trying to refuse.

[Time skip]

Logan's birthday rolled around, and Logan was already ecstatic with the collection of Victor Hugo books from Roman and the star charts from Virgil. Picking up Patton's, Logan couldn't help but notice that Patton's grin was a lot softer, less giddy than he usually was on these sorts of occasions. Carefully unwrapping the rainbow wrapping paper (the box looked like it had been wrapped by a five-year-old but Patton always tries his best so he couldn't find it in him to criticize right now), Logan lifted the lid off the box and immediately his expression went back to his default blank look.

"Patton," Logan asked, picking up the cardigan out of the box, "is this..."

"Well," Patton justified happily, though more quietly than usual, "you're the only one of us without anything cozy. I have the hoodie you gave me, Virgil has his hoodie, Roman has his sash and jacket, and Dee has his cape. Figured you need a cozy something, too. And the unicorn onesie isn't exactly practical for everyday use and wearing in public, is it? Besides, I think it suits you. Kind of gives off a Professor Lupin vibe with you. So, it's yours." Logan's grin widened with every word out of Patton's mouth. Patton had just barely finished by the time Logan had undone the buttons and put the cardigan on.

He didn't let on that the last words made him want to scream. He ignored the voice in his head and the pain in his chest telling him that Patton saying “it’s yours” about something that was once his is the closest Logan will ever get to Patton telling him “I’m yours.” He ignored the way his every nerve was telling him to kiss Patton. He only cleared his throat to ensure his voice didn't crack.

"Thank you, Patton. I love it." Setting the box aside, Logan opened his arms in offering. Patton just about leapt across the coffee table to accept Logan's embrace.

"Really, Lo? Never took you for a-" Logan shot Roman a look over Patton's shoulder that screamed "if you do anything to question this or make fun of Patton's gift I will end you." Needless to say, Roman backed off.

Patton pulled away, thrusting Deceit's gift at Logan next, clapping happily, back to his usual self. Logan didn't even try to wipe the smile off his face as he opened Deceit's set of Neil DeGrasse Tyson documentaries.

Patton waited until after the others were distracted by a game of Mario Kart and cake to pull Logan upstairs to his room.

“What’s the matter, Patton?” Logan asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as Patton closed the white-painted door to his room. Patton strolled a bit closer to Logan.

“So… how long had you been taking it?” Logan gulped, lowering his head to stare at the toes of his shoes.

“About a month after I gave you your hoodie. The A.C. was on full blast - I think Virgil was mad at Deceit, or something, and he made it where I couldn't change it back - and I saw it hanging on the back of one of the chairs in your room. I didn't think you’d mind, and it was a much easier option than trying to convince everybody to play nice while I had work to do. From there, it just sort of… snowballed.” Patton cocked his head to the side, smiling up at Logan.

“You're a real softy, Lo.”

“I have been called many things but never that,” Logan retaliated. Patton giggled, the sound practically carbonating the inside of Logan’s chest. “Is that all you wanted to ask me?”

“Not quite, just one or two more things.”

“I’m not fond of interrogations when I’m not on the questioning side.”

“It’s not an interrogation, Lo.” Logan quirked an eyebrow at the answer. “Anyway, about earlier. When you let me hug you.”

“What about it?”

“I was the first to let go.” Logan pursed his lips, waiting for the point.

“So…”

“I’m never the first to let go, Logan, especially not with you. So why was I?” Logan swallowed against a lump in his throat, blinking away the thought of wishing he hadn't let go at all.

“Maybe you just didn't want that long of a hug. Maybe you were excited about Deceit’s present. And I was grateful for the gift, so in return…”

“That’s another thing,” Patton noted. “You said you love it. Why do you like it so much?”

“What?”

“The cardigan. Why do you like it so much? You could use one of your own or conjure one up for yourself or something, but you've been using mine. Why?” Logan took a deep breath, hoping that the heat rising in his face would get shoved back down.

“I honestly couldn't tell you.”

“Can you try?” Logan sighed, licking his lips and setting his jaw.

“I don't know. It's warm, it's soft, it's well-worn, it smells nice-”

“Smells nice? I haven't washed it in forever, how could it smell nice?”

“Well, the effect and pleasure induced by a scent is relative to who’s smelling it and I for one find the scent attached to the sweater to be quite….” Logan’s eyes darted away from Patton, pretending to search for the right word, “nice.” Logan mentally smacked himself. What the hell was that supposed to mean, “nice”? That could mean a million different things. What if he misinterprets it?

A little giggle made Logan look up to find Patton smiling and shaking his head slightly.

You’re adorable.”

“Roman says I’m an irritant with no fashion sense so one of you is lying. Forgive me if I’m inclined to believe it's you.” Patton laughed a bit harder, coaxing out a snort that made Logan melt inside.

“Believe me,” Patton assured, strolling closer, “you're adorable.”

“I suppose that's your opinion and you’re entitled to it. I’m glad that it's a positive one.” Patton grinned up at Logan. “Is that all? The others may be getting suspicious.”

“Do you not hear them screaming at each other? It's Mario Kart. We’ve got time.” The comment made a smile tug at Logan’s lips.

“So there's more?”

“Just one more thing. Close your eyes.” Logan raised an eyebrow at the request. “I’ve got another present for you. Just do it. Please?” Logan sighed, lifting his chin to look straight ahead before closing his eyes.

The next thing he knew, a pair of lips was against Logan’s, soft and sweet as rose petals, and just as pink if Logan’s memory served. They tasted of frosting from the cake downstairs.

Logan’s eyes fluttered open a lot slower than he expected them to. Looking down at Patton, Logan could only stare. The boy smiling up at him was nothing but wide-eyed, round-faced, curly-haired, freckled perfection.

“Sorry I didn't ask permission. I know that's not the best way to go about it, but-” Patton stopped when Logan hunched over, hugging Patton close around his waist and lowering his head until it was crooked over Patton’s shoulder.

“You don't need to apologize for that. Not to me.” Logan’s words made Patton grin from ear to ear.  Hugging Logan back, he chuckled and shook his head.

“Clueless.” That made Logan straighten out.

“Oh, like you’ve never been clueless.”

“Infinitesimal,” Patton sang.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” Logan shook his head at Patton, smiling as he cupped his hands on either side of Patton’s face, thumbs running over his freckled cheeks as he leaned in to press a kiss of his own onto Patton’s lips.

Everything Logan had read about relationships and kissing, this felt nothing like what they’d described. They’d described fireworks, blazing passion and electric attraction. They’d described wandering hands, weak knees, and hot bodies pressing into each other.

This wasn't that. This was a warm fireplace and fireflies. This was slow-motion and comfortable closeness. This was being each other’s stability. This was magnetic attraction and everything good in the world. This was right. This was home.

[Extra scene]

“Finally,” Roman muttered, quietly high-fiving Virgil as they strolled away from Patton’s door. “They’ve been married for years, it's about damn time they got together.”

“Gotta be honest, I’m kinda disappointed we didn't get to go as far as locking ‘em in a closet and not letting ‘em out until they got together.”

“We’ve all spent enough time in the closet as is.”

“Okay-” Roman pecked Virgil’s lips before he could continue his comment, chuckling as he backed away.

“This family is anything but ridiculous,” Deceit muttered to himself, driving his kart down Rainbow Road while Roman and Virgil were distracted, both of their karts both still seated at the starting line.

“Hey,” Virgil finally shouted. “You little shit!” Deceit laughed as the two of them grabbed for their remotes.

“I’m gonna rip those scales off your face one by one for that.”

“I wouldn’t like to see you try, Peasant.” Virgil snorted at the comment and the noise Roman made.

[salexectrian-heir]

Loki

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E* (not every chapter is E, most are rated T. Chapters containing explicit content will be marked with an asterisk*, ex: Chapter 7*) Summary: Lavellan rescued a mischievious sphynx kitten outside her work who loves her dearly. But his destructive habits start to get out of hand when he steals her attractive neighbor’s underwear… repeatedly. [Previous Chapter]       [Read on AO3]  

Chapter 4

Their laundry schedules didn’t sync up again for a few weeks, but they kept in frequent communication. If they caught each other in the hall, they always made time for at least a few minutes to chat.

“Please try to get some sleep on the plane,” Anise said, leaning against the doorframe of the laundry room, another ruined pair of boxerbriefs in her hand and a smug Loki perched on her shoulder.

He locked his apartment and pocketed his keys as he turned to face her. “I can make no promises.”

Anise bit back a smile. Clearly he had been in a rush, was still a rush, for his tie was askew and the top button was buttoned wrong.

“If you are on call, I hope nothing happens to bring you in,” he said, switching his briefcase to his left hand, “perhaps you should try and get some sleep as well.”

Her heartbeat bumped up a notch when he gave her a warm smile and polite nod as a way goodbye.

“Wait,” she called, stepping forward and grabbing his elbow to tug him back, “you cannot board a plane or attend a meeting looking like this.” She threw the ruined briefs over her vacant shoulder and reached for his collar.

“Ah, what? Oh--”

Her fingers loosened his crooked tie, and unbuttoned the mixed up buttons. He went stiff. His surprised huff of breath hit her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine. After rebuttoning his shirt, she looped the soft fabric of his tie properly, pulling it snug to his collar. She ran her hand down its length to smooth is out against his shirt. She lingered there a second too long before she realized it. But he definitely noticed, for she could feel his heart rapidly fluttering beneath her palm.

She quickly retracted from him, feeling the tips of her ears burn. The interaction left his mouth slightly agape and cheeks tinted pink. After a second he recovered, clearing his throat.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, tracing the path her hand had taken down his tie with his own.

She tucked a strand of loose hair behind her too warm ear, “It was nothing. You, ah, you better get going! Don’t want to miss your flight.”

“Yes, that would be… less than favorable.”

Anise chuckled, “Go.”

He gave an awkward wave, looking over his shoulder at her as he rushed down the stairwell.

A loud meow sounded off by her ear.

“Shut. Up.”

And when they weren’t in person, they still managed to make time to talk to each other.

Anise would receive a picture of the Arlathan skyline at dawn from various angles with an elven subtitle she would have to decipher every couple days from Solas. Sometimes he would send her pictures of his favorite places, his favorite foods from the city, or of the monuments while breaking for lunch. Her dyslexia made it no easy task, but she enjoyed the challenge.

In return she would send him pictures of Loki. Loki sleeping on his back with his legs in the air on top of the microwave, Loki kneading her stomach while she was laying on the couch, Loki in his new green sweater she knitted with longer sleeves to keep him warm in the colder weather, Loki destroying a ball of yarn she bought to make him the sweater. She had no shortage of Loki material to go around.

Loki’s sweater hadn’t been the only one she had been knitting lately, though she did her best to keep it from Solas. She figured that she had already bought the man underwear, so making him a sweater as a gift for the upcoming holiday would be appropriate. From what she had seen of his wardrobe it was abysmally formal and stiff.  A nice, cozy sweater would be a nice addition, or so she rationalized. What color to make it took her the most time to decide. Her first choice would have been green, but realized she made Loki green sweaters, so that color was claimed already. And she did not want her bald kitten and the bald man she was harboring a crush on to be dressed identically. She wished she knew his favorite color, and thought about asking him via text, but didn’t want to seem obvious that she was up to something.

She had gotten about a third of his sweater done on her day off when there was a knock on the door. Her first instinct was to immediately reach out and feel for Loki to make sure he was still in her apartment. He was. Draped over the arm of her couch, lazily blinking the last of his dreams from his eyes.

She stuffed the partial sweater into a crevice in the couch and covered it with a pillow. She compulsively tucked strands of hair that had fallen loose from the bun atop her head, wishing she would have at least run a comb through it before getting to the door. Solas had said he wouldn’t be returning for another day, but her heart seemed to ignore that fact hoping he might have returned home early.Peering through the peep hole, she couldn’t deny that her heart sank when she saw it wasn’t Solas.

“Ms. Ruiz, good morning,” she greeted the elderly woman as she opened her door.

“Buenos dias Anise, I baked you these.” She pushed a tin into Anise’s arms. It was warm. “Fresh from the oven. Be good and share them with that man down the hall I’ve seen you hanging ‘round with.”

“What? Ms. Rui--”

“Don’t ‘Ms. Ruiz’ me, I know things.” She tapped her temple with a crooked finger, and grinned.

“Fine,” Anise sighed, opening the tin a crack to smell the freshly baked cookies. They smelled heavenly. “When he gets in from his flight, I’ll let him know about the cookies.”

“That’s my girl.”

"Your decorations are lovely as always," Anise commented, pointing to the hall behind her elderly neighbor.

Beautiful ornaments had been hung from the ceiling, as well as tinsel and lights, giving the sterile hallway a much warmer feel. Anise noticed that everyone's door had a wreath hung on it, including her own.

"Oh thank you, sweet thing," Ms. Ruiz smiled proudly, "This place needs more cheer. Everyone seems to rushing around, barely enjoying themselves. I just," she sighed, "I just want to make seem a little brighter."

"You've outdone yourself."

A mischevious glint appeared her eyes, "Including the laundry room."

Anise fought the response to blush and lost. "Goodbye, Ms. Ruiz."

Anise watched as Ms. Ruiz crossed the hall, laughing to herself, and knocked on the door opposite. The man who lived there was rumored to be a former Grey Warden, which made people weary of interacting with him. If Ms. Ruiz knew, she didn’t let it bother her. He did not get very many people knocking at his door. In fact, Anise wasn’t sure if she had seen anyone visit him. She felt guilty for not being a better neighbor, but she rarely had time for socializing outside her job. As she closed her door, her neighbor opened his. His blonde hair was a mess and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. She wondered what he was up to cooped up in there. Ms. Ruiz was right about us, Anise thought. She shrugged and stole a cookie out of the tin and bit into it.

Loki jumped from his perch and meandered around her feet, mewling.

“I’m sorry baby, but these are not for kitties,” she said through a mouthful of delectable sugar cookie.