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queen-haq · 3 years ago

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3100 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

gif credit: @benbarnxs

Part 16

You were straddling Billy, riding him, your hips undulating atop his body. His fingers tightly gripped your waist, getting ready to take charge so you were underneath him, but you refused to submit. Instead you grabbed his hands and pinned it above his head. As you hovered above him, he arched up to kiss you but you shifted back, instead staring down at him intently. He growled at you before he rolled over unexpectedly, taking you along with him.

As he thrust into you, harder and rougher each time, you began to slide off the bed. In your new position, you caught sight of Adam on the floor. His corpse was wrapped up in a rug, only his head sticking out-

“Hey.” Billy pulled you up so you were now sitting across his lap, facing him. “Look at me. Only me.”

Only a few seconds ago he was biting you as you clawed at him, both of you desperate to possess each other. Your movements had been savage, animalistic even, but now Billy was kissing you languidly, his hand brushing the back of your hair while the other settled on the small of your back. You were directing the rhythm of the thrusts now, setting a slower pace so you could fully enjoy the feel of his cock stretching your insides oh-so-tantalizingly. Your forehead braced against his, you closed your eyes and lost yourself to the flood of emotions that overcame you.

***

It was after midnight. Billy had come home with you and both of you were in bed, you nestled against him while he spooned you from behind. Even though you were tired, you couldn’t sleep. Your brain was working overtime processing everything that happened in the last few hours. He stirred next to you, dropping a tender kiss on your bare shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured. You may have been fully alert but he sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Are you sure they’ll be thorough with the cleaning?”

“Yeah.” Throwing his arm over you, he covered your hand with his. “These guys are not amateurs. They know what they’re doing. There won’t be any traces of us left in that room.”

“And Adam’s body-”

“Will be disposed of.”

“But how do you know you can trust these guys? What’s stopping them from blackmailing-”

“’cause money talks, babe. That crew is very well paid.” He squeezed your palm. “I’ve used them in the past. No trouble yet.”

With his military career you were already aware of his violent past, but you also sensed he had a long hit list aside from that. When he’d realized your plans for Adam, he hadn’t been remotely shocked at the idea of you killing another person. In fact, as you stabbed Adam repeatedly, Billy had looked at you with such pride and reverence that it had left you breathless.

“What we did tonight, you know what that means, don’t you?”

His voice brought you out of your reverie. You exhaled a deep breath, drawing circles on his palm. “That we’re bad people.”

“No, we’re survivors. We take down anyone who gets in our way.”

“He didn’t come after you,” you reminded him. “You didn’t have to get involved.”

He turned you around to face him. “Nobody threatens you and gets to live after that.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. When he looked at you with such intensity, you were almost ready to believe anything.

He cradled your face, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “We’re connected now. Forever. Because of tonight.”

You didn’t understand how his words could evoke such conflicting emotions within you. On one hand your stomach fluttered with excitement, he was saying things you’d wanted to hear for a long time, but then there was the fear. Doubt. Uncertainty. You forced a smile, hoping some levity would lighten the situation. “You make it sound like we’re married or something.”

Disgust flooded over his face. “Fuck, no. Marriages end. One day you’re bragging about being in love, next it’s all over. It’s not based on anything real. But we are.” He reached for your hand, which was resting on the pillow between you and him, and intertwined his fingers through yours. “I saw you tonight, the real you. And you saw me. No pretenses, no boundaries. And you didn’t run. You didn’t even flinch.”

“Neither did you.” You lifted your eyebrow. “You were rock hard.”

“I always am around you.”

His words made the heat rise in your cheeks, which he noticed right away. Giving you a teasing smile, he leaned in closer to give you a peck on the cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“Shut up.”

Billy’s eyes remained locked on you, simply staring at you with sleepy eyes. “I don’t like who I was when I thought I lost you. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined you fucking this other guy, kissing him. Even the thought of you talking to him made me want to burn it all down.”

Your heart ached at how tired he looked. Scooting closer, you started massaging his forehead. When he closed his eyes, you dropped a gentle kiss on each of his eyelids, the beauty mark just below his right eye, before snuggling him tightly in your arms. “Sleep, Billy.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” he murmured drowsily.

You smiled. “It is my apartment.”

He didn’t respond, already fast asleep. You tried to do the same but couldn’t; there were too many thoughts running around in your brain. You had assumed you’d feel guilty about taking a life; you didn’t. You remembered the vicious, contemptuous anger in Adam’s eyes when he’d held you at gunpoint, and how he’d threatened to kill others in your team, and all you felt was relief. Relief that he was dead and no longer a danger to you.

Billy stirred next to you, drawing your attention. You reached out to hold him, your touch feather-light so as not to wake him up. He looked calm and peaceful, unlike the haunted and distraught way he appeared earlier in the hotel room. It was still hard to digest that he’d been so unhinged at the thought of losing you. But the thing that resonated with you the most was that he hadn’t been able to hurt you despite all of the anger he’d felt. Growing up the way you had, you were always on alert for things to turn violent at any moment. One wrong comment or an innocent gesture - hell even a lone pair of sock on the floor - had the potential to trigger your father’s temper and turn things violent. During those moments his rage was uncontrollable, and as a result you always worried about how people reacted when they were furious. The fact that Billy hadn’t hit you even though he’d been completely enraged made you realize you were physically safe with him.

Maybe emotionally as well. For so long you’d had difficulty believing he could reciprocate your feelings yet you couldn’t ignore how devastated he’d been. Nor could you rationalize away his emotions. It still felt surreal but he did truly care about you, and the thought filled you with warmth and made your heart soar with happiness.

You brushed your lips against his, hoping Billy’s comforting presence next to you would help you relax. However, fifteen minutes later sleep still alluded you. Eventually you decided to do something useful and work instead. Carefully sliding out of bed so you didn’t disturb him, you tip-toed out of the bedroom. Immediately you felt the soreness in your body, an after effect of the rough sex you had with Billy in the hotel room earlier. Grabbing a nearby throw, you were soon nestled in your favourite spot on the chaise lounge, working away on your laptop.

An hour later you heard footsteps behind you and you turned around to find Billy yawning, clad in boxers, his hair all ruffled.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” he grumbled.

You scooted over to give him space to sit on the chaise but he seemed to have other ideas in mind as he took a seat behind you. You found yourself settled between his legs, your back nestled against his chest, as he caressed down the length of your arms.

“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something useful.”

“What corporate shit are you working on?” he teased, playfully grabbing your laptop to look at your screen. You smacked his arm right away, shutting the screen and pushing the laptop away.

Billy purposely rubbed his face against the base of your neck and you started giggling at the sensation of his prickly beard on your bare skin. “Stop,” you whined. “It tickles.” you squealed loudly, trying to jump out of his arms but he held you in a tight grip.

Finally he stopped, and as you struggled to catch your breath, you slapped his arm playfully. “You’re such a jerk.”

He chuckled, hugging you tightly from behind. “That’s for ignoring all my calls since Tuesday.”

“I’m still not unblocking your number,” you retorted. His beard scraped along your shoulder, making you squeal again. “Okay, fine. Sorry!”

“Swear that you’re not gonna block me again.”

You turned around in his arms, resting on your knees as your arms looped around his neck. Smiling down at him, you nuzzled your nose with his. “Swear that you won’t act like an asshole again.”

“Can’t really do that.”

“Exactly.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the tender affection on his face, the warmth of his gaze spreading slow, languid heat throughout your body. “You should go back to bed. You still look tired.”

“I’ve had a rough week.”

You pouted your lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Want to make it up to me?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow at you.

”How? By sucking you off?” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

“Move in with me.”

Your hands stilled on him, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. At first you thought he was joking but the solemn expression on his face made you realize otherwise. You moved away, putting much needed distance between the two of you.

“That’s not funny, Billy.”

Maintaining a rigid posture on the chaise lounge, he shrugged his shoulders. “Not meant to be. I’m dead serious.”

“You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

“Why? ‘cause I wanna keep you safe?”

“The threat is gone. I took care of it.”

“We took care of it,” he said pointedly. “A threat which you didn’t even tell me about.”

“I explained that to you already.” Feeling defensive, you started pacing the floor. “You promised you’d have your guy stop tailing me.”

“Sure. As soon as I know you’re not gonna keep things from me again. You moving in will help with that.”

“So if I don’t move in, you’ll have me followed 24/7?” Anger surged through you, you were so furious you wanted to scream. “That’s fucking blackmail.”

“Relax. No need to be so dramatic about it.”

You grabbed the closest cushion you had and flung it at him, enraged by his patronising tone. “We barely know each other-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he interjected, finally moving to stand up. His eyes were pitch black, his jaw clenched. “You and I killed someone tonight! You took my hand, my knife, and we stabbed the bastard in the heart with it, together. We fucked while he drew his last breath and now you’re feeding me this bullshit?” He stormed towards you. “No! I’ve seen your darkness and you’ve seen mine. There’s no one else in this world that knows us better than we know each other.”

You shook your head, flabbergasted by his reaction. “This is insane. I can’t move in with you. We haven’t even gone out on a real date because you said I was boring!”

“If you believe that then you really are a fucking idiot!”

You stiffened, his words ringing in your ear. Fucking idiot. Something your father used to call you repeatedly, his tone full of hate and vitriol when he lashed out at you. It started with a fucking idiot then spiralled into bitch and whore and everything else hurtful under the sun. You swore to yourself you’d never accept being spoken to like that by another person yet here you were, being insulted again by someone who was supposed to care about you.

You retreated back from Billy, careful to keep your distance from him, and leveled him with a cold glance. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”

Your voice may have been deceptively calm but there was a storm brewing inside you. You desperately needed some space. As you moved away from Billy and headed to the kitchen, he tried to block your path but you immediately pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!”

You quickly sidestepped past him and entered the kitchen, heading for the cabinet where you kept your bottle of whiskey. Pouring yourself a glass, you slowly sipped the liquid to soothe your frayed nerves and forget the memories Billy had just unleashed in you.

***

Even as the words left his mouth, Billy knew he’d made a mistake. He regretted what he said instantly, even more so when he realized how much the words had stung you. The last thing he wanted was to cause you pain but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The more he tried to hold on to you the more you slipped through his fingers.

After giving you a few minutes to calm down, he entered the kitchen behind you. You were standing in the opposite corner, drinking the hard stuff, which further signalled how shaken you were. Billy knew Scotch wasn’t something you enjoyed, you only drank it when you were messed up.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. It won’t happen again. I swear.”

You didn’t acknowledge him, and it hurt like hell.

“When I think about you pulling away from me, it makes me lose my mind.” He swallowed audibly, desperately trying to get through to you. “I’m all in when it comes to us but it feels like you always have one foot out the door.” He took hesitant steps towards you while your eyes still remained on the countertop, refusing to meet his gaze. “I keep fucking up but I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just can’t lose you, Y/N.”

“I’m not built like you, Billy,” you finally spoke, turning to look at him. “I have doubts. I’m constantly dealing with insecurities. It takes me time to trust people, and I just can’t rush into things head-on.”

“And I’m someone who hustles. I go after everything I want with guns blazing. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have Anvil.”

“But I’m not a thing, Billy. I’m a person, and you can’t push me into doing stuff I’m not ready for.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh. “I know. It’s ‘cause I get paranoid when it comes to you. You’re a closed book and you never tell me anything.” His eyes scanned yours, his stomach clenched with anxiety. “I don’t even know how you feel about me.” It was the first time he’d voiced that thought, something he didn’t even realize he felt until this very moment. You wanted him, that he knew, and you’d even confessed you loved him once but he didn’t really believe in that bullshit. What mattered to him was if you needed him as much as he did you. The idea of not having you in his life drove him insane, but did you feel the same way? He didn’t think so and it bothered the fuck out of him.

You set your glass down on the counter before reaching out to cradle his face, your soulful eyes meeting his emotional gaze. “I want to be with you, Billy. I like you so much that it scares me.”

Your words brought with them a tidal wave of relief that swept over him like a calm breeze. It was like he could breathe again. He pulled you close, his forehead against yours as he simply held you. “Don’t be scared, babe. I don’t bite.”

“That is a complete fucking lie,” you retorted. “I still have the marks from earlier to prove it.” Your smile faded again as you held his stare. “But I need you to be patient with me. You can’t bully me or get mad if I don’t want to rush into things.”

He nodded his head. “I won’t.”

“I’ve only ever had myself to rely on. And the thought of trusting you? Relying on you? It scares the hell out of me. Because there’s always a voice in my head that’s reminding me I need to go back to being alone when we end things.”

“I need to kill that voice.”

You chuckled, reaching out to loop your arms behind his back. “It shuts up eventually. It did in the hotel room when I saw how fucked up you were without me. That’s when it sunk in you actually do like me.”

“It took you that long to believe it?”

You gave him a sad smile. “Yeah. You did tell me I was boring.”

He groaned right away, regret washing over him. He should never have said those fucking words to you. “You’re not boring. You’re smart. And hot.” He kissed your left cheek. “And sweet. And funny. And mine.” Then the right cheek. “And when you lecture me about cybersecurity, I get so hard.”

“Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to know more about the topic,” you grumbled.

He grinned, giving you a tender peck on the lips. “I can listen to you talk for hours and hours-“

“Shut up.” You pressed your palm over his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around you, he lifted you off the ground and started carrying you back to the bedroom. “Forever actually, if you’re naked.”

“Not once have I lectured you naked.”

He dropped you on the bed. “Yeah, exactly. Time you start.” He jumped into bed, rubbing his beard on your face again as you started squealing.

A few minutes later you were both panting for air, staring up at the ceiling. “Just to make it clear, I’m not moving in,” you huffed through laboured breaths.

He turned to look at you, smirking. “Fine, but I’m taking you out tonight. Proper date and all.”

The most beautiful smile graced your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You were a ray of sunshine beaming up at him and Billy’s heart felt so full he worried it would explode. If he could, he’d freeze this moment forever.

Part 17

A/N - As always, your wonderful feedback is what keeps me inspired to write and post consistently. I was initially nervous about this chapter because the characters experience a gamut of emotions but it was necessary. I hope you like and enjoy this chapter. Feedback, as always, is very much appreciated and feeds my soul :)

Tag list:

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #a woman scorned

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damselofblueroses · 3 years ago

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The Name of the Rose, Chapter 4

Summary: Your study-buddy Doh Kyungsoo comes with you for a long-awaited trip to Tokyo, Japan. There is a tension between you, however both of you decided to build a friendship instead of a relationship.

Chapter Summary: Kyungsoo taught the Reader how she should be touched. After the lesson the Reader answers his question and tell him her observation about the lesson. (Note: This chapter is fucking long, so grab your drink before reading babes!)

Content: Unestablished relationship, AU, Hurt/Comfort, Anger, Slight Violence, Emotional Complications and Healing.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story was inspired by D.O.’s album, Empathy, the album of 2021 in my opinion. It is an ongoing mini project, I planned to write it as a one-shot when I started, however I realized there are a lot to say about Empathy Era and I cannot stop shut my mouth, or prevent myself from writing… So, here we go.

Chapter Word Count: 11.2k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4: I Am Gonna Love You

A gentle breeze puffed past the slightly open window, as it blowed the curtain, moonlight spilled into the room. There was dull light, coming from the top of the walls, casting a dim yellow tint along the carpet and bed.

A soft smile tugged at Kyungsoo’s lips.

You were glaring at him, to be honest, Kyungsoo felt a little bit exposed to you, but he was more than okey with being naked for you, all with his body, and soul. He was ready to give everything he had. Sometimes he believed that he must be crazy for loving you at this extent, definitely he had gone mad, there was no logical explanation of willingly being at your fingertips.

“We do not,” his voice was reminding you all the warm autumn nights you spent together, it was rich, baritone and velvety, your entire body stiffened as his index finger wandered around your face, from forehead to chin. “We do not do anything you do not want.”

You looked at him, forgetting how to blink. That bloody dim light painting him with a shiny halo, increasing his ethereal beauty and to your dismay, his already so-fucking-strong impacts on you. Sometimes you could not help but wonder if he has been knowing how he affected you or not. His eyes, fucking pair of big-doe eyes, chocolate brown and always full of emotions, skimmed over your face, you swallowed your heartbeat in the throat.

“I know.” you miraculously found your voice out of nowhere. With slow moving fingers, without noticing what the heck you were doing, you touched his upper lip.

Kyungsoo held his groan back, and his hands clenched into fists. He hated himself for his quick response to your touch, he wanted to keep himself as one fucking piece.

You took your hand back off him, hiding it behind your back, sagging against the pillows. A deep sigh emitted from both of you.

You were looking to each other, the silence invaded the room but this time it was different from before. This silence was like a messenger, it was not eerily or strange. Both of you were testing the waters, you were waiting for the one who was going to make the next move, but both of you were aware of the fact that this silence was nothing but an emissary.

An emissary that was telling your mutual desires for each other. Your dire needs and hopes.

He raised his hand, looking at you as asking for your permission, you forgot how to swallow but immediately shook your head from up to down. His lips formed as his fucking signature smile, heart shaped one, the type of smile which Kyungsoo gave only when he was really happy. Your breath stuck in your lungs, an unmistakable blush spread across your face, made its own way to your neck. He crawled towards you, his hands caressed your ankles and spread your legs enough to make a space for himself, sitting between your calves.

The little air which was left in your lungs left your body.

His closeness and warmness started to rile you up, if riling you more than now was possible. You could easily smell his perfume, fuelling your excitement that already brewing the potions in your lower stomach.

Kyungsoo had dangerously lingered in your mind since the first day you saw him.

And now he was sitting between your legs, and only God knew what the heck he was going to do. You knew you could not say no, fuck’s sake you just could not. If he wanted to teach you as you requested, you would say yes. If he wanted to just stay like this, you would say yes. If he wanted to take you over there, you would say yes.

You knew how dangerous your love for Kyungsoo was. You were always imagining him, Kyungsoo has been living with you literally and figuratively.

You did not say this to him, you would never ever, but it was always his name coming from your mouth when you think about the bases. There was no other option, Kyungsoo or no one.

You suddenly remembered the question that Baekhyun asked to you. Unfortunately, as Baekhyun would like to define, your Virgin Mary status, was a topic that the boys really liked to mock with you. However, once Baekhyun seriously asked you, if you could wish for someone ravaging you, who was going to be? As expected Baekhyun gave you a detailed scenario which made you terrified, ended up with a huge fight between you and Baekhyun, however when you were alone, you could not stop thinking about that scenario.

It was Kyungsoo.

The name was his name even when you thought that type of imagines.

It had been Kyungsoo, and it seemed, it was going to be always his name.

When that scumbag, the touchy one pressed his fingers onto your thighs, you did not like it because they were not Kyungsoo’s. You preferred to be violently murdered than admitting this, however when you were be back into the security of your room after that unlucky experience, the only question lingering in your mind was how you could response if those would be Kyungsoo’s fingers? What would you do if those bonny, pale, and sinewy fingers touching your thighs?

You were totally ignorant to the intimate relationships, if Kyungsoo would not be in the picture, you could be sure of you were not engaged to the desires and bodily needs. However, the reason of your hunger was sitting between your legs, and to your dismay you were more than aware of the calls of your body. God, did he have to sit this fucking close to you, enough to make his breathes hovering your hair? You could not tell if you wanted to throw yourself forward to his arms or pushing him to the mattress. God only knows what was going to be next, but your eyes coasted down his biceps, as taut as ever, and the fucking veins that were visible on his wrists appearing more than prominent as he gently held your ankles.

“Are you okey with this?” Kyungsoo pointed his position, smiling a little bit nervously. You inhaled sharply, then a sharp laugh fell from your lips.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you covered your mouth with your hand. Kyungsoo lifted his head, directed his gaze upon you, you wanted to beg him not looking at you with all the power of his eyes.

“No, I need to hear your words.” he slightly pinched your left calf. You tried to free your ankle from his iron grip in order to show your current discontent of his pinch, but your effort made him laugh, despite of his movements shuttered.

“I am okey.” you sheepishly whispered.

“Do you still want me to teach you?” he bit his tongue. While he was itching to teach you, -and to be honest, his inner peace was already destroyed after you asked him if he had feelings for you or not, he was dying to taste you, JesusfuckingChrist, he never had a piece of inner piece since you came into the picture of his life, he also refused to push you for any case. Whether you chose was going to be fine by him, he was not going to dig his own grave by insisting or shoving you.

“Depends.” you murmured. “Only if you do not make fun of me.”

“Why should I make fun of you?” Kyungsoo felt his heart churned. “You asked weird questions, first about leaving you, now about mocking you. Do I make you uncomfortable by any chance?”

“Yes.” you did not think about your answer, then registered to your word. Kyungsoo’s eyes widened, for the first time of his life, he could not find anything to say. He never think that he could be the reason of your discomfort. You quickly realized the meaning of your response, while you were swearing at your fucking useless brain, you took a deep breath. “I mean, yes, you do but not because of anything you do.”

“With all my respect to you,” Kyungsoo took his hands off your ankles. “May I ask what the heck you are talking about?”

“I can be uncomfortable when you are around,” your fingers brushed against each other. Kyungsoo realized that little habit of you, you always do this when you wanted to say something which really mattered to you. “Because sometimes your presence gives me heart attacks, Kyungsoo. I do not know to describe the feelings you cause in me; I am not an expert on the field, but what should I have to do when the only one I want to keep for myself is you?”

Your words caught Kyungsoo off his guard, turning him into a mummy who could not perform anything which were preserved for the human beings.

He never ever give himself the permission of hoping such as hearing these words from you.

“I thought I could control myself.” you let every miserable thought of you came out. “But I failed, I cannot press the feelings I have for you anymore. I know it sounds very poor, and I know how much popular you are.”

Kyungsoo heard himself as snorting, but still he was numb. You were peering him, as you have been expecting a response, a voice, a thing. However, Kyungsoo was not able to give anything, he was frozen, tearing off from his wit. He knew that you were going to get wrong deductions of his persistent silence, but his fucking voice was playing hide and seek.

Surprisingly, you continued to talk.

You realized that talking was refreshing and soothing the painful circles which had been staying in the darkest cliffs of your mind. Despite of your usual behaviour when it came to express how you feel, you decided to communicate with Kyungsoo.

Ride or die.

“I know we are friends, and I really afraid of losing you, but I am losing my fucking sanity, Kyungsoo. Day by day, you had been becoming the center of my thoughts. I thought I was better than this, I made all my effort to seal my fondness of you, but it drives me into crazy. Maybe I am just pathetic.”

Was it really your self-perspective? Kyungsoo wished you could perceive yourself from his eyes.

“You? Pathetic?” his voice was cracked, sounded like an old man. “Impossible.”

There was no hesitation in his face.

“You are quite opposite.” he finally managed to vocalize his thoughts. “If you were pathetic, I would immediately warn you.”

Your head was throbbing because of the hidden passion of his voice tone. His gaze became something irresistible, dawdling on your features, focusing on your pinkish lips.

“Thank you, Soo.” you vaguely smiled. This was Kyungsoo being coddling, as Kyungsoo could possibly be. He fucked the things up, then popped in front of your door, pressed you to the wall, had a shitty conversation, nested between your legs, and in the end, told you his opinion of being pathetic or not by pointing he would scold you as he generally did.

“If you would be pathetic,” he continued. “I cannot be so adamant to be close to you. I would be lying if I say I do not want to be with you. Always.”

It was your turn to lose the trail of thoughts.

“You are not the only one who has feelings.” an eerily laugh followed his words. “And you are not the only one who is afraid of losing what we have. Maybe we are both pathetic, who knows? But I am sincere when I tell you that I have interests in you.”

Silence hovered in the air, you watched his face while he was standing in front of you, refusing to take his eyes off you. You knew he was honest as always, he always said what he thinks, what he believes even it could be hurtful.

If your feelings would be platonic, despite of the sake of your friendship, Kyungsoo would tell you at once.

You leaned forward, you reached to his face, his brows were knitted.

“We are idiots, you know that, right?” you smiled to him.

“We always have been.” he assured you with a serious face. You wholeheartedly laughed. “By the way, is it sake or you I have been talking with?”

“I am sober as fuck.” you chuckled. “You?”

“I did not drink as much as you did, you filthy drunkard.” Kyungsoo quickly shifted between moods. “I am abstinent, abstemious and sober as a judge. However, I do not want to hear those poor self-thoughts from you. Never again.”

His fingers lightly stroked your lips. Your breath stuck in your throat, you lost counting how many times you lost yourself in his touch tonight. Anyone else could consider his tone intimating, but you knew Kyungsoo well enough that he really meant you were precious and beautiful in his eyes.

“Okey.” you nod.

You wanted to ask him what you were going to do with seems-very-correspondingfeelings, but you did not want to push him. Kyungsoo wanted to ask you what you what was your plan about him or if you wanted to have a relationship with him, but he kept himself under the yoke and refused to impel you. His hand was still cupping your face.

Suddenly, he started to feel extremely warm.

“Soo,” you placed your hands onto his shoulder. You actually cooed. “I was also serious when I said I want you to teach me.”

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Your logic was fogged by the heavy desires, and your logic persuaded you, the one who started all of these was Kyungsoo. He was the one who said that scumbag did it wrong, and since he never ridicule someone for doing something wrong if he did not have the knowledge of the right ways.

And also, you wanted him, you wanted to feel him and have a proper taste.

So, you may be looking for the excuses in the book, but the frustrating heat was unbearable. You did not know what was going to be tomorrow, when you wake up, however you were sure of if you would not feel his lips again, you could not survive enough to see the sun again.

You did not care if you were going to torture yourself by having Kyungsoo for this night even when you were going to want him for the rest of your life, when there was always a possibility of losing him.

“Yeah, you said.” Kyungsoo inhaled. “Okey, I really need your words, and you have to promise me if you want to stop the session, you have to be vocal about it.”

“I…” you stopped before gearing up for the way. “I want to learn. I promise.”

“You are making everything hard for me.” Kyungsoo exhaled, staring at your small hands on his shoulders. “Do you know how you sound like? You are inviting me to please you, sweet Jesus, I want to make you feel good. Do you have any idea how hard to keep myself as a fucking one piece?”

“Do not hold yourself back.” you could not believe your own words. Your voice sounded like you were begging him, as you have not done till now. “Please, Soo.”

Kyungsoo thought that he poisoned you with his warped desires, he was not sure if he deserved you or your trust. You willingly put yourself in his palms, and he deeply believed that you deserved to have someone make you feel good, make you happy and feel secured. You deserved to feel fucking good, and Kyungsoo knew that he wished nothing but happiness for you.

But he could not stand the idea of someone else were to make you happy, make you feel good, even if that person could do it right. He was jealous to the bits even thinking about another man, being with you. He wanted to bring you such a high, maybe that was the worst thing to vocalize, however Kyungsoo wished nothing but be that man. He knew you like knowing the back of his hands, there would be one and only for you, you were an old-fashioned girl when it came to love someone.

He knew you would do everything in your power for the one who you loved, and you would keep him as the only man in your life.

And Kyungsoo felt like the most selfish person in the world for wanting it to be him to be loved by you.

He was aware of the fact that teaching you was just an excuse you came up with. You could tell him that you wanted to have a taste of Kyungsoo, you were too shy to say those words, however only you could be brave enough to find an excuse and play that card.

My little fox, Kyungsoo thought. How could I refuse you?

But there was fear.

After hearing you were also interested in him, you had feelings for him enough to make you to invite Kyungsoo to touch you, Kyungsoo was afraid of nothing, but you would change your mind. He could not endure if you were going to tell him that he made you unhappy. What if he was going to seed wrong thoughts and perspectives in your brain such as you feel like unwanted? He could not survive if he was going to hear that he made it wrong like that scumbag.

But you were leaning to his chest, he could feel your heartbeats and warmness. Your breath hovered his neck, and he could feel your velvety lips just over on his skin.

He was dying to feel more of you.

Shit. He really could not help himself.

He held your chin and lifted your head.

“I will do what you wanted.” he made his final decision. “But I have to warn you before starting to teach you. Every nerve of my body steer me towards you. I really want you. Consciously, logically, physically, emotionally. You name it, you get it.”

Your chin dropped at his bluntness. Well, you did not expect to hear those words, and Godfuckingdamnit, if Kyungsoo was going to be vocal and could not stop his goddamn mouth, you were going to burn right now.

“O-okey.” you shuttered. Your entire body tensed beneath his feathery touch, and you felt his touch made your heart rapping at a pace which your lungs could not support.

He closed his eyes.

“Damn.” you heard his low grunt, that made the fire in your stomach worse. “Remember, you promised t-

You could not help.

But kissed his closed eyelids.

Kyungsoo swore on there was no capacity left in his lungs for air as he felt your plumed and delicate kisses on his eyes, from right to left, then you made your way to his eyebrows.

“You have very beautiful eyebrows, Soo.” he heard your whisper, his heart twisted again and again. You had a grip on him, you could revel him in the blink of eye, he had a first handed experience of your power on him. He was riling up even with the idea of being at your call, being at your service, fulfilling your needs and desires as the best way he could. “And your eyes are spectacularly stunning.”

He wished you could stop praising him, otherwise he would just come in his fucking pants after hearing two nice words from you, but to his dismay, you seemed like you could not stop your goddamn mouth tonight.

Even worse, you could not prevent yourself from memorizing the details of his face with your lips and fingers. You laid your lips on his forehead as you got your hands through his stubborn hair to his neck, and you could not be sure if Kyungsoo’s body was actually trembling or if you were persuading yourself on managing to seduce him because you were deadly anxious about the issue.

The things you had no idea on that you already ignited the wheels of the machine, set Kyungsoo on fire and there was no turning back.

“Have I ever told you how much I love when you look at me?” you asked. “Even though when you look at me, I feel like I am going to explode, I love to be the view of your eyes. You are breath-taking, Kyungsoo.”

“Can you stop talking?” Kyungsoo could not hold his grunt anymore. “You cannot say these without noticing how effective they are!”

“Why?” your lips formed around a very little smile. “Don’t tell me you are into praising.”

“You little…” Kyungsoo was shocked due to your sudden transformation from a shy schoolgirl into a sharp brat, but you did not hesitate to make it worse by quickly pressing your lips onto his, then backed off.

“I see you really are.” you raised your eyebrow. There was a devilishly look on your face, you remembered something Baekhyun told you, and you did not hold it back. “So, what would happen if I told you how good you are for me?”

Kyungsoo immediately blushed.

“You are really blushing, Soo!” you exclaimed. “Look at your face!”

“Do not forget,” he deeply growled. “You started this game.”

You were not disappointed that seeing his transformation in the blink of an eye. He grabbed your wrists with one hand and securely pressed them on the pillows while pushing you into the mattress. His face was fucking close to you, your lips parted for him.

“You learned that I am into praising,” he beamed. His eyes started to shine like a boy unwrapping his Christmas gifts under the tree. “From now on, I am definitely going to discover what you are into.”

You wanted to answer by saying that you are irrevocably into him, but Kyungsoo’s lips covered your mouth, but he did not stay on your lips more than enough to make you shut up, he swiftly climbed over your body, slipping his waist between your thighs, his hips were fucking close to set your world on fire.

Kyungsoo did not hesitate to give you a couple of short kisses before fully taking your lips in his, just like he was testing the waters and tasting you before starting to completely ravage you. You had no idea how far he was planning to go; however, you were bloody sure on that if he wanted to encourage you to go to whole way, you were going to say yes. His lips were warm and soft as before, feeling you like you were a fucking addict of him.

You felt things you have never ever felt before to the point where he had you coming to stay in the palms of his hands. It could be your lack of experience, but in the deep of your heart, you knew the fact that it was not about being inexperienced or not, you knew that you were trembling, shuttering, shivering, and shaking because what he has been doing to you and for you was nothing but right.

Feels right.

He paused for a moment, he was out of breath and his face all blushed now. He leaned your forehead, cupping your face while he braced himself up on his right forearm. He kissed your forehead, kissing you fervently, he was drowned in all things about you. Your darkened eyes. Your plump lips. Your silky hair. Your words, your kindness, your firmness. You were composed by the everything Kyungsoo could wish for.

Your voice, begging him to touch you. Persuading him to take you.

Fucking hell, he should have kept himself far away from you. He really had to not listen your words when you said you liked him while you always could leave him in the darkness.

But running away from you was also equal to living in a personal hell, especially after learning the fact that you liked him.

Kyungsoo cupped the back of your neck in his palm and traced your eyebrows with his lips, he could feel the heat of your skin, singing the songs for him. All he could think was eating you alive, devouring you, marking you as his.

All his.

He hated being so clingy and cheesy, but he could not help it.

His lips followed their way from your eyebrows to your earlobe, you gasped when his lips brushed your ear, your hands freely moved and grabbed his shirt, digging your finger onto his flesh.

“Remember your promise.” his breath fanned your neck when he whispered. Godfuckingdamnit.“If I make you uncomfortable at any point, tell me.”

“Stop whispering.” you unconsciously moaned, swallowing hard. He made a mental note of your voice, storing the tone in his mind and boyishly grinned. So, you were into whispering. His fingers trailed the back of your neck, moved to your side, and caressed you gently. Your chest rubbing against him as you squirmed under his body as you could feel his hands pressing your sides, locking you in place, it was like your body responding to his heavy touches so well.

You were feeling weird, but it was not about Kyungsoo.

You were meeting with the most foreign part of your body.

There was an ache building between your thighs that you never ever felt before.

“Soo,” you glanced down to his mouth, then backed up to his eyes. His eyes were darkening with hidden desires that he was holding back all these years. “I am generally not like this.”

Kyungsoo wholeheartedly laughed.

“Oh really?” his face was lit up because of your funny explanation. “I know, you little idiot.”

He could feel you falling apart already, the softest whimpers getting caught in your throat and fuck, he could also feel that those stupidly nice noises you were unconsciously making, their effects go straight his dick, then climbing into his stomach and forcing him to dip his mouth against yours. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, your arms jerked around him, and you could not control your hips rutting against him.

Both of you could feel the pressure forming against to your pelvis.

And you heedlessly grind him, when you did that, he was the one who had to break the kiss.

“Shit,” he muttered, barely loud enough.

But you heard him. You heard him, not only hearing but also recording every reaction he gave to you in a folder in your head. You slide your hands up his shoulders and pulled him back into another kiss, even though you were aware of how much you wanted him, you had no idea of how thirsty you were for Kyungsoo’s lips. He was so careful with you, his touch was so delicate, and he was aware of your body and mind, completely tuned into your responses and reactions. He was reading your needs and limits out of your reactions, by every inch of your body where his fingers shifting against your skin, he was learning and composing a new song to be sung together.

You loved it.

Maybe you were sickly eager to be at his fingertips since ages, but you loved how he cared for you. Your blown pupils and glimmering irises were telling him that he was on the right track as he peppered more kisses on your cheeks, nose, and jawbone.

He dipped his head forward, pressing his lips on your neck where he begun to kiss diligently. This was new for you, it was consuming and tantalizing sensation which had you squirming under Kyungsoo, catching your desperate side, and turning you more needy. Your grip on his shoulders tightened, you clung onto the fabric of his t-shirt, and partly his muscles. One of your hands moved immediately to his hair, tugged the back of his head, and pulled him closer, enough to make his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

You could feel his little smile on your skin.

His hair smelled like bloomed roses, paired with something reminded you the salty fragrance of the sea.

Your heart was on the verge of exploding as your blood pressure was skyrocketing.

Kyungsoo bit you very gently, you could hardly feel his teeth, then he drawn a line on your collarbone with his tongue, your head tilted backwards, opened more place for him and you moaned.

“You are so sensitive, huh?” he mocked, and his tease caught you off guard. You shivered more than before in response as his hands wandered around your waist, pressed you against his chest.

So, you were also into teasing. Kyungsoo made another mental note for the future.

For the future.

Kyungsoo had already decided to never ever let you go. Not after hearing your whimpers. Not after tasting your lips. Not after feeling your curves under his stiff body. Not after being the target of your witty remarks.

You bewitched him in body and soul, and he never want to apart from you. If he had to lock you in a room with himself, he would even do it.

He could feel you trembling in his arms, he knew that if he was going to let another one to have you, he would die in that second. He irrevocably fell apart inside, he hovered over you to get a good look at your face, and it was the nail of his coffin.

Your pixie haircut lost its model, splayed out prettily, your cheeks were blushed, you were panting, and your lips were swollen and parted.

“Please.” you gasped, reaching to him again but Kyungsoo removed your hands over his shoulders, placing a tender kiss on your head. It was obvious that your lungs used all the capacity they had as you were out of air.

“Relax.” he murmured very delicately. “Take a deep breath. We are here to go for a long way.”

He turned back to your neck, finding the point of your pulse, circling around the point with his index finger while peppering your collarbone with kisses, touching you less to provide you with the chance of taking a full breath of air. He realized once again the amount of trust you just put in him. He knew that you did not do any of these before, you were totally handing yourself to Kyungsoo, blindly believing in him, the way of feeling proud was making his heart to swell in his chest. He resisted to the need of taking a good look on your curves, he also kept his instincts telling him to run his hands over your body in control. Instead, he made the eye contact and looked at your face when he lifted his head, then he hovered above your shoulder, waited for you till he could feel your breathing was under control.

“I am good.” you sighed.

He took the clue, then his mouth once more connected to your pulse point. He loved to feel your heartbeats beneath his lips and tongue. To be honest he really wanted to suck your sensitive flesh, however he knew that your skin was too pale and delicate, easily be bruised and he did not want to give you that horrible lavender colour as he was informed how much you disliked the bruises. You were extremely clumsy, enough to make him to want building a bubble around you to keep you always safe, however since that was impossible, he had to see and count the bruises and wounds all over your legs and arms.

So, he kept his desires under the yoke.

There were different ways of marking you as his.

He could do that, right? He could make you feel so good, enough to forget every possible name maybe you were keeping in your mind or the invisible rivals whose could always come to your way? He could carve his name in your heart, he could burn you well, so you could not remember anything but Kyungsoo.

What he did still not fully grasp was the fact that Kyungsoo was already the one and only for you.

While he was kissing your neck and collarbone, your fingers made their way from his shoulder to his toned chest and digging into his muscles. Slowly, very slowly, Kyungsoo began to slide the straps of your dress, driving you into crazy and your chest came on display. You always thought it would be very embarrassing, you did not like to be seen by anyone, but when Kyungsoo pressed his bonny fingers onto your chest, you fucking lost it.

It was not embarrassing. It was nothing like you could think of. You just wanted to look beautiful for him, when he lay his palm against your breast, you did not think anything but how much you wanted to please him. His eyes glazed over to your face, by keeping the eye contact, he slightly cupped your breast and gently squeezed.

Your eyes blown up, and you wiggled like a worm again beneath his body, that simple move alarmed your nerves and gave you goosebumps. Your heart thumped around in your throat, rammed against to your ribs just like a bird who wanted to achieve freedom.

“Is this okey?” Kyungsoo asked, his eyes were covered with a glistening thick layer of lust, his voice sounded darker and lower, doubling the tingles he was causing on you, you wanted nothing but crawling into his body. At the same time, he wanted to keep himself, he was afraid of pushing you more than you could ask for, however your fucking choice of undergarment made it almost impossible for him. He did not think Sehun also chose this for you, you were not the type of woman who could go and ask for the fashionable undergarments.

This stupidly attractive bralette must be your own taste, a dark navy bralette was covering your breasts softly, looking wonderful on your pale skin and the decorative details which composed by lace was wrapping your chest.

He closed his eyes for a second, he was not sure if he could survive or not.

You were drowning into the foggy thoughts, but even in this situation, you could not miss a single thing about Kyungsoo. You sharply observed something was wrong with him, and you were scared out of your mind.

You immediately thought that something was wrong with you.

Your insecurities did not wait for even a single moment, and quickly started to howl in your head. Your body stiffed like a rock, your fingers spasmed on his chest.

“What happened?” Kyungsoo reacted to your transformation as your body was frozen in his arms just like he was holding a sculpture which was carved out of ice. You shook your head, but due to the tension you got under your skin, the tears formed around the edges of your eyes.

You hated yourself.

“Can you tell me what is wrong?” Kyungsoo asked, he thought he fucked the things up so badly, he pushed you too much, he made you afraid of him.

“You didn’t like it.”

“Ha?”

That was the best shot he could give. You were embarrassed to death, but you forced yourself to make an explanation, you pointed the bralette you were wearing, Jesus, the only reason you purchased this type of underwear, was… Well. It was very obvious why you owned a couple of good undergarments.

And why you chose to bring them with you.

Kyungsoo followed the direction you were pointing to, his eyes widened, and he swallowed hardly. Were you an idiot? How could he manage to not like the view since he was waiting to see it since ages? Godfuckingdamnit, the view in front of his eyes was worth for all the years.

Then he really registered to the meaning.

You were anxious more than he thought, and you wanted to be praised by him. When he closed to his eyes, you got the wrong impression.

He concluded that you were an idiot, but he loved you more than anything for also being so clueless. Your reactions were priceless.

You felt Kyungsoo’s lips on your finger, then in your palm. Your eyes immediately opened.

“I love it.” he directly looked at your eyes with all the power in his gaze. You literally bit your lips in order to keep that fucking need of whining under your control. “Now, watch me.”

“For what?”

“I am going to show you,” his mouth watered after he took a really good look at your chest. “How much I love it.”

Your body tingled after his words; he did not miss a second and dipped his head onto the vault between your breasts. You could not help but wonder where in the hell Kyungsoo learned how to do these things and how he could be so fucking good at.

He hooked his thumb around the strap of your bralette and slide it down your shoulder, lifting his head and pressing his lips onto the new patch of skin. You were going ballistic when you felt his tongue, your hands searched anything to hold on for your dear life. Kyungsoo’s breath caught in his chest, he has been leaving soft kisses along the line between your neck and shoulder, his hand curved around your waist as he yanked your dress down and tugged it all the way down to your spine, granted himself the opportunity to easily take you out of that fucking dress. You tugged on his shirt, half of your face was submerged in the yellow dim lights, however the fact of your brain already went to mush was palpable.

Kyungsoo nod once, looked at you, and rubbed his hips against your core.

“Damn you, Soo.”

He chuckled when he heard your sweetest moan. He felt your quivery fingers found their ways around his hair, sneaked to his neck, while you were pressing his head onto your chest and giving him more opportunities to taste you. Shit, you were smelling so good, your skin was too soft, and your heart was drumming. Your bodies are pressed together, you were melting in each other, your thighs were wrapped around his hips, you were touching him, he was touching you.

There was no surprise he could not fucking breath.

As his eyes poured into yours, your stomach churned. You were throbbing for him; his hair was splayed between his head and the vault between your breasts, and you felt something which was coming into life in the very deep of you.

Something wet.

You did not experience it till now, but you listened a lot of stories from Baekhyun and Chanyeol. They assured you on one day you were going to need this information, so you knew what the fuck was happening to you.

You were soaking, clenching around nothing, and to your dismay, all he has done was kissing you. He was unravelling you slowly, and you were taking everything he was giving to you like you had been starving since years. When it came to experience, you were totally ignorant, but in the secrecy of your head, you knew that if he would want to slide himself inside of you right now, you were going to take him like a very good girl.

You closed your eyes, then you sensed a stingy feeling on your breast.

He bite the hardening bud of your breast as your eyes blown up.

“Oho.” his voice was fucking dominant and demanding, his eyebrows were knitted but he was glaring at you with the softest look you have ever seen in his eyes. “I said, watch me.”

Embarrassment?

It was already left the room out of the window as you lifted your head and concentrated on him.

Kyungsoo brought his face closer to your collarbone, remained exposed and placed a gentle kiss on the sternum, and did not neglect your clavicles. You wondered why he did not take the bralette off, or if he was going to do, however you were so messed up to think clearly. You were trying to solve the problem, if the increasing pace of your heart was about the arousal or stimulation, however when he nudged your nipple with his fingers, all questions immediately faded away. His fingers circled around it as he lifted his head to watch your reactions.

You thought that your eyes must be wholly black because your pupils expanded to their limits.

Then he made everything worse for you by bringing his mouth down on your breast over the fabric of your bralette, kissing along the soft tissue. Your gasps were so sharp, you cried out.

Kyungsoo fought against himself in order to behave and have his fucking manners while every nerve of his body beg him to take you right there, right now, as that bloody sweet sounds of you reached out to his ears. He never ever hear your moans, to be honest he was certain on that no one heard the noises you made, but he imagined it before.

God, it was too wrong maybe, but he imagined all of these before.

He made all of these and beyond with you in his mind, again and again.

To be honest, Kyungsoo’s mind always dangerously wandered around you. He reserved the vastest place of his mind just for you, for every version of you, from the best friend to the partner in crime, from a witty brat to a trustworthy companion, from a bashful girl to the most alluring woman. Generally, he just think about the days you were spending together, noticing something that you pointed out in the library, laughing for the lame jokes you made all the time, finding your notebook full of your shitty handwriting in his bag, or coming across to a note you took on his currently readings. Damn, Kyungsoo loved to read even your fucking gibberish. Or he just harkened back to the moments that you gave him handmade bento boxes for the lunch, even though he was cooking better than you or sitting next to him without saying anything. Laying down on the grass together or walking around the campus during nights. He just recalled the moments of your presence like all memories you had were pearls for him such as the times you were waiting him to be back in front of the dorms with an umbrella because of the sudden raining.

But sometimes, he was imagining you in your lewdest forms, while he always make you to feel fucking wonderful in those dreams. You just entangled in his thoughts with the moment you made a speech with sinfully deceptive red dress, or running to his open arms after summer break, whispering to his ear when you were watching a movie in theatre or he remembered that you came out of bathroom without noticing he was also in your flat, smelling so fucking good and the water splashes were dripping off your body, your widening eyes when you noticed his presence and immediately started to curse him, making him burst into laughs with your vocabulary, or the moments your hands clashed each other, or you were stretching your body like a cat… He immediately caught them, stored them his mind and then, when he was all by himself, hooking them in the sea of memories.

God, he painted many pictures of you in his thoughts.

He had been thinking about you a lot, how he could touch you if you would allow him.

That’s why he was so fucking damn good at it.

He knew everything about you, he had been watching you for his dear life. He was aware of how you should be touched. How you should be cared. How you should be loved. He knew that you were made of steel, but you were also made of cotton candies. When you allow someone to be with you, that bastard had to create a perfect balance between carefulness and coarseness.

You should be bend, not broken and Kyungsoo was fucking devoted to do it rightly.

He wanted nothing but hearing his own name like a chant from your mouth, he wondered how you would sound like when his name was the only thing you could say.

He took a look at you, and he thought you were ready for the next step. Hell, he was born ready for doing these to you. As an answer to the silent question in your mind as he could feel it, he slide the straps of your bralette and swiftly stripped you out of it. When your bare chest come to display, he lost his self-control, as he did not spend any single second to clamp down on your nipple, digging his hands into your sides.

He was sure of you started to leak between your thighs as the increasing heat was alarming him, as you could feel he was literally hard against you.

“Fuck…” you murmured, closing your eyes, then immediately opened them widely as you remembered his command about watching him. You knew that he had a strong will and self-control, you did not know how much you affected him, but you could not take any risk which could make him to stop. You had to watch him.

Kyungsoo kissed your nipples softly, his hands glided upwards and caressed your flesh, his touch was an equilibrium of gentleness and roughness, had your body squirming more than before, then he took your bud between his fingers, tweaked it and devilishly smiled to you. One of his hands cupped your breast, while the other moved downward, sneaking inside of your dress and his fingers softly brushed to your inner thighs.

Another moan ripped from your throat, to be honest you started to feel like an earthenware and Kyungsoo was your potter.

“Is this okey?” as he clearly intended to peel your dress off you, knowing what you were going to say, but still asking for permission. You were melted in his hands you were amazed by the fact that he was really taking good care of you. Despite of your lack of experience, you could understand the situation was really unbearable not only for you, but also for him as you could see his eyes, darkening and his jaw, clenching more and more by every second.

“More than okey.” you mumbled inside of your mouth, your answer caused a luminescent glow on his facial expression, he rolled the fabric above your head, Jesus, he badly wanted to rip you out of this fucking dress.

“I have to say,” he chased the unveiled skin with his lips. “You have no idea how much I wanted to punch Sehun on the face.”

“W-why?” you tried to hold on your reasoning.

“This dress,” he grunted, threw your dress to the floor, and slithered himself throughout your body. “Is nothing but a sin.”

He gently bite your tummy, you wriggled inadequately, Kyungsoo found a new way to torture you, the whimpers fumbled past your lips reminded him how easy to tickle you.

He had never ever said he was a saint.

He held you between his arms, in his iron grip, then skimmed your belly with his nose, you wagged like a puppy tail as you tried to free yourself, your effort made him burst into laughs. You saved one of hands while he was laughing, punched his shoulders, he pinched your side as his response to your poor attack.

“Do not worry.” his smile was nothing but diabolical, and a sick part of you dangerously captivated by seeing that. “I am not going to leave you hanging.”

Godfuckingdamnit, you were not sure what he actually meant, but you were dying to learn.

Was it really terrible of you to think all of these made him yours? Could you really endure it if he would have these moments with someone else? Could you bare it if someone else got to see his eyes, glittering with ardour, love, and care?

You could not.

Your fingers desperately tugged onto his brown hair, you wanted to believe that if you held him strongly, no one could take him from you. The only thing you had to do was clutching him with all your power.

Kyungsoo looked at your eyes, your gaze was dissolving him as you were carefully watching even the tiniest move he made, he could see his own reflection in your pupils.

Wasn’t it enough to mark you as his girl?

You were standing in front of him, with only your panties, dark navy panties, what the heck you were wearing Goddamnit?!

His heart spasmed.

“You are going to be death of me.” he spilled the beans as he looked at the parts of your body where no one see before him. Well, you were embarrassed, it was tangible from the crimson red tone, which was spreading all over your face and chest, however at the same time, you enjoyed seeing his broadened eyes and he became slack-jawed as he wandered his fingers over the panties.

Well, he was not only one who became slack- jawed!

And you begun to notice that you were too compliant. Maybe you could not play this game with the rules, but you wanted to see him as he was perceiving you. Before Kyungsoo could make his next move, you held the hem of his shirt.

“Is this okey?” you echoed his persistent question, raising one eyebrow. His jawbone was tightening, but he did not say anything, the sudden silence was enough to let you hear his gulp and to see his Adam’s apple bobbled. He lifted his arms to help your sloppy hands.

“Take it off if you want.” he said between his teeth. You happily engaged in the task, in a second, his t-shirt joined to your dress on the floor. This was your first time to see his bare chest, Kyungsoo felt a little bit shaky to be honest when you literally examined his upper body with your eyes.

Actually, you were fucking him with your eyes.

“Kyungsoo.”

“Yeah?”

“You are really so pretty.”

“Oho!” his ears turned to red, but he felt like he was over the moon after your very simple words. You were definitely amazed by his beauty as you licked your lips unconsciously. “Shut up, you filthy woman.”

“You were licking my breast, Jesus Christ,” you hissed. “And I am the one who is filthy?!”

“Your comparison is shitty.” he gave you a feverish kiss. “I am worse than you.”

“Ah, that makes everything clear.” you nod, as he followed the direction in his mind with his lips that are fucking velvety, soft, and warm. He grabbed your leg, bending it at the knee and placing your ankle on his shoulder.

What the fuck he was aiming to do?

You remembered what Baekhyun told you during a night that he was drunk and out of his mind, you were immediately panicked but Kyungsoo sensed it. Well, he wanted nothing but pressing his mouth on your cunt, however he knew that it was too early for taking that step.

He did not want you to be freaking out.

“Calm down.” he smiled at you. “I told you we are not going to do anything you do not want.”

He kissed your Achilles and peppered kisses along your calf, he had you go fucking ballistic. You were not sure if you were panicking anymore or not, the heat between your thighs became a literal suffer, and your heart was ready to burst, you could feel there were knots tightening with every second in your stomach.

This bastard was going to make you cry, if he was not going to give you any type of relief.

“Kyungsoo,” your sound was desperate and vulnerable. Finally, he got his name as a fucking moan from you, he learned how it would be, the way of your lips chanting his name over and over again. He could see your panties ruined, you made a mess over there, and to be honest, Kyungsoo never felt so proud in his life like he has been feeling tonight.

You were needy, and all his.

He leaned forward and kissed along your inner thighs, your grip on his hair tightened, he almost laugh with sheer joy.

“It is really cute.” he could not help but teased you. “I mean how wet you are already, even though I just get started.”

“Damn you.”

“If I were you,” he dragged his tongue through the crease, where your thigh met your pelvis. “I would not curse me.”

You bit your tongue to suppress your cry, your fingers weakened, and your legs were twitching.

“I…” you tried to come up with something classy, but Kyungsoo kissed you.

Over there.

“Please!” you cried with the power of your lungs allowed you.

He wanted to give. He wanted to give everything you could ask for. He wanted to follow your instructions, your reactions, and goddamn, it was really so hard for him, he was fighting himself from the beginning, fighting with the utter and absolute need of having you. Your breathing, that sinful noise of you, the violent shudder of your body, all of them was burned into his head, the image of you carved into his eyelids and he was fucking sure you would hunt him for the rest of his life.

He dragged his index finger along your folds, quickly gliding over the wetness and tapped on your clit with the tip of his finger. A bare touch, nothing more nothing less but he had you, you grabbed his wrist, looking at him with big-doe eyes with tears on the edges. Kyungsoo pulled his hand away from your cunt but storing the reaction you gave to his feathery touch.

It was easy to see you wanted him to continue but you were also terrified by the speed.

He tempted to completely pull away, he could not help but feared if he pushed you so hard, enough to make you hate his touch, or him. Kyungsoo’s head was spinning as you were still holding his wrist and panting like his touch burned you.

Actually, it did. Behind every kiss, every touch, everything he did to you, there were his thoughts he never vocalize, not only his lust for you but his love and care for you. That’s why his touches were permanent, they were going to stay on your skin for the rest of your life.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered.

Trust him?

You could laugh, if you were not extremely turned on by him, but there was no capacity in your power storage to do it. Kyungsoo should already know the fact that he was the one and only person you trust unconditionally and irrevocably.

You took his hand and brought it back to yourself, where his fingers brushed over your nipple. Your hands were shaking to death, but Kyungsoo understood what you wanted to show him. You were not going to know how much your answer reassured him.

“Good.”

Damn you and your fucking spells on him, damn you for being the prettiest in his eyes.

He could feel himself soaking through his pants while your leg was still hooked over his shoulder, his hands wandered up to your sides, brushing over your ribs and stomach. He dipped his head again on your tummy and he sprinkled feathery kisses, switching from one side to other side until your brain melted out of your ears, and the only thing you could understand was his lips, memorizing every curve, every line and mark on your skin. His breathes tickled you, you were desperate enough, your instincts were telling you that you had to relieve yourself, you had to find a way, your fingers wandered over to your panties, however Kyungsoo was too fast to notice your every move.

“I do not presume you tried to do this before.” he caught your naughty fingers. “Tell me the truth. Have you ever tried to touch yourself?”

“Oh, fuck off!” you preferred to die instead of answering his question. You could feel the heat on your cheeks, the only thing he had to do was taking a look at your face, and he did that. One look at you was enough to inform him.

He was going to never ever tell you this, but he was more than shocked when he understood you also did not touch yourself before.

“You cannot be serious…” you heard his shocked voice, you covered your face with your hands, he had to take them off your face.

“Isn’t it more precious now?” he pressed your hands on the mattress. “You have really made a mess of yourself without knowing a single thing.”

“Shut your damn mouth.” you were panting, embarrassed to death, but his gaze settled on you, he was really damn hard had him on the verge of shifting against the bed, he had to repress his own moans.

“I do not think so.” a shiver ran down your spine as his rich baritone filled your ears.

“You cannot say that!” you refused his words, trying to refill the air in your lungs.

“Does it turn you on,” he whispered to your ear. “Hearing me state the facts?”

You attempted to kick him, he laughed and grabbed your foot. Then, he pressed his lips to your swollen folds over the fabric of your panties, damn, your thighs clenched around his body. He continued to hold your wrists as your hips jerked beneath his mouth, had you growling from the back of your throat. He was driving you fucking insane.

“You wanted me to teach you.” he lifted his head, enough to make an eye contact with you. “This was how someone should touch you. You have to want relief desperately before their mouth land anywhere near here, they have to touch every inch of your skin, they have to unravel you.”

You were dripping after every word he said, you were registering to every sound he made, you were soaking and aching, your heart was beating against your ribs with a force you could not endure.

“However,” he slide your panties, enough to create a space for himself. “You do not have to think about others, because I do not intend to let you go.”

How could you describe your feelings when you heard those words? How could you tell him you could not stand it if anyone else would do the things he had been doing right now to you? You knew that you could not hand yourself over to anybody but Kyungsoo.

“Unless you want me to let you go.” He released your wrists, you immediately reached to his face, caressing his cheeks, your fingertips stroked his cheekbones.

“I do not think so.” you gave the same answer he gave you just a couple of minutes ago. “If it happens, it happens, but I am not going to seek anyone else.”

Your answer made him want to cry.

He swallowed hard, partially satisfied with your response, damn he would prefer to hear a certain answer without an open door, but he leaned into your touch before he pressed his lips in your palm.

“Good.” he guided your hands into his brown tuffs. “Now, I will say it again, but this is the last one. Tell me to stop if you do not like what I am going to do. You do not need to think if I will be offended or not, I will not.”

Your mouth watered in anticipation, you hummed.

“Words.” he bite your finger.

“Goddamnit, okey!” your eyebrows knitted together with unsatisfaction, but Kyungsoo knew that you were happy at the moment.

And Kyungsoo needed you to be happy as he was fucking tempted to turn you fucking stupid. He wanted to hear your voice, he wanted to give you reasons to imagine everything he could do to you, and he could let you to do him.

He wanted you to cry his name like a carol, until his name would be the only think you could say.

He knew that how he could make you feel good quickly, but he was not an idiot. To be honest, you were more than ready to cum, a few licks and strokes on the right places would finish you. However, Kyungsoo was not ready to let you, not before he could be certain you were going to always come back to him, not before the memories were eternally burned into his head, not before he could engrave his love into your heart, mind, and body.

He circled his tongue around your clit, very carefully. Every lick was fucking calculated, he wanted to hang you just there as he watched your face between your thighs, as he listened your blabbers. Seeing you like this was literally and figuratively so hard for him, however he had no intention to lose his chance with you.

He wanted you for himself. For the rest of his life. Even though he wanted nothing, but take you immediately, he could behave better.

“Goddamnit, please…” you whimpered like you were on the verge of crying. “I.. I want…”

“You want?” he mumbled, blown to your clit and teasing you with his tongue.

His thumb knocked against your bud, neglecting the spot where you craved for him, he just brushed your folds and bud lightly, you had been becoming louder. It was like a circle of pleasure and torture, you were squirming, clenching, and burning.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked fucking bluntly. You never think that Kyungsoo could be shameless like this, devilish at this level, logically you disliked his sudden cockiness but a really sick side of you, the side in the driver seat, found the wicked version of Kyungsoo fucking hot.

You nod your head at a rapid pace, making him chuckled.

“No baby girl.” he turned and hovered over your clit, securing your legs over his shoulder. “Not yet.”

You groaned with a sudden anger, but he shut your voice by sucking your swollen bud, he was growling inside of him when he felt your toes curled, he could not help but he was also grinding his hips into the mattress, your moans were stimulating him so fucking bad. His fingernails dig into your hips, as he held you in your place, but he started to moan too. Every vibration went straight to your clit.

You could not think.

You could not speak.

You have been dragged into a place of euphoria where you had no idea of its presence, however Kyungsoo fed your veins with nothing but pure pleasure. You could feel that the knot in your stomach has been tightening and heating, you were so close to your first orgasm. You could feel it. You could almost name it.

Kyungsoo let you go.

He pulled his mouth off your cunt entirely and lifted his head.

He trapped you on the edge of your fucking first orgasm of your entire life.

“Why?!” you panted, panicking, and looking at him, searching for any possible reason of this sudden cruelty. His face was burning too, his eyes were never blackened before, however your frustration was fucking obvious. “Why d-”

“You are not ready to cum yet.” he cut your plea off, his hands moved from your hips up to your waist.

“Soo, please…” you could not help but whimpered with irritation. Your voice was so bitter, even though you called him as Soo.

“You will.” he kissed your lips gently, carefully destroying everything you felt in your stomach. “When I let you.”

You could be burn, turn into the ashes in the blink of an eye, on this fucking bed, and could he still talk with fucking future tenses?!

You bite his upper lip, enough to irk him to let him know about how much annoyed you were. The corners of his lips went up, he dragged you towards himself and literally manhandled you over his lap, making you to straddle him.

Your eyes widened to their extend as you could feel every part of Kyungsoo while he supported his back with the pillows, while leaning on them.

You. could. feel. every. fucking. move. on. your. lady. parts.

You groaned, a mix of frustration and excitement.

Kyungsoo held your hips and making you grin onto his lap.

“Better, right?” he brushed his nose to yours.

Your lips parted and formed around a silent O-shape; your hands locked on his neck. He pressed on your hips, enough to make you move in a row, but very slow. You started to feel the knot in your stomach again, however, Kyungsoo was fucking slow, and he did not let you to move with your own pace.

Kyungsoo was almost losing his fucking sanity with every friction you cause while you were grinding on top of him. He knew that he had to slow you, otherwise, he was going to not survive. Your taste was still on his tongue, your voice was still on his ears, he could not survive.

“Kyungsoo, please.” you lost the count, you even did not remember how many times you whimpered, you moaned, you asked him to finish his torture. He was keeping you inside this insatiable mix of delight and exasperation, he was insisting to keep you on the edge.

“You can.” your face lit up after his words, but he quickly continued. “Only if can tell me how you should be touched.”

He added more pressure to your hips, wanting to highlight the importance of his words, and making your moves a little bit faster. The stars were dancing in front of your eyes, and he slipped his hand inside of your panties, adding more pressure to your clit.

“Come on, do you want to stay here for all night?”

Kyungsoo wanted to hear what your learned tonight from your mouth even more than relieving himself. His throbbing cock was not an issue to compare with your observations.

He wanted to learn if he could carve his image into your head or not.

And this was his one and only chance. He could not be sure if you were going to let him to do all of these again, even though he said that he never let you go.

He had to know.

“Because I can easily hold you here for the rest of your life.”

You shivered, but you felt like he really could hold you on the edge forever, and you were already a mess.

You gave the only answer you could give.

Very bottom of your heart.

As plain as fuck.

“You have to touch me.” you whispered.

Kyungsoo just looked at you, he was frozen after your answer.

“You are the only one I want.” you were plain as fuck. “I learned that I should be touched by you.”

100 notes · View notes

skelanonymous · 4 years ago

Text

Song Prompt 4 - You Don’t Know Me

I’m trying my hand at some bad guy poly, and if I get to my Little Night AU, this may become a prequel of sorts.

Song: You Don’t Know Me by Elizabeth Gillies

Skeleton: Nightmare

Words: 3.2k

“Boss, you can’t be serious right now.” Killer’s mouth hung open. Dust sighed off to his left, rubbing his face hard enough to shake dust from his hood. Horror wouldn’t meet his eyes, Cross also nervously avoiding them, leaving Error the only one still looking, albeit with some exasperation.

“I’m very serious.” Night responded to Killer without bending. “This is not something I’d like to be a part of.”

“If that’s the reason, cuz you don’t wanna, then that’s fine. But that sounds like a crock and I ain’t one for bullshit.” Killer grabbed the end of the table with whitened knuckles. Nightmare could taste the frustration off all of them, but his icy resolution could outlast their mounting agitation. “So just be honest. We can handle whatever you got to say.”

Nightmare looked at his phalanges, faking disdain with ease, unaffected stone face a talent he’d picked up before leaving the tree’s shade.

“I have no reason to lie. I am not willing to join your polyamorous posse.” They’d all been having “sleepovers” for months now, and he’d caught on long before he walked into a dream he wished he could erase. It would’ve been fine had it been Horror or Killer, but Dust was always vigilant and had remembered Nightmare’s brief intrusion the next morning. “I admit, it’s impressive you’ve managed to keep this working between so many of you, and I don’t care what you spend your free time doing, but my time will be spent on other ventures.”

“But in the dream-”

“I’m not a nun, but walking into a dream orgy when you expect something a little more tame and having a reaction isn’t that ridiculous.” Dust’s gaze bore into his skull. He couldn’t crack, not if he was trying to pass off this lie. Keeping calm was critical.

“So that’s it then. No?” Killer just shook his head. Good, please, give up. Nightmare’s feigned nonchalance had held through much worse, but the backlash afterwards would be worse if he broke beneath it.

“It’s a no.” Night stood from the little table he’d been called to like an intervention. “Now I’m returning to my study. Come find me if anything happens to the castle.”

He did NOT run, but he portaled the instant he turned a corner. It dropped him into a forest patch on the edges of this world just before he lost his composure.

“Son of a fucking BITCH!” His tentacles lashed out, splitting apart all the trees in the area with a giant swing. The corruption roared out of his mouth, furious and wild, screaming his voice hoarse. He didn’t give a damn about any of it, just seeing red from the blackened aura that got denser and denser around his body as he raged in nature, a force all on his own.

Of course he wanted to say yes! Envy scorched through his hands, clawing ahead for what it could not reach. Rage he reserved for himself, though saved some for his damned fate, at being too fucked to just be with a person. Even now, not within their embrace, the greed seduced his pitch black soul to have so many loves with which to indulge, having them all pay attention to him, their king, their saviour, they OWED this to him!

“God damn it, NO! Fuck you!” He continued ruining the countryside, rampant as the growth surrounding him.

He couldn’t love them. Not like they wanted, not the way they did each other, forever an outsider to the perfect temptation. He’d tip the balance and break the scales. He would destroy this for them. Slowly, he felt the brain fog raise, the tinges of red outlining everything finally fading away with his energy.

When the colors of the ruined forest fully returned, he directly portaled to his study. Dust was waiting patiently on the desk’s edge.

“The castle couldn’t have had a disaster that quickly.” Nightmare sat at his desk without acknowledging he’d been caught moping outside. Damn his perceptiveness when not distracted.

“I mean, it did.” Dust stated in a matter of fact tone. “They’re unhappy with the answer.”

“And what? You’re here to force me to change it?” Lashing out was what he excelled at. He wasn’t meant for soft cuddle puddles and doting, his body literal poison to those around him, his aura a drain. Dust didn’t bite.

“No. It wouldn’t be honest if it was forced.” He spoke airily, as if admitting the blatant truth could be anything but bitter disaster.

“Then why have you come to my study?” Nightmare hoped he’d rise to the bait that time, more direct in his aggression, and Dust would meet and rise to it most days, but besides twitching a few times, he holds his sanity at the low blow.

“To remind you. I know what I saw, and you know what I saw.” Dust didn’t leave room for argument and Nightmare didn’t lie about it out of respect. “Just know that the door is open should you change your mind.”

“Thank you, but my answer remains the same.” Damn him. Each denial took away more of his resistance. Perhaps he knew that, persistence hunting him with a strong will borne of the endless loops that forged most of his loyal following, waiting until one day he asked over something inconsequential like breakfast for the yes to slip out without Nightmare even on guard enough to catch it.

“Whatever you say Boss.” Dust nodded, but those eyes haunted him. He hadn’t heard the last of this, but the tide would ebb for now.

Nightmare fell back into the plush chair tiredly, already awaiting the next wave.

He knew what he wanted, but he could not obtain it. If he acted on his wishes, he’d destroy what he sought. And if he denied it, he’d be acting against his natural state while forcing himself to be miserable. There wasn’t a way to win that he could conceive of so he settled with ignoring the feeling entirely.

Despite his refusal, they didn’t change their interactions with him in the slightest after that first day.

Meal times remained largely unchanged except for the stolen glances at him if he betrayed any affection or laughed (which wasn’t often, but they were his crew and knew his weaknesses). Missions and responses to commands had also remained the same, though that was expected. They still offered him the opportunity to join in on movie nights. He had refused all of those since the rejection.

Maybe it was the way Horror had frowned when he’d said no for the fifth time in a row that changed his mind. Ignoring feelings didn’t make them disappear and he’d always been a little softer for Horror’s requests. He only asked for what he considered essential.

“Let me finish this. I’ll be down in five minutes.” Tidying up his papers took seconds, but he needed the minutes for composure.

When he made it down, Horror had curled up into Error’s lap with a gigantic grin, Error softly praising him with small head pets. The others waved at him.

“Hey Boss! Sorry, we let Cross pick this time.” The ‘we didn’t think you’d say yes’ was implied. Nightmare nodded at Killer while moving to sit on the couch against the wall.

“I can live with choosing next time.” The little bursts of joy hit him like a face full of air freshener, his sludge rippling but otherwise unaffected. They’d popped in the DVD and set up before flicking off the lights.

Nightmare watched intently for the first fifteen minutes, he’d never seen it before, then looked around.

The group had paired off into cuddly duos, Killer and Cross, Horror and Error, leaving a lonely Dust seated by Nightmare. From here, he could feel Dust’s cold longing, wanting to join in like the others but knowing his only possible partner would refuse him. The movie was loud, the others absorbed in it or each other and not even able to see them from where they sat. Nightmare laid a tentative tentacle over Dust’s shoulder. He refused to speak a word, merely moving his arm for Dust to accept or not.

His dual colored eyes dilated before quietly shuffling over. Leaning in, he pressed himself along Night’s side with a little wiggle to get cozy.

From this angle, Dust’s ears within an inch of his mouth, he spoke softly.

“Is this okay?” He didn’t know what he felt like to others. Dust hummed so low that Night could only feel it.

“Yeah.” His right eye twitched, Papyrus must’ve said something. “What are those weird swords called?” Night’s eyes flicked up to the screen.

“A flamberge sword. It’s mostly used to counter others by-” Nightmare went into its varied history, a few famous wielders, its construction. They kept their eyes on the film, and Nightmare whispered it to Dust, like a secret history lesson while some cheesy dramatic scene full of loud music drowned out the rest. By the time he’d stopped, Dust comfortably leaned fully against him. His head had come into contact with the corner of Night’s mouth without ceremony, suddenly making Night aware of his proximity.

“You’ve read a lot.” Dust turned his head, now his teeth only a breath away. Nightmare couldn’t take his eyes off of them.

“Books were all I possessed before…” His eye roamed over the group before returning to the gentle intensity building in the centimeter between their teeth. “Dust…”

“You can have this Boss.” Dust’s soul pulsed with determination, Night washed over in its warm waters. “I know how much you wanted it.” His red and blue eyes dropped to Night’s teeth, hovering with hot breath, half-lidded in need. “Just take it Nightmare.”

The touch of their mouths made Night’s own soul explode in the rush of desire that blazed into an inferno at the smallest sprig of kindling. His tongue begged for entrance before he could think the action through, Dust letting it in without hesitation, shaky hands dug into Night’s sweater. The loud movie covered the quiet wet sounds, Night’s tentacles shifting silently to cradle Dust as he devoured all he was offered.

His soul lurched when he pulled back; he wanted to consume Dust but the rational part of his brain managed to catch him before he dove back.

“Hah. Nightmare, come back.” Dust’s hands had fisted in Night’s sweater tight enough to tear. Nightmare ignored it to squeeze his eye shut, trying to breathe through the mounting urge to take Dust apart, piece by piece, in view of the others, damn their relationship, he’d take ANY of them whenever HE wanted.

“Stop.” He said it at normal volume, shouting compared to the hushed exchange before. It drew the attention of the others. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Nightmare hadn’t opened his eye to see, but he could hear how hurt Dust sounded, hands trembling where they still balled in each other’s clothes. His normally distracted voice spoke firmly. “Tell me why.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You just won’t. Tell me why.” Dust shook his head to dislodge Papyrus, ringing in crystal clear. It struck his soul, shattering the thin barrier holding back his honesty, unable to hold onto thoughts while containing the rot of his corruption from spilling over and swallowing them whole.

“I will devour you. All of you.” His tentacles sought them out, tentative. His vocal cords ached with an involuntary voice drop. “I will fucking ruin this. Your love cannot overcome my nature.” Each appendage curled around their throats, besides Dust, laying in his arms. The eye of the storm, Dust laid there calmly, like Nightmare’s tentacles weren’t threatening to strangle all of his loves in one fell swoop. Nightmare’s sludge dripped off of him, onto the couch, sizzling where it’d dropped onto Dust’s shins. He didn’t flinch.

“You wouldn’t know, you won’t let us try.”

He could feel the others struggling against him, hands sliding on the slick material while his tentacles grew tighter.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Night growled, his own fingers clamping down on Dust’s neck, pressing down on the bone hard enough to creak underneath them. “I’ll take what I want and dust the rest!”

“Then do it.” Dust met his eyes unafraid. He relaxed into the hold, even as Night’s hands got ever tighter.

The corruption buffeted the inside of his skull, whirlwind of thoughts and crazed emotion, fed by the slow building terror of the others, their struggles more and more frantic the longer his tentacles gripped them. The only exception was Dust. His eyes had slid shut, limp and relaxed in his hands. Nightmare didn’t realize how out of control it’d gotten until he heard the crack.

Nightmare released Dust instantly, hands struggling with the healing magic Nightmare was trying to force through the agitated sludge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Night didn’t stop trembling until he felt Dust touch his wrists. The splashes of cyan across Dust’s calm smile startled him out of everything, tentacles dropping the others to curl in on himself. With a deep breath, the magic flowed more evenly, in control of this at the very least. The crack slowly wove together until only a scar remained. Nightmare avoided the gazes of the others he could feel staring him down, caught unaware by Dust pulling on his wrists, falling directly onto Dust’s chest, face onto his shoulder, forced to stare at his own mistake.

“Just relax…” Dust’s head rested atop his own. He felt the skilled hands slide into the crevices between his tentacles, pressing and rubbing away the tight balls of tension until he finally let them all go.

“How did he do that?” Cross whispered from the side.

“Hell if I know.” Killer sounded close as well, shuffling from just beyond his vision.

“Patience.” Dust’s fingers pressed down to unwind the stress of his back, though not the sins crawling there. Nightmare shifted to lay in a way that he could see off the couch. The others watched them from the floor with wide eyes. He sighed, tracing Dust’s sternum during inhales.

“I could have killed you.”

“You wouldn’t have.” Dust’s faith never wavered, the others radiated guilt. Nightmare averted his gaze.

“I’m still sorry.”

“Then make it up to me.” Nightmare sat up, resting his hands on Dust’s chest for leverage, ending up sitting on his lap before taking the hands that had fallen off his back. He pulled Dust up to match him.

“How?” Night blushed under Dust’s intense observing, relaxing at the gentle clank he got in exchange. It sent a tremor through his spine.

“Answer us honestly.” Dust’s skull twitched against him, tranquil determination a temporary state at best. He kissed Night softly over and over again, plying at his defenses with the promise of what this could be, curiosity over how they worked together. Dust wasn’t alone in this after all. “Do you want us?” The shuffling of knees hit his ears; the others had moved closer to hear him, their hearts glowing with so much hope and positivity it almost hurt to bear. Night’s voice broke under its weight.

“...yes…” The next kiss was triumphant, his face cradled close while he submitted to Dust’s tongue. Dust broke them apart, Night too dazed to see, his hands reaching out to pull his partner back.

The taste changed, the tonguework different, enthusiastic all the same. The hand on his cheek this time larger, he felt a thumb stroke across the line beneath his ruined eye. The name was out before he saw them.

“Cross.” Behind, someone had made a home amongst his tentacles, a back against his. “That’s unusually bold of you.” His eye trailed over the purple flush with an amused grin. He didn’t let the building anxiety pool in the poor guardsman, grabbing the collar of his jacket to kiss him again while his tentacles wound around his other ‘attacker.’ Killer’s groans drifted to his ears.

“Fuck Nightmare, didn’t think you’d get so handsy so fast.” The back of his skull tapped Night’s. Tentacles had wound up Killer’s legs to hold them still, a third binding around his chest to keep him pinned. The fourth explored his upper femurs, pressing over his shorts to his pelvis, Killer’s gasps music to his ears. He pulled back from Cross with a smirk.

“You seemed like you’d be into it.” Killer nodded against his back, but Cross also nodded in front of him, eyelights blown wide with Night’s taste in his mouth and his hands on his chin, wiping away the line of purple saliva from that last messy kiss.

Horror leaned against his leg from the floor. Night dropped a hand to rub against his skull, avoiding the large crack without seeing, knowing the location by memory alone.

“Thanks.” Horror purred from the ground, head falling more heavily in his lap.

Sitting on Dust, Killer against his back, Horror in his lap, and Cross leaning over to kiss him and Dust equally brought his soul peace. Error hadn’t joined, but Nightmare would’ve been more surprised if he had.

“I-I’m sure y-you know my stance on t-t-touching by now.” Error had his arms crossed, body still pixelated near his neck from the impromptu strangling earlier.

“Except Horror. He deals with Horror’s touches the best out of all of us.” Cross removed himself from the pile to offer his hand. Error glared at the TV, but took it anyway. “Most of us have gotten to hand holding though!” Cross’s enthusiasm turned Error blue.

“S-shut up…” He offered his other hand for Cross to take as well, even Error unable to contain his smile at Cross’s joy and attention.

It was laughably easy, Nightmare slotted into the dynamic with ease, an extension of their regular back and forths but sweeter, tinged with something warm. The loud voice in his mind still craved more but he could fight it off for now. Nightmare took a deep breath.

“I’m...still concerned, about everything, but I…” They waited for him to collect his thoughts. “If you’ll have me anyway, then I’ll give it all I have.”

“That’s all we can ask.” Dust smiled while Horror hummed his agreement.

“Hell, that’s what we’re doing too. You, aaaah, ain’t special.” Killer’s body writhed against him. His tentacles hadn’t been distracted by the moment, steadily edging Killer into whining pants, shorts wet against his appendage and thrusting back against it. Night raised him up to hold him solidly between himself and Dust.

“You know, this does offer many new opportunities to shut you up.” His black bones traced the rim of Killer’s pelvis peeking out over the waistband. Killer cursed when Dust leaned forward against Killer’s back, circling to the front to tease his lower sternum, finger peeking inside of his rib cage.

“None of them work. Trust me, we’ve tried.” Dust hid his smirk against Killer’s back, playfully nipping through the hoodie, shaking against the charged bones.

“Fuck you guys.” Night met Dust’s dual-tone gaze one more time. Hesitant to accept and run forward with them still. But Dust took his hand to bring it with him into Killer’s body, wrapping them both around his spine to a moan. They’d help and guide him, he need only ask for it, and with that, he laughed.

“Maybe we will.”

I’m very happy to have this out of my WIP folder.

#bad guy poly #story title #nightmare sans #dustmare #sfw #story time

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joyfulhopelox · 4 years ago

Text

Right now i don’t know if i want to kiss you or shove you off this building

Part 1 | Part 2(end)

A/N: I have no words really, just i needed to get this off my chest and i wrote it so quickly that part 2 is probably going to be out by the end of the week.

genre: fluff (x100), University! au/ College!au

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox do NOT repost or reblog

Stealing is a crime please do not steal, i do not cross post anywhere else only Tumblr

Pairing: J-Hope x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Word count: 4,000 words

Warnings: i'm still bad at writing fluff but here we go (i cried a lot inside whilst writing it)

There are few times in someone’s life when they would have to rush out of the house in the middle of the night. Most times, it involved an emergency of some sorts.The usual A&E rush, the cravings rush and most important of them all, the all nighter in the library rush.

You have been debating for over an hour now if you should make a dash to the library. Your exhausted body screaming at you to just curl up into a ball and sleep- or cry, whichever came first. However your consciousness, and the fact that your anxiety was at an all time high, was telling you to just suck it up and go get your books from the library. That coupled with your approaching deadline. And to be honest you knew exactly what you would end up doing. After all, your grades could not afford to take a fall. Not worse than what they’ve dropped to now. Anymore and you would flunk the year completely.

But do you really need that book? Your brain tried it’s last card on you. You could technically just stay in, bury yourself in your blankets like the Michelin man, and write your essay that way. Sighing, you rubbed your tired eyes and got up grabbing your prized pen, the one that got you through your first and second year of exams, a couple of pieces of paper just in case, and your laptop. A trek to the library it is.

The spring air was doing a good job of waking you up. The light breeze, warm enough to not make you die of cold, but cold enough to cool down your tired flushed face. The 10 minutes it took to walk from your accommodation to the library was enough for you to steel yourself against an all nighter of studying.

What you had expected when you went in was anything but a packed library with students quietly studying. The noises of scratching pens and the rhythmic click-clacking of keyboards creating a mellow background noise. Some were dozing off, and you could not blame them, but holy hell could they not have done that at home? Okay, maybe you were judging, but could anyone blame you? You were desperate for a space and by the looks of the rows of heads between the shelves, there was a slim chance you would actually get a seat somewhere. If needed, you knew you could just crouch in between the shelves near the section that housed the maps, but you did not feel like inhaling dust and sporting a cramped leg for the rest of the night.

“Oh come on! This is a big library, there must be a seat somewhere” you whispered to yourself quietly, your eyes scanning the 3rd floor of the library. Aha! There. By the will of the gods, there was a seat, a lone corner at a table that was packed to the brim. You hastily made your way before anyone could spring out of nowhere and claim it, and slammed your butt down on the seat sighing in satisfaction. You’d made it. The first task done. Proud of yourself, you opened up your laptop and pulled the document you had been writing on. The bold letters at the top stating you NEEDED to get that specific book. A harsh reminder that the second task now would be even more difficult. Hunting for a book in this mammoth of a place. But what if you lost your spot? You needed your laptop to search for the book and to be honest you did not trust your laptop to not be stolen. You groaned to yourself, once again debating whether or not you needed the book

You finally decided that the book was non-negotiable and so you quickly grabbed your pen, with the promise to yourself that you would not get lost in the maze of shelves and interesting literature. Hastily writing a ‘will be back’ note, you slammed the pen down on top of the paper and rushed out of your seat.

The library atmosphere was quiet, despite the space being full of poor students who were rushing to meet a deadline or had exams coming up soon. Perusing the shelves, taking note of names that may interest you further on in your degree or even just as personal pleasure, you basked in the quietness and the dimness of the space. You loved the library at night, sure, but not when you were in a rush to finish a paper and not when exam and deadlines season pushed everyone and their mother to cram themselves in the space like sardines. Overall though, the space was dark and quiet just as you liked it.

Finally arriving at the area that was of interest to you, you stood in front of the row of shelves, a slow grin forming on your face. It was perfect, 4 rows of untouched literature. And you had all the time in the world.

Except...you didn’t. “Fuck” you cursed to yourself. You knew you did not have the time and you promised yourself you would not do this. Looking down at your watch, you let out another curse. “Fuck”. It had taken you half an hour to get here, the digital face of your watch showing 12.30am. “Oh man, I did it again” muttering to yourself, you turned your back towards the interesting titles that were calling your name and focused on the one book you actually needed.

Only to not find it on the shelf. Just your luck. “What am i supposed to do now?” dejectedly sighing you slowly made your way back to your seat. All you could think about was the missing book on the shelf.

How were you supposed to be finishing your paper now? Suddenly the quiet and calm atmosphere became gloomy and dark, this was not going very well for you. So lost in your thought you almost walked by your spot. Stopping right on time you looked to the side only to do a double take. It was not your spot anymore, the leather jacket as well as the mop of dark hair that could be seen occupying the seat was definitely not you. You double checked the area making sure you did not stray away again and somehow landed in the wrong spot but no. That was definitely the desk you had placed your note on.

It was just missing the note and seating another person now. Today was definitely not your day. The last thing you wanted to do at this time of the night, especially when you were in a hurry to finish and hand in your paper, was to be civil. But that was your seat. You refused to slouch in between the shelves and cram a seven thousand word paper tonight. You’ve done it enough times in the past for your bum and back to already be screaming at you in protest. Taking a deep breath in, you steeled yourself and approached the seat stealer.

The closer you got, the better the view of the seat stealer. Goddamn they were handsome. At least the side profile was something to enjoy looking at, but that did not change the fact that they had stolen your seat and were comfortably spread out onto the desk casually typing away at their laptop.

To top it all off, as if the scene was not enough to taunt your nerves, they were humming quietly to the beat that you could faintly hear coming from their headphones. And if you were to admit it to yourself, which you would not, they were very good at said humming.

“Uhm...excuse me” your voice cracked, having not been used for a couple of hours. You could not afford to seem meek in front of them, cute as hell and a great hummer be damned, they would not get the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. Truth be told, you hated confrontation. It was the last thing you resorted to under normal circumstances, let alone now when you were tired and stressed. Standing up straighter you tried again, “Excuse me!”

They made no move to acknowledge you or your shadow that cast now over the desk, as if you were both one and the same. Frustrated, you let out a huff and reached out to tap their shoulder. However, as if the fates had it out for you today, the humming seat stealer also came to life, moving his head towards your outstretched hand as they went to grab for their notebook and pen. That motion combined with yours caused a painful collision for the both of you. As it had not gotten a chance to change trajectory towards their shoulder, your unprepared hand bent awkwardly as it made contact with the side of the person’s head. A loud “oh fuck” chorused from the both of you, as both parties retracted as if burnt. Had you mentioned it was not your day?

“Is there a reason why I’m being assaulted at...1am on a Tuesday in the library?”. the seat stealer asked as he turned around to face you completely. He finally had a voice as well, and it was just as nice as the humming. Scrunching your nose in annoyance, you took a deep breath in prepared to tell him off. Not only was HE the one assaulting your hand but also your well deserved seat. Only to do the stereotypical double take. The mop of hair hid a very handsome face. High cheekbones and a pointed nose, your eyes trailed further down to his long neck and toned body. “Uh…” the stranger, seat stealer muttered, his hand going to scratch awkwardly at his long neck. Your brain agreed, “Uh…” you smartly copied snapping your eyes back at the face. You had clearly been caught staring judging by the smug smirk the person had on their face. Not only that but you had managed in a few minutes to smack a total stranger and display copious amounts of intelligence whilst trying your hand at a smart rebuttal to their question.

“So, now that I have your attention. Care to tell me why you are assaulting me at 1am on a Tuesday?” The tone of voice was less alarmed, more amused now. As if he clearly found your embarrassment entertaining.

“Assault? I have not assaulted you….you seat stealer!” You furiously exclaimed only to be interrupted by an equally stressed out fellow student“, Keep it down”. Only then did you become aware of the situation you are in. Three other rows of desks near the one you were currently at, and each of them seated a student who, like you, probably either had exams or deadlines. They were sleep deprived, hungry, and probably had too much caffeine running through their blood for their own good. And they were all focused on your form. To embarrass you further, the seat stealer even had the audacity to smugly smile and whisper “yeah, shhhhh.”

Getting redder by the minute, whether in mortification at being told off by the student a few rows away from you or from increasing anger at the seat stealer, you bent down, eyes narrowed “you….you...shush, and whilst you are at it, get out of my seat, you seat stealer”. You were unsure whether your shouted whisper would sound menacing enough to convey the mixture of emotions running through your veins at the moment. The stranger’s smug smile dropped instantly, a look of confusion replacing it, “seat stealer? What is that about?”

“You stole my seat!”

“I did not. The seat was free. If you passed by it, it was free and you didn’t sit down or leave your stuff on the chair; it doesn't automatically make it yours.” The stranger shrugged carefully, studying your expressions. What he saw must have really amused him because he started snickering to himself. Getting redder by the minute your rebuttal was weak, if only you’d have thought about it beforehand.

“I only have my laptop on me! And I left a note and my precious pen on the desk! A note which you have thrown out to steal my seat.” That is when it all went downhill. “you ‘strange seat stealer’!” the snickers coming from the handsome man got even more violent, to the point of you worrying about him choking- had you not been angry at him you would have asked if he was ok. Unfortunately, you were angry and nothing he did could have solved that.

The stranger abruptly stood up, so close to your face that you could see the numerous lashes that shadowed his dark eyes, amusement still plastered onto his face. He grabbed your elbow lightly, giving you a chance to break free if needed, but you were so stunned by his actions that all you could do was question how handsome his angular face was. “You’re cute, and that was a smart, if odd, alliteration you made there” He breathed, the action making a stray strand of hair blow away from your face, “but we’re making a scene”.

“Wh-” before you could process what he’d said, he trailed his hand from your elbow to your own hand and lightly gripped it with the intention of moving you away. The sudden jolt sprung your brain back to life and you tried fruitlessly to pull your hand away from his grip. Unfortunately, your brain decided to work a bit too late, as you were already past the rows of desks and shelves of books, closer to the lift lobby on that floor. “I am not making a scene, you are making a scene. Who are you to get me away from my seat not only once, but twice?!” Your feet firmly planted on the ground and finally got the stranger to stop. “I don’t know who you are” as he made a move to talk, you interrupted “and I don’t care, I saw that seat first, left a note on it to say I was going to be back and you stole it! I need the space!”

“Why?” The stranger calmly asked. His face showed no signs of anger or frustration, and it seemed like it belonged like that, serene and peaceful. And it made you wonder if anything could ever anger this man. Sure, you did not know him but you had been yelling in his face for the past minute. His demeanour and question threw you off so much so that your brain once again hiccuped.

“What do you mean why?”

“I mean why do you NEED the space, it’s clear that you do not have a bag or any belongings for that matter.” He gave you a once over to emphasize his words, his calm eyes lingering a bit too long on your form for your anger to continue overriding the flustered mess that you had become. “I- I do!” You don’t know why you needed to prove yourself to him, but it was a valid question he’d asked. So, you showed him the arm he was not holding, that carried a laptop. Realising he was still holding onto your hand, the sudden thought made you suddenly hot and clammy and before he could do anything about it you pulled it out of his warm hold.

Trying to ignore the loss of warmth the contact brought you, you looked away flustered.

“This cannot be happening. Look, I sat down there first, I put a note down because I needed to go find a book for my essay and….oh god...it’s due in like…..five hours”. Not looking at him the entire time you explained your situation to him, frustration and anxiety taking over your anger you missed the worried look he threw at your red face and the slight movement he made with his hands as if to grab your fretting ones. Instead when you looked back at him after a couple of moments of silence, what you saw was him studying the space behind you closely. “Hey! Are you even listening?” You got over your anger and tried to explain, (not that you needed to) somewhat logically to make this person understand why you needed the seat back and all they did was ignore you.

“Have you found the book that you needed?” He turned his attention back to you, a small smile forming onto his face. You did not know whether it was the fact that he completely ignored what you had said earlier, the untimely smile he gave you, or the fact that your heart sped up at the said smile, but your anger went through the roof once again.

“No! Now excuse me whilst I go reclaim my seat. If you want to waste time out here just staring at the walls, that is your issue, some of us have problems they need to fix.” Making a move to turn around you halted, realising you were going the wrong way. Mumbling to yourself you brushed past the guy and headed for the lifts. Calling the lift you tapped your foot impatiently. You could find another seat somewhere else, and if not, you were desperate enough to finish the paper that you would risk your own bottom and sit in between shelves. It felt like an eternity until the lift arrived and as soon as you got in you pressed the button for the floor above you thinking you may have some luck there. Surveying the corridor you noticed that the guy had left, and surprisingly a twinge of disappointment made you sigh. You just wanted to continue the argument, nothing else.

Right before the doors to the lift could close though a running form made its way to the lift sliding in between the door with swift grace, almost barreling into you. It took you a moment to realise it was the seat stealer with his bags packed up and his laptop in his hands. “What are you doing?” you hissed as you noticed he cancelled your floor and pressed the tower one instead. “Making up for stealing your seat”, he casually replied as he observed the numbers in the lift change.

“By not letting me go find another seat?” you huffed, “you could have just vacated the seat earlier and it would have all been fine.”

“But it wouldn’t have given me an excuse to talk to you for longer than three seconds would it? I’m Hoseok by the way.” He turned and smiled at you, the dimples in his cheeks becoming prominent. Rendered speechless by his forwardness, you did not know how to respond. So you settled onto clearing your throat and willing the blush that was taking over the apples of your cheeks away. Not meeting his eyes and refusing to grant him with the same grace and give him your name, you chose instead to ask where he was planning to take you. His response was just as cryptic as his previous one, “you will see”.

The rest of the way had been spent in silence, you having given up on trying to argue with the seat stealer...Hoseok. You repeated the name in your head multiple times, it suited him. For a brief second you wondered how it would sound if you said it out loud, but you squashed that thought away very quickly. You weren’t friends or even acquaintances so there was no reason for you to do so.

Whilst your brain was running a hundred miles an hour, throughout this time Hoseok took the time to observe you. Undeniably pretty, a smile made its way onto his face as he watched the different faces that you were pulling clearly lost deep in thought. You are cute. He knew that your argument couldn’t even be called as such. To his defense, the seat he had occupied had nothing on it. It was only when he ran back to gather his things and rush back to you that he noticed the note and the pen that were lying on the floor near the foot of the desk. In his haste he had grabbed both of them hoping that if his plan did not work he would have another excuse to approach you at some point. Now, those two items were weighing down in his pocket. Your name, which you had not freely given to him but it was written on the note, burnt into his mind. Maybe he did not need them after all. He would give you your pen back of course, but he would keep the note. It would be good memorabilia in the future.

The lift came to a halt and the doors opened .This time Hoseok did not even hesitate to grab your hand and lead you to your destination as he was afraid you would run away from him. Your heart thumping again at the gesture you let yourself be led by him too astonished to say anything. Who was this human being and why was he so friendly after you’d argued for the good part of an hour. Before you could panic about the time you had lost, Hoseok stopped abruptly.

‘We’re here’ he motioned with his free hand. The one that did not occupy yours.

Realising so you tried to inconspicuously free your hand from his, the astonishment at his behaviour quickly turned into amazement at the choice of space he was presenting you with. You were not a fan of the tower as heights were a bit of a stretch for you but the cosy alcove with window seats and the view of the night time sky it provided were enough to make you forget that. “Woah, how did you find this place?”’ You mumbled and quickly went to the window observing the lights of the city behind you. For how late it was, the scenery down below was surprisingly animated. Not getting a response you turned around thinking he had abandoned you there. What you were not expecting was the bashful look he was giving you whilst rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhm, by mistake really, I just happened to wander here one day and yeah...thought it was quiet enough and...well, I needed to make up for the fact that you did not have a seat in the end and you said you needed to finish your paper and…yeah’

Him reminding you of the paper that was now due in less than three hours made you jump in panic. Without thinking you threw your laptop onto the little table space that the alcove offered and sat down. Typing your password you opened the document you were working on. Whilst waiting for it to load you hesitated, bit your lip and looked up.

“Are you not going to sit down? I assume you also have work to do since you are here?” Without looking, you motioned to the seat directly across from you. This could end up being the best decision of your life or your worst... but you came to the conclusion you wouldn’t know unless you took a chance. Hearing him shift his feet and the feel of his knees close to yours as he sat down was enough to make you blush again. Here it goes, now or never.

‘I’m Y/N by the way’ you looked up in time to see him smile.

‘I know’

#jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #bts jhope #kpop scenarios #bts scenarios #i lowkey wrote this whilst not having slept for a week so i'm sorry #bts x you #bts x reader scenario

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aliennopossumm · 3 years ago

Text

It Will Come Back

Happy [late-] birthday @andromedaspace! I hope you’re having a good week!

Pairing: mutual pining Analogical, romantic Analogical at the end Warnings: homophobia, hurt/comfort, quite a lot of cursing, kissing, so much awkward silence Characters: Logan Sanders, Virgil Berry, Roman Smith Character notes: autistic nonbinary Logan [they/them], autistic trans Virgil [xe/xem], genderqueer acearo Roman [he/prince]

Fic summary: Logan had known Virgil for a while now, but when they start getting gay thoughts, they consult Roman to help

2,921 words 16,543 characters

you can also read this over on AO3

It had been about three or so months since Logan had met Virgil. Since their original run in with each other, the two had been hanging out quite a bit, not restricting themselves to just the forest they first met each other in. Unfortunately for Logan, xe did not go to their highschool, but was rather homeschooled; this didn't stop Virgil in any way, however. After a week of knowing them, xe started to wait outside the school gates for Logan, making a habit of walking them home. This day was not any different, Logan making their way out of a particularly uninteresting English lesson - it did lift their mood knowing Virgil would be waiting. They were one of the last one's out, looking around for xem. Anxiousness started to consume them, unable to see xem outside - did xe just leave them?

They frowned slightly, taking their phone out of their pocket to see if they had any message. Logan jumped a little when everything went dark, panicking slightly, before realising somebody was just covering their eyes.

"Guess whoooo?" Logan relaxed at Virgil's voice, gently removing xyr hands with their own.

"Hey Vee," they smiled, turning around, "I thought you had left."

"Nope, just this guy was talking to me. Think he was British?"

Logan's eyes widened slightly in realisation, "Roman?"

"Yeah! Prin was asking me about you," Virgil took Logan's hand, as xe usually did when they walked home together, "he sorta... gave me a shovel talk? The whole 'hurt them and I'll hurt you' schtick."

A whine escaped Logan's mouth, "I told prin specifically to not bother you. I'm sorry, Virge"

"Hey, it's okay, it's cute how much your friends care about you," xe chuckled softly, checking both directions before leading the two across the road. Logan blushed a small bit at the comment, going to speak again. They were cut off by a yell from a passing car, making the pair turn their heads. The engine was so loud, Logan couldn't make out what whoever was in the car said exactly, but they could make out the last few words.

"What are you, gay!?"

It was said with so much bitterness, so much hatred. Several conflicting feelings started to consume Logan - anger, sadness, a small tang of guilt. They looked at Virgil with a hard to make out expression, their mouth unable to mutter anything, but their mind screaming. It told them to run in the opposite direction, to yell at their friend, to apologise, to kiss Virgil. Why did they want to kiss Virgil?

A few seconds passed, both of them clearly uneasy. Virgil shifted xyr hand slightly, making it obvious xe was considering letting go. Xe spoke after a few more seconds of silence, "I'm sorry, L."

"'s fine," Logan refused to look at Virgil, rather staring at the interlocked hand. As much as their brain begged and screamed for them to let go, they didn't. It was nice, they felt loved for once.

The older one nodded, swallowing dryly and starting to walk again, "right, right. Let's just get you home, hm?" No more words were able to escape Logan's mouth, just nodding and gingerly following xem. To their mutual dislike, the next ten or so minutes were spent in complete awkward silence. Both opened their mouths to speak at a few points, but not a word was said from either of them. Neither pointed this out, eventually reaching the door of Logan's block of apartments.

The building seemed to loom over the pair of friends now, making Logan feel as if they were shrinking into a miniscule room with just Virgil, forced to be close. It was an uncomfortably claustrophobic feeling.

"I'll uh, I'll get going," Virgil finally said, "see ya."

"Bye," Logan mumbled, quickly letting go of xyr hand and making their way upstairs without looking back at xem. On most occasions, Virgil would walk them to the front door, and xe would then call them on xyr way back to their own home. None of this happened though, sulking their way into the kitchen. Anxiously, Logan peered out the window to see where Virgil was - it did make them feel a bit creepy for doing so, but they were worried. Xe ended up making uncomfortable eye contact, the two immediately breaking it once they had noticed. As if their world was falling to pieces, which is what it felt like, Logan poured themselves a glass of cold water and hurriedly walked to their own room. It was quiet. Virgil wasn't being called, their parents weren't home, the AC was turned off. It was quiet.

Too quiet. Logan hated it, reaching their room and shutting the door with their foot. Everything in their brain yelled at them to just slump onto the floor with their back against the door, but they decided against it. They hung up their bag, walking to their bed and taking several long gulps of water. It was cold, numbing their teeth slightly. Iciness rushed to their brain, resulting in a groan and a small pampth where they fell onto their back and shifted so they laid on their pillow. Everything was fine until those kids. They harshly blinked a few times before staring at the green stars, planets and moon that were stuck above their bed, reaching out gently. Logan "grabbed" the moon next to the Earth with their hand, closing it into a fist as they were holding it. Nothing else changed, the room staying still. It couldn't have been more than a minute before their arm started to become tired, letting out a built up sigh and letting their arm flop next to them on the bed. The moon reminded them of Virgil. In an, only somewhat successful, attempt of getting their mind off their friend, they started to count the plastic stars.

Twenty six... twenty seven... twenty nine- wait, shit, they messed up. Logan groaned loudly, rolling onto their side. Nothing could make them stop thinking. With thoughts still buzzing, they wiggled out of the dark jacket they were wearing, taking their phone into their hand before throwing the clothing onto the floor. On most days, they'd be extremely strict with themself about keeping their room clean, but at this point, they had no energy to care. The phone was unlocked, showing the background - a selfie Virgil took of xem and Logan. It had a corny SnapChat filter on top of it, a black bar at the bottom with white text reading 'my nerd <4'. Great, now they were overthinking if there was any hidden context to that. Yet again, they sighed, opening their contacts and scrolling to the bottom. Logan's thumb hovered over the contact name 'Virge<3' for several seconds, before scrolling up an embarrassing amount from the V contact page to the R contact page. They hesitantly clicked on the contact name 'Ro 👑’, sitting up and leaning their back against their headboard.

Ring ring. "C'mon, Ro, pick up," Logan mumbled impatiently," ring ring, "c'mon, please..." ring ri-

"Yellow?" Roman's voice came from the other side, the soft sound of Mitski in the background.

"Roman, I think I've fucked up."

"You, fucking up?" Roman was heard sitting up, "that's a change. What happened?"

"Virge and I were walking from school and... and it was fine, until this group of kids sped past us in their shitty car. They said some shit and we ended up walking home in silence," they groaned loudly, "xe didn't even call me after xe left, just... walked away."

"What did they say, Lo?" The younger's voice was much softer now, the background music turned down so prin could listen better.

"We were holding hands and they-" Logan swallowed dryly, slipping down the headboard, "they yelled 'what are you, gay?'. I can't stop thinking about it."

"They just saw two masculine presenting people being close friends and jumped to conclusions. Plus, you two are gay, just not for eachother."

"I- I guess, but now I'm just confused," Logan laid back down onto their back, "my brain was yelling at me to do so many things at once. To run away, or yell at xem, or kiss xem, or say sorry-"

"To kiss xem?" Roman repeated, a chuckle at the bottom of his throat, "I think you may be slightly gay for xem."

Logan groaned, "I'm not." They looked away from the direction of the phone, despite the fact Roman could not see them. "At least, I don't think I am," they mumbled the last part quietly.

"Logan," prin was heard shuffling on his bed, sounding as though he sat up, "what made you concerned? What those assholes said, or the small chance you may be in love with Vee?"

They didn't reply for a few seconds, taking several deep breaths. Logan shifted uncomfortably, "I actually... think it's more of the second option. I... the other thoughts didn't even really bother me, because I know I wouldn't run from xem or yell at them. But I know I would happily apologise and-" they bit their lip, "and I would... happily... kiss xem..."

"I'm glad I gave xem the shovel talk now," Roman chuckled softly, "listen, do you want my shitty aro advice, or do you want to suffer with whatever your feelings are?"

Logan let out another mix of a sigh and a groan, "sure. Something is better than nothing."

"Tell xem - listen, before you go on a rant about how you can't," Logan shut their mouth which they did open in protest, "tell xem how you feel. This isn't the first time you've had these gay feelings for xem, is it? You like holding xyr hand, spending time with xem. Hell, you've called the time you spent in the forest with xem 'dates'! On multiple occasions. It's clear you like xem - it may not be romantic, but you like xem so fucking much. You were both outcasts, weren't you?"

Logan took a shaky breath, processing all the information they were just told. They blinked once or twice, "yeah, neither of us really had... many friends when we met. Virge was homeschooled and I only really knew you and Patt at this point."

"You have a genuine connection, everyone can tell that - even the fucks who taunted you. You love xem, and xe loves you. Your feelings are the reason you enjoy being physical, loving to just be in each other's company; why you had such a knee-jerk reaction to the thought of kissing xem. You probably had similar thoughts before, haven’t you?" Roman silently waited for them to reply.

Thinking back through the month's they had known xem, Logan realised the answer was yes. They mumbled the response quietly, and prin did hear it.

"But you're thinking so hard into this because for once, somebody else recognised this. Those kids... they mocked you for potentionally liking xem, they made you realise that you may actually be gay for xem. You've always seen xem as attractive, haven't you?"

Their world seemed as if it was shrinking in on themselves at the realisation, but was able to squeeze out a few more words, "yeah, since... since the moment we met. Even though xe was teasing me when I first saw xem, it... I appreciated how attractive they were. Fuck."

"You alright?" Roman's tone shifted - it was no longer their serious and lecture-esque voice, but soft. It sounded, as Logan liked to put it due to being an only child, like a protective brother's voice.

"I think so? Thank you, Ro, so much," Logan let out a small, happy noise, "I should text xem."

"Yeah," it was almost as if Roman's smile could be felt from the other side of the phone, "yeah, you should. Good luck, Lo-gay."

"I told you to stop calling me that," they ruffled their own hair, a habit they had picked up from both Virgil and Roman, "thank you, Ro, really. Bye, I love you."

"I love you toooo~” Roman sang the last word, "farewell!"

Once the call was over, the room went back into being too quiet, too cold. They lowered the phone from their ear, looking at the screen; underneath Roman's contact name was the call time - almost fifteen minutes. That conversation lasted for that long? Attempting to ignore everything else that was currently happening at the moment, pressing the back button and scrolling to Virgil's name in their contacts. At first, they were going to just call xem to ask, but opted to just texting. Logan bit their lip, anxiously writing out a message in an attempt to follow Roman's advice. Triple checking the message, though it felt as they read it back over a thousand times, they finally hit send on the message.

'Hey, Virge, I'm so incredibly sorry for the walk home today. I just froze up. Can we meet up at the place we first met to talk?'

They closed the texting window, looking back up to the ceiling stars. Nothing in them was really expecting Virgil to be that happy to talk to them again after what had happened, so you could imagine their shock when the phone almost immediately chimed. Logan pulled the phone to their face, clicking on the notification from Virgil, to their surprise.

'itz alr , l , promis . not mad ! u mean by the lake? cus if so , i ' ll see you ther in uhhh'

'10 minz?'

As usual, xyr typing ended up comforting Logan. They smiled sadly at the message, starting to sit up as they wrote a reply.

'Yeah, the lake! I’ll see you soon, Virge?'

‘ yea yea ‘

'<4'

For no particular reason, the difference of how Virgil typed emoticon hearts made Logan feel all bubbly inside. A green bag was slung over their shoulder - the bag which contained all their forest-exploring gear. Anxiety still consumed them for the most part, but knowledge that Virgil was safe and wasn't mad soothed them. Knowledge seemed to comfort them often, slipping on some black Doc Martens. The phone was gently placed into their pocket, leaning down and lacing the shoes up. They took a large, deep breath and left the apartment, humming to themselves to divert any nervous thoughts from their mind. Warmth covered their body almost as soon as they stepped outside their block of apartments, making their way towards the forest.

It didn't take long for them to reach the still lake, noticing Virgil sitting in the same place where they first met. Logan swallowed dryly, sitting opposite to them and leaning against their favourite moss-covered rock. They didn't want to have the first word.

"I'm sorry, L," Virgil repeated their same statement from a while earlier, "I should've broken the silence and said something more."

"It's okay, it wasn't either of our faults. I-" they refused to make eye contact, "I spoke to Roman about what happened."

"What did he say?" xe gently took one of their hands. Logan didn't reply, not holding Virgil's hand but not pulling away either. "L, what did he say?"

"He comforted me and made... made me think about shit."

"Think about what?" Virgil's voice was gentle, rubbing xyr thumb over Logan's hand gently.

"I wanted to kiss you."

"Oh."

"Sorry," it was the only thing they could think of. Truthfully they didn't know why they were apologising, or what exactly for. Virgil didn't visibly look uncomfortable. Were they apologising for having queer thoughts?

"Don't be," xe never stopped stroking their hand, looking down at it and processing what xe was just told.

"I still want to kiss you."

"Oh," Virgil repeated, but still didn't stop. Nothing Logan did could make xem stop attempting to calm them. "I, just- why?"

"Because you're... you. You're fun, and kind, and cheer me up," Logan's voice slowly grew more confident with each word, "you always make me smile and I enjoy the time we spend together. You're pretty, and a bit sarcastic, but still so loving and- and you're Virgil. I love you because you are Virgil."

Xe didn't reply for several seconds; Logan held their breath, going to apologise before getting cut off by xem.

"Kiss me, idiot."

Logan flushed slightly, the stars in their eyes. They gently leaned closer, softly kissing xem. It wasn't the best kiss in the world - neither of them having that much experience. Even so, it was tender and love-filled, Virgil pulling back after a few seconds. Xe breathed out deeply, chuckling when xe noticed how Logan now had slightly black stained lips.

"Shit, I-" xe smiled, "kissing before marriage?" Virgil gently smudged the transferred lipstick around their mouth with a thumb. "So..."

"I liked that," said Logan, leaning into xyr hand, "I like you."

"So much you want me as your boyfriend?" It was slightly jokingly, but truthfully it was the only thing xe wanted at that moment.

Logan paused, kissing xyr nose, "please?"

Virgil chuckled, peppering kisses on their face, "of course. I love you, nerd."

"I love you too."

Logan leaned their head on xyr shoulder, smiling widely. They'll be okay.

#sorry if the formatting is weird #virgil writez #fic #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #analogical fanfic #analogical #roman sanders #logan sanders #homophobia tw #hurt/comfort #awkward silence #virgil sanders #andromedaspace #🌌my moon my sun and all my stars #probably more tags l9r #8r #you know what i mean my |<3yboard is br3a|<ing

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its-me-jessi · 4 years ago

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Back To The History PT7

Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader

Summary: Y/N is back in York not knowing Hvitserk is no longer the only one knowing her secret. Meanwhile Hvitserk isn’t aware of her return.

A/N: I’m sorry it took so incredible long to finally continue the story. I had to fully concentrate on my studies but now I’m back with the next part.👍😊 I hope you’ll enjoy the 7th part of this series as well and again, sorry for taking this long. 🙈 As always, I’d appreciate any kind of feedback. Feel free to leave comments or reblog.😇

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

A few seconds ago, I was gazing at a picture of an old church which made me reminisce about everything I had experienced back there. I reminisced about the time I spent with Hvitserk and I wished for one more chance to see him again just to say a proper goodbye. He deserved it. Since I’ve been back home, I felt terrible not only because I missed him, but also because I had a guilty conscience for leaving him shortly after I promised, I would stay with him. I definitely had things to straighten out and now I got the chance to do so.

The picture printed inside that old history book turned into reality. From one second to the other, I was standing in front of that church like I was when I first came here, still holding the book in my hands. Despite the fact that it is already the third time I travelled in time I still couldn’t believe my eyes. My brain needed a few minutes feeling the cold air against my not so warmly dressed body and hearing people talk in an unfamiliar but yet familiar language to really understand I’m actually back. I was brought back to York.

I’m back. I’m really back. Happy about being back I strolled around York smiling to myself. All the time I thought it won’t be possible to come back here since I didn’t even know how I came here the first time, but I did it. The only thing left to do now is finding Hvitserk and I should be quick since I don’t know when my time here is up. What I didn’t know was, Hvitserk wasn’t back from Haralds kingdom yet.

Eager to find him I looked everywhere I thought he might be, but he was nowhere to be found. What made the situation even harder for me was the cold temperature. Since I just got beamed out of my cozy home, I was only wearing a cozy loungewear set and fluffy slippers. All in all, not very suitable for a indeed very spontaneous trip to York especially in the colder months of the year. The people crossing my way were all staring at my shivering figure and wondering what in the world I was wearing. I felt exactly like when I first came here, except for the fact that I knew some of these people and they knew me.

“Y/N?”, a woman came running to me. It was the maid who used to lend me a helping hand with managing my daily chores from time to time. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be joining the Ragnarssons on their raid?”. Her sudden question took me by surprise. Apparently, something wasn’t going as I expected it to. Ivar and Hvitserk weren’t back from their raid and I shouldn’t ether. What should I tell her? I need an explanation, quickly. I was staring at her quietly thinking about a credible lie as she spoke up: “What on earth are you wearing?! You must be freezing!”. My constantly shivering body seemed to have distracted her. Thank god. For now. “Let’s get you inside!”, she laid a hand on my back, shoving me forward.

Hvitserks POV

Completely lost in thought I was sitting at the bottom of the ship back to York. Since our plan of attacking Kattegat didn’t come to fruition we decided to sail back and work on our plan for the time being but to be honest I didn’t really care about the plan anymore. All I could think of and all I wanted to know was why Y/N left and if I will ever see her again or if she’s gone forever. Actually, I had so many questions on my mind I feared I would never get the answers to. I knew deep down that sooner or later she would’ve been gone. I didn’t believe we would get the chance to spend a lifetime together since we belonged to completely different time periods, but I hoped the time together would still last quite a while. As one old saying goes “hope is the last to die”. After spending days looking for her and not even finding a hint to the whereabouts of her I gave up looking for her and with every week going by my hope did fade away. “I should simply accept my fate”, I thought shrugging my shoulders.

The only good thing her disappearance entailed was that Ivar wouldn’t take advantage of her. I didn’t know what Ivar had in mind since I’ve told him about Y/N’s personal background, but I knew it won’t be a good thing. Somehow, he would make use of her and the fact she’s from the future. So, wherever she was, she would be safe and that’s all that mattered. Only for that reason I actually wanted her to stay away. I glared at Ivars back. He was sitting inside of that boat ahead of the one I was sailing with. I knew Ivar too well. He won’t let an opportunity to successfully take revenge and overcome any barriers slip though his fingers even if his success is bound to the expense of others.

Time flew by and our ships were slowly entering the port of York. Ivars ship was the first one to arrive at the port. After the ship was tightly tied to a wooden pillar and a plank was leaned on the edge of the ship to close the gap to the port Ivar got off refusing any help but supported by his crutches.

Y/N POV

When the Viking ships entered the port, I was strolling the city, this time suitable dressed but completely spaced out. I still had no idea how to explain to everyone why I suddenly disappeared and turned up back here in York. There was no possible way for me to come here on a natural basis. What the hell am I supposed to tell them. The only person I could be honest to was Hvitserk. He needed an apology more than an explanation. Hopefully I can talk to him first. Maybe he has an idea how to get me out of this mess.

If I knew at this point that Hvitserk wasn’t the only one who knew about my personal background anymore I would have prepared myself for a greater problem. I would have been on the look-out for Hvitserk in the first place. Would have been more careful about my surroundings. In the end I would have hid by Hvitserks side until time decided it was again time for me to go back to my own time period and that time I wouldn’t leave without saying Hvitserk a proper goodbye since that time it might really be the last time we would see each other in our lifetime.

But I didn’t know…

When I heard a crowd loudly rejoice over something, I became curious and out of my curiosity I went down the road in the direction where the sound came from. As I came nearer, I saw the ships and instantly, a smile played on my lips. I instantly knew Hvitserk came back and a warm fuzzy feeling grew inside of me. I wanted to run all the way down to the port but suddenly a tall and strong looking man blocked my way. Seeing this man standing right before me made me take fright. My smile was gone.

“Ivar Ragnarsson wants to see you!”, he said with his deep voice. How does he already know I’m here? The maid must have told him. I couldn’t even protest. He just took me by my arm and pulled me in the direction of Ivars place. What is it now what he wants from me?! Still I didn’t have a clue. As I took a glance back to the port, I saw him. I saw Hvitserk and I wished Ivar wouldn’t keep me occupied for too long.

After I’ve been shoved into the entrance hall I immediately felt a pair of eyes on me. Rubbing my arm where the man held me not so gently a few seconds ago I glanced up to him. There he was. Ivar was sitting casually in his throne evilly grinning at me.

“I see, you came back from the future all safe and sound.”

He knows?! I was shocked and instantly afraid of whatever he might do to me.

Thank you so much for reading! Stay safe! 😇

Tagged: @lordsexmachine @alexa4040 @buckysjuicyplums

#vikings #vikings tv show #vikings imagine #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk reader #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk imagine #fanfiction #hvitserk vikings #hvitserk vikings x reader #hvitserk lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar reader #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction

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gravelyhumerus · 4 years ago

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Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 4

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Emily’s alarm wakes JJ up.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Jennifer Jareau awoke in her bed to the sound of her alarm. She groaned as her body refused to cooperate, with the fog of sleep clouding her brain and the desire to just roll over and sleep in sounding very appealing.

It was such a late night last night with Emily and JJ had already set her alarm to nine thirty, giving her less time in the morning to get to her eleven am class than she would normally like. JJ liked eating breakfast, and with being an athlete, her body needed as much fuel as she could get.

She rolled over, slamming her hand onto her phone, attempting to turn off the beeping. It wasn’t working, forcing JJ to open her eyes against the sunlight. She grabbed her phone, unplugged it, and stared at the blank screen before realizing that it was only eight and her alarm wasn’t set for another hour.

JJ frowned, realizing that what she was hearing wasn’t her alarm, nor was it Penelope Garcia’s—her roommate who had a cheery jingle as an alarm—either. It must be coming from another room.

She looked over to the other side of the room where Penelope was sleeping peacefully, on her side with her chest slowing rising and falling. Lucky, JJ thought. Penelope, unlike JJ, hadn’t been rudely awoken by someone else’s alarm.

JJ pulled her pillow over her head, rolled over, and tried to fall back asleep. She was desperate to catch that extra hour of sleep.

She sighed, tried to relax and fall back into her slumber, but the blaring sound continued, and continued, without fail. Whoever was responsible for that god-awful noise apparently was not waking up.

JJ sat up, tossing her pillow aside. Quietly, despite her frustration, she threw back her comforter and blanket, slipped into her fuzzy slippers and walked to their door, peering into the hall.

She was wearing her pink pj bottoms and a grey cotton t-shirt from a soccer camp she went to in high school, and the cool air after the warmth of her bed made her shiver. Their dorm was either too hot, or too cold most days, never really reaching a comfortable living temperature.

Looking left and right, JJ tried to narrow down the sound of the incessant alarm. She held her breath for a moment, listening hard.

The beeping was coming from straight ahead. She looked at the door, staring it down, begging the other girl to simply wake up, turn off her alarm, and continue with her day.

That did not happen.

JJ slipped back into her room and grabbed her lanyard, to avoid getting locked out of her room with the annoying automatically locking doors.

She closed her own door quietly, as much as she was mad at Garcia for managing to sleep through the noise, she didn’t really want to bother her. JJ started with knocking lightly on the other girls door, rapping on the wooden door right next to the construction paper sea turtle that their RA had written Emily’s name tag on.

“Emily,” JJ said quietly, “Your alarm is going off.”

JJ checked her watch. Eight ten. Emily’s midterm for Clinical Psychology was at eight-thirty. She knocked louder.

No response.

She must be a very heavy sleeper.

JJ knocked louder, scared she would wake up the whole floor, but more worried about Emily’s education than disturbing them. Their walls were thin, but the fact that Emily could sleep through an alarm that could wake JJ up, across the hall, and sleep through JJ’s knocks, was borderline concerning.

After a few minutes of near-panicked knocking, she finally heard movement in the other room, with a muffled “Whaa-” coming from Emily.

She opened the door, rubbing her eyes and holding her phone.

“Your alarm was going off,” JJ said, sheepishly as she took in the taller girl staring at her in complete confusion. “And you have a midterm.”

Emily looked down to the phone in her hand, looking at the time and said, simply: “Shit,” before spinning back around.

“You have twenty minutes,” JJ pointed out, unhelpfully.

“Yes I very much do,” Emily replied, “And it’s in the psych building which is on the exact opposite side of campus. Dammit, the alarm must have been going off for a half hour. I have no idea how I slept through it.”

JJ, unsure at the protocol of what was happening, stood in the open doorway. She found herself somewhat overwhelmed at the sight of Emily. Instead of the t-shirt and pj pants that JJ had seen on her before, Emily was instead wearing a delicate, semi-transparent cotton camisole and silky looking shorts that were quite short and showed off most of Emily’s long legs. Her skin was pale, and even, without any freckles or scars marring the porcelain-like limbs. JJ, on the other hand, knew her tanned skin revealed the scars from the endless cuts and scrapes she’d acquired being a sporty child.

What caught her eye most was something poking through the fabric of the thin camisole. JJ blushed as she realized that Emily had her nipples pierced.

Emily’s ensemble showed off much more of Emily’s body than JJ had ever seen before, but it wasn’t the body that shocked her (Jennifer Jareau played sports her whole life, she wasn’t shy about nudity), what shocked her was the fact that she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away.

JJ had planned to wake up whoever was disturbing her with their alarm, then immediately go back to bed, but now she felt as if her feet were glued to the floor.

With her hands grasping her keys, clutching them tightly, JJ stared at her friend as Emily dug through her chest of drawers and stormed around the room in a frenzy.

She was not simply staring, JJ realized to her own personal confusion, she was ogling her. Emily’s typically perfectly straight black hair was wavy and messy, mussed by sleep and her bare face had a classic beauty that made something tighten in JJ’s chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Emily muttered, throwing a pair of sweat pants over her shorts, not really having any time to get dressed. “Thank you for waking me JJ.”

This roused JJ from her thoughts, forcing her to come to terms that she was checking her friend out. She felt her face warm in a blush, and stared at the floor so she would no longer be looking at Emily like that.

“We use the same alarm,” JJ said, dumbly. “I thought it was mine.”

She gulped, watching Emily yank a hoodie over her head, and smooth her hair down with her fingers. Emily yawned, letting out a cute noise that made JJ smile.

“Well,” Emily replies, smiling at her sweetly, “I would have fully slept through this midterm if it wasn’t for you. You saved my life. Merci.”

Emily grabbed her backpack which was hanging off the back of her chair, and slings it over her shoulder. From atop her dresser, Emily picked up a red apple, rubbing it off on her shirt in lieu of washing it.

“Thank you again,” Emily says, pulling her into a quick hug. JJ found herself engulfed in Emily’s warm arms, the smell of orchids and coffee, for a short, amazing moment, before Emily pulled back.

Emily shut her door, took a bite of her apple with a wink at JJ, then ran down the hall on her way to her class.

JJ stepped back, left behind standing in the centre of the hall, alone with her thoughts. She remained there for a moment, processing the mixed bag of emotions.

She turned back around, unlocked her door, then sat back onto her bed. It was still warm from her body, and beckoned for her to return to its warm embrace. JJ, on the other hand, was still reeling from another embrace, that of her friend and neighbour.

Her friend, she reminded herself. They were friends.

JJ stared into the distance, breathing deeply and trying to process her racing thoughts. Her break up was fresh in her mind. She was still reeling from her break up, was overtired, and had just spent the entire evening with Emily listening to her speak to her in the literal language of love, no wonder why her brain was all mixed up.

JJ shook her head and laid back down, staring at the ceiling. She put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes.

Instead of her normal anxious thoughts about her midterms, her upcoming game and the end of her almost two year long relationship, her brain flashed to Emily. How patient she was last night explaining all the possible conjugations of the verbs, how she told her funny stories about her childhood in France, how she tried to catch the M&Ms in her mouth, and missed every time.

Emily could speak French fluently, and it was probably one of the most attractive things that JJ had ever experienced. She rolled her r’s so perfectly, and spoke with a clarity that she struggled to find in her professor’s strange accent.

JJ rolled onto her side, tugging the blanket around her, lost in thought. Emily was so nice, JJ really liked her. She liked her as a friend, right? That’s what this was?

She thought about Emily, who bakes cookies in the middle of the night, who gets way too into beer pong and who smiles wide every time she saw JJ and held her hand tightly as they walked home last night.

Did JJ like Emily? Like-like her? She didn’t know. She doesn’t like girls. She hadn’t really liked that many people before. She dated Will for two years, two nice, normal, comfortable years where she didn’t have to think about these things, about crushes or feelings.

She was always a very focused child, focused on school and on soccer and on getting to college. It was Will who pursued her, who was the first to text, who invited her places and encouraged her to be present. JJ was always reacting to the boy's affection, every time.

Her mom had The Talk with her when she was thirteen, which was awkward and tense, but instead of the typical discussion about the birds and the bees, her mom talked about love and consent and JJ’s future partner . At the time, JJ thought her mom was being silly because JJ liked boys;, she had crushes on boys like all the other girls in her grade. She always would pick the nicest one, and select him as her crush when the other girls would ask. But now, looking back, maybe JJ’s mom saw something JJ hadn’t seen herself.

No. That couldn’t be.

Jennifer, she scolded herself, don’t go down the rabbit hole. You just went through a messy break up. You’re confused is all.

It was true, just yesterday JJ fought with Will and it ended in, well, an ending of their relationship. Over the phone. He told her that he needed more from her, from them, and JJ told him that she was giving all she had. That was not enough for him.

She hadn’t even had that much time to think about it, and him, let alone tell her friends and family that it had happened.

She had hung up the phone and immediately had to go to a class. Before she knew it she was in a study room with Emily Prentiss forgetting all about her break up.

Her mind flashed to the girl in her class who had come out in eighth grade, how after she had, the other girls had told JJ to make sure she had turned around so the girl wouldn’t look at her inappropriately. JJ had protested at the time, arguing that the girl probably didn’t even find them attractive anyway, but that hadn’t convinced the others. They had shunned the girl for the rest of the semester.

JJ remembered feeling a bit sick at the thought of being that other girl, who’s identity had been shamed by her peers. She went home that day and cried in sympathy. She didn’t know why she did.

After that she, on a private browser, looked up the acronym: LGBT. She discovered the term ally, and decided that that was what she was. She had cried because she supports people who are gay, or bi, or transgender, not because she likes girls. She was always told that she was a sensitive child, she cried because she was empathetic.

She had been confused about her feelings before, and had sorted them out. She could do that again easily. She didn’t like Emily that way. She was simply grateful for her company, for her friendship. She was a nice new friend, and JJ was just over excited as she got to know the girl across the hall.

JJ sighed. That made sense to her. She was a tangled mess of feelings and she needed some time to untangle them.

With that resolved, JJ tried to close her eyes and catch a few minutes of sleep but before she even closed her eyes, her alarm woke her up. Her real one.

She groaned.

To her right, Penelope woke up to the sound, yawning and rolling over at the sound.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Penelope murmured with a sleepy smile. “Late night last night?”

Penelope was probably her best friend at university, and her roommate. They were randomly placed together last year and had immediately become best friends. She was studying computer science, which was surprising because from what JJ could tell, Penelope could hack the FBI if she felt like it. She wasn't sure what else there was to study. Her side of the room was decorated in an explosion of colour, with endless trinkets on all of the available surfaces, and her walls covered in a rainbow of art, photos and miscellaneous ticket stubs and various moments of her life.

“Yeah,” JJ replied, sitting up in her bed and resigning herself to being awake. “I have that French midterm today.”

“Then the game!” she interjected, “I know! Spence and I will be there waving the flag.”

JJ smiled, grateful for her roommates' endless support.

“We should do trivia again this week,” Penelope says, “Reid is basically an encyclopedia and I think if we bring him we’ll win hands-down.”

JJ hummed in response, not really paying attention.

“I mean,” Penelope continued, “It’s probably unfair to drag a boy with an eidetic memory to a trivia game but I think it’ll be worth it.”

JJ was focusing on getting dressed, but tried to give her roommate enough reassuring nods to make sure she was active listening. She had to dress for her exam, then for her game so she chose track pants and her school windbreaker.

“Jayje, where’s your head at?” Penelope said and JJ frowned, she could read her like a book and could tell something was wrong. “You’re never this quiet. Is it about Will? We never really got to talk about what happened.”

JJ didn’t have the time to explain her tangled web of emotions.

“I’m fine Pen,” JJ assured her, “Just tired and worried about this midterm.”

“Okay,” she said, still looking worried, “You know I’m here.”

“I know.”

“Go get ‘em tiger!” Penelope grinned at her, “Just remember: voulez-vous coucher avec moi? That’s all you’ll need to know!”

JJ cracked a smile and wished Penelope a good morning, grabbed her bag before leaving. She waved goodbye and headed out into the morning, trying to shake her thoughts of Emily Prentiss away.

She had enough time to grab coffee and breakfast from the cafe before heading to her class a few minutes early so that she could look over her notes.

Forgetting Emily was hard when she was taking her French midterm, as the conjunction was coming to her, pronounced in Emily’s voice and explained in her clear, knowledgeable voice.

JJ sped through the midterm, a strange feeling tugging at her stomach as her focus was pulled two ways. One part of her, the one focused on the test, pictured Emily in front of her, her bangs getting in her face, her eyeliner drawn over her lid thickly coming to a sharp point on either side of her eyes, imagining her lips as she mouthed the words out to her. The other part of JJ, terrified of these thoughts and feelings, pushed her out of her mind, trying to compartmentalize the knowledge from the person.

Then her brain was filled with Will: of his kind smile, of how he hugged her tight and kissed her softly. Her brain desperately wanted to hang onto some sort of normal feeling of loss at the end of her relationship, but the majority of her feelings were unsatisfying and confusing.

The verb endings blurred together, and as she looked over her work before submitting, she found herself making stupid mistakes. JJ was in the middle of erasing an answer when her Professor called out to announce that time was up.

JJ walked out of the midterm frustrated. She was sure she did fine on it but was mad at herself for being distracted by her own personal issues.

She cursed Will for breaking up with her in midterm season, because she couldn’t focus on anything. She knew she was being distant, she knew it was her fault they were over, but the timing was overwhelming. Her status quo was crumbling and she was not quite sure how to keep the pieces together.

It’s over Jennifer, she said to herself, you finished your midterm. Time to focus on soccer and you’ll feel better.

That afternoon, JJ played an aggressive game, forcing her feelings out in her gameplay, running faster, tackling harder and hogging the ball more than she typically would.

She fought hard for the ball, barrelling towards the net, and setting up a perfect goal for her teammate. Who missed. It took JJ everything to not yell at her teammate, because she did not want to be red carded at a home game.

Next time she was on, instead of passing, she made sure she set herself up for a goal, charging past her opponents. She kicked. She scored. The roar of the crowd, the feeling of her team jumping upon her felt great.

In the stands, Penelope Garcia and Spencer Reid jumped high, cheering for their friend.

The adrenaline of the game wiped away the feelings of the day and JJ felt better. She felt normal. She could deal.

JJ could be happily single. She didn’t need Will and she certainly didn’t need to be distracted by anything right now anyways. She still had three midterms to go, then an away game next weekend.

After that, JJ could worry about her feelings. Until then, she had more important things to do.

In the locker room, JJ dried off, still buzzing with the win.

“Hey Jennifer,” a voice asked, coming up behind her. It was Kennedy. “Are you ok?”

Kennedy was a nice girl, in third year, who played defence. She was probably JJ’s closest friend on the team but outside of games, practise, and the occasional mandatory team social, JJ and she didn’t really talk.

“I’m fine,” JJ replied, stuffing her uniform into her locker. “Why do you ask?”

“You played a hard game,” Kennedy says, “I was impressed. You brought the heat.”

“So what’s the problem?” JJ says, hearing the terseness in her voice.

“Woah,” she says, stepping back and raising her hands in surrender, “Is something wrong? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I’m fine,” JJ says, slamming her locker harder than she meant to.

She walked out of the locker room, feeling slightly embarrassed at her outburst. It had started to rain again, the cold, sharp droplets hitting her face and soaking her hoodie. Making a mental note to apologize to Kennedy later, JJ walked straight home to her dorm with tears stinging at her eyes.

As soon as her door closed, JJ jumped onto her bed, laying with her pillow on her head to block out the afternoon sun, as tears leaked out of the sides of her eyes. Letting go, JJ cried. She cried for the end of her relationship, for the fact that it was her fault for it ending, for the fact that she didn’t feel sad about the end of her relationship and because she didn’t know what to think about Emily.

---

That week, everywhere she turned, Emily Prentiss was there.

For a girl that she never seemed to run into at the beginning of the semester, Emily seemed to make up for that with this week.

First thing the next morning, JJ walked into the bathroom with bleary eyes. She hadn’t slept well and had trudged through her morning routine. As she put some toothpaste onto her toothbrush, the door swung open and Emily wandered in, with her own toiletries in hand, wearing only a robe. JJ found herself brushing her teeth harder, not making eye contact and focusing on her own reflection in the mirror. JJ stared herself down, not allowing her eyes to stray or herself to think about the naked Emily Prentiss behind the curtain. JJ didn’t want to see her. JJ was straight, and that would be silly. She did not want to think about that girls god damned nipple piercings, or the fact that they made her blush to think about.

On Tuesday night, JJ looked out of her window into the courtyard, only to see Emily Prentiss, smoking a cigarette near the streetlamp. JJ closed her curtains. She had to study for her midterms.

Coming home from class on Wednesday, Emily had her door propped open as she read a book, with some music playing off her record player. JJ pretended she was in a rush to get somewhere, grabbing a random book out of her room before leaving for the library. She realized after that she needed a different book for her essay, but it was too late after she had rushed down the hall to go back.

Leaving her Media Studies midterm on Thursday, she passed Emily in the hall on her way back from practise. Emily touched her arm as they crossed paths and asked her, in her sweet voice, if JJ needed any more help on her French homework. JJ hurriedly said that she didn’t, and that she would text her if she did. Pointing out that JJ didn’t have Emily’s number, she then insisted that JJ add her as a contact. She did not text Emily.

That weekend, JJ relished how an away game took her off campus, and away from her issues. All JJ had to focus on was soccer.

Except, news had finally gotten to her mother about Will. JJ spent most of the weekend fending off phone calls and from her concerned mother, who wanted to be there for her. JJ felt incredibly guilty avoiding her calls, because her mom had loved Will.

As soon as JJ was back in her room, she was forced to finally return her mom's call, as she had run out of excuses. It was a long coversation. After hanging up, JJ laid on her bed, exhausted by her mother's distress. It felt like her mom was going to miss Will more than she would. JJ had assured her that she was fine, that she would call again soon, and, yes, she would like a care package, because that would mean she’d get a box of snacks, including Cheetos, which she was desperately craving.

After a few minutes of laying on her bed, with her packed bags still on the floor next to her, and still wearing her school branded windbreaker, there was a knock on her door.

She ignored it. She was sick of people being worried about her. Sick of everyone asking her if she was ok.

The person knocked again, more insistently.

JJ rolled onto her side, looking at her wall. There was her ex-boyfriend, on the wall in her once treasured prom photo, looking at her. She tore the photo down.

Her eyes wandered up to her other photos taped to the wall: her and her sister at Christmas when she was eight. JJ was holding up her new shadow box containing a blue butterfly (morpho menelaus) and standing next to her was her sister Rosaline, grinning wide and hugging her tight.

She wanted to ask Ros what was going on with her. Why she felt so untethered. Why she felt relieved that her boyfriend broke up with her. Why she simultaneously wanted to run towards and away from Emily Prentiss.

But, she could not ask her any of these questions. She tugged at her sister’s necklace, which was around her neck, resting over her heart, as always. Hoping for some kind of direction.

There was another knock on her door.

JJ opened it, finding the meek face of Spencer Reid on the other side. He waved awkwardly, and did not seem to notice her disheveled state.

“Garcia said that we could eat without her,” he said, “She’s in a lab this evening and is ordering pizza.”

Dinner. The trio always ate together when JJ was in town.

“I’m starving,” JJ admitted, realizing that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and her stomach flipped in protest.

JJ opened the door for him and turned back to the mirror. Reid sat down on the edge of Penelope’s bed. Of all the people on the other side of the door, he was probably the only one who wouldn't force her to talk about her feelings if she didn't want to.

“How was your game?” he asked politely.

JJ made a noncommittal noise.

“You know,” he continued without a pause, “Around two hundred countries or territories in the world play soccer, depending on what you consider a country, as the UN only recognizes two hundred and fifty one countries and territories while the US recognizes less than two hundred. You could play this game with more people than you could speak to in English.”

JJ ran a brush through her hair, hoping to make herself look presentable for the cafeteria. Spencer continued, barely coming up for air let alone wait for her response. Normally, JJ would fight to get a word in edgewise, but today, Spencer’s monologue was soothing her.

The rain had slowed to a slightly annoying drip, with dull clouds hanging low onto campus.

Together, they walked down the street to the cafeteria, which was in a dull concrete building near most of the residences. Spencer transitioned from discussing the impact of sports on global diplomacy, to talking about his day and chatting about how he has started hanging out with Derek Morgan more often.

JJ blinked at that, trying not to let her thoughts wander from Derek to Emily and her current turmoil.

Her minor reaction unheeded, Spencer discussed how Derek discovered that he could lift him, and had bench pressed him. Spencer, despite admitting that he was nervous around football players like Derek, given his rough time in high school, smiled as he told her this. She forced herself to be present, to engage with her friend, which was a welcome distraction.

Grabbing their trays, they both wandered around the buffet style cafeteria, peeking at the specials and deciding their preference. JJ steered past the vegetarian option, which was simply three pieces of tofu on some plain rice, and walked up to the burger bar. Comfort food was the plan. Reid, walking in her wake, joined her in her dinner choice. Soon, the two of them were eating burgers in companionable silence, both tackling mediocre, yet somewhat tasty meals. JJ sipped her water and felt Reid’s eyes on hers.

“You seem distracted,” he comments.

JJ looks down into her water.

“Penelope told me about Will,” he says, nervously, “I’m sorry?”

It comes out as a question.

“Look. I don’t really want to talk about it. I’m fine.”

I’m fine, she thought to herself, I’ve said that a lot today.

JJ softens, reminding herself that the boy only wants to help. She reaches her hand out and grabs his.

“Thank you for asking,” she smiles at him.

He perks up. She looked at him and while he was only three or so years younger, he looked so young. He was taller than her but still likely to keep growing, his gangly limbs awkward still in his adolescence. Still, he dressed like a professor, his outfits filled with cardigans and tweed.

They stood and made their way back to residence. JJ was starting to feel like herself again.

But, about thirty feet ahead of her was Emily Prentiss, fumbling with her keys as she tried to unlock the door to their building. It was really hard to push someone out of your mind when they lived across the hall.

Spencer noticed her hesitation.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” he asked.

JJ nodded, relieved at the offer. They turned to the right, and walked down the steps that lead to the lower part of campus, towards the nice graduate residences and the park. JJ stuck her hands deep into her jacket pockets, the fresh air making her feel a bit better.

“Will broke up with me,” she says to Spencer, not looking at him as she spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, following suit.

“I’m…. not,” she admitted.

She found that in the cool, fall air, the words flowed out and after she started, it didn’t seem to stop.

“I’m not and I should be. I should be crying about my breakup, eating chocolate and watching shitty romcoms with Penelope. I should be calling my mom and getting advice about my heartbreak. I should be getting drunk and trying to rebound. For some reason, I’m just… angry.”

She stood, raising her arms into the air.

“I feel embarrassed that he was the one who broke up with me when I didn’t even like him that much.”

She sighed. He looked at her with wide eyes, listening intently without any judgment, or reservations. He wasn’t pushing her to share, or judging her for her words.

“And I think I like someone else.”

JJ did not mean to say that. She looked back over at Spencer, who didn’t look particularly surprised.

“Emily?” he guessed.

JJ fell silent. She did. She liked Emily. She spent the week running from that, and it had been staring her in the face the whole time. She nodded.

“That’s great!” he replied with a smile. “I think you would be really good together.”

JJ was struck with this. She wasn’t expecting the homophobia she remembered from high school, but she was not expecting this.

“We would?” She found herself smiling as she said this.

“Yeah, I think she likes you too.”

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds tv #jemily #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #gravelyhumerus cm college au #my post #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #jemily fanfiction #WOOO chapter 4!!!!!#enjoy #tell me what u guys think #sorry its late i struggled #the fic is almost 20k now!!!

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ashxketchum · 3 years ago

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Writer’s Month - 4

If I can just do this whole week consistently, I would feel so much better about myself, I kid you not.

Fandom/Pairing: Beyblade/TyHil (HAHAH WHAT ELSE WERE YOU EXPECTING FROM ME!)

Prompt: play, modern setting ( so I already had something in works with a class is putting on a play plotline, I’d shared the progress earlier too, and decided to add to it as much I could at work today. Again this is written on my notes app, so expect a lot of mistakes! Tagging @rainbow-pearls cuz I think she would like to read the minor continuation of the earlier snippet, and maybe @zadien too?)

“Why are you still here?”

Tyson opened an eye and peeked at the source of the disturbance. Only one person in their school was brave enough to wake him from one of his infamous naps without fearing the consequences. The brunette was standing in their classroom’s doorway with a disapproving look on her face and her hands fixed on her hips. When she saw him wake, she started to make her towards his desk.

“Gee, Hilary why do you think?” Tyson muttered in reply, trying to stifle a yawn as he opened his eyes fully and stretched his arms over his head in order to rid his body of the slumber that he had been so peacefully encompassed in until a few minutes ago.

“You know we’re supposed to be preparing for the school festival right now. Together. As a class.” She was standing right next to his desk now, but even then the glare she sent his way did not seem to have any effect on him.

“I don’t think I’m a group activities sort of person.” Tyson said, locking eyes with her, a determined look on his face.

“Says the guy who almost cried a river when his teammates left him.” Hilary scoffed at him.

“I didn’t cry, and let me rephrase that, I’m not a group activities person at school.” Tyson retorted, ears a little bit red from the brunette’s accusation.

“Oh come on Tyson, this will be fun!” Hilary groaned defeatedly, she propped herself over the desk Tyson had been sleeping on until a few minutes ago, knowing very well that it will be a while before he is convinced. Tyson was then forced to straighten up and lean back in his chair or else his head would’ve collided with her hip, and any remaining feeling of drowsiness left his body as he did so. “Chief has been working really hard for this, you know.” The brunette added, tilting her head sideways, to meet his eyes.

“In other words, he’s driving you all crazy and you need me to rein him back in.”

Hilary held his gaze before narrowing her eyes in annoyance, “He is driving us crazy, but I’m more than equipped to handle him and he has really been working hard so as his friend you should be there to support him. Just like we are always there to support the team.” She looked at him pointedly, stressing on certain words loudly and making him wince as she did so. Tyson groaned, she knew him well enough to know that the ‘I’m always there for you’ trick always worked immediately on him.

“And what exactly are we doing this year? Another cafe? Do you really want me to be around food and other edible items?” Tyson challenged her, trying to display a somewhat proud look on his face, even though internally he knew he’d already lost the battle by showing interest.

“No. I would not be here forcing you out of this chair that you glue yourself to every morning if I knew that our ingredients would be in danger.” She scowled deeply at him before continuing, “Frankly I’m surprised you don’t know what our class is putting up despite sitting through the meetings in the past week.”

Tyson shrugged guiltlessly, “I’m just as good at zoning out as I am at spinning tops.”

Hilary rolled her eyes and shook her head at his statement, after forcing the scowl off from her face, she looked at him with a sober expression and replied, “We’re putting up a play. Chief wrote it himself, and he is directing it too.”

Tyson leaned back further in his chair as a look of utter surprise settled on his face at her words, “You’re letting Chief direct it?”

“Well of course,” stated Hilary matter-of-factly, “he wrote it so he should be allowed to be in command.”

Tyson feigned shock and disbelief as he responded in a high-pitched voice, “Hilary Tachibana is letting other people be in command? Are you okay Hils? Do we need to take you to the hospital for an examination?”

Hilary shot him a seething glare and promptly got off the desk in annoyance, resting her hands on her hips once again she retorted, “I can’t always be in charge of everything obviously, even I am aware of that-” Tyson laughed out loud but quickly concealed it as a cough once his eyes met the brunette’s and she continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “Besides as the lead of the play, I have enough on my plate already. There isn’t much time left to take control of everything else.”

Her words sunk in much faster than usual for Tyson, his brows furrowing as he stood up too quickly, almost knocking back the chair he had been sitting in, “You’re playing the lead?”

His voice came out louder and squeakier than he had expected but his brain was already swirling for him to take notice of his tone or even his friend’s bewildered reaction.

“Y-yes.” Hilary stammered, completely taken aback by Tyson’s sudden reaction, she took a few steps back, eager to put some distance between them, as a confused look settled on her face.

“You’re playing the lead in a play that Chief wrote.” Tyson repeated, more to himself in an attempt to make sense of all the scenarios that were now popping up in his head. Hilary however, thought that he was addressing her, so she simply nodded in reply, still looking confused over the sudden change in Tyson’s behaviour.

Having been friends with Chief since they were in elementary school, Tyson was aware of the kind of stories and fantasies that his childhood friend preferred to indulge in. When it came to Beyblading, Chief was all about logic and facts, but when it came to his hobbies, he was more of an emotional sap, something people couldn’t usually tell by looking at him. Tyson however, frequented Chief’s room more than probably any other of the latter’s friend, which is why he understood better than anyone, that Chief was a romantic and sentimental nerd at heart. Which is also why it didn’t take the World Champion long to reach the conclusion that their class was probably preparing a cavity inducing love story for their school festival.

The real problem for Tyson was that Hilary had just told him that she wasn’t directing or organizing the class, as he had expected her to, but was actually taking part in something that he knew, without even taking a look at it, was probably a fairy tail-esque, love story.

He could feel anger course rapidly through his veins at the thought of any of his male classmates standing on the stage opposite from Hilary and professing their love to her, or even worse...

“Do you have a copy of the play?” Tyson snapped at her, he hadn’t meant to get mad at her and he could tell that even though she nodded and went around the class towards Chief’s desk to pull out a copy, she was upset by his angry tone and if he didn’t rein his emotions in quickly, they would slowly be heading into the argument territory. His suspicions were confirmed when she came back to him and thrusted the thin booklet into his hands harshly and folding her arms across her chest, passing him a steely look as he quickly skimmed through the play.

‘The Dragon and the Princess’

Tyson had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as he read the title, he wanted to go through the contents as quickly as possible so he decided to show his disgust with the work when he reached the very end of it.

...the princess looks longingly into the eyes of the stranger…

Tyson’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance as he imagined Hilary gazing ‘longingly’ at a faceless classmate of theirs.

He quickly turned the pages again.

...the stranger bends down and plants a kiss on the Princess’ left hand…

His grip on the booklet tightened and he took a deep breath to compose himself and turn the pages a bit carefully in order to not rip through them in his anger.

...-queue music-

he grasps her hand and slowly leads her into the middle of the dancing couples, placing a hand around her waist…

Turn, turn, turn.

… stop music

they kiss…

Tyson slammed the booklet shut and next to him Hilary jumped, putting a hand on her chest as she sent him a glare for scaring her.

“Who’s playing the other lead?” He was surprised by how quiet his voice had become, in contrast to the anger building up inside him.

“Well, we haven’t picked anyone yet. Chief isn’t really satisfied by the performances he has seen, we’re actu-”

“I’ll do it.”

His statement was followed by a few minutes of total silence as Hilary stared at him in surprise with Tyson returning her gaze with an angry, determined one of his own.

“You’ll play the lead?”

Finally she spoke after what seemed like an eternity, her voice laced with doubt, as she still continued to stare at him, now looking like she was trying to search Tyson’s face or read his expression in an attempt to figure out if he had really meant what he had said.

“Yes, I’ll do it.”

Tyson repeated his words, his voice more firm and resolute this time around as he refused to back down from her gaze. Hilary continued to look unsure, eventually she turned her gaze downwards and it dawned on him that she might not want to do this with him at all. The anger that had been building up inside him like a bubble suddenly burst and his heart sank. He wanted her to raise her head so he could search her face for any clue that might point towards her not hating the idea of doing this stupid play with him. Tyson couldn’t help but think to himself that he might need to flee the country if Hilary flat out refused to do the play alongside him. Luckily they were alone in the classroom, not having witnesses for what was about to be the most embarrassing moment of his life was the only silver lining.

Then she looked up at him very suddenly and Tyson’s heart almost stopped, with her eyes shining brightly and a wide smile covering her face, she replied “Oh Tyson, that is wonderful! Chief said I wouldn’t be able to convince you to do anything, hah I can’t wait to look at his face when he hears this.”

A wave of relief washed over him and he had to stop himself from sighing out loud, he passed Hilary a nod of acknowledgement in silence and tried to maintain a straight face, hoping to not show the brunette how the thought of gazing longingly at her or kissing her hand in the near future was making him feel extremely giddy.

“Now come on, we’ve already wasted so much time here, Chief must be getting antsy!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Tyson begrudgingly followed Hilary out of the classroom and they made their way towards the gymnasium where their class was supposedly prepping for their showcase in silence. Well almost in silence, as Hilary skipped happily ahead humming a chirpy to tune to herself, apparently elated with herself over how she was able to convince Tyson to get off his lazy bum and actually participate in a school event. Tyson was a few steps behind her, the heat of the moment fading as he neared the gym and the idea of acting in a stupid, romantic play started to settle well in his mind. The guys would never let him live this down, he could picture the scene when they’d find out about this particular extra-curricular activity of his very clearly by the time he entered the gym, Max’s howling laughter, Rei’s forced attempt to be encouraging as he contained his own laughs, Kai’s stupid smirk which would also be mirrored on his elder brother’s face.

#writersmonth2021 #beyblade #tyhil #beyblade fanfiction #writealot #totally avoiding the suspicious looks at work while I type furiously on my phone #they probably think I'm having an argument or something #but no I'm just writing TyHil lol #editing this on tumblr app was a nightmare though #I blame my fat thumbs.

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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

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Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (7/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: I was busy with fic exchange pieces for a while but will be focusing on updating my multi chapter fics now. As always, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 8

Link to cross-postings: AO3

“So you’re Levi Ackerman?” The woman who had just entered the room looked excited. Too excited.

After being kept waiting that long, Levi was in no mood for anything, especially unnecessary pleasantries. For the past thirty minutes at least, he had been sitting on the couch of a quaint office. It was spacious and there was at least enough room on the couch to elevate his knee comfortably. Probably the reason he had the self control to give a curt nod in reply.

“I’m a fan! I watched a few of your events actually and I’m so glad to have you here,” she said too enthusiastically. She paused for a second and shook her head. “No, I’m horrified about you being injured which caused you to end up here but I’m just really excited to get to know you.”

Levi didn’t feel the need to reply.

She walked to her desk and dropped her canvas bag before sitting on the couch in front of Levi. “Sorry for being a little late. I just came out from another meeting and went out to get something to eat after. Maybe I could give you my number and you could text me if you get here before I do.” She took a post-it out of her purse and scrawled a few numbers on it and slid it towards Levi.

Shouldn’t you have my number? Somehow it was hard to believe that she was a counselor. “Name?” Levi asked.

“Shela. Just call me Shela.”

Levi had met those types of people before who go by nicknames. More often than not, he couldn’t blame them, usually they had a very old fashioned or embarrassing name behind it. He couldn’t believe someone as transparent or excitable as her who didn’t look like she had much control of her filter, would have issues about how embarrassing a name was though.

“I have a very old fashioned first name.” Shela added, only confirming Levi’s suspicions. “Shela… Sierra - Hotel - Echo - Lima - Alpha.”

Levi typed the name on his phone and saved the number.

Last Name? Academic History? He set the rest of the details aside. As long as he knew her name, he could probably get through enough sessions to at least keep both his coach and Erwin satisfied. Going to a counselor was not his idea after all. It was his coach apparently who had requested it and it was Erwin who had pushed for it. Without twice a day training or even the freedom to go wherever he wanted without being completely exhausted within hours, Levi had not much of anything else to do anyway.

Shela brought out a notebook from her purse, opened it to a bookmark paged and wrote something on it before looking up at him. Levi couldn’t help but note that when she wasn’t looking ashamed or overly enthusiastic and she did look like she knew what she was doing.

“I’m going to skip the question of ‘what brings you here’ because I think we all know why you’re here.” She gestured her pen towards Levi’s leg. “Let’s start with something simple. How are you? How are you feeling today?”

“My knee hurts and I can’t train anymore. But I’m focusing on studies now so I think I’m doing okay.” He answered, having prepared that script in his head the thirty minutes he spent waiting for her.

“I’m not asking how you’re coping. I’m asking how you’re feeling today.” Shela’s piercing eyes were a beautiful shade of blue. The serious look she gave him then bore into him. In fact, it felt like it bore into his soul.

Despite the generally bad first impression she gave him, Levi was somehow convinced that she was qualified to do that type of work and his showing up there might turn out to be worth something after all. Levi found himself almost hypnotized by that look she gave him, a healthy mixture of concern, interest and professionalism.

Hiding and watching his words felt pointless and Levi found himself saying his answers as his brain came up with them.

A Tale of Two Slaves

The hospital where he was slated to have his next sessions was that same hospital he had stayed in a week ago. Conveniently, it was a five minute walk from where he had been staying since he got out of the hospital: Hange’s apartment.

Just until I can walk up stairs. Levi had told himself. There were many dormitories clustered around campus yet he had ended up staying in the least handicap friendly one. The first floor had a lobby and a common room and the actual bedrooms were only found at the second floor and the third floor. To top it all off, there was no elevator. He had to note though that it was an old building with only three floors so it would have been useless to put one.

He was on scholarship and it was assigned to him back in first year so he did not have much of a choice. He didn’t need to think too much of it either that past three years of college since he had never been injured enough to the point of being unable to climb stairs

With his leg completely immobilized and a deadweight, Levi was sure it would be a nightmare to brave that everyday. The paperwork and legwork required to change dormitories in the middle of the semester seemed daunting as well. In the end, Hange had offered to let him stay over in her apartment.

Her condominium was spacious, it had an elevator and it was walking distance from the hospital where he’d have both his counseling and physical therapy sessions.

Walking Distance. For non handicapped people, it should only take five minutes to walk the two block distance from the hospital to the apartment building. Levi took ten minutes to clear it and by the end of it he was exhausted and despite the chill of mid autumn, Levi found himself sweating as he arrived in the apartment.

It was a Friday afternoon, a week after he was released from the hospital. Nobody was pressuring him to go back to school yet. His professors had been kind enough to send him lecture slides and give him extensions. Some classmates had dropped their own summarized notes and get-well messages.

Levi settled on his bed and propped his knee on his pillow, looking through the lecture slides of his last class. Despite his self imposed week long isolation, Levi just wanted to go back to normal life.

But it never will be normal again. Although Levi did see a glimmer of hope in the possibility of feeling normal again when he went back to school, the realist in him knew it wouldn't happen.

Levi was supposed to be in the process of accepting at least that it would never be the “normal” he used to have and had taken for granted. Something inside him was rebelling the process though.

If I can't live the life I want, then I won't live at all. That something screamed inside him.

That form of rebellion left Levi with little energy for anything else. His mind was slower. His body was heavier. He was seeing little reason to move beyond the mechanical and primal movements needed to survive.

As if by magic, his body that used to carry him over two meter tall bars, suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. The weight crushed him everyday. At times Levi found himself unable to breathe. That was he found himself in that same position for sixteen hours a day, either sleeping or staring at the same white ceiling above him.

In fact, the only time he had left the Hange's apartment was for that one counseling session Hange had prodded him to go to. That was the only time she had forced him to go out of the house as if she herself understood somehow the comfort and at the same time the panic that came with a self imposed isolation.

What else was there to do?

He was alone. He had kept to his own bubble in college, only flitting between the two islands of academics and trainings.He was always either busy or exhausted and the lack of in-between had given him little time to reflect on the state of his mental health. And suddenly he had lost one of his islands, the bigger one, the one that had given him meaning the past few years. That had left him completely and utterly lost. Maybe even desolate.

That was what Shela had pointed out in their first counseling session as Levi attempted to articulate the emptiness inside him, the slight panic that came with idleness, the sudden need to turn off all message notifications and the frequent mood changes that came with Hange's entering and exiting the apartment.

And his weird dependence on Hange.

In between studying for his three subjects that semester and icing his bum knee, what else was there to do? Wait for Hange to come home? Talk to her during that one to two hour window when she wasn't working on her thesis? That was what his life had ended up revolving around anyway.

Levi found himself only replying to anything related to studies or graduating. He had received a few messages from others, suggestions to visit training, offers to visit from teammates and he had ignored them all. Somehow, the reminder of the loss of the one hobby that had kept him busy for the past decade of his life, was mocking. He became someone who waits, someone who just went with the flow of everyone's schedule. Having been busy his whole life, having been constantly needed and looked for and only recently, having been reduced to where he was, Levi felt his life was just a series of wrong choices, wrong choices that only formed a distrust with himself and consequently a refusal to engage in activity.

What else am I supposed to be doing? Levi opened his laptop. For a moment he had tried to go through his school notes at Shela’s advice.

After less than an hour of halfheartedly reviewing his notes and forgetting it soon after, Levi had exhausted his already scarce energy. With nothing else to do, he had decided to move to scrolling through timelines which displayed little to no signs of real life obligations, pinterest and reddit to pass the time. Within an hour of just scrolling through both, he had gotten tired of it too. It was a new feeling. Usually he could drown himself in hours of social media and timelines but at that point, nothing was interesting to him anymore.

Have you tried writing out how you feel? Shela’s suggestion echoed in his head. Like maybe get a journal. It’s a great way to process your thoughts and emotions.

What’s there to write. Levi asked himself and Shela’s voice as it echoed in his head. Levi could only stare at the blank screen, his emotions too non-existent to write. The blank document he had opened in front of him was the best representation of his thoughts and emotions already.

There are no right or wrong answers. Shela had brought up another good point during their session.

You think, therefore you are. You feel therefore you are. As long as you’re processing images, sounds and sensations, you’re thinking. You’re feeling something and you can write something down.

Then why do I feel so empty? Levi had asked.

Shela had compared it to a false bottom. As he continued to stare at the blank page in front of him, Levi was starting to feel for that false bottom in his mind. It was a matter of discipline more than anything, determination to dig into one’s self.

It could have taken hours but as Levi looked at the time on his laptop, he realized much time hadn’t passed. In fact, the time to the lower right of his screen, was still the same. But Levi was starting to think differently.

He did have something to look back on. Stories he hadn’t thought back to in a while, having been occupied by training, Hange’s tests, studies and recoveries. They continued to taunt him in the mornings. With the magic of worldly obligations, Levi had managed to set them aside.

His motivations particularly lay in the fact that his world was a little bigger, he was talking to more people and the idea that these same people he was seeing were the same ones he’d been writing fictional stories for had him questioning his own sanity and had him a little self conscious about having those dreams in the first place.

At that moment though, his inability to think and feel beyond that false bottom had Levi more alarmed and he found himself attempting to articulate those dreams on the word processor just to experience a semblance of something.

Levi at least confirmed one thing, that bottom was false. And the more he articulated those dreams, the more they became real. He was starting to scrape on that false bottom and the first things that were oozing out were dreams. Somehow, the dreams were more vivid that he had ever remembered them to be. He felt almost guilty for having set them aside like some sort of fair weathered friend.

“Hey not bad! Is that homework?”

Levi tensed up in surprise. He should have been able to hear the familiar footsteps and the jangle of the keys from his place on the sofa bed. He never missed it once. Levi didn’t know if he should be proud that he had distracted himself enough not to consider Hange or terrified that she was right behind him at that moment, probably reading through his work.

He quickly closed his tab and looked at the time on the lower right. It was only five. Hange usually went home at seven.

“You’re early,” Levi commented.

“It’s my apartment. I can choose when to go home.” Hange answered. “Anyway what was that? Are you writing?”

“A journal,” Levi explained. There was not much point in lying.

“Did the counselor tell you to do that?”

“Yeah. Something about processing emotions and thoughts.”

“It’s a good exercise. Especially since you seemed pretty out of it recently...” Hange trailed off.

Levi looked back at her and noticed a flicker of what looked like guilt in Hange’s eyes before she looked away.

“Out of it?” Levi knew what she was talking about. He just felt the need to keep the conversation going.

“You spent the past weekend just lying in bed. I never even saw you look through your phone or open your laptop. ” Hange explained. “I’ve seen how these types of things develop so... So yeah, I’m just so happy to see you so focused on something else.”

“I don’t really have much else to get into other than school.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Hange said.

Levi bit his lip, instantly regretting that last sentence. Hange averaged two apologies a day which was a lot given the fact that they only ever had a two hour window to talk in between Levi’s long hours asleep and Hange’s long hours on campus.

“It wasn’t your fault. I was kinda going crazy too...With the jumping I mean.” He added. “And I was the one who decided to make that last jump in the first place. And now you have to change your whole thesis topic.”

“It wasn’t too difficult. Just one week building a new proposal. It’s still the same case study, it’s just I decided to document a recovery. Erwin’s unconventional methods with the recovery makes it worth documenting.”

“At least I’m still useful somewhere,” Levi commented wryly. Hange had explained the thesis to him over the weekend. He should have been relieved at least to know that they weren’t separating anytime soon. Surprisingly though, he wasn’t even happy to hear it. Everything around him just seemed too bleak to celebrate anything. Good news that used to make him smile and celebrate internally suddenly only made him feel a slight sense of relief, the equivalent emotion of seeing a wet floor sign in an area with slippery floors.

Hange sat on the sofa bed next to Levi and looked towards him. She took a deep breath. “I know with what’s been happening, it looks like you don’t have much going for you. And I know things seem pretty dark now but things will get better. You just have to keep living.”

“I’m still breathing.”

“You know what I mean,” Hange said. “When I get up in the morning you’re asleep. When I get back we talk for an hour and half the time it’s just me talking. You barely even answer when I ask what you want. This past weekend I didn’t even see you look through your phone. It’s like you’re practically dead.”

“What else is there to do. I can’t show up for training. My professors aren’t asking me to go back to school soon.”

“Find a new hobby? Continue whatever thing you’re writing. Enjoy the food I bring home. Laugh when you see a funny meme. Or you know, at least smile and do that nose blowing thing people do when you show them a funny meme..”

“My teammates are preparing for the new season. My classmates are at least all caught up in class. I spent too much damn time on that fucking sport. Now that it’s all gone, I feel like I’m just going with the flow of life instead of actually swimming,” Levi said, having taken that last part from Shela’s book.

“Everyone is just going with the flow of life. We’re all at the mercy of time anyway. Live for yourself. See joy in the small things at least. Look at me, I’m simping for athletes like some idiot in between studies.”

“Live for yourself? You follow people’s orders a lot for someone who gives this type of advice.”

“It’s not obeying people. I’m just asking questions and seeking advice. The more relevant facts, information and experience you have, the better the decisions you can make right. So can’t I argue that having more information at my fingertips makes me freer? ” Hange gave Levi a knowing and playful smile

He could tell by the look she gave him that she expected something in return. It was a rhetorical question though, maybe even a premature victory lap for having won that argument. Levi silently looked back at his laptop, not wanting to let her win.

Hange broke the silence. “Okay now that we’re on the topic of asking questions... who’s that Squad Leader Hange Zoe you’re writing about?”

A Tale of Two Slaves

Levi could not pinpoint the exact moment he decided for certain that squad leader Hange Zoe was real, when he decided for himself that the stories he was writing out should have been real.

It came as a gradual decision after incessant questions from Hange that at first, he was determined not to answer. Hange was smart about it, keeping the questions as things that could be answered with one word, and before he knew it, he was giving her too much information, it was pointless to blatantly refuse. After he had answered her more than enough questions, she smiled.

“Looks like you got my personality down,” Hange commented. Levi somehow knew her enough to tell there was no judgement or obligation in that voice. In fact, when he looked into her eyes, he saw that same wonder, he had seen many times before when she witnessed the jumps.

That wonder only carried over from questions on the squad leader to questions on his dreams and finally, to questions on how he wrote his dreams out.

“How do you see the world?”

“How do I see the world?”

“Like what type of camera angles do you see the world in. If I asked you to imagine a tree, what kind of tree do you imagine? Do you imagine it from top to bottom, from trunk to top? Our minds are the most creative producers and cameramen you can think of.”

“Do you notice how well our body blends sensations? When the light turns off then on, there’s a split second where you see shapes when your eyes adjust from light to dark?”

“What are the physical manifestations of emotions? Do you feel your stomach drop? Do you ever get that tingling feeling in your legs and suddenly they’re jelly?”

Did you ever witness something so beautiful that you wish you could live forever just so you could never forget it?

The conversation was a little deep and a little too philosophical for him. It was a ploy to get him writing and maybe a ploy to get him to understand the same wonder she had in the world from what he could tell. Somehow he needed it. The way Hange had described the world, the way she had described reality, only made the line between what could have been his imagination and his memory a little more distinct.

It was around then did he look at Hange Zoe the medical student to see the squad leader from his dreams. Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe and every single one of the soldiers in these dreams. They weren’t just dreams or manifestations of an exhausted mind.

In another life, she could have been real. The angles at which he saw the world, the way his body processed those sensations in his dreams, the manifestations of those emotions, too vivid even more vivid than a catharsis from a good book or a phenomenal ending to a TV show.

The questions continued to echo as Hange turned off the lights and Levi lay in bed awake. That food for the thought left Levi hyper aware of his surroundings, all the way down to the small details --- the way every piece of thread on the bed covers beneath him pressed on to him, the way his breath made a sound in the utter silence late at night no matter how much he tried to quiet it, the way the palpitations in his chest could be felt all the way until his head. He was excited to sleep, dream and take stock of his dreams yet he was too excited to fall asleep.

Like a five year old the night before their first field trip, Levi did not fall asleep anytime soon.

A Tale of Two Slaves

Nobody really questions the logic of dreams.

Sometimes one can find themselves only a few millimeters tall on top of a giant donut. Sometimes they can find themselves having milk tea with their favorite celebrity. Dreams are more felt by the moments they bring to people, not by the logic. It was only natural Levi did not question much of his dreams then.

That night as he lay awake, Levi made the conscious effort to live in his dreams, to take note of every detail from the sights and sounds, to the smells, the emotions, repeating to himself the questions Hange had asked earlier that day. What he had failed to consider then, was the context of dreams.

Were Hange and the others okay?

He found himself on the battlefield and he knew exactly what had to be done. In front of him was a large furry creature which the military had dubbed the Beast Titan and around him were other naked humanoid creatures called titans.

The Beast titan was flinging rocks at them and the soldiers were dying at an alarming rate.

Commander Erwin Smith ordered a suicide mission. All surviving soldiers were to rush towards the Beast Titan while Levi flew from the side of the walls and snuck towards him.

He knew what to do. The movements were natural and Levi had flown before, the gear on his waist had only made the whole mission easier. Somehow, on the battlefield he had the luxury of stock knowledge.

That stock knowledge was what had him slicing through the arms, through the eyes, through the achilles and finally through the nape of said titan. He pulled out a blonde man and pushed the sword through the man’s mouth.

He could feel his blood boiling. From anger? Of course, the man had killed Erwin. For a second, Levi had managed to get a view of the blond commander as he flew from the wall slashing titan after titan. He knew the man was probably dead.

But there was a way to revive him. There was a serum.

Before Levi could give it a second thought, a duck billed monster tore into his view and---

Levi sat up and screamed. He found himself in no hurry to dodge that duck billed titan. He was in Hange's apartment, too injured to be flying in the air in those contraptions anyway. He ran his hands through his body and up to his face, taking stock of his reality. He didn't reek of titan blood nor was he covered in it. He scanned the dark room, or at least what was visible given the moon was his only light source.

Somehow, those few moments as captain Levi had felt so real, watching the moon from his place on the sofa bed seemed almost dreamlike.

Which one is my reality? Levi found himself questioning it all. As quickly as the questions came, they were answered. All he needed was one stimuli, strong enough to root him back into his reality.

"Hey, bad dream?"

The dark room and his own state of mind had made it difficult for him to notice that Hange had settled beside him. That voice though had pulled him out of his trance and he became certain at least that he was not dreaming anymore.

"Yeah," Levi managed to say. At the least he still had control of his voice.

Hange sat cross-legged next to him. The moon was at a perfect angle to illuminate her face and even in the dark room he could see it. Her eyes were looking right at him as if she were studying him a little too seriously.

She brought out one finger to his eye and pushed at the corner. That was when Levi felt it. The small tear spread on the corner of his eye and dried up within seconds. Levi only hastened the process by wiping it himself.

"I'm not leaving you tonight."

"Why?"

"I'll take full responsibility for this. It was my mistake that got you into this in the first place.”

"I've had them before. This is nothing new.” Levi argued. As Hange lay on the sofa bed next to him though, he realized he didn’t want her to leave. His body froze as if understanding that emotion, unwilling to accommodate the protests, the impulse inside him to argue, to force her to go back to her room.

The sofa bed was at least big enough for both of them, wide enough for a comfortable one to two feet space between them. Hange had made sure as well to lie on her side, only widening that space a little more.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this but I swear I really do mean it every time. I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked as she said it.

Levi only continued to stare at the ceiling above him, listening to her disturbed and hitched breaths next to him as if she was holding back something. He didn’t want to look to his side, not wanting to further aggravate a reaction he sensed was raring to come out of her or to further tighten that knot which had settled itself on his chest. His dim surroundings only illuminated weakly by the moon, did not help at all.

Levi lay awake for a while longer, scrambling for words that could placate her.

This is nothing new. It hadn’t worked.

I’m fine. But he wasn’t.

Things happen. Had he not given that same consolation so many times before?

Eventually the rhythm of her breathing evened out enough for Levi to guess that she had fallen asleep, and as if by some special force, Levi found his breathing slowing down too. He was starting to relax.

The apartment was dark and quiet. It was peaceful, so peaceful that Levi never did notice when exactly he was pulled back into his dream. The dimness of the apartment was gradually replaced by the dimness of the forest a long time ago. The distant sounds of passing cars gradually replaced by the crackle of a fire and the rustle of leaves on a windy night.

He was surrounded by trees. A broken wooden cart lay to the side and a few feet away from it a campfire.

The soft and even breathing next to him stayed though. The same exact pattern, the same exact rhythm, the same hitched breaths--- all signs of the light uneasy slumber of his companion.

That was all Levi needed to hear to have sworn nothing much changed about her.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levihan fanfiction #fanfic

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lokidiabolus · 4 years ago

Text

Last Resort - chapter 1

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents' home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :')

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: Hi! I was really into writing something, like really, really hyped, but then couldn't find anything that would make me go "yaaas!". So I thought of just giving up, until I somehow vaguely recalled I wrote this small one shot about two exes falling back in love in parents' house, and just sort of thought: oh yeah. Angst, good. Could add some horny. Good. Let's try. So here we are. Trying. It's not exactly deep or anything. I just needed to get this out of my system :') And it's not like I can't write anything else but AUs... ha.

Unbetad!

Sometimes Newt felt like the world was against him in literally any kind of situation. Once he decided to commit to something, a sudden force worked against him immediately, completely ruining the plan, or at least derailing his confidence in it. For about a year he thought that maybe it was the Universe giving him signs, for another year it felt like a karmic backslash and this year he settled on the fact he was just being despised by whatever higher force was in charge.

Although last year wasn’t as bad, really, until November 12th on dot. If it was about to be documented anywhere, he was just getting out of his shower, quite sleepy already, in rather calm, peaceful mood, once his phone dinged with a new message and he, without knowing the consequences of reading it, opened it. Even though it had Thomas as a sender - he thought later it should have deterred him from ruining the night for himself. Yet, his stupid lizard brain just clicked on it, blissfully unaware.

ThomAss - [23:14] – This is a life-or-death matter, you HAVE TO help me out D:

Newt - [23:15] – HAVE TO even.

ThomAss - [23:16] – YES. Please. I’m ready to beg too, that’s how desperate I am!

Newt - [23:17] – Hmm. Tempting. On your knees?

ThomAss - [23:18] – It’s negotiable.

Newt - [23:19] – Might think about it. Go on.

ThomAss - [23:20] – I need you to come home with me. I mean to my parents’ home.

Newt - [23:21] – What…?

ThomAss - [23:22] – It’s an emergency. They’re being persistent, so I need to bring somebody over.

Newt - [23:24] – I don’t follow?

ThomAss - [23:25] – Somebody I’m dating, that is.

Newt - [23:26] – Yeah, no.

ThomAss - [23:27] – Pleaaaaaaaaaase! T^T

He refused to admit he was fuming when he tossed his phone on the mattress and ignored how it beeped several times with new messages. There was no bloody way he’d go all smiling into Thomas’ parent’s house and pretend they were dating when they broke up three years ago in bad blood and it took them over two years to recover enough to be able to at least talk in a civil way. Sure, these past few months were sort of… better than the rest, though Newt didn’t really know if there was a reason, or they just let go of the grudge.

Well, partially let go, at least Newt’s was still lightly festering sometimes, on bad days when he was stupid enough to let his guard down and remind himself of it.

His phone beeped three more times and then the silence of his flat got sliced to pieces by the obnoxious ringtone he put in spite to Thomas’ contact two years ago. They weren’t calling each other, so there was no way he’d hear it at any point back then, but now, when the sound filled his home, he had a fleeting thought of smashing the phone to pieces instead.

“I said no,” he answered anyway, cold enough for Thomas to definitely get shivers on the other side of the line.

“Newt, please, I beg you,” Thomas didn’t even bother with greetings and whined like a five-year-old. “You can’t possibly be that cruel, can you?”

“Minho,” Newt gritted out. “Why not him?”

“He’s in England! Drinking tea! He’d throw me off the Big Ben if I interrupted his super-secret-date-everybody-knows-about!” Thomas responded frantically and Newt pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Fine, he had a point, probably, Minho would rage at him if he tried to drag him back shit like this. He planned the totally-not-a-date for months, never introduced the person and then disappeared. Everyone knew why, but they didn’t know to who.

“Teresa.” Another possibility, and Thomas’ groaned into the speaker.

Oh, so he already asked her, and she turned him down. Not to mention…

“Brenda?”

Another groan.

“For fuck’s sake,” Newt had to force himself not to throw the phone against the wall. “Have you literally asked everyone and I’m the bloody last resort?”

“Sort of?” Thomas piped and Newt refused to acknowledge how it stung weirdly.

Am I being hypocritical?

It wasn’t like he was willing to go anyway, but somehow his pride didn’t like it. And his pride was a bitch, he knew, and had the power to overwrite his common sense.

“Look, it’s just…” Thomas sighed into the phone. “…embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” the blond repeated. He would say uncomfortable maybe, but embarrassing? “What is bloody embarrassing about it? I’ve heard you snore and fart and throw up and come, and you think this is embarrassing?”

“This is embarrassing!” Thomas whined like couldn’t hear the naked truth and Newt shook his head. They had their history, and it wasn’t just a week short fling. They lived together for three years and dated for seven, there honestly couldn’t be much of an embarrassment present anymore.

Although maybe yes, after three years of barely talking.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled after, dropping a towel he was drying his hair with on the bed. “How’s this even a question, can you just tell them you’re single? Or. I don’t know, that the person you date had other business to attend to?”

“No,” Thomas answered immediately. “I can’t and I won’t. You act like you don’t know them, they’re onto me.”

“Cuz you’re a liar?” Newt tilted his head to the side and Thomas grumbled.

“Am not, okay.”

“So where’s your significant other that can’t attend?”

“On the phone right now, being difficult. Obviously,” Thomas delivered without ounce of shame and if he was standing right in front of Newt, he would have one in his face. “Look, I didn’t want to ask you, cuz of course it’s kinda weird, since my parents already know you and all.”

Of course he would rather bring Teresa or Brenda over, Newt thought and the bitterness surprised him.

“Well, at least they wouldn’t be as shocked,” he said in response, pushing the wave of reminiscing back down. “Imagine Minho, he would probably tear the place apart.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t break up with Minho,” Thomas reminded him, keeping the sombre tone despite Newt trying to lighten the situation.

“You don’t say,” he said instead. “And?”

“And they know we did,” Thomas continued. “So it’s gonna be awkward, you know.”

“Can imagine, yes,” Newt didn’t want to play dumb. “I already told you no though, so there’s no reason to torture yourself with the what if.”

“When did I ever want anything this important from you though!” The whine was back, and Newt sucked in a sharp breath.

“You want me to make you a list? Or would a text suffice.”

“I told you I’d beg on my knees, right? I will. I’m ready to go to your place right now and kneel for the whole night if that’d please you,” Thomas shot back, sounding too serious for Newt’s liking. His neighbours would hate him if Thomas spent the night in front of his door on his knees, serenading him just to make him cave in.

“For fuck’s sake, for how long am I going to be pretending I love your stupid face again then?” he growled unhappily and Thomas on the other side let out a small laugh.

“Well, mum said a weeklong vacation, but I’m sure like three days would be enough to sate her craving for whatever she actually craves when she forces me to do this,” he dropped like a week wasn’t a death sentence or could pose an actual problem with Newt’s remaining vacation days. Which was not. But Thomas didn’t know that.

“I know you have vacation days left, since you always hoard them,” Thomas immediately added like he could read his mind and Newt couldn’t stop the curse leaving his mouth. “It’s not so bad, right? Countryside, fresh air, great food and for free.”

“For the cost of my sanity, but sure, for free,” Newt grumbled and padded to the table to boot up his notebook. “When?”

“I’d pick you up on this Friday at 3? Work or home, your pick.” There was an obvious relief in Thomas’ voice and Newt kind of wanted to remind him they still broke up and barely talked to each other for two and half years, so it was not going to be a walk in a park at any point, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I work till 4,” he uttered while opening his e-mail and started to write a request for vacation. “So something past 4 in front of my workplace should be fine.”

“Four? Since when?” came a question and Newt rolled his eyes. “It used to be 3 max.”

“Three years ago, sure,” Newt decided to overlook Thomas’ weird habit of keeping shit like this memorized. “Things changed.”

“You work longer for the same pay?” Thomas guessed and Newt scoffed.

“I’m not an idiot, okay,” he commented sternly. “I got promoted. So I go to work a bit later, but work till later too.”

“Aaah,” Thomas voiced. “That’s pretty cool. Congratz.”

Year and half late, but I guess it’s the thought that counts. He just hummed.

“Then four it is,” Thomas got back on track easily. “Thanks, Newt. You’re a lifesaver.”

“You don’t know what it will cost ya yet, don’t be so happy about it,” Newt said grumpily. “I don’t work for free.”

“How’s pleasant company and free accommodation and full inclusive not enough for you? You spoiled little bitch,” Thomas faked an offended tone and Newt rolled his eyes.

“Pleasant company is questionable, since you’re going to be there,” he shot back, more out of habit than with an actual spiteful intent. “But I guess your family will do.”

“Oof, alright,” it didn’t take anything from the cheerful tone of his, “you can send me a bill after. Fucking high maintenance as always, aren’t you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Newt chirped and hung up. The moment he sent the mail to his boss he immediately regretted it.

***

Friday came so fast Newt barely noticed the week whooshing past him, and suddenly it was 3:50, he was basically done with his workload for the day, his weeklong vacation got a green light and a bag with his things was sitting mockingly on his table, reminding him he was an idiot who just liked to make himself miserable.

Thomas was already texting him since morning to not forget to pack undies like he was a mastermind of great humour and Newt’s eyes lingered a bit too long on a kitchen knife when he was packing yesterday.

But then again, Thomas’ mum definitely had much better cutlery, so the variety of murder weapons just multiplied.

He pointedly ignored how his stomach lurched at the sight of Thomas at his car in casual clothes and unzipped jacket like it was spring (the -4 degrees disagreed with him, and especially with Newt’s complete lack of proper thermoregulation), actually having a pleasant expression on his face Newt last seen… well, long time ago. He took Newt’s bag and put it in the boot of the car with such nonchalance Newt almost believed his parents might be tricked into thinking they really got back together, how smooth and easy he made it look. Newt refused to ruin it with sarcasm, so he just got into the passenger seat and let Thomas get them on the road.

“You know Christmas is still a month away, right?” Thomas commented once Newt got rid of his coat and scarf, since the car was warm inside, and tossed it onto the back seat, before putting on the seatbelt.

“Yeah?” he raised an eyebrow at him and didn’t like the smile Thomas had on his lips. He was going to nag, for sure.

“Just that you’re wrapped like a present,” came an expected comeback. “How many layers you even have? You took all of your winter clothes on?”

“Stuff it,” the blond glared at him. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s not that cold though?” Of course Thomas wouldn’t let it go.

“Just cuz you circulate lava and not blood doesn’t mean others do too,” Newt’s glare intensified. “Like it’s something bloody new I’m cold as fuck all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s really not,” his companion shrugged with self-satisfied smirk and Newt wanted to stomp on the brake and just get out of the car. Why did he agree again?

Prick.

What even made him so happy? Still didn’t realize how many faked smiles he’s going plaster on his face through the stay? Or he didn’t care?

“What are we going to tell them?” he asked instead to bring them closer to the problem, since the resolution was only three hours’ drive away. He wouldn’t admit it, but since he agreed to help with this clownery, he couldn’t stop thinking about what to tell the people he genuinely liked and didn’t want to lie to. He could almost forget how rare it was to stay alone with Thomas these days – or months – or years – without an urge to strangle the brunet every time he got close and opened his mouth, when they were sitting in the car so peacefully now.

It was calm but utterly bitter.

The bitterness, Newt thought, was probably still the remnant from three years ago. Maybe not as vicious, but still accompanying him after all these years, every time they saw each other. The first year was catastrophic, the second they both calmed down a bit, and the third they actually managed to lead a normal, reasonable conversation with minimum insults.

Newt wasn’t shy to admit he missed his ex during quiet moments of his life; somehow. He was especially prone to it during his birthday, somehow spending the passing years without Thomas’ company hurt, despite the bad parting. Talking with Thomas with more ease was nostalgic. But his brain always helpfully supplied it was not going to last because they were still the stupid, broken up them deep down.

Not to mention pretending to be lovers just to get Thomas’ parents off his back was lame as fuck. He had no idea why he agreed. Maybe he was lame too.

“I don’t know. We bumped into each other on a party and made out in a closet,” Thomas responded, the smile finally falling off, his eyes glued to the road before him. “And decided to try it again.”

“Ugh.”

“What, you have a better idea?” Thomas shot him a look and Newt snorted.

“We managed to talk normally again and realized we’re still in love with each other?” he offered, just to piss him off. “Since, you know, it happens to normal people?”

“What, sex in the closet does not?” There was that annoyance in Thomas’ voice again Newt knew so well. They usually talked to each other like that – annoyed, nagging, angry, and it wasn’t hard to fall back into it.

“Probably to you,” he averted his eyes from his companion and watched the passing scenery instead. “But I’m not that easy.”

“That’s true,” he heard Thomas whisper, more to himself, and rather buried himself lower into the seat. The fact their intimate life sucked the last month they were together hadn’t been a secret and Newt was very much aware it just sped up the fall of their relationship. But at that point it all felt wrong, and the last thing Newt had wanted was having angry sex, or sex out of obligation, or basically anything intimate without enjoying the other person’s company. Because they sure weren’t enjoying each other for some time already.

Thomas didn’t like it. And he was pretty open about not liking it. But then again, so was Newt.

And then they broke up. It was outside during Christmas, under the lit-up tree on the city square, and Newt still considered it the most unpleasant memory of his life. They were furious, both of them, and the breakup was inevitable, but when it finally came, it wasn’t an explosion full of shouting or accusing as he expected.

Nope, it was quiet, cold and devastating. Seven years down the drain, just like that.

“Let’s go with your version,” he heard Thomas saying roughly. “It happens.”

“Yeah,” he piped, closing his eyes.

In fairy tales.

***

“Oh my god, I knew it!”

It was the first thing that hit them both when the door to the house opened and Thomas’ mother ran out, shrieking like a siren while going straight to Newt and almost suffocated him in an embrace. “I knew you two would get back together, I knew it!”

“There goes the surprise,” Newt managed from the rest of his breath and when she finally released him just to run back to the house to tell the rest of the family the big news, he gasped like he was drowning.

“Good to know she’s as strong as ever,” he croaked, and Thomas hummed and took both of their bags to carry it inside. He had gotten visibly darker and grumpier the closer they got to his hometown and now he almost visibly carried a dark, raining cloud above his head, looking like he just arrived at his own funeral.

Newt followed him inside with surprising ease though, like returning to this place somewhat negated everything Thomas tried to spoil. He had only nice, pleasant memories of this house, and those people, so even if Thomas ought to be a dickhead, he could always enjoy himself here.

“Newt!” a roaring voice welcomed him next, and another crushing hug lifted him from the floor. Thomas’ father was a big, broad guy who could probably lift the house itself, and his jolly personality apparently remained untouched as well.

“Hi there,” the blond greeted him right the moment he got back to the ground, trying to withstand the bear pat that followed. “Haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Likewise!” the big guy cheerily replied. “Glad to see he came back to his senses! Was seriously afraid he’d bring that gloomy goth girl here, I don’t think we have enough black around for that.”

Teresa or Brenda.

“Nah, he still has a thing for blonds,” he replied with a smile and immediately heard Thomas’ scoffing from the living room. The fact that both Teresa and Brenda turned him down must have scarred his ego a lot.

The jab was worth it though.

***

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Anna (Thomas’ mum) patted his arm for about fourth time already since they arrived, her face fond and eyes happy, and it made Newt guilty as hell. They all gathered in the kitchen, which smelled like fantastic food and happy memories. “I swear the breakup was so shocking, we didn’t want to believe it. Tom took it so badly too, I-,”

“Mum,” Thomas’ voice sounded threatening from behind them. “Stop feeding him useless stuff. He just got off work and spent three hours in the car, let him breathe a little.”

She made a face at him but sent Newt an apologetic smile and gave him a muffin. Still tasted as he remembered, and he had to admit those small welcoming bits were the only brakes he had from running away. It wasn’t like Thomas was nasty towards him or anything – he wouldn’t dare since they’d call him out on it – but since they had the talk in the car Newt could feel the uncomfortable tension between them that always ended in an argument.

“You want coffee?” Newt realized Thomas was looking at him now, eyebrows raised, and he just nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

“I’ll bring it to you, you can go sit with others,” Thomas added as if he couldn’t get rid of him fast enough and Newt didn’t argue with that logic. The moment he left the kitchen and sat between Thomas’ dad and sister, relief washed over him, and he could finally breathe a little easier.

“I thought you’d already be married to somebody decent,” Hannah (Thomas’ little sister) commented while she plastered herself against Newt’s side like she used to do when she was little. Newt haven’t seen her for about four years, give or take, and now she was 14 and apparently full of opinions. “And not wasting your time with him again.”

Him, pointedly looking at her brother who was sneering at her while entering the living room with Newt’s coffee, was seemingly normal occurrence lately, judging from zero reactions from the parents.

“I know, I’ll never learn,” Newt piped in anyway, which made Thomas sneer at him for a change, and almost spilling the coffee on him, not even trying to mask it as an accident.

“Do I have to be the target of your bad jokes?” he glared at them collectively and when Anna arrived after him with dinner, Newt felt nostalgic, like literally nothing changed, and he relaxed into it with more ease than he expected.

He was just glad Thomas was sitting further from him and didn’t need to force himself to act natural. When he reached for the coffee, his favourite taste of it surprised him, but he didn’t meet Thomas’ eyes.

***

“I have to say, you got even cuter,” Anna suddenly said once they were past dinner, Newt couldn’t eat or drink anymore or he would explode and decided to walk it out while helping her bringing dishes to the kitchen and putting them in a dishwasher.

“Anna,” he chuckled. “That’s not what a guy wants to hear.”

“I’m just saying,” she had a genuine smile on her face. “I feared I’d never get to see you here ever again. I know you don’t really want to talk about the breakup and all…”

She stopped for a second, her eyes searching, and Newt hated how strangely painful it made him feel. He sincerely hoped it didn’t show on his face.

“I just want you to know I’m happy you two got back together,” she concluded, which meant it definitely showed on Newt’s face and she saw it. “I know you must have your reasons back then and everything, but I’m just… so glad for you two. And I wish you’d visit more often as well.”

Newt’s chest tightened like he was about to have a heart-attack and he had to push the guilt back down with the power of his sheer will alone, right in front of her trusting, hopeful eyes, like he was disarming a ticking bomb with 10 seconds on the countdown. He expected maybe some initial awkwardness, or some of them poke fun at how they finally got their shit back together after three years, but this wasn’t the plan and he hated how he wanted to hide behind Thomas’ back and just push him to deal with this instead.

“Yeah,” he gulped down the rising agony. “We absolutely should.”

Liar.

“You were always such a great kid,” she pushed herself from the kitchen counter and pulled him into a tight, heartfelt hug. Tears almost spilled out of Newt’s eyes when she squeezed him with loving gentleness he didn’t want to feel again to know what he was missing. “We all love you so much. Thank you for coming back.”

He couldn’t stop the guilt anymore and quietly wept into her shoulder, praying to any higher power for her not to notice.

***

It wasn’t an escape. He did not run away like a coward the moment he could. He didn’t light up his cigarette outside on a porch with trembling hands because he couldn’t get his nerves under control. It just happened. He just felt like it. He just needed the fresh air, nothing else.

He thought, maybe if he kept telling himself that, the tears would eventually stop and he wouldn’t be sniffling anymore into the night, with sky sprinkled with stars and air cold enough to make his face feel like ice.

He heard the door opening only vaguely, his eyes stinging, until the automatic light flashed above him, signalizing a movement nearby. He noticed Thomas too late, he realized when he started pathetically wiping away tears into his sleeve.

“You okay?” Thomas asked a bit abundantly, seeing the state of his, but Newt had to admit there weren’t many other questions to ask anyway.

“Yeah,” Newt sniffled, trying to get his feelings under control, but failing miserably. “Sorry… just. Give me a few, I’ll be fine.”

Thomas took a step closer, and Newt hated how he flinched at that.

“Mum told you something?”

He had an unreadable face, Newt thought. Neutral and careful and Newt couldn’t say what he was thinking. He hated how the ability of reading this man just disappeared like the rest of their history.

“Nothing bad,” he shook his head and brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling shortly. His hands still trembled but not as badly anymore. “Are they worried?”

“Not yet, I think,” Thomas replied quietly, glancing towards the door, then sighed. “I guess it’s… kind of painful.”

“Kind of,” Newt agreed softly. “But it reminds me how nice it was when it lasted.”

“Yeah,” Thomas finally glanced at him, his eyes a bit warmer. “It was amazing.”

Newt felt a lump in his throat forming, and the more Thomas was looking at him, the worse it got, until he couldn’t really stand it. So he offered a small, apologetic smile, put the cigarette out and returned back to the house with buzzing in his head and weird pressure in his chest.

The mischievous grins Thomas’ family gave him once he reappeared in the living room never felt so wrong.

***

Newt didn’t really plan on it, but since the night progressed and his company slowly started leaving for the night, he eventually fell asleep on the couch in the living room. He thought he heard somebody trying to wake him while softly saying his name, but he was too exhausted to rise to the challenge and just let his eyes close shut.

The last thing he noticed was sudden warmth engulfing him, like being hugged by a fluffy animal and then he was out like a light.

He dreamed of first loves and heartbreaks.

***

“You’re being 17 only once in your life, man, cheer up a little!”

Newt grumpily looked at the shot he was given with liquid of unknown origin and then back at Minho, who was grinning at him encouragingly, already drunk enough to be considered not the most reliable source of what fun is. Newt couldn’t say he liked the taste of any alcohol he tried so far, and even though Minho made it look like it’s the most delicious thing he ever had, every cup tasted like spirit and burned unpleasantly.

Sure, he was 17 today. Sure, he tried alcohol because everybody did to celebrate, but every time they looked away, he just poured the rest of his cup into something that could hold it (the cactus probably wasn’t happy about it and Newt mentally apologized to the plant when he disposed of the rest of his beer in its pot).

“Lemme take that from you,” a sudden movement on his side caused the small glass to be taken from his hand, and then a brown-haired boy downed the drink like it was water. Newt had no idea who he was, but since he saved him from possible vomit-inducing moments, he immediately liked him.

“My saviour,” he grinned once the boy tossed the empty glass back to Minho who barely caught it. The boy smiled back at him, his big, brown eyes warm and honestly really pretty.

“Thomas,” he introduced himself. “I take it you’re the birthday boy. Newt, right?”

“Right,” the blond nodded in agreement. “You here with Ben?”

It was just a guess, but he vaguely remembered Ben mentioned something about bringing friends over and Newt didn’t mind. The more people present, the easier would it be for him to disappear at some point to avoid being cornered with other alcoholic beverages.

“Yep,” Thomas nodded with a cute smile. Newt wondered if he was already at least a little drunk to be so easily charmed. “I know I should have brought a gift, since it’s your b-day and all, but I kinda came empty handed. Sorry about that.”

“Preposterous,” Newt faked a shock, hand on his chest and laughter bubbling in his throat, but Thomas was already fishing through his pockets as if he was searching for something to give, and that made him laugh for real. “It’s fine, Tommy. You saved me from alcohol poisoning, you have a free pass.”

“That’s lame though,” Thomas objected unhappily and then finally found his phone in his back pocket, looking at Newt expectantly. “Can I at least get your number? I swear I will make it up to you.”

Normally Newt would argue he didn’t need anything, for real, don’t sweat it, but the more he was looking into Thomas’ eyes, the more his common sense refused to work, and caving in was so, so easy.

“Sweet,” Thomas smiled happily when he saved the contact and then slung his arm around Newt’s shoulders, leaned close and took a quick photo of them both on his phone. “You won’t regret it.”

“I know I won’t,” Newt said, and he meant it.

***

He woke up with his head painfully pounding, like he slept too long or too short. In a moment of confusion of his whereabouts one glance across the empty but messy living room from yesterday’s festivities gave him the answer he sought – he was in hell and it smelled like pancakes.

He gingerly sat up, analysing the situation carefully, until his eyes stopped at the clock showing 12:04 and Newt refused to believe them. He couldn’t have possibly slept till noon, right? Thomas was playing a prank at him by rewinding the clock or something, there was simply no way. He usually woke up at 7, if he really had a deficit then 9 the latest and felt guilty about it. Twelve sounded like a bad joke.

Then again, his body was so sore it made sense. He had a crick in his neck, his legs felt wooden and stiff and there were creases from the couch everywhere on his naked skin. He had a soft, fluffy blanket draped around his body he didn’t remember even seeing yesterday but was grateful for anyway.

“Fuck,” he breathed out in mortification. “What am I even doing?”

“Having a zombie march, I’d say,” a voice interrupted his inner freak out mercilessly and he turned around too fast for his poor head to comprehend and world spun for a moment. “Thought you died or something, geez. Since when you sleep so long?”

Thomas was slowly walking towards him with a tray, trying to balance the cups with coffee on it, and once he successfully set it down, there was only a small puddle under one, so still a success. He brought pancakes and muffins Anna baked and Newt didn’t feel like his appetite was up to this.

“I dunno,” the blond rubbed his eyes sleepily. “I guess I wasn’t really sleeping as much these past few days…”

“Your back must hate you though,” Thomas glanced at the sofa pointedly. “Only sitting for too long on this torture device is painful.”

“Eh,” Newt shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“Well, you look like shit, so not much worse,” Thomas didn’t spare him, smirking at Newt’s apparently dishevelled appearance and he just flipped him off.

“Have a pancake, you’ll feel better,” Thomas pushed the tray closer.

“Maybe later,” Newt untangled himself from the blanked instead. “I need a bath.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Newt mentally slapped Thomas so hard his face landed in the pancake cushion. In reality he just scoffed and wobbled out of the living room at the sound of his ex’ snickering.

***

Nobody really commented on Newt’s faux pas of passing out on the couch until it was time for lunch, but they did comment on his food habits (or better on having none). He barely ever ate breakfast in the morning, so he didn’t eat the fluffy pancakes, or the muffins Thomas brought him, but he did drink the coffee. Before he could even properly digest that Anna was already serving lunch and he had no way how to wiggle himself out of that one.

The rest of the day passed like a blur and when the evening came Anna was chasing him to the bed the first moment he yawned.

“You’re not going to ruin your back on this monstrosity!” she was pushing him up the stairs with Thomas behind her, laughing at them. “I don’t understand how we didn’t buy a new one yet, but now we have to, or you’d wreck yourself on it!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Newt tried to argue, but she was having none of it and finally stopped in front of Thomas’ room, which… was an obvious choice, but Newt felt his blood running cold at the sight of the familiar area.

“I prepared clean towels and everything,” she pointed at a fluffy pile on Thomas’ desk. “Good night!”

“Yeah…” the blond barely got that out and she was already leaving, calling to others downstairs to help her choose a new couch so she could immediately order it online.

“Well, at least we’ll get rid of that relic,” Thomas commented while entering the bedroom as well, all smiles like he didn’t realize there was one bed, them broken up and Newt’s absolute horror.

“We’re not sleeping in the same bed, are we,” Newt ignored him with eyes fixed at the lodging in the room and Thomas crossed his arms on his chest, his lips in a wide grin.

“What, I clearly remember you saying there is nothing embarrassing about me anymore, since you heard me fart and all.”

“Oh god, shut up,” Newt wished his words were a spell and came true, but of course they didn’t work on Thomas, since he started laughing like a hyena. Anna naturally would let them both sleep in Thomas’ room, it was an obvious choice, but he sure hated it.

Thomas’ room was the same as Newt remembered it, but it made sense, since Thomas had his own place in the city for years. His family had no reason to change it, let it be the queen-sized bed, the blue-ish walls and sleek black furniture hugging the place. It had no sofa, which was the core of the problem for one of them and Newt’s regret of saying yes returned in full force.

“It’s not like it’s a small bed,” Thomas commented matter-of-factly once he had his fill of fun and sat at the edge of the incriminated furniture, obviously taunting him.

“It’s not like I care,” Newt bit out and circled the bed in disdain. “Sleep on the floor for what I care.”

“But it’s my bed,” Thomas argued with badly concealed glee. Newt guessed it was because now he could make fun of him now, which must have made him feel good after being a target of little quips from his family for two days. “If you don’t like me in it, you go sleep on the floor.”

“I’m a guest in here,” Newt crossed his arms on his chest. “Don’t you have any manners? Not to mention you owe me for coming here and playing your lying game.”

“It has nothing to do with manners or me owing you, you’re just being a stubborn ass as always,” Thomas corrected him and clearly didn’t feel like being merciful, especially when he just flopped onto the mattress and looked at Newt expectantly. “So, let’s calm down and get some sleep. I promise I won’t attack you until you’re awake again.”

“Shut up, jerk face,” Newt barked at him and grabbed the towel Anna left there, turning to leave for the bathroom, definitely not running away. “As if I’d bloody let you.”

“Mhmmm.” Thomas’ face was grinning, and Newt wanted to set his guts on fire.

Goddamn, fuck this all.

***

Of course Thomas already laid under the covers, one arm under his head, other holding his phone and leisurely scrolling through it. The room was bathing in darkness, outside of the small lamp on the bedside table. Newt still remember that lamp from years ago, and how they almost broke it when Newt accidentally knocked it over when they were having sex… here… okay, that particular memory really didn’t need to resurface right now.

“I know right,” Thomas suddenly spoke, looking at Newt pointedly. “I was surprised that thing still works too. Got banged so badly.”

“Hmm…”

“Not the only thing that got banged though,” of course the fucker had to add, and Newt tossed his shirt he was holding at him. Only got small laugh in response and then his shirt got dropped carelessly on the floor, left crumpled there like trash. Newt wanted to kick Thomas’ ass so bad he almost reached for his whole bag to hit him with it.

“Going to stand there whole night?” Thomas was acting smugly because he had an upper hand for now, the blond knew the tactics very well. Just milking the moment until one of them snap, he sure hadn’t changed. Newt seriously considered to just leave and sleep in the car if he had to.

“Are you going to be this insufferable the whole week?” he seethed, and Thomas shrugged.

“Define insufferable. Don’t feel like I am any of that.”

“Alright, then I’ll leave tomorrow,” Newt countered him, because he was honestly too tired already and couldn’t think of anything that would make Thomas to fall from his high horse for just one second. Or just show some understanding, because the moment they got in his room he made sure to make Newt as uncomfortable as possible. “You can tell your parents whatever you want, I don’t care.”

“Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over us sleeping in one bed?” Thomas sat up while putting his phone away and he had this old Star Wars shirt Newt got him for his 20th birthday and it was like a punch in his gut.

“Yes,” Newt just said and the warmth from the bath was slowly dissipating from his body, leaving him chilled and miserable.

“We slept together for 7 years,” Thomas objected with a small frown. “It’s not like you don’t know me. Or how I sleep.”

“It’s not like it matters in this situation.”

“I told you I won’t do anything,” another argument and Newt shook his head. He wasn’t even worried he would try anything; they were way past that phase anyway. It was just… so uncomfortable. “Jesus, Newt, please be reasonable. It’s cold, you’re shivering like a wet dog over there, I have perfectly normal, warm bed and we won’t even be touching. I don’t know what kind of block you have in your head, but can you just let it go for tonight and come here before you catch a cold and blame it on me too?”

“I-,” Newt couldn’t even start when a soft knock stopped him mid speech and the door opened few seconds later with Anna between them, smiling. Probably chaperoning, he would guess if he had a coherent thought.

“Just wanted to ask if you want chicken or steak for tomorrow lunch,” she chirped and Newt could almost see the loading screen in front of his eyes, for how much he couldn’t comprehend the sudden topic change.

“Go lie down, you’ll freeze out here,” she immediately noticed him standing there barefooted and pushed him gently towards the bed. “Do you want another blanket? I know you’re always cold. Thomas brought the fluffy one downstairs yesterday, should I fetch it?”

“It’s fine, I have two in here already,” Thomas interjected immediately and before Newt could react anyhow, Thomas reached for his hand and pulled him onto the mattress. “Will warm him up if that wouldn’t be enough.”

“Just try to be quiet, will you,” Anna seized them both in disapproving stare and Newt felt sick in his stomach. “So what. Chicken or steak?”

“I vote for steaks!” Thomas immediately shot out and Newt still didn’t understand what was even important about food in this situation, so he just nodded dumbly, and then Anna was leaving with good night and disappeared behind the door again, plunging the room into silence.

He could hear Thomas’ breathing close to his own and finally understood he lost this fight without much of a battle happening.

“Can we sleep now?” he heard Thomas ask, so he just slinked under covers and turned his back towards the man, feeling vulnerable and stupid at the same time.

***

They didn’t talk about the night. They didn’t really talk at all during the day, since when Newt woke up, Thomas was already gone, and Hannah mentioned something about him and his dad leaving early in the morning for whatever reason.

Newt hated how relieved he felt.

He spent most of the day with Anna making lunch and dodging questions about him and Thomas’ breakup and reconciliation. Anna didn’t pry as much as he feared she would, but she obviously wanted to know what happened three years ago and he had no nice answer for her, so he just kept it vague.

We stopped talking to each other properly.

We felt like we needed a break.

No, there was no bad blood between us, really. Absolutely no arguments that would cut too deep, I assure you. We just needed some time. We’re back together now after all, right.

The lies twisted so painfully on his tongue he was grateful when Thomas finally got back at 4PM and Anna’s attention turned to him instead. When the day progressed, Brian (Thomas’ dad) sat them all in the living room in the evening and opened his favourite bottle of whiskey he kept for special occasions.

They lit up fire in the fireplace and Anna brought over snacks, and just sitting there and chilling felt soothing to Newt’s guiltiness eating him up from within.

“We just sealed the deal with a new partner today,” Brian said in a booming voice when he was pouring a glass to Newt who was sincerely relieved his special occasion wasn’t Thomas and him dating again. Because that sure would send him out of the room quick, he could handle only that much before snapping.

“That’s fantastic,” he gingerly accepted the glass and watched Thomas doing to same when offered, wondering if he could somehow dump his own drink into his glass without being suspicious. They sat too wide apart though, with Thomas between his parents and Newt felt the gap deeply.

“That’s right! It means more work, but it’s going to be worth it!” Brian nodded happily and poured glass to Anna as well. When Hannah came with her own, he shooed at her to get juice instead, at which she pouted. “We were dealing with them on and off for about a year, so when they agreed to be a permanent supplier, it’s gonna make a difference.”

“You should invite the CEO for dinner,” Anna added to it and Brian immediately agreed. “But for now, cheers!”

Newt smiled and raised his glass as well, but his throat already hated it in advance. Once he sipped the wood-scented drink, he forced himself to remain passive and not make a disgusted face that was forcing its way up, grateful Anna and Brian were too busy planning what food to choose for the business dinner.

“Oh my god, can you stop shouting in my ear?” Thomas suddenly stood up when his dad leaned over him to his mum for umpteenth time. “Go sit next to her! Geez. I’m not a cushion you can bulldozer over.”

Brian laughed and pushed himself towards his wife on Thomas’ spot, which left Thomas to sit next to Newt with an unceremonious plop.

“I thought maybe cream cake for dessert?” Anna was brainstorming loudly in meantime. “Right, Newt? You always liked the cake.”

“Oh yeah, loved it,” Newt quickly switched his attention to her from Thomas’ sudden warmth next to him. “Think it’s a great idea for the dessert.”

“See!” Anna beamed at Brian happily and Newt flinched when his glass got bumped suddenly and he almost dropped it before he realized it was Thomas’ own glass touching it now.

“Pour some over,” he mumbled towards the blond quietly. “Before they notice and start pestering you about quality of well-aged alcohol.”

“Thanks…” he piped gratefully and hastily splashed most of his glass’ contents away. He noticed Hannah was looking at them, but she only rolled her eyes and started arguing with the parents that beef was no better than pork for the main dish.

“She’d drink it instead if she had a chance,” Thomas whispered towards him. “Going to be a fucking alcoholic before she reaches twenty.”

“Weren’t you the same though,” Newt objected automatically, and Thomas sipped his now almost full glass with a smirk.

“Never minded the taste, yeah,” he shrugged while licking his lips. Newt would believe from his expression the drink tasted good, if he didn’t know better. “I still like beer more though. This can easily knock me out of my socks if I’m not careful.”

“Mm.”

“You slept well?”

Newt stiffed at the question, as he expected he would if Thomas was going to breach it, and then forced his body to relax again while gripping his almost empty glass firmly.

“Fine,” he only uttered.

“Are we going to have a problem again tonight then or is it fine?” he heard Thomas asking in low voice and refused to meet his eyes. The night was alright, he slept more or less okay too, but that didn’t pose a problem in the first place, and Thomas knew it. Newt couldn’t say if it was Thomas’ way of being petty or getting revenge, but it sure bothered Newt like a thorn in his side.

“Can’t possibly kick you off, when your mum likes to check up on us,” he mumbled with a quick glance towards Anna, still in heated debate over food with the rest of the family. “So let’s pretend it’s fine.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Thomas scoffed. “I don’t mind sharing a bed. It’s not like you’re a stranger.”

“Sure.”

“Hmm,” Thomas let out and then moved again, lifting his legs and deposited them rudely on Newt’s lap while leaning against the side of his dad who barely even noticed.

“Sure then,” he was grinning when Newt shot him a glare. “Love of my life.”

“I swear I’ll murder you,” Newt gritted through his teeth and refused to acknowledge how his heart thumped when Thomas smiled at him like he just said something overly sweet.

“Looking forward to it,” the brunet responded instead while sipping their shared drink and Newt twisted his big toe in revenge. Sadly, it didn’t have much of an effect.

***

“What the fuck happened to you over those years, jesus fuck!” If anybody asked, Newt didn’t sound like a naggy wife scolding her husband, no sir. “You can’t hold your liquor for shit!”

“Whaaa-,” Thomas’ attempt to sound offended interrupted a loud burp and then fit of laughter, all that when he was plastered over Newt’s back who was unceremoniously dragging him back to his room.

“If you throw up over my back, you’re dead,” he warned the drunkard coldly and Thomas let out hehehe but didn’t deny it. Newt suspected him he could walk just fine but wanted to be as obnoxious as possible, so Newt would have to take care of him in front of his amused parents who left them to it. Newt would be much happier if Thomas’ dad would toss his son to the bed one armed, because he definitely could, and wouldn’t leave Newt to fight with the deadweight all alone, but then again maybe it was for the best.

True enough, Thomas had in total of four and half glasses full of whiskey, even though Brian laughed at him to get drunk after three shots. Naturally didn’t know every time he poured Newt a fresh batch, even though Newt tried to tell him no thanks, he secretly dumped it into Thomas’ glass who drank it, just to get refilled from Brian again as well, and that went until the bottle was empty and Thomas started giggling.

Which led them to the situation at hand – with Newt dragging his ex up the stairs and to his room – their room – while swearing like a sailor, and then just dumping him onto the bed like a sack of potatoes where Thomas landed with soft oof.

“Why’s the room sp’nning…?” he heard the muffled question shortly after, looking at Thomas’ boneless form of a dead drunk with his face half buried in covers. “Make it stooop~.”

“You feel like barfing?” he asked instead of reacting to the drunk observation and Thomas groaned, then tried to push himself up, just to fail miserably. He tried two more times until he realized he really couldn’t get up because his arms wouldn’t support him, and just had to worm his way up to the pillow by crawling. Which was almost painful to watch, honestly.

“Neeeewt.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” the blond buried his face to his hands until another whine of his name came and he walked to the bed and pushed Thomas on his back instead. That got him a sloppy grin in return in a drunk haze.

“Hi,” the drunkard slurred. “How’re ya?”

“Sucky,” Newt answered while crossing his arms on his chest.

“Oh noooo…” another whine. “Whyyy?”

“Have to take care of one smashed idiot,” Newt nudged Thomas’ side with his knee, earning another giggle. He couldn’t say he had experience with drunk Thomas – or at least with this much drunk Thomas. If he ever got inebriated enough to be considered wasted, he just passed out, usually. But today’s drunk Thomas sure had some annoying stamina and kept himself awake for too long.

“I’ll protect you from ‘im,” Thomas managed to reach out with his hand, grabbing at Newt’s sweater. “C’me to the bed.”

“I think you need a bucket first,” Newt let him pawn his sweater with a sigh.

“Mkay.” The hand on his sweater stayed, grabbing randomly, until it dropped to Newt’s thigh where it lightly squeezed, and Thomas let an appraising hum. “You got thinner.”

“It’s just your imagination,” Newt pushed the hand away and it bounced back onto the mattress. “Get changed, I’ll be right back.”

“Nooo…”

He ignored the whine and left the bedroom with a lump in his throat. Drunk Thomas could be bad for his conscience.

***

He got back half an hour later, after a bath and finding a bucket he could deposit at the edge of the bed, in hope Thomas didn’t manage to throw up in meantime. He found him sleeping sprawled over the mattress, right in the middle, still in the same clothes and smelling like a liquor store. There was no barf anywhere at least.

“Sweet,” he sighed while putting the bucket near Thomas’ possible trajectory of his head if he felt like bending over and vomiting. “Glad we had this talk about sleeping together, huh.”

He slowly crawled onto the bed, careful not to wake Thomas up (though judging by his occasional snores it wasn’t happening) and slid under the blanket as much as Thomas’ weight allowed him.

In hindsight… there was no way he could be mad at him anyway, for today. No matter how drunk the man got, he still remembered how Newt didn’t like alcohol and Newt hated how it warmed his jaded heart.

He fell asleep eventually, dreaming of grabby hands and sad smiles.

***

“Your mum is going to hear us, you ass!”

“Don’t care.”

“Tommy!”

No response, only hot lips on his neck, licking and biting and pampering it with kisses and Newt just remained pinned against the door of Thomas’ room, taking the weight of his boyfriend against his body and roaming hands grabbing at his butt and then traveling to his thigh, hiking it up to settle against Thomas’s hip. His heart was beating so loud he couldn’t hear anything else, just thump thump thump of his blood roaring, and Thomas’s sweet nothings he was murmuring to Newt’s ear in a rough voice.

“I want you so much,” Thomas whispered when unbuckling Newt’s pants, sliding his hand under them against hot, naked skin, and Newt couldn’t hold back a moan, he just needed him closer, he needed to kiss him, to touch him, to get him inside-

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Thomas bit out, voice strained, and Newt let him to lift him up and carry him towards the bed, their lips meeting in a messy, frantic kiss. It was painful, it was rushed, but it was what Newt needed, the brutal strength of Thomas’ body pushing into him and his own breathy moans coming out when their lips parted, and he heard a dull thud at some point when he was trying to hold onto the bedpost once Thomas thrusted into him so strong it made him see stars, but he didn’t care about anything else but pleasure and pain and adoration he felt when he was with him-

Newt woke up with a start, his body hot and aroused, and he felt on fire and caged and painfully hard. He could barely catch a breath when he noticed arms slung possessively around his torso and waist pushing him insistently against warm body behind him, waking up all his senses one by one like Christmas lights.

It took him a moment, the initial confusion clearing like a fog from his mind, making him realize Thomas was cuddling him from behind, one of his hands got under Newt’s shirt and was spread across his naked belly possessively.

“Shit,” he couldn’t stop himself from cursing and attempted to disentangle, but it only made Thomas to clutch to him harder, like a defence mechanism, unwilling to let go. He tried to push away one of the arms holding him, but Thomas slung a leg over his hips in response, trapping him even more.

“Don’t leave,” a sleepy voice sliced the silence and Newt stiffened once he felt hot lips on the back of his neck, mouthing there persistently.

“Thomas-.” He tried to turn around but couldn’t move an inch and Thomas bit down slightly, sending shivers down Newt’s spine.

“Mmm…” he heard the hum, and then the tense weight relaxed once Thomas fell asleep again, and Newt didn’t dare to move anymore.

It was going to be a long night and Newt refused to acknowledge the little voice in the back of his head screaming for relief by Thomas’ hand.

#newtmas #tmr #the maze runner #Last Resort series #newmas

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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years ago

Text

A Negligible Price

I guess it’s becoming a tradition for me to add another chapter to A Minor Inconvenience every year for @stanuary . I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s just that the prompt “Sacrifice” got me thinking about this story and where I thought it could go, and then I got writing and I started coming up with ideas for how I could actually put a finish to this story. So yeah, hopefully it won’t be another year before I post chapter 4, but not promises!

Also, first time I’ve had to do this, but:

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE/MARTYR COMPLEX AND SUIDICE ADJACENT THEMES.

* * *

Bill rushes to gather himself together again. Now that Sixer and his idiot brother have caught on, he knows they’ll probably be making a move against him soon. The time for lying in wait and keeping a low profile has passed. He’s been getting faster, better at finding the tiny flecks of gold scattered into the dark abyss below.

Unfortunately that also means that he’s noticed that some missing pieces just never turn up. As an interdimensional being who’s existed in countless dimensions across innumerable timelines, Bill likes to think he knows himself pretty well now. What he’s made of, how much power he’s accumulated, what he’s capable of. And if he had to estimate now, which he does, he’d say he’s been reduced to maybe a third of his power. Roughly two thirds of him are missing.

What happened to those missing pieces? Were they simply deleted by that memory eraser? Did he leave some of himself behind in that physical form he left to enter Stan’s mind in the Fearamid? Bill can only guess, but really, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this moron’s brain and starting again on his path to a universe free of rules.

* * *

Stan recovered from his latest memory lapse quickly, despite the fact that it was the worst one he’d experienced since he sacrificed himself to the memory gun last summer. The experience had clearly put Ford on edge, and as much as he tried to bottle up his emotions and remain calm, Stan could practically feel the panic coming off him in waves.

They were both relieved when they reached Spitsbergen. There was a hospital in Longyearbyen, where Ford insisted they stop to give Stan a check-up. Stan felt fine, but if it helped ease Ford’s nerves, then he could sit through a check-up.

Explaining Stan’s condition to the doctor was a struggle, considering English was not his strongest language. They definitely got across that Stan was experiencing memory problems, but the doctor seemed to be under the impression it had been caused by an injury to the head in an accident, rather than a purposeful exposure to a memory-erasing device.

Eventually, Ford had lost his patience and just asked if they could use the CT or MRI machine themselves. The doctor spoke enough English to tell them that the nearest CT or MRI machine was in either Iceland or Russia.

The elder Pines twins left the hospital in low spirits. Ford kicked at little pebbles as they walked down the street.

“There’s a research facility in Ny-Ålesund. Perhaps we could sail up there and commandeer some equipment to rig up our own CT scan…”

“I think it’d be easier to just hop on a plane back to the States at this point.” Stan suggested.

“If we’re going to hop on a plane somewhere, it’ll be to Reykjavik, where we won’t have to pay an arm and a leg for any treatments.”

“Yeah, we’ll just have to wait half a year.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they’re gonna take ‘revived demon in my head’ as an urgent need.”

“Probably not…” Ford admitted.

“And you’re sure you didn’t figure anything else out the last time you were pokin’ around in my head?”

Ford grit his teeth. The truth was, he was afraid what would happen if he tried to revisit that memory. The cold flames of the memory eraser had felt so real, even just revisiting it in Stan’s mind, and they seemed to be the trigger of his latest memory lapse. Would they have a similar effect within Ford’s own memory?

“Nothing I’ve been able to make sense of.”

Stan grit his teeth. “So what now? Just leave that jerk in my head?”

Ford sighed. “I want to do some more research into what we’ve learned so far. Perhaps a trip to the library will help me find some insight. But truthfully… I may have been too hasty with punching out Bill, when I encountered him. He’s a liar who can’t be trusted, but he’s also a braggart. If I’d just let him run his mouth a little longer, we may have learned something about what he’s up to.”

* * *

Longyearbyen’s library wasn’t any bigger than the public library in Gravity Falls, and had significantly fewer books relating to Bill and mind magic, but it did at least have access to several library databases that Ford couldn’t typically log into from the Stan’O’War II. (According to Fiddleford, these databases could be hacked into quite easily, but Ford didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to learn how) It would have to do for now. Ford took a seat at a computer, and with a little help from a librarian, he was soon scrolling through peer-reviewed articles from different archeologists and anthropologists and folklore experts and descendants of the Aztecs and Mayans debating who Xolotl was, what his role was in the Aztec religion, how much his lore changed from Pre- and Post- Colombian invasion, and so forth.

What he’d learned so far was interesting, to say the least. The things that most people agreed upon was that Xolotl was a god of death, fire, and lightning. What caught Ford’s attention was the fact that they were also the god of twins and deformities. He glanced down at his twelve fingers, which rested awkwardly on the small keyboard meant for people with just ten. It seemed odd that Bill would call on this particular death god, when they seemed far more likely to be a patron to Stan and Ford.

While Ford puzzled over this new information, Stan browsed the library, looking for something to entertain himself while he waited. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t a whole lot of English books in this Norwegian library. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he stumbled upon an extensive comics section. Even though he still couldn’t read most of them, the pictures were at least enough that he got the gist of what was going on.

European comics were very different from American comics. They featured a lot less costumed superheroes punching bad guys and a lot more weird, quirky characters setting out on adventures and exploring the world. They also seemed to lean more heavily on comedy rather than drama. Stan decided he liked them.

He’d been looking at a story about some rich duck when he noticed he felt odd. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than to say that his brain felt itchy. The more he concentrated on it, the more it faded away, but when he went back to looking at the comic and got absorbed back into the story, it came back.

After almost an hour of the feeling coming and going, Stan decided he was not imagining the sensation. He stuffed a tissue into the comic as a bookmark and got up to see what Ford would have to say about it. Almost as soon as he laid eyes on his brother, a wave of anger washed over him. Just like the itchy brain feeling, it went away almost as soon as he stopped and thought about it, but it had been so strong, that he couldn’t deny it had happened.

“Hey.” Stan tapped his brother on the shoulder as the old researcher skimmed an article about why the Aztecs associated lightning with twins.

“Hmm?” Ford acknowledged him without looking away from the screen.

“Am I forgettin’ to be mad at you about somethin’?”

That got Ford to turn and look at him. “Are you having a memory lapse!?”

“I don’t think so, but just a second ago I looked over at you and I felt really mad all of a sudden. Can’t really think of a reason why, though. I’m just wondering if maybe the other day, when I had the big blank-out, maybe we missed somethin’?”

The old researcher’s face contorted with guilt. “You have ample reason to be mad at me. I didn’t stand up for you when dad kicked you out. I never reached out to you for over ten years. I expected you to drop everything and help me with my problems without any explanation. I refused to thank you for saving my life--”

“Yeah, no, none of that stuff.” Stan shook his head. “I remember all that stuff, and I’ve already forgiven you and junk. Mmmm… did you try to enchant the mop again and not let me remember it?” But even as he joked that the underlying reason must be the latest chapter in a minor argument, he knew that couldn’t be right. The sudden bloom of anger had been much more deep-seated and horrible than that. It had felt like… it had felt like Ford had ruined everything.

To be fair, there had been a long period of Stan’s life when he had felt like Ford had ruined everything. But Stan was over that now, and this brief brush with anger had felt even more heated than that.

Ford gave him an appraising look. “Were there any other memories or emotions associated with this feeling?”

“Oh yeah, my brain was feelin’ itchy right before that.”

“Have… you been using shampoo?” Ford asked, unsure of what to do with this information.

“Not my scalp, genius, like the actual thinking part of my brain!”

“... I can’t even begin to guess what that means.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how else to describe it, ok? It’s like somethin’ was squirmin’ around in my mind!”

The brothers wore twin expressions of realization as the words left Stan’s mouth.

“We need to get back to the boat.” Ford stood from the computer desk abruptly.

“Yep.” Stan set the comic he’d been reading down on the desk, not even bothering to remove his improvised bookmark.

* * *

Bill throws his hands up and roars in frustration. He can’t seem to take control, even when the moron’s mind is zoning out, losing himself in some stupid comic book. He’s already in the mind! He’s been here for months! He knows his way around here. So why isn’t it working? Is it because he never made a deal with this guy? That shouldn’t matter! The last thing they did before the whole memory gun thing was shake hands!

There's no time to waste complaining, though. Sixer will be poking around here any minute. Bill needs a plan. Before, he'd spent millions of years in the Nightmare Realm planning. Now he's making everything up as he goes.

It's clear that Bill can't just take control of Stan like he'd been counting on. But do the other two know that? He might still be able to use that to his advantage.

If Bill is going to trick these losers and get out of here, he needs to play his opponents right. Luckily, he's got years of experience fighting against Sixer. It's the Big Mackerel that he worries about.

Before, Bill hadn't paid much attention to Stan. He thought he understood what made the simple con man tick. But then, in the end, he found he didn't understand at all. Even after months of being trapped in his mindscape, Stan is very much still a mystery to Bill.

But there is one thing about Stan that Bill does understand.

He’s willing to sacrifice himself for his family.

* * *

Once they were back aboard the Stan’O’War II, Stan allowed himself to relax, just a little. At least here his surroundings were familiar, and the only person he had to worry about was his own brother.

Under normal circumstances, “the only person he had to worry about” meant he didn’t have to look over his shoulder for law enforcement or old criminals who might recognize Stan from his drifter days.

Today “the only person he had to worry about” meant the only person he could possibly endanger if Bill was able to take control of him. Ford was the last person Stan wanted to put in danger, but he also had to admit, his brother knew more about the demon than any other living being on the planet.

Stan may have been able to relax a tiny fraction once they were back aboard their boat, but not Ford. Ford was in full-blown panic mode.

He frantically searched around the storage room for something, anything, that could help protect his brother from Bill. Unfortunately, they hadn’t thought to bring unicorn hair or moonstones on their voyage. He did have titanium, but he wasn’t confident enough in his emergency medical knowledge to perform cranial surgery on his own, and he doubted they’d be able to find a doctor crooked enough to do it for them. Currently, his best idea was to build an updated version of Project Mentem, but that would take time. Time he wasn’t sure Stan had.

“I can re-enter your mindscape and shatter him again.” Ford decided, pulling out the candles again. “That should at least buy you a few days.”

“Ok.” Stan nodded. He’d definitely prefer to know Bill was shattered again, and not moving around in his brain. “But it’s not like he’s doing anything right now.”

“He’s probably trying to get us to lower our guard.” Ford assumed. “I’ll need to tie you up. He usually makes his move while his victim is asleep.”

“If I need to fall asleep for your spell while tied up, we’re gonna be waitin’ a long time.” Stan warned. “I dunno if I could even fall asleep right now if I had the world’s most comfortable bed.”

“Fair point.” Ford nodded. “I may have to drug you.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” It was abundantly clear that Ford was not kidding in the slightest.

“Would you rather be used as his puppet!?” The old researcher shouted. The outburst rang in the air for a few seconds while Ford tried to steady his breathing. “Stan I… I’m sorry, I just--”

“It’s ok.” Stan pulled him into a hug and tried his best to calm his brother down. “I know you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared for myself.” Ford explained in a small voice. “I’m scared for you. Waking up to find that you’ve hurt someone, it’s-- I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you--”

“Stanford, look at me. We’re not gonna let that happen. What if we do it while I’m awake, like we did with the memory before?”

Ford nodded meekly. “That… that could work.”

“You can still tie me up if that makes you feel better.”

The old researcher bit his lip. “...It shouldn't be necessary...”

“Ford.”

“...But it probably would ease some of my fears, yes.” he admitted.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll go get the rope.”

Still unwilling to let his brother out of his sight, Ford followed Stan up to the deck while he retrieved said rope. Once they were back below deck, he wrapped Stan tightly in a large blanket before sitting him down on a chair and tying him up, to ensure he was as comfortable as possible while still restricting his movement.

“How do you feel?” Ford asked as he lit the candles.

“Like I’m about to be shipped back to Oregon in the mail.”

“And Bill…?”

“I haven’t felt anything else from him since we left the library.”

The lack of activity should have reassured Ford, but instead it just added to his general unease. At least he was able to compose himself enough to perform the incantation.

Just as last time, after a flash of light, he found himself on the deck of Stan’s mindscape, with Stan himself standing beside him. This time, though, Bill was floating there, waiting for them.

“I KNEW YOU’D BE BACK HERE AFTER I GOT YOUR ATTENTION IN THE LIBRARY!” The demon taunted. “OH, AND LOOK. STANO HERE EVEN MADE A MENTAL CONSTRUCT OF HIMSELF WITHIN HIS OWN MIND JUST SO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO FACE ME ALONE! HOW CUTE!” He prodded Stan in the stomach like he was the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“Back off, bucko!” Stan threatened. “We’re here to break your whole face!”

“WHAT, YOU COULDN’T WAIT UNTIL TONIGHT TO DO IT IN YOUR DREAMS LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO?” Bill asked, voice dripping with false innocence.

“We’re not able to risk the chance of you parading about in Stanley’s body.” Ford growled.

“HA! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN ANYONE, FORDSY, I ONLY DO THAT TO STUBBORN KNOW-IT-ALLS WHO WON’T WORK WITH ME WILLINGLY.”

“If you think I’m gonna work with you willingly, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Stan grunted.

“HEAR ME OUT, MAC! WE BOTH WANT THE SAME THING HERE! ME, OUT OF YOUR SAD PATHETIC MIND!”

“You can’t leave!?” Ford asked in surprise.

“WHAT, YOU THINK I ENJOY SPENDING TIME IN THIS BOZO’S MIND? YOU THINK I WAS PLOTTING MY REVENGE?”

“Honestly, yes.”

Bill gave a long, mocking laugh. “AHAHAHAHAHA! YOU REALLY THINK I CARE ABOUT A COUPLE OF INSIGNIFICANT FLESH SACKS LIKE YOU?”

“We’re the insignificant flesh sacks who killed you!” Stan reminded him.

“WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY. THE BEST REVENGE IS LIVING WELL.”

The brothers exchanged a suspicious glance. They highly doubted Bill actually believed that adage.

“BUT I CAN’T EXACTLY LIVE WELL TRAPPED IN YOUR MINDSCAPE. I MIGHT GET BORED AND DECIDE THE BEST REVENGE IS KILLING YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY WITH YOUR OWN HANDS.”

Ah yes, that was more along the lines of what they expected from Bill.

“So you’re saying you’ll just let bygones be bygones if I cooperate with you?” Stan asked skeptically.

“WE’LL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS, NEVER TO MEET AGAIN!”

“And what are you planning on doing once you’re free?” Ford asked coldly.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SIXER.” The demon waved him off. “NOW ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME OUT OF HERE OR NOT? THE SOONER THE BETTER. YOU TWO AREN’T GETTING ANY FURTHER AWAY FROM THE AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY OF A HUMAN MALE, AND FISH FACE HERE DOESN'T EXACTLY TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIS BODY.”

“Hey!” Stan shouted indignantly.

“Why should Stan’s life expectancy factor into this?” Ford asked.

“HMMM? OH, NO REASON.” Bill said evasively. “I’M JUST, Y’KNOW, IN A HURRY.”

“You’re an immortal, extradimensional being. You��ve been trying to find a way out of the nightmare realm since before multicellular life developed on this planet. If you’re so sure we’re close to the end of our lives, why not wait until we’re out of the way? You must realize we’ll try and stop you from starting Weirdmaggedon again!” Ford reasoned.

“WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT STARTING WEIRDMAGGEDON AGAIN?” Bill denied. “AND MAYBE AFTER A BILLION YEARS, I’M TIRED OF WAITING!”

“Unless you aren’t immortal any more.” the old researcher concluded.

“YOU’VE SEEN FOR YOURSELF, FORDSY, EVERY TIME YOU OR YOUR IDIOT BROTHER SHATTER ME, I PULL MYSELF BACK TOGETHER.”

“Immortal in the mind, perhaps. But what happens when the mind you’re occupying finally dies?”

“ALRIGHT, YOU FIGURED IT OUT!” Bill sneered. “I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN A GENIUS LIKE YOU WOULD. YEAH, MY LIFE’S TIED TO THE BIG MACKEREL’S NOW. SO WHAT? YOU GONNA KILL YOUR BROTHER JUST TO GET RID OF ME?”

“Of course not!” Ford barked.

“Hey, I’d be more than happy to take you down with me if it meant making sure you never hurt anyone else ever again!” Stan challenged the demon.

Ford stared at his brother with wide eyes. “Stanley, no!”

“Hey, relax, I’m not talkin’ suicide or anything.” Stan assured him. “But he’s right about one thing. I’m not gonna live forever.”

I’ll only do it if I have to. A stray thought cawed overhead.

Stan cussed under his breath as Ford gaped at him with a mix of alarm and pity.

“I’m not gonna take it back.” Stan insisted after a moment. “If that’s what it comes down to, to keep him from hurtin’ you or the kids, then I’m taking him down with me.”

Ford placed his hands firmly on Stan’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye with all the intensity he could muster. “We won’t let that happen!”

Bill laughed at them cruelly. “RIGHT, CUZ YOU’VE HAD SO MUCH SUCCESS STOPPING ME IN THE PAST.”

“I’ll find some other way!” Ford insisted.

“I’M SURE YOU COULD, WITH TIME.” Bill agreed. “BUT I’M GONNA STRANGLE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP BEFORE THEN!”

Not if I strangle myself first! Another one of Stan’s stray thoughts called.

Ford gave his brother a frustrated shake. “No! Stanley, I swear to you, that won’t be necessary!”

“Alright, that’s it. We’re not havin’ this conversation in my brain, where you can hear all my unprocessed thoughts.” Stan decided.

Suddenly, Ford’s form and everything around them flickered and began to fade to white. Stan and Bill were the only ones who remained solid and whole. Stan was waking up? But he’d never been asleep before the spell in the first place!

“Don’t you try any funny business!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at Bill. “I’m coming back to shatter you into a million smaller pieces as soon as I fall asleep tonight!”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Stanuary 2021 #This jerk

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lastluvbug · 4 years ago

Note

Your Trick Me Once and Trick Me Twice was amazing! My poor heart ached as I read it. May I request for a situation where Kalim was depressed after the events of Chapter 4;Jamil says something along the lines of "If only you hadn't exist" and Kalim decides to take drastic actions like attempting suicide? You can choose if his attempt is a success or a fail but I do want to see Jamil's reaction to the attempt though. Of course this is only if you are willing to write this. Thank you very much! :)

Toxins

Haha, you guys sure are enjoying the angsty Kalim fics! Oh well, truth be told, I am too! So let’s continue the sadness train!

Warnings: Extreme suicidal tendencies, toxic behavior, and language.

Please do not read if you are sensitive to these topics.

Vermillion skies bled to dark midnight as a little twinkle on the horizon grew into a thousand stars that created shapes and pictures Kalim loved to trace with his fingers.

Twilight, the death of the day, and the birth of the night. A long time ago, it was the part he dreaded with a passion unmatched by any other. After all, when the sun set, that meant today was over, and all those precious times he’d savored were now nothing more than lightly remembered memories soon to be rewritten, or forgotten. But now... well, now that he had no one to fall back on, no one to reach out to, twilight was now the sweetest kiss he could await for, the kiss that he’d wished to feel, but for now could only see.

Caressed by the wisps of wind that held the slightest hint of spice, he leaned back onto his hands, swathed in the moonlight that seemed to spotlight only on him, on the tears that freely dripped down his cheeks like crystals, a sad smile tugging at his lips. Feet dangling over the edge of the too tall balcony, he drank the taste of night, the bittersweet flavor of the dry desert air.

Sleep had long since been a hazy concept, often coming in sporadic periods that sometimes stretched for hours, and sometimes lasted no longer than five minutes. No longer did he carefreely fall into blissful dreamland, no longer did he find comfort in the silk finery of his sheets, or the clothing that had once fit so snuggly over his already lithe body.

Stomach shrunken, fingers bony, cheeks ever so slightly caved in, Kalim had gone from so heathily full, to a frail petal on the edge of falling from its flower of life. He didn’t need to show anyone the way his ribs had replaced the muscle that used to line the bones, didn’t need to explain why he’d suddenly found nitpicking every food that was placed before him as a new hobby. Probably the worst of all, he refused to allow anyone to see the secrets he was hiding, masked with a terrifying expertise he surely shouldn’t be capable of creating.

Riddled with jagged lines that cut over his shoulders, his hips, his thighs, Kalim hid those so well, walking without a single limp, waving without a flinch, acting as if he didn’t feel the sting of reopening wounds whenever he stretched his limbs a little too far, or the dripping of crimson as sparkly as gems down tanned skin. Laughing soundlessly at the tranquil sky, he sniffled, betraying his actions as the glittery sea of bottled sadness spilled from his eyes.

What was perhaps the scariest feeling of all, was that he simply felt... nothing.

All those smiles to his friends, all those sympathetic hugs he offered to classmates in need, he didn’t feel anything through it. It was as if a switch had been turned off; the dark smothered his light, shutting out the emotions that had so clearly made Kalim, Kalim. He could laugh and cry as much as he wished, but that didn’t cover the fact that it was all... fake? Forced? Imitated?

He knew why. He wrote about it every night, in the journal he kept beneath his pillow. He dreamt about it, whenever he could manage even a glimpse of an image past the realm of sleep. He remembered it, he remembered him. His words. The ones that stabbed him in the back, in the heart he thought he could so foolishly bear to someone who’d once been so trusted.

He knew this was all because of Jamil. But he rejected any thought that came within a hundred feet of blaming him. How could he? How could he even begin to blame Jamil, after everything he’d done?

“Hey, Mr. Oblivious. Won’t you pull your head out of your ass for one goddamn second and pay attention?”

Kalim should’ve been listening better, then Jamil wouldn’t have had to tutor him on basic classes.

“Why won’t you just get out of my life? I’ve told you a million times, and I’m done repeating myself. I’m not your friend. I never have been and never will be. Now leave me alone.”

Was he being too pushy? Maybe... maybe he just needed some space.

“Kalim, get the hell out! Good for nothing leech, just get away from me!”

...How much longer can he do this?

Slow, encumbered, Kalim turned his head to the door of his room, waiting, hoping, praying that the handle would turn, and welcome in the one person he wanted to love again, despite the late, late hour. Staring at the wood, he felt numb, expecting something he knew would never happen.

Falling rather ungracefully from the balcony ledge, he dropped onto his wide bed, onto the plush mattress that was deceivingly firm underneath his back, cradling all the wrong places as his covers practically strangled him in the heat. The tears that came this time weren’t born of fear, or anger, but grief and guilt.

Maybe if he’d been more perceptive, maybe if he’d loved just a little harder, things would be different. But... didn’t it amount to anything that he’d tried? That once, Jamil had been treasured like a brother? Didn’t he care at all that Kalim was suffering?

Cuddling into the overwhelming confusion between suppressing heat and empty cold made Kalim’s head spin, and cradled by the hand of the night that so desperately urged its dimming sunshine into sleep, he felt his eyes slip shut, sinking into a slumber that was neither welcoming, nor satisfying.

<————>

Heavy and cold, shivering in warmth, dimmed in light.

Kalim curled in on himself, sleep clothing askew as he gritted his teeth, chest sinking with a fractured stabbing as he hugged his knees to his chest. Just as the nights before, sleep had brought nothing but a dreamless black that he wished he could stay trapped inside, only to awake yet again in a body that only ever seemed to work against him.

Sitting up, he grunted as his wounds burned, flames traveling through his veins as if salt had been rubbed into his cuts. Tears speckled across his eyelashes as he bit back his cry, every breath he took watering the knot that grew in his throat.

He knew then, with the sensation of cracking glass prodding at his chest, with the cloud that dampened his head, with the glaze that formed over his eyes consisting of dammed tears and bottled fear, he couldn’t do it today. He couldn’t go out and act as if everything was alright. He couldn’t smile and laugh like he’d taught himself to. Because every time, it would come out too broken, it would show the feelings he’d worked so hard to conceal.

He needed to make a trip.

Dressing himself was an especially difficult task, as any small movement made his arms scream in protest, his hips cry in red as mended injuries were pried open, his thighs burn like boiling water had been splashed over them. But, biting his cheek and gritting through it, Kalim disregarded his bodily urges to stop, pulling on his school uniform and sloppily tying his turban, slipping on his pointed shoes to complete the look.

He didn’t even note the time as he headed out, feeling unbearably heavy as he glued his gaze to the floor, wandering through the halls of Scarabia. Along the way, he caught the eye of a few students, who waved energetically. He didn’t have the strength to summon even a hint of a smile back, trudging past them as he blinked, shoving down the water that longed to rush down and cool his warm face.

Pinned with the helplessness of being alone, Kalim hesitantly made his way to the mirror portal that led back to Night Raven’s main building, freezing as he noticed who stood against the wall, cleaning the dirt from his nails. Jamil barely acknowledged Kalim until he was within reaching distance, scowling as he met the crimson eyes of the other.

Though he was tugging dangerously hard on a taut string, Kalim inhaled as he brought forth a shimmering smile, betraying the unspoken words in his eyes. “G-G—“ Kalim cleared his throat, swallowing the knot, “Good morning, Jamil! Are you on your way out? I could come with you, if you’d—“

“You’re a damn idiot if you think I want to spend even a second with you. Not that it’s any of your business, but I was waiting for someone.” Jamil clipped, crossing his arms.

“A... Ah, of course! Well, I could still stay with you as you wait for—“

“No. It’s clear they’re not coming. I should get out of here, before I waste anymore brain cells on a useless, incompetent child like you.” Jamil didn’t make eye contact as be pushed off the wall, pushing by Kalim without another word and wandering off into the labyrinth known as Scarabia.

Fists clenched tightly at his sides, Kalim stared blankly into the mirror, watching it swirl and sparkle with ethereal light as he resisted the urge to break down right then and there. He could feel as his legs quivered, on the edge of giving out as his breathing hitched, shallow and shaking.

Still, he followed the path set aside in his mind, almost missing a step as he practically fell into the portal, whisking away to the Mirror Hall.

Emerging on the otherside, he almost breathed a sigh of relief when no one was there to greet him but the dead silence of morning. Instead of bouncing off to class like he would’ve had he the stability to paint on a pretty smile like any other day, he made a sharp detour to a certain portal he never saw himself going into.

Stepping into it, he squared his shoulders, prepping himself with failing encouragements for the conversation that needed to succeed.

<————>

“Dorm head Vil. Pardon the intrusion, but you have a visitor.”

The blonde looked up from his vanity, pausing mid stroke and setting his mascara down. “Oh? Let them in, I’m not busy.” He shrugged, standing to his full height, enhanced by his heeled shoes.

“Of course,” the underclassman nodded, stepping out of the room to allow in said visitor.

Kalim felt weirdly out of place in the proper Pomefiore, despite having been raised in sumptuous royalty since birth, and setting foot into Vil’s positively sparkling room made him wince inaudibly with guilt. His bone slim fingers twitched with anxiety, a dark shade over his eyes as he stepped before the taller boy, only scarcely making visionary contact. “Good day to you, Vil,” he blandly greeted, grinding his teeth together in a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“...And to you, as well Kalim. Is there something you needed?” The white haired dorm leader shuddered, offering no explanation before pouring out the dialogue he’d rehearsed a hundred times in his head.

“Well, you see... I’d like to ask you if you could make me a poison. Something fast acting, and easily hidden, that doesn’t smell too horrible.”

Vil flinched, pupils dilated and mouth agape as the request spilled from Kalim’s lips. He... wanted a what? For who? Why? “E-Excuse me? Kalim, what are you thinking?” Vil near yelled, balling his fists at his sides.

“O-Oh uh...” Kalim scratched the back of his head, feigning an awkward look as he chuckled. “It’s for educational purposes. I’ve been cooking for myself lately, and knowing me, I’m likely to accidentally poison myself!” He laughed boisterously, perceived differently by both listeners. “So I figured you’d be the one to go to, right? Unless... maybe I should’ve tried doing it on my own...” His voice trailed off, Vil’s hand on his chin, debating within himself.

Kalim popped a sad smile that didn’t appear so outwardly as Vil returned the act, a smirk falling to his painted lips as he extended a hand towards the prince. “Very well. Of course, coming to me is obviously the smartest idea someone like you could’ve come up with, but sit down first. You look absolutely atrocious.” Vil scoffed, gesturing to the seat before his vanity.

Reluctantly taking a seat, Kalim felt the insult dig deeper beneath his skin than it should’ve, crushing his hands under his thighs as he obediently followed Vil’s instructions, lips pulled into a thin line.

With momentary strokes and too gentle touches, Kalim couldn’t help but think of Jamil, seeing his gold speckled coal black hair and stony grey eyes instead of Vil’s blonde and amethyst. He used to do this too, every morning, dragging a brush dipped in black over Kalim’s thick lashes, dabbing red onto the corners of his eyes, thumb and first finger gripping his chin and tilting his head when need be.

A cold stab to his heart snapped Kalim from his short lived memories, reminding him of his purpose for coming to Pomefiore. “All done. Now that you look presentable, please, follow me.” Vil clapped, stepping away from the fellow leader and clicking off. Scrambling after him, Kalim gripped the fabric of his sweater tightly, biting his lip.

They didn’t travel too far, Kalim following closely behind Vil as he unlocked his bathroom door. Arriving in the room, Kalim toed the polished white tile, the lights fixed into the ceiling seeming to spotlight him as opposed to the beauty guru who swooped low to open the cabinets under the sink.

Inside were a number of brightly colored liquids, some transparent as water, others dotted with plant shavings or objects Kalim didn’t want to recognize. “Fast acting... sweet smelling, easily hideable, is that correct?” Vil quizzed, the twinkling of glass clacking against glass filling Kalim’s ears.

“Exactly,” he nodded into the mirror, averting his gaze quickly.

Vil didn’t reply, merely smiling devilishly before bringing out a small cauldron and three different bottles. Apprehension pulled Kalim taut as he watched the taller begin to explain his process, acetic irony making him soundlessly sneer. From poisoned to poisoner.

“On most occasions, a poison of this sort wouldn’t be possible to make, seeing as you want it to be not only quick to show results, but also pleasant-smelling. But, since you are working with the best, I believe we can make it work.” Vil boasted, uncapping and pouring the first vial into the cauldron. “This one is for the rapid dissemination,” the second, “this one for scent,” the third, “and this one for dilution, to water down the color, though still deadly.”

Kalim watched in wonder as Vil stirred the liquid, eyes wide and trained on the poison. Though at the beginning, an arrant black that made him scrunch his nose in disgust, the more Vil continued to churn, the color began bubbling with splashes of transparency. By the end, it was water-clear, and almost overpoweringly reeked of florals.

“Ah, there we are,” Vil smiled, laying a delicate hand on his cheek. Once again swooping low, he retrieved an empty bottle, ever so carefully filling it with the solution and capping it. “I haven’t made any antidote for this particular poison, so it may be in your best interest for me to hold onto it presently.” Vil cautioned, placing the ewer just out of reach while Kalim’s eyes shadowed.

“A-Are you sure? You can trust me, I’ll be careful with it!” Kalim argued, smiling wide to prove his point.

“Hm, I’m not a fool. I feel it would be for your safety if it was in my care until I create an antidote.” Vil refuted, sternly said, toying with the intricately designed cap.

Kalim chewed his tongue, clenching and unclenching his fists as he formulated a plan. Beaming a smile to Vil that seemed so outwardly innocent, he bowed slightly, showing his appreciation. “I see. Thank you for your time anyways, Vil.” He lied through his teeth, rising from his bow and bouncing off.

He didn’t risk a glance behind him as he stepped out of the senior’s room, shutting the door gingerly behind him. Scanning the gorgeously decorated hallway, he identified objects that could be used to his advantage, closing his eyes as he snapped the steps of his newly formed plan together.

Tiptoeing over to a vase that rose slightly above his head on a marble pedestal, he yanked the flowers that sprouted from the top out, tossing them on the floor as regret rooted itself into his heart. He internally apologized for what he was about to do, knowing full well that no one would hear him.

Winding his arms around the pot, his knees buckled as he dropped the weight of it in his arms, the arms that could barely lift his body mass. The water inside sloshed around, jumping onto his face as he regained his footing, tilting the porcelain prize and leading a trail of water around the corner of the hall. Repositioning himself in the indigo drapery of the curtain closest to Vil’s room, he swallowed a deep breath, hurling the expensive decoration as far as he could, cringing as the sound of shattering filled the hallway.

He hid himself in the curtain just in time, as Vil’s door burst open, slamming against the wall as he stormed out, empty handed. “What in the— Rook! Rook, go chase down Epel! That little scamp destroyed another vase, and made some pretty little prank out of it too.” Vil barked, Kalim cowering behind the curtain as the older stomped off.

“Sorry, Epel-kun,” he whispered, before creeping out from the curtain and darting back into Vil’s room.

Snatching the vial from Vil’s bathroom countertop was surprisingly easy, Kalim tucking it into his pocket as he scampered out once again, heartbeat amuck. Sneaking along the walls, he beelined away from the mess he’d created, turning a blind eye to it as he pushed open a random door in the hope that it was some sort of exit.

Instead, he welcomed himself to the Pomefiore lounge, where a handful of boys were lined up before Vil and Rook, Epel amongst them, who all twisted to stare at the invader. “Kalim? What are you still doing here?” Vil badgered, arms crossed.

“U-Uh... you see...” Kalim ducked his head in fabricated humiliation. “...I got lost... I couldn’t find the exit.” He whined, a few of the students laughing as Vil sighed.

“Rook, please escort Kalim out. I need to have a word with you lot.” The leader threateningly smiled, the laughter immediately ceasing.

“Of course, Roi de Poison! Come now, Kalim, we shall leave these heathens to their due punishments!” Rook singsonged, spinning over to the white door where he stood.

Kalim looked over to Epel, who had his face scrunched in confusion and fear, an apology spelled in his gaze that the purple haired boy only caught at the last minute, Kalim vanishing behind the door as Rook pulled it shut.

“Oh, what a tragedy! The rowdy boys of our dorm destroyed a simply magnifique vase crafted of the finest quality! On top of that, they made a mess of the hall too...” Vil’s overly extra vice leader boohooed, the flowy feather of his hat bouncing in an imaginary wind.

“Really...? Why would they do that?” Kalim asked, as if he didn’t already know they answer.

“I wish I could say. I often wonder what goes on in those spoiled little brains of theirs.” Rook replied, falling into a solemn silence Kalim relished.

The early blue sky hadn’t before been such a treat to the Scarabia dorm head, the boy thanking Rook briefly for the guidance. “Of course! Do come again!” He laughed, waving briskly and waltzing back inside the rather stuffy building.

Sneaking a victoriously pitiful smile, Kalim pulled out the stolen toxin, only holding it to the sun as he stood before the mirror portal.

It wasn’t supposed to be so easy.

A tiny part of him had wished it hadn’t been.

<————>

The school day came and went in a blur of colors, voices, and assignments that flew right past Kalim’s head.

He wasn’t fully there when he agreed to walk with Azul, the Leech twins joining not to long after. Happy conversation tied between the threads of three complementary personalities weaved around Kalim, who remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the exchange. He was too busy twirling the stolen poison in his pocket, and had been for the whole day, debating his very existence instead of interacting with his peers as he normally would.

The quiet wasn’t overlooked by the three, though Floyd was the one to finally put voice to the thought the Octavinelle trio shared. “Hey, Sea Otter~ is something wrong? What’s with the face?” He cooed, downturned eyes for once actually bearing a dollop of sadness.

“Hm...? Oh, um—“ Kalim shook his head, pulling a smile to his face that looked more dismal than welcoming, “—of course! I’m a little tired, is all! Y’know, Trein’s lessons can put anyone to sleep, even me!” Kalim laughed, mutual discomfort shared between the Leeches as Azul fixed his glasses.

“Kalim, would you like to accompany us back to Mostro Lounge?” Azul offered, having picked up on Kalim’s abnormal behavior. “We could always use someone like you to brighten up the atmosphere.”

“Yes, Azul is right. You know how to play the drums, correct? Why don’t you pair up with Floyd? You’ll put on a show that’ll attract dozens to the Lounge.” Jade smiled, eyes shut out of joy.

For a moment, Kalim thought about it, giving them the false hope that maybe, he’d agree. He felt remorse sink its claws into his brain, making him shake his head as the three strolled by the open courtyard, a flash of red, gold, and black making Kalim freeze as he identified the person behind the Scarabian shades. “A-Actually, I had plans already,” he fibbed, stepping back to put distance between himself and the trio, “I was going to meet Jamil in the courtyard. Sorry guys.” He bowed, shoving his hand back into his pocket to fiddle with the bottle.

Azul perked an eyebrow. “Jamil wanted to meet up? With you?”

“Uh, yep! Told me this morning!” Kalim smiled, trying to wave off the suspicion that the fellow second years exuded.

“Oh? I thought that you and Sea Snake had—“ Floyd began, but Kalim was already dancing away before he could continue.

“Sorry, don’t want to keep him waiting!” He shouted, coughing after he stepped outside. It wasn’t often he had the voice to be so loud anymore.

“Should we pursue this, Azul?” Jade asked calmly, Floyd’d signature careless grin upside down in a glower.

“...No. It’s Kalim, he’ll figure it out himself. It’s about time he learned how to do so.” He coldly decided, pushing his glasses up. “Come, we have business elsewhere.”

“Of course,” both Leeches replied, though Floyd couldn’t hide the somewhat concerned look he sent over his shoulder, before disappearing with his fellow Octavinelle members.

In the courtyard, Kalim looked around confused, having been so sure that he saw Jamil walking around from the hallway. “Surely, he didn’t leave... wouldn’t I have seen it if he did?” He puzzled, approaching the stone well located in the middle of the wide yard space. He briefly caught a glimpse of his striated reflection in the impossibly dark water at the bottom, hastily breaking the contact to look up.

Through the strings attached to the wood bucket, Kalim’s maroon irises set themselves beneath the apple tree, to the person who sat so daintily upon the black-rimmed bench. With his hair brushed over his shoulder, Jamil crossed his legs, immersed in a thick book that Kalim couldn’t quite make out thanks to the gap. Sprinkled in the choppy afternoon sunlight, he looked more like an ethereal angel than the traitorous student he was to Kalim, so deceivingly beautiful.

Exhilaration, and dare he say, a spark of hope, flared in him, a genuine smile splitting his face as he sashayed closer. Believing that he had the courage to mend the bridge that had been severed from both directions, he stopped a meter from the bench, attracting Jamil’s attention, who shot him a dirty look, tearing himself from his readings.

“What is it you want now, Kalim?” He spat, holding the book up.

“I... I saw you from the hallway and I...” It was as if he’d forgotten how to speak, words working against him.

“Congratulations for using your eyes, dimwit. If you’ve come to be nothing but a stuttering fool, see to it that you leave me alone.”

Kalim squeezed his lips shut, heeding Jamil’s advice as he awkwardly looked up, to the apples that grew plentifully from the strong tree overhead.

Courage slowly being whittled down to an embarrassing pit, Kalim forced himself to smile once more, pulling his hand from his pocket. Taking a seat beside Jamil, he gripped the edge of the bench, leaning over the side to peer at the cover, and, riskily enough, Jamil’s tranquil features.

They didn’t stay tranquil for long, as grey orbs met Kalim’s enchanted red ones, scowling as he noisily slammed his book shut. “What?” He seethed.

“Nothing, I just—“ he cut himself off, unwilling to live the lie any longer, “I miss you, alright? I miss—“

“No, don’t start. Screw this, I’m leaving.” Jamil growled, tucking his book under his arm and stomping away.

“Jamil! Jamil, wait...!” Kalim called. Panicked as the vice refused to listen, he hopped up, rushing over to him and pulling on his arm, book falling to ground in a flurry of aged pages. A thunderous boom exploded in the courtyard as it collided with the ground, Jamil whipping around, arm still locked in Kalim’s grip.

“Jamil, please! I’ve tried so hard to take care of myself, but I need you!” He confessed, tears brimming. “I need your—“

“Shut up!” Jamil yelled, making Kalim flinch as he tore his arm away. Turning the tables, he spun, shoving a finger into Kalim’s chest as he grew red from anger. “What you need is to grow up! Do you understand how much you’ve hindered my life, because you just “need me so much”?” He kept shoving his first finger into Kalim’s chest, making him stumble backwards. “I wasn’t able to have a normal childhood because of you! I had to hide who I was, because of you! And now you need me? You must be a goddamn idiot, even after all this time!” Jamil accused, Kalim staggering as he tripped over himself trying to back away.

He refused to let his tears fall, Jamil continuing with his rant as his back hit the apple tree, both of them speckled in the magical light, despite the argument. “It would’ve been better if no one came to save you whenever you were kidnapped!” Kalim choked a sob, meeting Jamil’s murky eyes as the taller seized the collar of his shirt, slamming him back into the trunk of the tree.

Kalim gasped as his head thwacked against the wood, Jamil so close he could feel his uneven breathing. “If only you’d never existed.” He whispered, shoving a hatred dipped dagger into Kalim’s heart as he dropped the boy, Kalim’s legs giving out as he fell to the ground, eyes glazed and distant.

Stomping away, Jamil grabbed his book and left the courtyard, steam practically pouring from his ears as red hot anger guided his feet as far from Kalim as possible.

Dropped unceremoniously on the grass, the silvery haired dorm leader slumped over, bleak and broken as he stared to nowhere at all, shoved over the dam that had both blocked his sugary tears, and kept him from drowning in the ocean of self hatred and doubt that now had full access to Kalim’s entirety.

Numbly, Kalim picked himself up, ambling towards the school corridors once more as his eyes dried, hand reaching back into his pocket and this time, pulling out the vial within.

The clear liquid swished around, seeming so harmless in its elegant bottle.

Kalim hoped with everything he had left in him that it would be quick.

<————>

The beat of his heart had never been so loud before.

Erratic and off timed, electric volts shot throughout his hands, every pulse of blood throbbing in the tips of his toes, the center of his chest, the thin muscles of his legs. A formless noose of cold anticipation wound itself tighter around his throat, strangling the words that longed to be said from a voice that wouldn’t again speak. Tears pooled in his deep red eyes, though Kalim couldn’t fathom why, since he waited all this time just for the moment of peace that wouldn’t remain so peaceful.

Lying with his back against the end of his bed, Kalim rested his head on the firm wood, clenching the small bottle of poison Vil had specially created that morning in one fist, his journal in the other. Tilting his head to look at the moon, always a perfect circle, and always smiling down at him despite the action he was so close to making. He was tempted to smile back, but uncapping the bottle and smelling the rosy scent that wafted from it, he was reminded why it was he couldn’t.

Dropping the book inked with the thoughts he’d neither shared nor broke free from, he watched as it fell, slamming on the floor loudly and torn between pale light and shadows. Inside, a letter was tucked in the smudged pages, the last note that would be written in his swirly handwriting. He prayed that Jamil would take the time to read it, but he didn’t want to hold his breath.

Lifting the graceful vial to his lips, he felt his tears drip down his supple cheeks, for what seemed like the first time, fear dripped into his soul.

He was scared. What would be waiting for him after...? Would this really fix his wrongs? Would it... make up for what he did to Jamil?

“No,” he thought gently, pressing the glass to the plush flesh of his lips, “it’s not for you. It’s for everyone else.”

Hungry for a distraction, he looked to his door, locked for safe measures, keeping any prying intruders away. He didn’t want anyone to stop him. He needed to this, needed to make up for the years of pain he’d brought to those around him. Though, he did regret not getting a second chance to apologize to Jamil, the scuffle from before helping him realize that Jamil truly didn’t want anything to do with him. He deserved this. He earned it.

Finally, setting his dulled gaze on the moon once more, he leaned the glass up, pouring the liquid into his mouth and swallowing it in a single gulp.

It was excruciatingly bitter, burning trails down his throat as he gagged, dropping the vial as his hands squeezed his neck. The feeling didn’t stop no matter how tightly he wound his fingers around the skin, the bubbly fire spreading throughout his chest and dripping into his stomach, iron-tasting blood seeping out through his parted lips.

His vision swam with black, his body betraying him as he lost the fight in him, leaning back on the end of his bed, sitting with his legs stretched out on the floor and hands numbly dropped into his lap. It no longer felt painful as he struggled to keep his eyes open, the midnight-dark blood dribbling over his chin to settle on his clothes.

He had time for only one last thought, jumbled and lost to the winds of his mind, never to be voiced.

“I... I’m sorry... for every breath I took. I’m envious Jamil, that you had the strength to carry on for so long... Me? I couldn’t last half a year in your shoes... I’m not a fighter... I’m not even strong enough to look you in the eye. I hope—I hope this did something for you... I hope this... brings an end to your suffering.”

For a moment, he saw his life flash before his eyes. The games he used the play when he was little, the laughter he used to share with his siblings, the friends he made, the fight that cost him his best friend... they all seemed to burn away as he stared at the moon, ever the lively spirit.

But, just like a candle whose fire was blown out, he snapped, going limp in the paleness of his room.

Sat on the floor, leaning against his bed, Kalim Al-Asim took his last breath, light finally snuffed out for good.

<————>

Clomping down the corridors of Scarabia, Jamil pulled his hood over his silky braided hair, something indescribable cracking in his chest.

He hadn’t seen Kalim at dinner that evening, off putting Jamil’s behavior as he pondered over the reason behind the change. Ever since Kalim announced them as “equals,” Jamil had been rather lax with his servant duties, cooking only for himself instead of for the prince, refusing to wake him in the morning, and so on. But tonight... tonight was the first night he noticed Kalim’s absence in the mess hall.

Asking around had revealed that the white haired dorm leader had been skipping the meal for quite some time, furthering Jamil’s confusion as he followed his planned track to Kalim’s room. How long hadn’t he been eating? Was he really that afraid to ask someone else for help? The idiot.

Jamil gritted his teeth. The absence hadn’t been the only reason he was so adamant on checking Kalim.

He wanted to—and damn him for saying it— he wanted to apologize. Ever since that afternoon, when he laid hands on Kalim, he felt strange, almost guilty. Maybe it was true that Kalim was overly clingly and immature, but it wasn’t his place to hurt him the way he did. Not only that, but...

Jamil furrowed his eyebrows, glaring at nothing in particular as he tried to assemble a puzzle that was missing far too many pieces. The gnawing in his stomach continued as he trudged down the hall, bringing a fist to his cheek as he nibbled on his lower lip.

Kalim had been so... thin. Like all the muscle on his body had just melted off, leaving skin and bones as replacement. Before the overblot, Kalim had been almost neck-and-neck with Jamil when it came to physique, always healthily svelte, while the dark haired servant became more toned thanks to the dirty work he often found himself in. But now—now Jamil could only describe Kalim as frail, dangerously near skeletal.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jamil tried and failed to remember how easy it had been to slam Kalim into the wall, to pin him using barely an ounce of his strength. The usually cheery boy’s helpless face flashed in the darkness, stained with tear tracks and shock as Jamil walked off, not even a glance over his shoulder to accompany him.

How long had it been since Kalim properly took care of himself?

“Doesn’t matter,” Jamil clucked quietly, reopening his eyes to see that the end of the hall, and the door leading to the grand bedroom, was closely approaching, “I’ll just get him to tell me. He’ll be back to the old Kalim in no time. Idiots never change, after all.” He quipped, though the tremor in his voice sounded more like a timid reassurance than a witty remark.

Stopping a few inches from the door, Jamil bit his tongue, debating what he was trying to say as he pulled his hood down. Cautiously bringing his hand to the door, he faltered for a split second, as if in fear the wood would reach out and bite him. Three quick short knocks bounced off the hall walls, magnified in Jamil’s ears as he was met with silence. “Kalim, it’s Jamil. Can I—I come in?” He stuttured, surprising himself.

When, yet again, late night quiet was his response, he felt the need to double over, uneasiness eating his gut. Knocking again, Jamil placed his ear on the door, listening for the rustle of clothing, or the scuff of shoes on stone. “Kalim?” He tried, hand slithering down to the brass knob. “Kalim, answer me or I’m coming in.”

Still nothing.

Dread coiling in his core, his arms stiffened as he turned the handle, finding it firmly held in place. Frantically jiggling it, he used a shoulder to push at the wood, feeling it give way ever so slightly. “Last warning, or I’m busting in, Kalim. Open the door.” He deadpanned, taking a step back.

The third round of the silent treatment sent Jamil over the edge, the vice shaking out his hands before balling them, running shoulder first into the door. It swelled, before dropping back in the same place, Jamil repeating the process over and over until his shoulder was decorated in a blossoming bruise and there was a hole just big enough for him to weasel his hands through.

Wincing at the sting in his skin, Jamil pushed his hand through the cracked wooden hole, maneuvering his arm so that he could reach the lock from the handle. Twisting it, a satisfying click rendered the door openable, Jamil yanking his scratched arm from the door panel.

“Alright, Kalim, was that necessary? I understand that I—!” Jamil froze as he swung the door open, letting a swath of light from the hall slip into the dorm leader’s exquisite room.

His heart skipped a beat as his blood chilled, eyes stretching impossibly wide while the air fueling his lungs seemed to be syphoned out of him.

There, just barely discernible from the dark, Kalim sat motionlessly. His eyes were sealed with his thick lashes, mouth parted as blood dribbled down to the neck of his clothes. He lie still, propped up by the bedside, a transparent purple vial close by, glinting in the light.

One moment... two moments... three, until Jamil shrieked out Kalim’s name, throwing the door completely open and rushing inside.

Sliding and dropping to his knees before the body, Jamil softly lifting him into his embrace as he called for anyone to come help, to come save what had clearly been lost.

“Kalim... Kalim, wake up...! I know you’re stronger than this! Get up, move, do something! Please, please wake up...!” Jamil cried, brushing the hair away from his forehead. “I-I’m sorry I pushed you earlier... I’m sorry I l-left you alone for so long. I... I didn’t mean what I said, you know I didn’t! I’m sorry, I’m sorry but please, just open your eyes... laugh one more time. Smile...? Anything... just... wake up...”

Nothing. Kalim was cold, and not a single breath heaved from his bony chest.

“Somebody help me!” The plea was cracked, echoeing about as Jamil suppressed tears, tears that shouldn’t even exist.

He asked for this. Every damn night, he asked for this. He wished with every part of what he was for Kalim to be kidnapped, for him to shunned, for him to rot in a ditch. He hated Kalim—no, he despised him.

So why the hell did it hurt so much?

Why did every look at his pale face stab his heart in a way watching an abused puppy limp did? Why did he care that Kalim was feather light, that it felt as if he was holding a pile of bones rather than a person? Why were there tears dripping from his hatred powered eyes?

Trembling with the force of fear, disbelief, and stigma, Jamil’s ears didn’t recognize the orchestra of shouts and gasps that rang out behind him as Scarabia students acted upon his words, calling for teachers and help alike. He didn’t realize just how many tears slid from his face to Kalim’s bloodied clothes, soaking the fabric. He could only stare numbly at Kalim’s once so buoyant features, at the eyes that would never again light up with joy whenever Jamil entered the room. At the cheeks that would never again heat up in a blush that was the product of his profuse smiling. At the lips that would never, ever utter a single syllable, or pull into a grin that made even the sun look like a busted light bulb.

Moreso than that... Jamil heaved breathy sobs at the discoveries he made hidden all over Kalim’s body. His arms, mutilated with self inflicted wounds that never properly healed. His torso, tenuous and more bone than skin. He wouldn’t let himself go any further, already shaken to the core by the sick scavenger hunt.

The tears felt hollow and empty, painfully slow in their race to his jaw, grip crushing on Kalim’s shoulders.

He fought with a vigor that put three boys in the infirmary when help finally arrived, Kalim being wrestled away from his protective grasp and off to who knows where. He didn’t settle down until Kalim was carried off somewhere, far outside of Jamil’s view, and was left with the worthless consolation from people he didn’t care to see.

The only thing that ran through his head was the fact that he’d been the cause of this. That he was the one who pushed Kalim too far. That it should’ve been him to die instead.

Hours later, Jamil slept in Kalim’s now unoccupied room, stumbling upon a certain bound journal that just begged to be explored.

<————>

Why was it that the saddest moments always happened on sunny days? Was it the sun laughing at the earth’s struggles? Was it nature’s way of trying to ease the pain?

Jamil had no response for his questions, dressed in his formal wear as he stared somberly down at the glass casket, the temporary bed for Kalim’s lifeless body. Today would be the last day he ever saw him, as in less than an hour, Kalim’s family would be arriving to take their brother, their cousin, their son, home.

“Hey Kalim...” Jamil muttered, kneeling before the casket. “I, uh... I wanted to say goodbye, one last time. You’ll be with your family now, they’re taking you back to the Land of Hot Sands, where you’ll get a proper burial.” He said, studying Kalim’s blissfully expressionless face.

It was so strange, seeing him so calm. It looked like he was sleeping, like he could wake at any moment and pull Jamil into a hug that he would reciprocate with all of his strength, had he the opportunity.

“It’s not fair...” He whispered as a ray of light painted over Kalim, making his white tuxedo almost blinding. “Even in the afterlife, everything about you is so... so happy. Not a cloud in the sky, the sun shining on the horizon, it seems fitting. You were always... the sun to my moon.” Jamil admitted, a realization striking him like a lightning bolt.

“Oh, I um... I read this last night,” Jamil held up the black journal he’d found in Kalim’s room, “Kalim, why did you keep yourself hidden like that? You didn’t have to—you know you didn’t have to! You shouldn’t have done this to yourself, because of me. You should’ve... should’ve...”

Should’ve what? It wasn’t Kalim’s fault he felt that way... it was his. Jamil knew that.

“I know it’s a little—no, very, very late, but I... I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Those words don’t mean anything now that you can’t even hear me, but I need to say them. I need you to know that I’m sorry...!” He felt his eyes damped, and using the back of his hand, he wiped away the water that hadn’t even spilled yet. “Kalim, you were right, okay?! You were right! You may have needed me, but I needed you more! You gave me my freedom, even after I threw you to your death! I had so much pent up anger, I didn’t... didn’t know what to do with it!”

The dawning of the truth set Jamil’s waterworks into action, a pretty blush darkening his cheeks as his shattered weeping rose into the air. This was it. Kalim would never smile, laugh, speak again. Never. He wouldn’t ride a magic carpet, or sit on the balcony of the lounge, or even take another breath.

He was gone.

Undeniably, irrevocably, gone.

Sniffling, Jamil placed the journal in Kalim’s hands, having written his own letter inside. “I figured, your family deserved to see your last words. And my apology. There’s not much left for me to say... but thank you. You were never in the wrong, it was me. Thank you, for being so forgiving, even in my darkest hours. Thank you, for staying by my side. Thank you, Kalim, for being the brother I didn’t realize I needed.”

Standing, Jamil leaned over Kalim, the one he took for granted. Sliding his hand over his eyelids, he bent down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, the way he did when they were little. “Goodbye.” He breathed, before parting ways, beads of saltwater still trickling down as he trekked off, fists balled tightly at his sides.

<————>

Dear Kalim,

I’ve had little time to ponder over your passing. Over the very certitude that you’re not here anymore. But in that little time, I’ve arrived at a single conclusion, that can’t begin to express my emotions.

I said I hated you. I said I wished you’d never existed. I said I wanted you out of my life. And, I used to mean those words. I used to believe that if you one day disappeared, everything wrong with me would suddenly right itself, that you were the source of my suffering.

But... only now, when you’ve really departed, do I see that I was so incurably mistaken.

I was the cause of your pain, as once upon a time, I thought you to be mine. I’m the fool, for having ignored you for so long. I’m the fool, for pushing you beyond your limits. I’m the fool, for pretending to hate you, even as I myself, was at the mercy of your charms.

When we were young, I treasured you like family. We fought like siblings do, we laughed as brothers, we grew as a pair. It’s impossible to set a specific date, but somewhere along the way, something changed. Suddenly, you were no longer my brother. Suddenly, you were my rival, my enemy that I could never escape.

I know the penmanship of my woes could never bring you back, I am painfully aware of that. I am beside myself that it took your death for me to grasp that the reason I never left your side was because I didn’t hate you.

I never left you, because I was afraid.

I was afraid that you’d lose the need for me. I was afraid that you’d leave me behind. Moreover, I was terrified of losing you, like I have now.

That smile of yours, the one that never ends, and never fails to bring laughter to even the coldest of hearts, that was what I wanted to preserve. That was what I wanted you to keep, if nothing else.

I’m truly sorry, sorry beyond what words can say.

I pray that one day, you’ll smile again. It’s far too late for me now, but I want you to know that you were my best friend, Kalim Al-Asim.

You were what I strived to be.

I just wished I had the gall to admit it sooner.

Written truthfully,

Jamil Viper

Yet another request finished! Thank you @etervenislucifen for the ask!

I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!

Stay lovely!!

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #kalim al asim #twst #angst #vil schoenheit #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech

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drprettyboyspence · 4 years ago

Text

Memory Lane

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader

Summary: Reader just can't seem to get to sleep one night so she decides to walk around the house she shares with her boyfriend, Spencer Reid. As she travels around the house she remembers significant moments in their relationship.

words: 2.9k

warnings: season 12 spoilers, mentioning of mental illness, nothing else to my knowledge! (just a lot of fluff)

a/n: This is my first Spencer Reid fic and I kinda went off the rails with the word count, let me know if you enjoy it :)

I turn myself over in bed for what feels like the four hundredth time this hour, facing the ceiling now. I can hear the rustling of leaves outside and the distant sirens of the city, remembering how those sounds used to bring me some sort of comfort as a child, now all I can think of is the death and tragedy being an FBI profiler has brought me into contact with, the horrors at the end of the trail of sirens. Mostly noticeably though, I hear the steady breathing of the man lying next to me in the king bed, glancing over at my boyfriend of almost 4 years I smile warmly, his unruly hair draped over the pillow, glad to see him in deep sleep. Recently he hasn’t been sleeping well, suffering from PTSD from his time spent in prison as well as all the trauma the poor man has been through in the last 10 years of his life. I quietly get out of bed, making sure not to bother him, he deserves a good nights sleep and we have to be at the BAU in a depressingly minuscule amount of hours. My feet hit the cold wooden floors and I wonder for the uncountable time “Why did we decide on wooden floors?” A memory of an argument with Spencer answers my question,

“Because silly, don’t you know that carpets can hold up to 200,000 bacteria per square inch, this room is 100 square feet, 144 square inches per square foot, that is 28,800,000 bacteria in our bedroom alone.” I remember shaking my head at him, he’s always been such a germaphobe. In fact, when we first met, he shook my hand, and later when I confided in JJ and Penelope that I had pretty intense feelings for the resident genius of the BAU, they mentioned that he usually hates shaking hands, is known for refusing to shake the hands of many people the team comes into contact with on cases. He shook my hand right away, it’s one of the things I love about him and we always say we knew right away that we had a special connection. I glance at Spencer’s sleeping frame one more time before leaving the bedroom and making my way down the hallway. There are pictures there, pictures of me and Spence, him and his mom, pictures of the team at work, Spencer won’t admit it often, but he wakes up every morning scared that he won’t remember those he loves, his mother’s dementia and schizophrenia have impacted him greatly. I stop in front of a picture of me and Spence, it’s the first picture we ever took together, Halloween almost 5 years ago now, at the FBI Halloween party.

October 2015

“Come on Y/n! How can you not love Halloween!”

“Spencer, what’s so great about Halloween!” I had asked laughing while filling up a plastic cup with punch. The party is fun, but all this dressing up just seems silly to me sometimes.

“It’s a uniquely American holiday! I mean, despite its obvious origins in the Celtic festival of Samhain and the Christian All Saints’ Day, it really is a melting pot of various immigrants’ traditions and beliefs. It became a little more commercialized in the 1950s with trick-or-treat, and today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity!” I catch JJ’s eyes from across the room, she gives me a sympathetic look as I’m stuck in another of Reid’s constant statistics rants. Frankly, I don’t understand how the rest of the team can cut Reid off when he’s like this. He’s so genuinely excited by this holiday it makes my budding feelings for the man standing in front of me even stronger.

“Aw you guys look so cute! Say cheese!” the always-hyper voice of Penelope Garcia shouts from across the bullpen, snapping a quick picture of me and Spence before running after Derek. I glance down at my phone and see a text from Penelope “It doesn’t take a profiler to realize how gone you are for him Y/n” I blush profusely before continuing my conversation with Spencer.

Present day

Tearing my eyes away from that specific picture, I continue walking to the end of the hallway, painfully aware that the floorboards are squeaking with my every step, hoping Spencer’s just-finished-a-case level of exhaustion will prevent him from waking up. I pass the threshold into the kitchen and see the dim light of the clock over the stove, the red 2:15 blinking back at me through my tired eyes, I just can’t seem to get to sleep tonight, I’m sure Spencer would say something like

“Chronic insomnia is usually tied to an underlying mental or physical issue. Anxiety, stress, and depression are some of the most common causes of chronic insomnia but even if you do not suffer from chronic insomnia, 35% of Americans report their sleep quality as poor or only fair.” Dating a living encyclopedia definitely has its perks I suppose. I walk towards the fridge and glance at the refrigerator, my eyes traveling to a postcard held up by a doctor who magnet. Houston, Texas the postcard reads.

February 2017

Me and Spencer had been dating for less than 6 months but as we had known each other for over a year I was falling head over heels in love with him. The last few months hadn’t been easy, Spencer learned that his mother had been diagnosed with dementia and not a day had gone by where he didn’t try and find a cure, he had been traveling to Houston,Texas to talk with his mother’s doctor, he then brought her to live with him in Virginia, it had been difficult to say the least. My fingers traced the edges of the postcard I had received in the mail this morning, then flipped it over and saw Spencer’s familiar scraggly handwriting, it read

Dear Y/n,

I was able to speak with my mother’s doctors today, I feel as though there must be more I can be doing, she seems to be responding to the medicines but I am looking into new methods of treating the disease. I miss you so much Y/n, and I miss the rest of the team as well, tell them I will be back as soon as I can, I hate the thought of you putting yourself in danger on cases without me there, not because I doubt your ability to protect yourself, but because I doubt my ability to handle being 1,402 miles away from you. Please do not worry about me, if you’re anxiously awaiting my return, stop looking at the clock because remember, when looking at a clock our brains anticipate what we’ll see faster than we actually see it, so the clock seems to stop, Ill be back before you know it Y/n.

With all my love, Spencer Reid.

I giggle quietly at the added facts, only Spencer would describe the phenomenon of a clock appearing stopped when glanced out. I’m concerned about Spencer though, I’m not sure what is going on, but there is definitely something not right with him and if I didn’t trust him so much I would consider asking Garcia to do a background check to check the legitimacy of his travels to Houston.

Present Day

This postcard is extremely bittersweet, the next week we were all rushing to Mexico, responding to a call that Spencer was in jail, I was a nervous wreck, we all were, it was an extremely rough 6 months, truly showing me how strong the man I love is. I push some of those harsh memories out of my brain, choosing to focus on the happy memories if I ever want to fall asleep tonight. There’s a coffee machine next to the fridge, if there’s one thing Spencer loves more than me, its coffee, or rather coffee flavored sugar with the amount of sweetener he puts in his cup every day. Spencer smells like coffee, almost always, he struggles to sleep most nights and therefore is always hyped up on caffeine. It's actually played a huge role in our relationship.

August 2016

Dr. Spencer Reid and I are walking to the BAU together as we do every single day, we live close to each other, close enough that he walks about 5 minutes before arriving at my house, we then walk to the coffee shop on the way to the train station. We’re best friends, but I’ve been secretly in love with him for months. Walking into Quantico, we get the daily glances from Penelope, Derek, and JJ who are sitting together looking at pictures of Henry. Penelope always teases me that we’re both so in love with each other that everyone can see it but us, it’s ironic actually. As much as I don’t believe Pen, I have been noticing small changes in Spence’s behavior the last couple months, prompting me to, in the deepest corners of my mind, hope that maybe he feels the same way, our friendship is worth too much to risk him not feeling the same way though, so I’m forever stuck. We aren’t on a case right now, so there’s a lot of paperwork to be done, at one point during the day I get up, asking Spence if he wants another cup of coffee before walking to the break room. I return after a brief 5 minutes and am surprised to see Derek sitting in my seat, arguing with Spencer.

“Come on Pretty boy! We both know you’re in love with her! Just ask her out man, she’ll say yes!”

“Morgan, quiet down, she’ll be back any minute, besides I’m 35 and Y/n is 32, I’m not saying there would even be a chance that we would get married but the marriage success rate in the United States is only 50%, the worst it has ever been, that therefore shows the state of relationships in the country as well, I don’t want to ruin our friendship, I could never lose her. Besides, I’ve never been good with women.”

“But that’s the thing pretty boy, you don’t have to be good with women, you’re already good with Y/n, she’s the one who matters, just ask her out man, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” With that Morgan walks away and I take a deep breath, its now or never, walking over to Spencer and setting down the cup, whispering in his ear,

“You never know how good with women you are until you try, Spence” He looks up at me with wide eyes and licks his tongue across his lips, something he does often.

“Um, Y/n, y-you heard all of that?” I nod and I can see Spence take a deep breath just as I did before walking over, “W-would you like to um- go to dinner with me Y/n?”

“Hmm I don’t know…” Spencer’s face starts to fall as I quickly continue “Of course I would love to go to dinner with you silly, what did you think?” His smile lights up the entire room as he pulls me into a deep hug.

“Well finally you two. You couldn’t have waited just a few more months though, I assumed you lovebirds wouldn’t get it together until after Spencer’s birthday” Rossi says from behind us, passing a pretty hefty stack of bills to Penelope.

That was the day that started the greatest adventure of my life.

Present Day

I leave the kitchen and walk to the living room, a chilly breeze blows my hair slightly askew, its June in Virginia, warm enough that all I’m wearing is one of Spence’s oversized MIT shirts with pajama shorts, but the night air causes slight goosebumps on my skin, sending me into my memories once again.

August 2019

Spencer and I are sitting on the couch, participating in yet another Doctor Who marathon on the tv, it's a rare day off from work and the hot summer air fills our living room even with the fan blowing through the house. I lie my head in Spencer’s lap as we watch the tv and his strong hand strokes the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to pop up all over my arms. I giggle and glance up at him causing him to pointedly look at me asking me with his eyes “What is so funny that you dare distract from Doctor Who?”

“It’s just strange, its 95 degrees outside but your hands on my neck give me goosebumps like its a crisp fall day, isn’t that funny baby?”

“Of course the most common cause of goosebumps is cold weather, but when you’re experiencing extreme emotions, the human body responds in a variety of ways. Two common responses include increased electrical activity in the muscles just under the skin and increased depth or heaviness of breathing, resulting in goosebumps.” I roll my eyes at him and playfully swat his hair out of his eyes.

“Only you, Dr. Spencer Reid, would take a romantic statement and turn it into statistics, and I love you for that” he kisses me and well, the Doctor Who marathon was quickly turned off after that.

Present Day

As I turn the corner into the living room I smile warmly, it’s the room that Spencer and I like the best. There are book cases lining the back wall, Spencer loves books, I’d ask him what made his books so special and he’d tell me stories of his childhood, his mom reading him 15th century literature, I loved when Spence told me stories about his childhood.

December 2017

I knocked on the door of Spencer’s apartment, it wasn’t like him to be late for our daily walk to work especially because he had been on probation after his time in jail. I received no answer, prompting my concern as I unlocked the door with the key he had given me. I walked into his living room and saw him, Spencer was sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by books, running his fingers up and down the pages as he does when he’s reading at his top speed.

“Spence what on earth are you doing! Where did all these books come from? We aren’t on a case are we?”

“This year in the United States alone there have been 328,259 new books published, I read at 20,000 words per minute but at an average of 100,000 words per book, it would take me 27,377 hours to read all those books!”

“Oh Spencer how I love you, you don’t need to read every book ever published, are you going to start reading romance novels?” I tease while picking up a copy of 50 Shades of Gray from the ground at Spencer’s feet.

“Okay maybe you’re right, I just feel like I missed so much time when I was incarcerated, all that reading I could’ve done when I was trapped in that place, it's time I can never get back.”

“Spencer, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you, but this is not going to help that feeling go away, let’s go to work.” Spencer nodded and began to tidy up the floor before following me out the door.

“Wait, Y/n, I have to ask you something that I’ve meant to say since I’ve gotten out of jail, and I might as well say it now, will you move in with me?” He’s chewing on his bottom lip again and I jump into his arms in excitement, kissing his hair as he caresses the back of my head.

“Of course I’ll move in with you! I love you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“And I love you Y/n Y/l/n.”

Present Day

I’m coming around to the opposite side of the living room now, sitting down on the couch in front of the fireplace. I love the fireplace in our house and I think secretly Spencer does too. We argued for days over the safety of having a fireplace in our house, Spencer of course supplied with enough knowledge of house fires to last him 5 lifetimes, “But Spencer it’ll be so cozy, doesn’t it sound romantic to cuddle up by the fire?” I had pleaded with him the day we toured the house for the first time.

“Y/n, there were an average of 357,400 residential fires per year in the US between 2012 and 2014, an average of 22,300 of those fires were caused by a fireplace or chimney!”

“But Spenceee, that’s only 6.24% of the residential house fires during that period, 43.9% were from cooking equipment, are you going to forbid us from having a kitchen too?” Hey, don’t underestimate how useful a cellphone calculator and a quick google search can be in winning an argument against your genius boyfriend. Obviously, we had ended up agreeing on the fireplace, but Spencer was still overly cautious whenever it was in use. As I stood in front of the fireplace I became hyper aware of the floorboards creaking in the hallway just as they had done when I left the room earlier, I felt a presence enter the room and the 6’1” frame of my boyfriend wrapped his long arms around me from behind while burying his face in the hollow of my shoulder.

“Hi, baby, what are you doing up so late? Are you feeling okay? Can’t seem to get to sleep?” I nod back at him and recline my head so it rests on his strong chest.

“I was just taking a trip down memory lane I suppose” I say before smiling up at the love of my life.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reader insert

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fanfictrashdump · 4 years ago

Text

Universe in a Jar - Phase 4 fic

OK. I did something. A few days ago I reblogged this post about the magical trio. And then my brain went off on a monumental tangent and this happened. It’s not my fault, really– Loki is my all-time fave, Wanda could murder me and I’d thank her and Stephen is a smart, sassy bitch... all wins.

So, here, y’all can have it. I might leave it there or I might continue depending on my mood.

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, OC

Rating: T? Language!

Summary: Baby-sitting beings arguably more powerful than him goes awry for Doctor Strange. He knows one person who can possibly keep them isolated and out of trouble. Well, he knew someone who could... he hasn’t seen them in decades and for stupid reasons.

"Wait here. No funny business."

Doctor Stephen Strange half-dragged himself upright to deliver the warning. The portal-hopping and timeline clipping involved in the last twelve hours–if he could even call them that–of his life had really taken it out of him. Who knew fixing tears in the time-space continuum was so exhausting? Doctor Who made it look like a breeze!

Setting his companions with one last threatening glare, he walked up to a faded, run down apartment door with a crooked six hanging just above the knocker. In all honesty, the place looked even worse than what he had anticipated when the hospital directory gave him the address. Still, he knew he had made it here for a reason, despite the fact his stomach was roiling and begging him to reconsider. This was his Hail Mary. Tightening his jaw and frowning himself into another set of early wrinkles, he pounded the wooden entrance so hard the six righted itself.

A minute or so later, the door swung open, a woman filling the empty frame just long enough to lay eyes on the doctor.

"Nope."

The door slammed shut with a noisy shudder just as Stephen opened his mouth. He swallowed the dozen or so expletives that were threatening to wriggle themselves free from his throat. Instead, he straightened his hoodie, loosened his neck with an audible crack, and took a deep breath before the side of his fist struck the door four times.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

Silence.

Stillness.

His companions beginning to titter in the background because for all his pomp and attitude and the timelines are not to be meddled with–I am the Sorcerer Supreme, he could not get a single human to open the door.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

His teeth ground together harder in annoyance. "Seph! I have absolutely no problem in staying here all day. Making a fuss. Screaming at your door. Waking the neighbors. Being a nui–"

The door swung open, then. Stephen was met with a frown and eyes dark as storm clouds and for just a second he forgot why he was doing this. "What the fuck do you want?"

His expression softened under her glare, if only minimally. There was a reluctance in his frame that refused to give up even as he said the words. "I need help, Seph." His eyes flittered briefly over his shoulder and it was just long enough for the woman to notice that the sorcerer was not alone.

Standing on her tiptoes, she looked over his shoulder. Just down the harshly lit hallway, two figures–woman dressed in dark red and a man in an all black suit–stood watching the interaction and chattering among themselves. Her expression lightened just a fraction. "Who's the cutie?"

Stephen looked back, furrowing his brow and taking careful inspection of the other two before directing his attention back to the woman at the door. "Which one is the cutie?"

"Take your pick," she challenged back and even though his initial instinct was to roll his eyes and scoff, a little smirk tugged at his lips.

He whistled, gesturing the door with his head. His companions perked, if only due to sheer curiosity about this new person. "Wanda, Loki, meet Dr. Persephone Hale." He sighed, shoulders slumping in anticipation for what was to come out of his mouth. He gathered the most sincere look he could muster and held her gaze. "Please?"

A million expressions fluttered through her features, including a peculiar twitch of her nose he knew only happened when she was about to do something she really didn't want to. He tried not to celebrate the victory too soon. She was, after all, making him wait for it. After a moment of internal deliberation, she stepped aside and Strange signaled in no uncertain terms that the two needed to step inside.

"Thank you for having us. I'm sorry if we're intruding." Wanda looked tense as she spoke, like they had already had plenty of doors slammed in their face. Or perhaps she was just sensing the thoughts and emotions of their host and fearing the worst.

Seph waved her in. "It's not a problem. I am glad to help an Avenger and… an alien god." She offed them both a forced smile. "Where'd you leave the horns?"

Loki chuckled, straightening his suit. "They didn't go with the outfit. May I?"

"Of course. It's him I'm not crazy about."

The smile on Loki's face grew as he sidled past her, leaving Stephen to glare at them both. "Seph–"

"I don't care. I don't care about whatever excuse you're about to give me–"

"I'm sorry! I can't do anything else other than apologize."

"Yes, you're right. Why would the Sorcerer Supreme even bother with the lesser mortals?" With an icy glare, she turned on her heel and stomped into the apartment, though she left the door open in invitation.

Drawing a long sigh, Stephen reconsidered turning time back just ten minutes and foregoing this whole disaster before realizing he had no other choice, and so he followed her in and closed the door behind him.

The entrance hall of the tiny Bronx apartment melted away after a few steps, replacing stale summer air with a crisp country breeze. Faded blue flower-patterned wallpaper was familiar at first sight, as was the well-loved wooden stair banister, worn in places where the steps were squeaky from nights of trying to sneak in after curfew. Knick-knacks and pictures crammed into every possible space brought back memories that he had long since locked into the back of his mind and forgotten about. Everything within his line of sight brought with it a prickle and tingle of a life past but still haunting him, and he loved and hated it in equal measure.

"Who devised this portal? The work is rather formidable," Loki remarked, breaking the silence, in the closest thing to awe that any of the others had ever heard.

"Oh, i-it’s nothing impressive." Seph quipped, brushing away the compliment.

"So you studied alongside Strange, then?"

"No. Not magic, at least." Persephone gestured with her index around the room. "This is the only thing I can do."

"A feat like this without any of those silly rings that he needs? Impressive." He paced around, touching invisible seams and humming to himself. "With a little training you could do very well for yourself." Neither doctor could decide whether the tone he was using was encouraging or threatening.

"I don't think so," she replied, fidgeting in her oversized cardigan. "I was put off early on."

Despite the fact he was pointedly looking out the window, Stephen could tell Seph's gaze had fallen onto him. There were a million other things he would rather do than have that conversation–a root canal with no lidocaine, for example. He, instead, forced his focus on staring at the house sitting a couple of hundred meters away. The red trim of the roof was looking faded and the gutters were a little loose but it did not seem like the house was in total disrepair.

"I haven't been home in ages," he muttered, off-handedly.

"Oh! Weren't you born and raised in Manhattan? At least according to the Times, anyway." The sarcastic tone Persephone used made an uncomfortable weight press down into his stomach. He opted to count how many missing shingles there were on the roof.

"Ah, so there's history. That explains the dread at having to come to her door," Loki announced genially, clearly in need of some entertainment. "Wanda, you've lost our wager."

"Loki," Wanda warned, taking the time to fix him with a look before gesturing at the other two. They seemed to have been fighting a war entirely through stares.

"Which door leads outside?"

Seph rolled her eyes. "Which fucking door do you think leads outside, Stephen? I thought you were this hot shot genius doctor!"

"I am asking because that door," he gestured at the front door, "leads to the middle of nowhere in the Bronx."

"Then maybe don't take the door that leads to the Bronx, then, jackass. Or better yet, do. Until now, you've never had a problem finding a door away from me."

"That–" He killed the retort before it had a chance to meet the air and instead pivoted his questioning. "Is the key still under the mat?"

"I don't fucking know. Where did you leave the key twenty-whatever years ago you last graced your own doorstep?" With that last remark, she stormed off and up the stairs, cardigan billowing behind her, while Strange wrenched the back door open and threw himself into the field between the houses.

Wanda and Loki shared a look before making themselves scarce, elsewhere.

About an hour later, Wanda opened the door to what she presumed was the main bedroom and peeked inside. Persephone lay with her limbs splayed out, dark curls smushed on one side, blinking blankly at the ceiling. With a sigh, she opened the door a bit more and let herself in.

"I hope you don't mind. Loki and I made some tea. And he might have eaten a whole sleeve of Oreos."

Seph laughed despite her gloom and shuffled to sit up against the headboard. Wanda smiled, offering her an extra mug in her hand, steam billowing from the top invitingly. "Sorry. I've been a terrible hostess."

"You're more hostage than hostess at the moment. I don't blame you." Wanda sipped at her tea for a minute in tense silence. "So, when did you and Stephen date? And how did he fuck it up?"

The responding snort was heartfelt and led to a long laugh. "No. Stephen and I have never dated."

"But there is history."

She ruffled her curls back into shape, out of nervous habit more than concern, and sighed. "Hard not to have when you've known him all your life. He grew up in that house across the way."

"I assumed as much." She gave her an encouraging smile, like a mother coaxing her teen into conversation. It worked exceptionally well on Seph. "Come on. We were neighbors growing up does not cover the level of tension from earlier."

Seph shrugged. "We both wanted to be doctors. I followed him to the same schools, undergrad and med school. We were pretty much our own support system. His sister passed, and his parents, my mom. We always figured it out together–"

There was a bit of confusion in the witch's face. "OK. That sounds really sweet, though."

"–and then one day I told him a secret. I told him I could make doors go to other places and I showed him, and I haven't seen him since."

“Ah, right.” Wanda winced. "That… sucks."

"Yep." She popped the 'p' before sipping at her tea.

"But when he got into magic, surely he–?"

"Nope." She swallowed at a lump in her throat and pushed away the ball of emotions that thinking on that day was dredging up. "That day he said I was crazy, that I drugged him. I've never heard an apology but he somehow gets to be Sorcerer Supreme."

Wanda sighed, taking a long draw from her tea before adding. "Jeez, what a dick."

"I'm assuming this scrawny, little thing is him," Loki remarked from the door, startling both women. He held out a framed picture of four children. "I am assuming he was bullied on that haircut alone."

"No worse than being the only Black kid in school in a small town in rural Nebraska," Seph retorted with a wry grin. Loki considered and shrugged, sitting at the bottom of the bed with what appeared to be a pack of saltines. "That's his little brother, Victor. He's the taller kid. The girl is his sister, Donna. That's the last picture we took before Victor died."

"Didn't his sister die, as well?" Persephone nodded. "So, they've all died. Seems like he's a harbinger of bad luck. Maybe we'd do well to stay away," he quipped, tossing the picture onto the mattress.

"Yes, tell us about harbingers of bad luck, Mr. I've Died More Times Than I Can Remember," Wanda sassed back, much to the other two's amusement.

"I have a question, Lady Hale."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Seph is fine, Loki."

"These portals, can you make them go anywhere?"

She shook her head. "Only places I've been to, sorry. Can't send you back to whatever planet you want to run off to."

He tsk'ed. "Well, it was worth a try."

"What did you two do to get stuck with the magic police?"

"Created a whole new reality by escaping my first arrest" "Held a whole town hostage in a fake TV show." They replied simultaneously.

"Fuck. No wonder he's desperate," Seph muttered to herself. "Why doesn't he just keep you in the fancy sorcerer place?"

"Too many artifacts to play with." "Too many books with dark magic."

"OK. He's clearly in over his head. No wonder he came here. There's no way he could keep you both controlled and contained without the..." She gestured around the room to signify the magic of her bubble.

"It's nice to let him pretend." Loki offered with a wink. "It's endearing."

Persephone laughed, sparing a passing thought to the idiot who didn't know what he got into. "Well, if you're stuck here, anyway, there's plenty of bedrooms. The bathroom is down the hall. Make yourself comfortable and relax. I'm going to go get dinner started."

Wanda smiled, stretching happily. "I'll take you up on that. I need a shower and some sleep."

Loki smirked. "I'll join you in the kitchen, if you don't mind."

When Stephen returned, a long while later, he was immediately drawn to the familiar smells permeating the house and warming him from the inside out as much as the soft, honeyed whispers being exchanged in the dim light of the kitchen. He found Loki and Persephone at the stove, speaking in hushed voices, closer to each other than he would have deemed appropriate–definitely flirty. Loki had changed out of the black suit into a pair of joggers and a dark green tshirt and seemed downright at home bantering with the human over the simmering pot. His ease made Stephen's left eye twitch immediately, some long-forgotten jealousy roiling in his chest and clenching his fists on their own accord. He cleared his throat loudly to pull their attention.

Seph rolled her eyes and turned back to the pot to stir, though Loki lingered close for a few extra moments before taking half a step back.

"I guess the fun police is back," she muttered under her breath and Loki chuckled.

"Loki, could you go check on Wanda, please?"

"Wanda is sleeping, so no." He turned back to his companion, whispered something into her ear that made her giggle and turn to face him, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

The way his eyes trailed from her lips to his gaze made something snap inside the sorcerer. "Just get lost, will you?"

Seph craned her neck, fixing him with a glare. "Leave him alone. This is my house." Loki grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek with a smug glint in his eye.

"I need to talk to you."

"Funnily enough, I heard all I needed to two decades ago, so…"

"Persephone, I am not playing here, I–" His demand was cut short by the flickering of the walls. Invisible curtains dividing this world from the little ratty apartment in the Bronx were faltering. Just beyond the constraints of the space, a whole new area, neither New York nor Nebraska, was reflected for just a second before it flashed back.

"It's alright, darling. He knows he has no authority here. Settle down, dove," Loki cooed cautiously, eyeing their surroundings with caution. "Do you want me to give you a moment with him?"

Seph sighed, studying Loki’s expression before nodding reluctantly. "Like I have a choice with this idiot."

"Very well. I will make myself scarce." He inclined his head at her, a gentle smile attached. Once he turned, he gave Strange a dirty look with a multitude of silent warnings and retreated to the living room.

Stephen snorted. "What did you do, bribe him?"

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the stove. "Nope. He was hungry. I fed him. You'd be surprised how much less surly he is when he's full."

He frowned. "We ate before coming here."

"Hm… what's your excuse, then?" After a minute of silence, she glanced over her shoulder to check he was still there. He was. Unfortunately. "Besides, he eats three times as much as you do. Whatever you had wouldn't have made a dent."

"How do you know that?"

She let out a single laugh. "It's this revolutionary practice called talking. You wouldn't know about it, scalpel jock."

"Here’s a thought. How about you let your disdain for me go long enough for us to have a conversation."

The spoon in her hand slammed into the pot with a splash, driving bits of stew everywhere. Reality flickered within the portal and time dilated just long enough for him to notice before everything went smashing back into place. She was good at repressing these feelings, he knew. She must have spent their decades apart trying to control herself, unaided, and now it was his fault that she was losing control.

"How can you pretend that the single worst day of my life is just water under the bridge, Stephen?" She turned from the stove and he noticed her eyes glowed faintly in their intense hazel. "You accused me of drugging you, of deceiving you! I was grieving, my life was a mess, and I suddenly opened doors to places I hadn't been to in years, entirely by accident." She began to close the space between them, rounding the kitchen table. He felt like he should make a hasty retreat but found he lacked the ability. "I was terrified. I needed you! And you left me! I had no one!" Her voice cracked at the end, eyes filling with tears as she did all she could to retain the glare she was directing at him. "And after all that shit, you find magic and you–you didn't even have the decency to come and talk to me until you needed something."

"I didn't understand what had happened, OK? I opened your closet door and stepped into my childhood bedroom, Seph! How was that logical?"

"How did you think I felt, fucker? I was the one doing it!" Her voice rose to a shout and Stephen was quick to match it.

"I'm sorry! OK? I am sorry. I shouldn't have left. I should have reached out to you sooner. I should have helped. I am sorry. I'm s o r r y, but I was a dumb kid and the girl I was in love with could make distances shrink into nothing and I panicked!"

"You should've stayed gone, then," she replied, icily. "Because the boy I was in love with died when you left me alone in that room."

Cold filled his veins, and his spine quivered at her words. This was pure hatred, plain and simple. He couldn't find it within himself to blame her, to logic his way out of his role in her misery. Every excuse he could offer could be countered with 'yes, and it was happening to her, too'. She had been his one support through every bit of rotten luck he ever had. And he left her to her fate in a strange city without a lifeline. He never imagined he would be back to have this conversation, to pick at the scabbed-over wounds he had inflicted long ago.

"Persephone… Seph…" His hands tentatively grasped for her shoulders and gave a squeeze. She flinched, but did not pull away. "I am so sorry." With a little more coaxing, he had enveloped her in his arms, his nose pressed into her hair and inhaling the familiar scent of coconut. "I'm sorry. I am sorry," he chanted, feeling the front of his shirt dampening with her tears as her shoulders relaxed and molded into him. "I am going to make it up to you. I swear."

Persephone sniffled, pulling away from his frame. "I've waited a lifetime for you to come back for me." She blinked and tears streamed down her cheeks. "But I don't want that, anymore.” She made distance, wiping at her eyes and steeling her resolve. He wanted to pull her back to him. She needed to understand his point of view, though it suddenly occurred to him that he never bothered to understand hers. “You're welcome to stay as long as you need. But this isn't fixable, Stephen."

After a tense moment of staring at each other, she skirted past him, ignoring his protests and pleads to talk, opened the pantry door and disappeared through it with a ripple.

“Stellar job, Strange. Now we’re stuck until she gets back,” Loki commented as he slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl of stew and sneaked back out.

For once, Stephen did not argue.

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