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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Text

Tainted Apollo

Pairing: Kars x Reader

Warnings: mentions of gore, death of minor characters, slight allusion to dubcon.

Words: 3056.

Summary: Finding a peculiar sculpture in the ruins of an ancient temple, you realize you have stumbled upon a god set in stone.

P.S. I forgot to post this one here haha

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"Good morning, Sire." You welcomed him as you stretched in your improvised bed, an old metal container of some kind with a pile of blankets on top of it.

Rubbing your sleepy eyes, you slowly put your feet on the floor and adjusted the hem of your nightgown so he wouldn't see too much of your flesh. Kars always found this habit of yours ridiculous. He had been a piece of stone for God knew how long, and even after you found him he'd been confined to bed for no less than a year, barely moving and unable to speak. Kars was sure you didn't even understand what he was, but you still cared about covering your body in front of him. What a pathetic habit, he thought.

When you found him in the sands, somewhere in what appeared to be a long abandoned temple that had been in ruins even before he reached the Earth, you first thought he was some kind of sculpture, adoring his unusual but captivating form. He hated you watching him with your eyes wide, even touching a lock of his petrified hair - you were just a mortal human woman, one of those he had been determined to wipe out, but you had the audacity to act like his sole purpose was to lay in the sand for your entertainment. If he could move, he would definitely end your pathetic like there and then. But Kars couldn't.

It must have been ages, if not a millennium, since he had been banished from Earth. Drifting through darkness, his body had turned to stone, his limbs losing their ability to move - regardless of him finally becoming an ultimate form of life, it brought him nothing but eternal suffering and oblivion. Kars had stopped functioning like a living being almost completely. Almost. If he hadn't been returned back to Earth by some accident, he would continue his meaningless journey to the stars till the end of times because the darkness enveloping him had no limits. It felt like being thrown into a cold throat of some gigantic monstrous creature, but instead of reaching its stomach and finally dying he had been forced to circulate somewhere in between, neither dead nor alive. If silly humans thought the Hell was real, it had to be it.

He couldn't remember what force sent him back to Earth as he could think of no one doing it intentionally, but it didn't matter as long as he could reach Earth. Regardless of what would happen after, Kars knew he would survive and regain his power, finally giving humanity what it deserved for what they had done to him.

Funny, but when his mind had awoken from hibernation, Kars realized there was no one to take revenge on. Humanity had successfully wiped itself out.

Even after year and a half that passed, he still saw just you, a girl who had brought his petrified form to her home to take care of him knowing he was alive - by the time you met him Kars was able to open his eyes. Oh, he remembered well how horrified you were, stumbling upon an immensely beautiful statue that turned out to be a stone god, he heard you saying that for a few times. That day you ran away with such an expression Kars didn't expect you to ever come back, although you showed up a couple of days after, trying to talk to him in that odd new human language he had never heard before. As he kept silent, unable to even move his lips and make a sound, you realized the god you stared upon had been trapped in stone, and you could do nothing to free him. You went away, but came back with an odd machine that reminded him of Stroheim, and Kars thought of melting your bones when you dared to use to transport him. However, he had to admit how further did human technology evolved when even a small and timidly-looking machine like yours could lift and transport him to your home, a place inside another machine that had been definitely used for military purposes before being abandoned. It looked incredibly pathetic, as if you were a little rat that had to live in a pile of garbage out of pure need.

The world he once knew and wished to conquer had disappeared. All he saw while being driven away by your small machine had been a never-ending desert and ruins of other machines: he learnt lately those were enormous satellites, star ships, and other rusting remnants of an epoch that had been long gone. Watching gigantic sand stingrays crossing the desert as if it were a sea made him realize how far humans had gone - they had created monsters that were never meant to exist in the first place.

Of course, they paid for it. Judging from the stories you told him and what he observed himself, humanity had faced almost complete annihilation even without intervention of their outer space enemies, if there were any. The atomic war destroyed nearly everything humans had been creating since the beginning of their era. It affected even the natural course of life of every living being on Earth, forcing them to change and finally become a horrifying, mutilated, monstrous life form of something they had been once. Even the Moon had been gone, it's ugly half-destroyed form shining in the night sky and making it even more revolting. You had said something about unsuccessful colonization and the war over moon territories while Kars had to force himself to look down on the sand that was at least familiar to him.

Disgusting. He still had hard time believing how far humans had gone, destroying everything that existed long before they started ruling the planet. What would Jojo say now if he saw what a nightmare the world had become? Wasn't it better to let Kars wipe out the humanity before this had happened?

He had been fighting the urge to break your spine or melt your insides at least for a couple of months, blaming you for the crimes of your ancestors despite you obviously being too young to commit any of the atrocities that had happened. How come a human being had the audacity to survive in this post-Apocalyptic world while other life forms had mutated into monsters? When you were wiping any impurities off his cold stony skin, he was dreaming of the time when his body would come out of this odd hibernation period he couldn't control and then murder you in some rather painful way, prolonging your death till you felt all kinds of despair a human like you could. As he struggled to move even his fingers, he had finally decided not to harm an only being capable of taking care of him.

Each day you brought him to sunlight so he could observe what was outside of your pathetic shelter while you worked to grow anything in this lifeless place, several times a week departing to some place to fill the ugly rusted water tank, then watering your plants in a some kind of a nicely equipped greenhouse - funny, now you used it to protect the plants from the intense heat rather than trap it inside. Fruits and vegetables were what your diet was based on, including some synthetic supplements Kars refused to consume, disgusted by something made purely by humankind. Sometimes you would bring him fried meat, and while the thought of eating a mutilated animal had been revolting to him, Kars knew you could offer him nothing else. Even the meat you brought you offered only to him, rarely taking a piece for yourself: now it must have been a great privilege to consume meat. Besides, it truly sustained him better than fruits or vegetables, and he was dependent on what you were feeding him, slowly getting his strength back. After a year and a half he was now able to move his lips and fingertips, making you nearly ecstatic: it seemed you were doing everything right.

What did you think he was? A deity? A monster? A machine? Probably an immortal being who had existed long before the annihilation, that's what you said: you were talking to him from time to time either to pay your respects, tell him more about your world you thought he knew nothing about or voice what you were going to do right the next moment. One day as you brought several rectangular plates made with what looked like a blue metal to him, you read Kars about ancient Greek gods, wondering if he had been one of them - you saw him melting food with his skin, and for you it was the inherent symbol of his divinity. Kars had to give you some credit: you weren't as stupid he first thought you were. You weren't worshipping him as much as he deserved, but you probably did the best you could do, just a little desert rat having nothing but her plants and a decaying metal house.

"I won't come back till the sunset." You said once you finished washing your face and brushing your hair, tucking them under a faded scarf out of some light fabric and then reaching out to grab your mask. "I'll try being quick, Sire, but it's important I visit that place. If I'm lucky, I might bring something very useful to you."

Useful to him, huh? He would appreciate if you stopped humoring yourself: there was nothing useful you could bring him aside from a dozen people to devour. While he knew there were some people left on Earth still, he also knew you wouldn't master the strength to capture, less sacrifice them to him. Besides, Kars was still deciding whether it was worth devouring those creatures. While it certainly would make him return his powers faster, he could wait a couple of centuries - Kars doubted remaining humans could do something worse to Earth than what had already been done.

You didn't return after the sunset that day. It was the first time you hadn't keep your promise to him, and it made ill-tempered Kars bitter: oh, he would remember it and make sure you remembered it, too. He spent the night thinking what he was going to do to you, albeit not getting too violent in his thoughts. Something probably happened on your way, and you had to stop and spend the night in the desert before coming back.

The next day you didn't return either. He waited for you till the sunset but heard nothing but the sound of sand stingrays travelling to the other part of the desert. The complete silence troubled Kars more than he was able to admit: you had been somewhere around most of the time, taking to him or making some other irritating noise. While he found you just one more annoying creature inferior to him, your absence had a strange effect on Kars - it felt like something was crawling beneath his stony skin, making it harder to keep calm despite the fact the man had always been patient, unaffected by something so unworthy of his attention. However, your absence was a clear sign that something had happened, and it somehow bothered him.

Were you attacked by the monstrous creatures roaming the earth? Humans? Some other force he knew nothing about? Surely, it had something to do with the thing you attempted to bring, but you were vague about its nature, and Kars doubted it was really something decent. How come you had the audacity to risk your life when you were his one and only follower, sustaining and taking care of him while he was still in hibernation? Were you so unbearably stupid you decided you could leave him alone for long? Who had given you the right to bother Kars with your absence? It was inexcusable. The only reason why he didn't punish you was his petrified body, but he wouldn't stay in such state forever.

The lack of your presence was becoming more and more disturbing, and Kars questioned himself why did it matter. He had never needed someone's company - even though he had respect for both Esidisi and Wamuu, their closeness to him wasn't something essential. Not that your presence was either... and yet he found himself constantly thinking about the reasons why you were late. Although it irritated him, Kars decided that time he spent into space had its effects on his mind.

When you returned at last, the sun had already disappeared over the horizon. You were bleeding - he saw crimson stains on your face and your left arm, your faded scarf absent when you stormed inside your house, a small metal container in your hand as you flew to your stone god. Something had gone terribly wrong.

"I'm sorry, Apollo." You were running out of breath, but Kars heard you calling him by a Greek god's name. Was it the god of light? Your choice was rather peculiar. You were probably calling him like this in your mind since you brought those books home, but was afraid to voice your thoughts to him. "I wasn't as prepared I thought I was. The guards are still there even after all these years."

Leaving the container on the floor close to him, you took your bag and started your things there, searching for food and flasks. Somebody had been following you to your hideout.

"This is all I could find." You whispered, opening the container and taking out a small glass vial with a bright red liquid inside. "I can't tell how it will affect you, but I believe it would be of use to you, Apollo. Please, consume it."

You had carefully lifted the vial as if it were going to explode and then put it on his chest, awaiting for Kars to melt it onto his body. He had been suspicious about this, for some reason unable to detect what the liquid was as the vial seemed to block it, he consumed it, nonetheless - there was a chance it could speed up the end of his hibernation.

And it did. He felt the familiar heat, albeit Kars had never thought the stone could be turned into liquid, and yet it was it, something he had been chasing for so long once before becoming who Kars was now. How come it had been somewhere here all along? Was it fate to land here where it had all ended for him once? Kars had no answers. Not that it mattered now as his petrified body was rapidly recovering, his limbs finally able to move, his dark locks softening, the paralysis shattering while he stood up, showing you his perfect form in all its glory as you stared at him, either afraid or unable to move. He was the God you were waiting for, his large wings turning into flesh hands, a halo of light surrounding his perfectly proportioned, sculptured body and making you lose your eyesight for a couple of seconds. It happened so suddenly you were trembling on your knees in front of him, forgetting about those who had trailed you and the danger they could bring to your God and you, both fear and admiration engraved into your stare. Kars was much more than you had pictured him to be, undoubtedly.

As much as he enjoyed that look on your face, devouring your fragile figure with his eyes, he could feel his enemies breathing down his neck. Of course, all of them were unworthy of seeing his true power, but even someone as miserable as them would do for a quick warm up after centuries of hibernation: once several disgustingly looking men with scars and mutilated limbs showed up in your hideout, all of them Ripple users just like Jojo had been, Kars let out a laugh, watching them demanding both him and you to surrender. Worthless little creatures, they thought they could give orders to him, the most perfect form of life on Earth. He had slashed all of them the next moment, pools of their blood dirtying the floor and spreading further to metal walls: apparently, despite them still being able to use Ripple, their power had deteriorated greatly to the point they only posed a threat to a fellow human being, someone as frail and delicate as you.

Turning to face you still on your knees, he saw your wide eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks while you covered your mouth with your hands: was your God more terrifying than you had imagined him to be? Did you think he would forgive those who made a mistake of challenging him, the most powerful being the Earth had ever hold? Silly little girl, there were so many things you had to learn about him, the God you were destined to worship and love with your whole being.

"Stand up, woman." He said, watching you tremble and trying to wipe away your tears, not knowing what you had to say to the God you finally saw in all his glory. "I demand you to leave with me before the sun rises. Gather whatever belongings you need for a long journey, we will depart soon."

You bowed to him deeply, afraid to open your mouth and say something your God would consider inappropriate, and hurried to take your bag, quickly putting everything you considered important in it while Kars stepped closer to the pathetic beings, consuming what was left of them and feeling the power coursing through his body, filling him with warmth he had craved for so long. That little vial you brought was truly worthy of him, and Kars felt satisfied it was you who found him in the sands in the middle of nowhere. He would take you with him while he would try to resurrect the Earth as he remembered it, bringing the balance to it and watching it flourish once again.

"Apollo, I have taken everything." You whispered to him timidly, forgetting you were using that fictional name you gave him.

Kars chuckled, marching through your hideout flooded with blood of his enemies. If you needed to compare him to some stupid Greek god so desperately, you should have chosen Hades.

#kars x reader #kars jjba #kars jojo #jjba #yandere #jojo #jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency

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wolverineteethhh-movedaccounts · 3 years ago

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Welcome to crow being salty about minor characters that got chucked by the author because why the fuck not/ aka i rant about what i dont like what araki did with part 2

Word count: 937

Trigger warnings: mention of childbirth(as a comparison), body horror, character death, genocide and injury mentions(don’t read further if you are sensitive to the things mentioned)

Spoilers for JJBA part two for both the manga and anime

This isn’t professional in anyway this is for fun and im big mad.

Analysis under the cut:

We’re gonna start with the deeper plan arc because i am fucking going there

I don’t know, maybe I’m biased? But I really really didn’t like how Araki treated Esidisi as a plot device and plot device only. What the hell Crow, what do you mean by this? Well my dear reader who probably is also just as pissed as me, I mean looking at both the manga and anime he really did not get much agency during his stunted screen time. Araki only brought him back as a brain possessing someone else’s meat suit for exposition transporting our super duper important macguffin™️, otherwise he got his arm cut off by our protagonist and died after by some fucking wool. After that he really only paid him any mind for the flashback sequences in the final closing act where Kars gets chucked into space by some rocks and a volcano and when he becomes the ultimate being, cuing the narration introducing the pillar men as a species and the massacre, otherwise there’s no clear evidence on his death affecting the characters around him besides the red stone being transported to Switzerland(ie; Kars wondering where he went and why he didn’t call this time).

There’s a literary term for this and its called Fridging, coined after the green lantern comic where he finds his partner in his fridge left by the bad guy that killed her for him to find. Fridging happens to be scarily common in the writing of part 2, whether its Caesar dying without any closure or Kars wiping the floor with Lisa Lisa. There is the factor that Araki’s writing style wasn’t refined and laid out yet so there will be cheap throw aways and cliches about, but its also the fact that Fridging is used a lot in lots of other media often enough it gets tiring and leaves a bad taste in the audiences mouth. Fridging in its basis is supposed to make the more important character feel something and in turn the audience, but I find it hard to feel anything but annoyance and anger with how such a character with lots of story potential got thrown aside for the sake of forwarding the plot. His death is unceremonious and honestly super disappointing, Araki pulled a huge tell not show here with this arc. There’s a lot of talking and not a lot of significant action(besides the crying which I am super tired of dudebros making fun of the character for it tbh, let the man cry I’m sure if you got your arm amputated by something almost as painful as say childbirth you’d be crying too, if not unconscious) anyways, Araki barely utilizes him as a foil for Kars or anything, he’s just there to face Joseph two times and die for the plots sake.

One of the biggest culprits is the time span of Battle tendency itself(ifrc is about a month) which doesn’t give a lot of breathing room for those who aren’t the coveted main character, they get a flashback sequence, a tidbit from the narrator and if they’re lucky their own monologue before they’re sent off to dead character jail. In this case we only get hints implied by the narrative and things said by the character himself (ie; Esi going on his Sun Tzu tirade which implies he was travelling in east Asia at some point in time) which gives us very minimal information that doesn’t really help us get to know him better. The lack of filler in both the source material and more-so the anime adaption really doesn’t help either, things are simply implied to happen off screen with very little explanation. Hell we don’t even get to see a fuller extent of his abilities during the fight, maybe just 3 or more things before he gets bested. All we can really do is go off of the things vaguely inferred by the plot before during and after, again there’s way more telling than actual showing and the tells are very vague and minuscule.

Expanding on this it feels like its more montages than actually substance, which did way more hurt for the story in the long run when like part 8 has ran on for 10 entire years. Part 2 and more infamously part 5 feels like a fever dream with how both stories are paced. A month feels like its only a sliver of a week if not just a couple days, when in reality 30 days should slug on a little more.

I’m gonna go deeper, looking at how the writing has exposed the author’s hand.

No author is free from bias or having favourite characters, honestly I’m guilty as charged with this. Jojo’s chronological order that doesn’t stay with one story makes for a special perspective on how we view the characters. The stories are all different but fall on the same timeline(counting the alternate timeline part 7 and 8 are from), from victorian era England to a fictional Japanese town in the early 2000’s. Araki himself has stated he has forgotten characters he has written at times. But I’m finding that if the characters aren’t the main protagonists he tends to focus less on them, good writing lends to treating the characters as if they’re all the heroes of their own stories. Which I find lacklustre with some of Araki’s earlier writing.

I just honestly wish there was less characters getting Fridged/vagueness and more information about the characters and getting to know them better. There are so many things I want to change about part 2 but in the end i still love it, but the faults in the story make it hard to consume. For now im stuck making headcanons and writing fanon for myself and for whoever may be interested.

….Ok bye

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funtimebunnyblog · 4 years ago

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I love how you wrote the s/o who struggles to stand up for herself 🥺 it was really good! I thought of something to build off of that if that’s alright with you. What if someone tried striking the pillar men’s very sweet and unconfrontational s/o? Maybe s/o did something as minor as accidentally bumping into someone. When they sheepishly try to apologize that person gets angry and tries to punch/slap s/o. Oh how I love protective pillar men 🥰

Thank you so much, Anon! 🥰😍❤ You're too sweet! It always makes my day to hear when someone likes my work! 😇😇😇

Oh boy, big protective Pillarmen? The absolute best kind of Pillarmen??? You got it, honey! 😘

Pillarmen (separate) protecting their non-confrontational s/o from being struck...

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• Admittedly, Kars wasn't very "confrontational" himself.

• In his own way, of course.

• He thought fighting with someone for no good reason (or any reason at all really) was as meaningless as it was laughable.

• If someone ever approached him and tried to initiate a violent confrontation by hurling insults at him or even going so far as to hit him; he would simply roll his eyes and walk away.

• He had much better things to do than stoop to some foolish Mortals level.

• You both were best described as "two sides of the same spectrum" seeing as how you had the tendency to go out of your way to avoid conflict with anyone.

☆

"Oh! I-I'm so sorry!" You cried, stepping away from the large and scowling man who now bared an expression that was something borderline feral. His glare sent a knife straight through your heart, puncturing your lungs and leaving you gasping for air as anxiety washed over you.

You had been walking down the street, your shift had ended and you were heading to meet up with Kars at your usual meeting spot just around the corner. You had talked about going to go get something to eat or at least being Home to have tonight and you were focused on just getting there. The sooner you reached your Husband, the sooner you could go Home and put your feet up after a long work day.

Those plans suddenly got thrown out the window when a man rounded the corner the same time you had.

When you collided with him, it caused him to drop the iced-coffee he had been clutching in his hand; the majority of it even spilled on you, staining your workshirt and pants, and yet you were the only one apologizing here.

"You stupid BITCH!" The stranger snapped, advancing on you as he jabbed his finger angrily at the now empty plastic cup lying in the sad brown puddle pooling on the sidewalk. "I just got that! It cost me 5-fucking-dollars!"

You really were sorry! You really didn't mean to make him drop his coffee! Panic flooded your body and burned in you like a fire, the flames of it only fueled more by his loud voice, making your hands quiver as you instinctively reached for your wallet.

"Here! I'll pay for it!" You said quickly, trying to something, anything to placate the angry man before things got even more intense. "I'll-- I'll even pay for a new one!"

He, however, was all but pacified.

Your offer was cut short by the surly stranger full on grabbing you by the collar of your coffee stained shirt; you let out a strangled yelp as he hauled you far too close for comfort. You could feel his hot breath hitting your face and your stomach dropped, sinking like a stone going down to the depths of the Ocean upon seeing the unquenchable inferno shimmering in his narrowed eyes.

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that and a lot more, bitch." He snarled, drawing his hand way back.

Your eyes instinctively snapped shut as his free hand swung towards you, hard and fast your, your hands flying up on pure impulse alone in an attempt to shield you from the blow that was to come...

But it never came.

After too long of a moment, much longer than the hit should've taken, your eyes opened to find the mans large hand still poised in the air.

It was now gripped by a much larger one.

Kars' brow was knit together, his gaze sharp enough to draw blood as he scowled down at the offending man who still had a hand on you; his Wife. He had been waiting for you just around the corner. He had heard everything that had happened and had definitely seen more than enough.

His grip was so tight on the mans arm you could see circulation being cut off. Any tighter (that being; using his only half of his maximum strength) and he would without a doubt shatter the bone of the mans arm completely.

He was only holding back on doing so for your sake.

You were frightened enough as it was and Kars wanted to spare you any further horror by holding back on destroying this disgusting excuse of a lifeform... just for today.

"Let. Her. Go." His voice was low and fridged, the words slithering through the teeth that were clenched like a vice in his mouth.

There wasn't even a trace of anger to be found in the mans face anymore; like a slate wiped clean. His face had gone stark white and his eyes bulged in their sockets as he stared at the God before him; not unlike a deer staring into the headlights of a car coming 80km/hr toward it.

The car that would kill it in one singular, instantaneous hit.

The hand released from your collar, leaving behind a stretched imprint of his clenched fingers on the fabric. The very second you were released, the Pillarman hauled the stranger roughly into the air by his arm, his feet dangling over a foot above the pavement.

Kars' lips peeled back into a snarl, fangs glimmering like knives of ivory in the light. If looks could kill the man (who was now whimpering not unlike a kicked puppy) would be getting slaughtered.

"If you know what's good for you, Human. You will get out of my sight." Came the command, this time the man could now feel the hot breath of the seething Pillarman on his own face. "Now."

A shaky nod was the best the man could manage.

Without another word, Kars dropped him and the stranger practically hit the ground running. Taking off down the street as fast as his shaking legs could take him, stumbling as he nearly fell several times; the only thing preventing him from doing so was pure adrenaline.

You barely had a chance to blink, let alone process all that just happened, when Kars was on you.

The Pillarman pulled you into his embrace, uncaring that you were practically drenched in coffee and still quivering like a beached jellyfish. His eyes roamed your body, checking for any injuries he somehow missed; he let out a breath you hadn't realized he had been holding before his lips found the crown of your head, his arms tightening around you.

"Beloved, my beloved... he is gone now. Shh. Shh." He murmured into your hair. It was only then, when he swiped his calloused thumbs over your cheeks, you realized you were crying.

"Let's go home, dear one." He said after a long moment of simply holding you in his arms and shushing you, allowing you time to get your nerves somewhat under control. "I'll make dinner tonight and we'll see if we can do anything about that stain..."

Esidisi:

• Esidisi laughed in the face of conflict of all kinds.

• Really, fighting with someone with reason or not was just something funny to him because he knew his moves (by tongue and by combat) could not be matched.

• If someone tried to initiate a fight with him, he'd just chuckle and cock an eyebrow.

• If he was bored (which was most likely), he'd have the greatest time simply toying with them; laughing and grinning as they attempted to hurt him.

• Sometimes he'd even enjoy giving them a good scare by doing something with his powers.

• If not however, he'd simply scoff and walk right past them.

• Other than that, he actually tried to stay out of any sort of conflict when you were around; he didn't want you to be involved or hurt, of course.

☆

It wasn't often you went out to a club but every so often you and Esidisi would take the time out of your busy life to get dressed up and go out for a few drinks and a dance together as a treat.

You left the ladies room with a smile, lipstick reapplied and your appearance straightened up a little. You looked around as you made your way through the scene, searching the crowded floor for your Husband to catch another dance or two with him before retiring Home for the night.

You stepped back in surprise when a man cut you off halfway across the room, a drink in hand and a tipsy smile pulling across his face.

"Hey there," he drawled, trying to be casual. "You're cute. You wanna dance?"

You smiled sadly; you had to admit, the gesture was kind of funny and sweet. Had you need single you probably would've agreed.

"Thank you, but I'll pass." Really, you had no interest in dancing with a stranger in a place like this when all of your dances were already happily taken by your one and only.

You were about to offer to buy him another drink or even just settle with just chatting with him for a while (a friend was always nice to find in these places) but the man didn't exactly appreciate your answer, despite the fact it had been polite and straightforward.

"Uh, excuse me?" He all but spat, his face souring into a frown. "Why not?"

You couldn't help but blink in surprise, taken aback at his sudden turn of character.

"Oh-- Uh... well, I'm here with--"

"Oh, that's bullshit!" He cried, cutting you off. "You just don't wanna dance with me!"

You grimaced, holding your hands up in a placating gesture as you backed away from him, trying to keep some distance between you two as he tried to close it by advancing.

The man continued to rant and rave, growling about how there was absolutely no reason for you to refuse him a dance and that he was a perfectly nice guy and a good dancer, not pacified in the slightest.

You were becoming aware of just how very drunk this man was and he was only getting increasingly angry with you by the second. Each time you sheepishly tried to explain yourself you were cut off and it only seemed to get him more and more riled up.

You REALLY didn't want to deal with this on a fun night out. Hell, you didn't like confrontations like this in general.

"Listen, I've gotta go--" You were cut off again, gasping as the drunk stranger grabbed you by the arm just as you started to shuffle away to try and merge in the crowd again to disappear from his sight and pretend this interaction never happened; his grip was rough and unrelenting.

The room was starting to spin; the lights, the music, the chatter was suddenly far too much, drowning you in a static of fear and confusion. The man was snarling something out at you but you couldn't hear it over all the kerfuffle.

Your vision hyperfocused on the bottle the man had in hand; lifting high over his head, swinging down in slow motion.

The bottle never hit its mark as it was suddenly plucked from the strangers grasp.

In a fraction of a second, the man was now grabbed by his free hand and spun around. You opened your eyes to find him in the grip of Esidisi, your one and only dance partner and Husband.

"Looking for a dance partner, are we?" He questioned the now gawking drunk.

Esidisi had been waiting for you where you had left him at the bar. Being as tall as he was he saw you leaving the restroom and decided to meet you halfway across the dance floor; however, he stopped short as he saw your little confrontation happening. After giving you a good once over to ensure you weren't hurt, thankfully you were just a little shaken, he inclined his head over to the bar for you to sit and calm down while he handled this situation.

The massive man full on grinned down at the drunk man in his grip, giving him a good spin around before pulling him in close. Just as he pressed him straight against his muscular body in an iron grip; the song shifted, hot and base blasted music blaring through the speakers of the club.

"In that case, you're in luck!" He chirped, chuckling at the strangers owlish expression. "I was just looking for a good dance partner myself and I happened to overhear you talking with my Wife."

The drunk man gulped, through his potent mixture of intoxication and fear he didn't miss the fact that Esidisi's grip tightened just the slightest bit more as he took care to emphasize on the word "Wife". The stranger let out a strangled yelp that went unheard by the rest of the dancing crowd as Esidisi strutted to the music, dragging him along. Any protests on your attackers part went ignored by Esidisi and fully unheard by anyone else over the intense beats ringing through the club.

Your Husband winked at you over his shoulder, bringing you some small sense of relief as you felt your fear start to slowly drop down from it's sky-high level and you made yourself comfortable on a stool to watch him and the drunk stranger.

If the man had wanted to dance so bad, bad enough to threaten you and try to inflict harm, Esidisi fully intended on giving him the dance he craved.

He was gonna dance with him until he dropped...

Wamuu:

• As any Warrior should be, Wamuu was indeed confrontational.

• However, his confrontation was only to an extent, per say.

• Like his Masters, he generally did his best to try and avoid conflict with a Mortal.

• If someone simply walked up to him and struck him he would simply stare down at them with a raised eyebrow, honestly amused.

• The hit would probably tickle the living giant rather than inflict pain on him.

• On the other hand, if that Mortal happened to cross a line verbally by deeply insulting him or plucking a nerve somehow, he was fully willing to duel them to the death.

• He was always willing to fight for you; regardless of the situation.

• He was basically your knight in shining armor for that reason.

☆

Working a 12 hour shift was always exhausting to you. Sometimes you couldn't tell what was worse; having a busy day full of orders or having a slow day where you saw almost nobody at all and were bored out of your own mind.

Today had been pretty steady, having boughts of people between lonely hours and thankfully, you were just 10 minutes until closing now. Your eyes glanced up to the clock on the wall, silently pleading for it to go just a little faster so you could close up fully for the night. Wamuu would be here soon to walk Home with you, he usually stopped at the Gym to get a work out in and kill some time before coming bye. Your walks Home with your loving Husband were the best part of your day, sharing stories and talking as you strolled arm in arm down the street.

You hadn't seen another customer in the past 2 hours so any cleaning or chores that needed to be done before the night was over was already done. You briefly considered starting to count up the till now so you could just leave as soon as you closed but that plan was quickly shunt aside when the door to the shop flung open, the bell overhead jangling loudly, and in stepped a customer. You resisted the urge to sigh, there was almost always someone who came in at the last minute and wanted a sandwich.

However, you put on your best smile as the man who came in approached the counter.

The mans face was already in a knot, he had huffy air of "I'm in a H U R R Y" about him and that alone was enough to make sweat prickle on the back of your neck. These kinds of customers could be the absolute worst, even more so at closing, and you prayed he would order something easy so you could close up tonight without tears in your eyes from being yelled at again by someone.

"Good evening," you chimed, smoothing out your apron as you set your hands on the counter. "What can I get you?"

"One meatball sub, white cheese, on Italian." He told you rather shortly, drumming his fingers on his arm.

A lump swole in your throat as you turned your gaze to the very empty meatball tray sitting across the counter.

Oh boy, here we go...

You sucked in a deep breath, your smile unfaltering. "Oh, um--... I'm sorry but we're all out of meatball. Can I get--"

"Then make more." He said curtly, his finger drumming only increasing as he full on glared at you. He also made sure to visibly roll his eyes as if you had said something completely and utterly stupid.

"I'm sorry, that's not possible." You told him, trying not to let your voice go down to the squeak it wanted to. "We're closing in 5 minutes and cooking more up--"

"Ugh, I don't care!" He growled. "I don't have all night, just make it!"

You were starting to shiver as he got louder and louder, "Sir, we close at 7. I can't, it's against policy, I can only make more tomorrow morni--"

You jumped as the man suddenly lunged and a yelp managed to escape your lips when his hand gripped around the strap of your apron, pulling you roughly over the counter.

"Listen to me, you dumb CUNT," He snarled, his grip tightening hard enough you could hear threads snapping in your apron. "Make the damn sandwich so I can fucking go Home! I don't fucking care about your policy! I want my meatball sub!"

You were breathing hard, your throat squeezing shut as he growled lowly into your face. Never once had a customer gotten this violent with you, not even on a shift where you were with someone else. Everything was becoming consumed in static, your heartbeat in your ears as you floundered to find something, ANYTHING, to say to get him to let go.

"I-- I--..." it was the only thing that could come out of your mouth.

Unfortunately, it wasn't what this man wanted to hear and it only infuriated him further.

He was screaming at you now, screaming so loud you couldn't understand him, only making you start to cry as you stood helplessly in his unrelenting grasp.

Like lightning, the mans fist curled and swung your way.

He would've made a clear slug across your jaw if a much bigger fist hadn't clenched around it, stopping it mid-air.

You gasped as you were suddenly released, stumbling and catching yourself on the counter before you could fall to the tiled floor. You looked up in shock to find none other than Wamuu gripping your attacker with one huge fist by the front of his shirt, making the man dangle in the air.

"You seem to misunderstand what my beloved here was trying to explain to you." The Warrior growled, the veins in his neck pulsing as he glowered down at the man who's expression had now turned to one of terror. "Normally, I would overlook ill-mannered Humans such as yourself but you have made a very grave mistake tonight by, not only disrespecting, but touching my dear Bride."

The man opened his mouth to say something, probably to apologize or to tell the massive man he would leave and never come back but the words didn't so much as reach his tongue.

Wamuu flung him across the room, as effortlessly as one would swat away a buzzing fly, and the man crash landed into the tables in the corner; knocking them over like a bowling ball would pins.

"You have 3 seconds to get out before I throw you farther!" Wamuu snapped, taking one step towards the man laying in the entanglement of fallen chairs and tables.

The man clamored to his feet before Wamuu could come another step closer, somehow limping and running towards the door and out of the building.

As instantaneous as that fight, Wamuu was over the counter and kneeling by you, cupping your face in his hands. You were still crying, curled in on yourself where the man had grabbed you and shaking like a leaf in a bitter Fall wind.

"My dear sweet little one, shhh... shh.. it is alright." Your Husband crooned, pulling you into an embrace so gentle it seemed almost impossible coming from him after such a display.

You only cried harder, burying your face in his neck as all your nerves finally let loose. Wamuu held you in his arms for a good long while, he made sure to turn the closed sign however before anymore unwanted customers could come in for tonight.

He fully planned on speaking to your manager about this and your safety here from now on...

Santana:

• Santana wasn't confrontational unless given no other option.

• Chances were, if someone tried to pick a fight with him (whether by verbal abuse or physical violence) he would simply walk away, not interested in the slightest.

• It was almost as if they were invisible to him.

• If they tried to strike, he could just make their body phase right through his like nothing or his body would just go to rubber right around their limb.

• He was never really in the mood to fight with a primitive unless they TRULY annoyed him.

• More often when that happened they would be come dinner.

• But if someone tried to start a confrontation with you; he'd be the one to end it.

☆

"Oh yes!" You breathed a sigh of relief when you grabbed a hold of the roast sitting all by itself on the refrigerated shelf, a small triumphant smile curling at the corners of your mouth.

You honestly feared they'd be fresh out, you were having some Family over this Holiday weekend and needed this for the dinner you planned on preparing for when they came. This time of year it was hard to get a hold of good stuff at the supermarket as shoppers tended to all share similar traditions and that meant they also shared similar meal ideals.

You couldn't be more lucky you got your hands on the last one, lest you'd have to drive to the other supermarket across town to continue your search and most likely be disappointed there too.

You had sent Santana off with the list and cart to grab the other stuff you needed while you headed for this important item first. Now all you had to do was track down your Husband and drop this into your little cart so you could be one step closer to going Home to prep.

With the roast in arm, you started off.

"Hey!"

Someone shouted from down the isle but you barely even paid attention to it, chances were someone was arguing with a worker or another customer (as things like that also had the tendency to happen this time of year); another reason you wanted nothing more than to get your groceries and get out of the store.

Watching two customers duke it out over food and menial things was probably as uncomfortable as being part of the fight... at least in your eyes anyways.

"Hey stop!"

Once again the sound of the shouting fell on deaf ears as you kept walking, about to round a corner into another isle on your sojourn for your mate. Santana was most likely somewhere around the frozen foods section, he had asked if he could pick out some icecream for the weekend earlier in the car.

You stopped short when somebody grabbed you harshly by your arm, yanking you hard enough to spin you around. You actually let out a yelp in surprise, your eyes snapping down to the well manicured nails that were digging into the flesh of your arm. Your gaze instinctively followed the hand all the way up the arm connected to it, until you found yourself meeting the intense glare of the woman grabbing you.

"I told you to stop!" She snarled, your owlish expression not hindering any of her obvious anger from spewing out. "You took the last roast!"

She pointed accusingly at the hunk of wrapped meat cradled in your other arm with a long manicured nail.

You blinked, a brief sweat was starting to form underneath your clothing as your skin burned hot, crawling under the woman's hand; you wanted her off of you but she wouldn't let go.

"I-- Well, yes there was only one left--" you began, trying your best to explain yourself (let alone get a grip on your spiking nerves) only to be cut off.

"Well, I need it!" The woman tried to reach for it but you pulled away, only to be pulled back by her; nails pinching your skin like needles. "Give it to me right now! I need it more than you do!"

You tried to yank your arm from her grasp but she gripped you tight enough to make you cry out. There were so many things you wanted to say but couldn't as they just got jumbled in your squeezing throat; you had saw it first, you needed it too for a special dinner, there were plenty of other places she could go to find one.

You really didn't want to quarrel with this crazy stranger over something as stupid as a piece of raw food, in a supermarket of all places.

"Let go!" You plead, not even caring about the roast or your weekend dinner plans anymore. You just wanted her to leave you alone!

One of her hands raised, fingers curling as she swung it down with the intention of clawing you right across your face... but her nails didn't find skin this time.

The woman gasped as her own arm was grabbed, the shock of it made her release you from her grip, and in one good tug she was pulled straight away from you.

Her gaze followed the huge, ivory skinned hand that dwarfed her arm, following it until her eyes met two sapphires burning holes into her from underneath thick crimson eyebrows.

Santana huffed through his nose, "Do not touch my mate, primitive." He commanded quietly, an order not to be ignored, however the surly woman wasn't done yet.

As quickly as it was lost, the scowl returned to her face and it was now directed onto Santana the youngest of the Pillarmen; not only was he your Husband, he was the wrong person to pick a fight with.

"Just what do you think you're doing?!" She fumed, getting right in his face rather than making the more wise decision and backing down. "Let go of me!"

Santana stared at her, not fazed in the slightest as she began to full on rant on about how it was wrong for him to grab her and that she would report him for assault (as if she hadn't just been violently assaulting someone herself) and she of course went the extra mile to add that her Husband was someone very important and he would be arrested.

It only made her angry all the more as the Pillarman just stood there, quiet, the very definition of disinterest etched into the features of his face. He honestly didn't care about her ramblings as there was no petty threat she could possibly make that would scare him away.

Her free hand lifted again and it swung with the intention of slapping him right across his face.

As soon as skin was supposed to meet skin, skin passed right through skin.

Now, the woman's angry demeanor crumbled for good, staring in horror as her hand simply went right through his face. Her hand was implanted right in his cheek, literally melded inside of his head, only the tips of her long nails were visible from the back of Santana's neck. She was stuck there, trying to pull herself out of him, the terror gripping her heart was the only thing keeping her from screaming to high heaven.

Santana never once said or did anything as she did, watching as he pulled and pulled to no avail.

Her whimpers slowly built up to full on cries of fear, Santana fully intended on making her feel the same thing you had just gone through with her. It was only until she was begging for him to release her hand from his body did he finally relent.

The minute her hand was freed from his face she stumbled back, almost falling and clutching her wrist as she fled from the isle and the supermarket itself; no longer caring about the product she tried to rip from you.

Santana merely exhaled, watching her go with a notable twinkle in one of his eyes before turning his attention to you. You were still pretty shaken up, thankfully you hadn't dropped the roast but you were nursing the arm where she had grabbed you and the imprints of her nails in your skin she had left behind. Wordlessly, he walked up and pressed a soft kiss to the cheek that woman had almost scratched as he took the roast from you, putting it in the cart right next to the tub of ice cream.

"They have been dealt with," he said, his deep voice sending vibrations through your whole body as he pressed you close to him, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. "I will never allow anyone to harm you, my heart."

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #pillarmen headcanons #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #anon ask #my writing

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supercorpkid · 4 years ago

Text

This is why you should never trust an Imp – Part 4.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2155.

It was a good figuring out that you are not in your timeline, but it also made you more desperate to get home. This Kara and this Lena never had to deal with alternative realities, so it’s kind of hard trusting your comeback to them only.

“I know I don’t have a lab at L Corp here, but maybe there’s a place there we can use?” You ask and Lena shakes her head agreeing. “Ok, we’ll go there, and Kara, can you pick up Brainy so he can help too?”

“Sure. Just, wait. Wait a minute.” Kara stops you before you can pick Lena up so you two can fly away. She uses her super speed and a second later is in front of you with a jacket. “It’s cold out.”

You look at Lena, who has a sad expression on her face, like she just realized that Kara is a mom without a daughter. You grab the jacket Kara gave you and put it on. It’s huge on you, but you don’t care, ‘cause it smells like sunshine, just like her.

“I’ll take him there, and can I- can I stay too?” Kara asks shyly and you smile at her.

“I would love nothing more.” You say, truthfully. You want to spend as much time with them as possible.

You pick up Lena, and fly to L Corp and go to her lab. You are doing some speed reading on the matter, while Lena simulates a few scenarios. Kara comes in with Brainy a few minutes later, and he joins making some calculations about what Earth you’re from. Kara looks bored, but she doesn’t want to go home. She just stays there in silence, watching the three of you working. You work all night, and in the morning, Lena calls her assistant and tells her to cancel all of her meetings and not to let anyone interrupt her work in the lab. Brainy has to go to the DEO, but he already did more than you could’ve imagine, because he located the right Earth, and now you and Lena just have to create a portal.

During the rest of the day, the only person who leaves the lab is Kara to pick up some food, and for one Supergirl emergency. She hasn’t told Alex anything yet, so it’s hard not showing up to any call all day. It’s night again, but there’s no way for you to know that, because you’re still underground and you haven’t seen any sunlight.

“Hey.” Kara puts her hand behind your back and rubs gentle circles. You look at her. “You’ve been reading the same page for five minutes now. Let’s go home and sleep a little.”

“We can’t stop now. We’re so close.” You look at Lena for back-up. If she is anything like your Lena, you know that she can’t rest until she cracks the problem.

“We’re really not.” Lena puts her hand on her forehead and breathes deep. “I’ll stay to run a few more tests, and you two go home to rest, ok?”

“Lena, I think we should all go home.” Kara moves closer to Lena and you finally close the book. Kara is right. Your vision is blurry on the sides and you can’t read another word.

“Kara, I can’t leave. She needs me. I have to figure this out.” Lena goes back to the tablet in front of her, and you get up quickly to tell her it’s ok to go home. But your legs are weak for staying in the same place for far too long, and when you try to stand up, you fall on the floor.

“Kid!” Kara runs to you and holds your arm to help you stand up.

“m fine. It’s-I’m ok.” You blur out your words and Kara holds you in one place. You’re pretty sure her firm grip is the only thing keeping you standing.

“That’s it! We’re all going home now. We’re going to shower, have dinner, and sleep all night. Tomorrow morning, we’ll come back.” Kara says and your head lolls to the front. Lena opens her mouth to argue, but Kara doesn’t let her. “It’s not an option, Lena. Look at the kid, look at you! I love you, so I don’t want you to fall into your unhealthy habits again. And I sure don’t want her to learn that from you.”

“You’re right. Let’s go home.” Lena agrees after one look at you. “I could really use a shower.”

“Yeah, you could.” Kara jokes and you smile, even though you’re too tired.

Kara flies you back to the penthouse, because you’re too tired to do so, and you go to the shower while she goes back to L Corp to pick up Lena. You hear when they come back, and when Kara places Lena in the bathtub and turns the water on. You smile at that. They might not be your moms, but they sure act just like them.

“Kid.” Kara knocks on the bathroom door. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah. Almost done.”

“Good. I’ll go pick something up for us to eat. What do you want for dinner?”

“Donuts.”

“That’s dessert!” You hear Kara’s words and you know she’s smiling on the other side. “How about pizza?”

“Great!”

“Ok, I’ll be right back.” Then you hear a whoosh and you know she left. You finally finish your shower and grab some clothes Kara laid down for you. It’s an old t-shirt that she probably used when she was about your age, because it’s exactly your size, and a pair of sweatpants that are too big for you.

You go to the living room and soon enough Lena joins you on the couch. She can sense you’re still distressed so she holds your hand.

“We can do it, kid.” She smiles lightly at you and you agree with your head, but you can’t help a tear that is falling.

“I’m just worried. My Lena is probably worried sick.” You say and she wipes your tears. “I never wanted to cause them worry, I just-I just needed to know if they would be proud of me and my choices.”

“Kid.” Lena holds you sideways, and you let your head fall on her shoulders. “I know you for two days, and I’m already very proud of you.”

“Really?” That makes you cry even harder.

“Are you kidding me? Yes.” She smiles like it’s obvious. “You’re smart, and funny, and good. You might look like Kara, and you might have the Luthors brain, but you’re your own person. Strong and amazing.” You breathe in relief. “I’m sure your moms tell you this all the time.” You agree. “And I’m also sure that whatever you choose, you’ll make them proud, because you’ll do it with all your heart.”

“Thanks, mom. I mean, Lena.” You correct yourself. It’s hard not calling her mom, because she sounds just like yours.

“Yeah.” She tights the hug. “I’m also sorry you’re not my daughter. I don’t think there’s anything in the world that would make me happier.”

“Hey.” Kara flies in through the window with pizza and you smile. “Everything ok?”

“So great, even better now that we have pizza!” You say and look at Lena with a smile on her face. “Gimme, gimme.”

You three stay on the couch and eat pizza after pizza. Kara also brought donuts, and it’s perfect. You look at them, laughing at a joke you made, and their house looks almost homey now. It’s like a daughter was the missing piece in their lives, and that makes you very sorry you can’t stay.

“Hey, can I borrow your phone?” You ask Lena and she agrees, handing you hers. You open the camera and turn back to you guys. “So you don’t forget this.”

You three smile to the camera. Lena has her arm wrapped around you, and Kara is behind her making a silly face.

“There.” You take the picture, and give her the phone back. She stares at the picture for a while.

“I don’t think I can ever forget this.” Lena says and you see she is holding back the tears. Kara agrees, kissing her shoulder and looking at the picture. You also lay your head on the other side of Lena’ shoulder and look back at the picture. Rao, you want them to have this so badly.

You hear a noise in the kitchen and you all look there at the same time. Kara stands up right away standing in front of you and Lena for protection, but you still can see a portal opening. If it’s Mxytopolis you swear on Rao you’re going to break him into pieces (after he takes you back home, obviously).

“Little one?” You hear Kara’s voice and you delicately push the Kara in front of you to the side. “Is it you? Is it really you?”

“MOMMA!” You run to her and she hugs you tight and at the same time gently. Her eyes are full of tears and you both fall on the floor clinging to each other.

“Oh, dear Rao, I thought I had lost you forever.” She holds your face to look at you. You see your momma in there, looking at you with so much love. “I missed you so much, my baby.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” You start, but your momma interrupts you.

“I know, I know, little one. It was all that imp. It’s ok, we’re going home now.” Your momma helps you up, and then stands up herself. She looks at herself on the other side of the room. It’s weird. Really weird. “Thank you.” She is still crying. “Thanks for looking out for her. I’m so glad she found you both here.”

“It was our pleasure. She-she is amazing.” Kara says choking up a little.

“You must be very proud.” Lena adds and your momma agrees with her head.

“Couldn’t be prouder.” Your momma looks at you and smiles. You smile too. “Come on, your mom is really worried back in our reality.”

“Give me one minute?” You ask and she agrees, knowing you probably need to say goodbye. You look at Kara and Lena on the other side of the room. “I want to give you guys something. Can you wait a little?”

They nod in agreement and you go into the portal, leaving them behind you.

“Babygirl.” Your mom runs to you and hugs you. “My baby, you’re here. You’re safe, you’re safe now, ok?”

“Mom, I need your help.” You kiss her cheek and then let go of her. She looks worried. “I need your research.”

“Which one?”

“On how to combine alien and human DNA.” You ask and Lena furrows her brows at you. “Please. Please, it’s the most important thing right now.”

Lucky for you, you’re in her lab at L Corp, so quickly she comes back with a flash drive. You smile like you’re holding a precious stone.

“I’ll be right back, I promise.” You run through the portal again and smile at the other Lena, still in the same place at their penthouse. “Here.” You give her the flash drive. “All the research is here. I know how much you two wanted this, us, to be a family.” They both agree with their heads. “Well, now you can.”

“Thank you, kid.” Lena hugs you and you smile. You let go of her and hug Kara too.

“Now I can have my own adorable, and cute, and beautiful Lexa.” She says with a smile and you agree with your head. “Take care, kid.”

“Thanks. You too.” You go back to your momma, waving them goodbye and you both go through the portal. As soon as you do, your mom closes it from your reality.

“Lexa?” Your momma looks at you confused and you shrug. “That’s a horrible made-up name.”

“Hey! I had to think of something on the spot!” You defend yourself and she hugs you. Lena joins right after and you smile. You’re home. You’re finally home. And you can’t believe you went to another reality to find out that no matter where you are, your moms will always love you and be proud of you. “I’m really sorry about this whole thing. I didn’t mean to worry you guys.”

“We know. Jamie broke down and told us everything.” Lena says and you agree with your head. “Thank goodness you told her something.”

“Sorry.”

“We’re just glad we found you, baby.” Lena kisses your forehead. “I would not be able to live without you.”

“Not at all.” Kara agrees and holds your hand. “Just never ever trust an imp again, ok?”

“NEVER!” You smile, and then elbow Kara. “Mom will look good with grey hair, right?”

“SO HOT!” Kara yells excitedly and Lena rolls her eyes laughing. “Now, come on, let’s go home.”

And you do. You go home.

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #kara x lena #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #kara x reader #lena x reader #supercorp daughter #reader insert

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captain-josslett · 4 years ago

Text

Broken Melody - Part Six

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven,

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 3.2k+

Warnings: Smut (ish), Fluff

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor

This Part: It’s the morning after the L-Corp New Year’s Eve Gala.

Okay... So I lied... This is the last part before the angst part comes in! Blame @finleyfray

As always B!D is named.

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated.

Taglist: @thewitchandtheassassin, @finleyfray, @life-is-hella-unfair, @natasha-danvers, @supergirl-writingz

Lena woke on New Year's day with a smile on her face. Slowly she opens her eyes and realises someone is holding her. Carefully she looks behind and her smile grows when she sees a still sleeping Emma.

Last night hadn’t been a dream.

Emma’s arms are wrapped around Lena, holding her close and a strong thigh was nestled in between Lena’s legs. She carefully moves so she’s facing Emma, making sure not to jostle the blonde.

Her eyes move across Emma’s face, taking in every detail and she smiles softly. Still not believing the events of last night and the early hours of the morning took place. She blushes, remembering how she dragged Emma from the Gala. She hadn’t drunk much but obviously enough to boldly take the next step with the blonde. Honestly Lena feels like the luckiest woman in the world as she continues to watch Emma sleep.

“You know.” Emma’s voice, heavy from sleep at how much she screamed last night, speaks out. “Some find it creepy having someone watch them while they sleep?” Emma opens her eyes and gazes at the flustered raven haired beauty.

“Oh?” Lena raises an eyebrow.

Emma hums. “Luckily for you, I’m not one of them.”

“You’re not?”

Emma shakes her head. “No. Cause I’d probably do the same to you.” Emma smiles softly and reaches out and gently runs her fingers down Lena’s jaw. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Lena responds gently before leaning over and kissing Emma’s lips. They deepen the kiss and soon their moans fill the room.

A few hours later Emma is trying to gain her breath back when her stomach rumbles loudly.

“Someone’s hungry.” Lena laughs as she kisses Emma’s lips and removes her fingers from between the blonde’s legs.

“Well I am a Danvers.” Emma chuckles but pulls Lena back into a kiss.

“Come on.” Lena pulls back and gets off the bed. Grabbing Emma’s oversized hoodie she borrowed... stole, a while ago and puts it over her naked body. “I wouldn’t be a good girlfriend if I let you waste away.” Lena starts to walk out of the bedroom, not realising Emma had frozen mid roll out of the bed.

Emma’s eyes grew wide. “Girlfriend.” She whispers. Testing the word in her mouth. A bright smile graces her lips and she picks up another hoodie Lena borrowed... stole.

Making her way to the kitchen Emma can’t help but feel the butterflies fluttering around her stomach. She sits on the kitchen stool and watches Lena make lunch. They both laughed when they realised how late in the day it actually was.

A ping of Emma’s phone draws her attention away from the raven haired beauty. Looking around she sees her clutch by the door. On the floor by their discarded high heels. She quickly goes over and picks her clutch up as another message rings out. She walks slowly back to the stool as she looks through her many messages. Mainly from her sisters wanting to know if she’s coming to the Superfriends get together later tonight. It’s still basically a normal games night but Kara wanted to make it sound more special with it being New Year’s day.

The tone of Alex’s messages get more and more teasing the longer Emma doesn’t reply. She chuckles and starts writing a message to them.

Emma: Yes, Lena and I will be at the Games Night… I mean… The get together tonight.

Alex: She lives! Seriously I was getting worried something had happened to you.

Emma: Well…

Kara: Nope! Too weird! Don’t want to know!

Emma: Ah come on Kar!

Kara: You can tell Alex but leave me out of it!

Alex: Prude.

Kara: Am not!

Emma: Erm… Kind of agree with Alex on this one Kar. But I get you. Don’t worry I won’t make things awkward for you.

Kara: Thank you.

Alex: Speaking of awkward… Don’t tell Lena I plan on giving her the shovel talk as soon as I see her.

Emma: Uh oh! Please be nice!

Lena watches bemused as Emma’s facial expressions change with each message from her sisters.

“Love?” Lena says while leaning on the island.

“Yea?” Emma looks up and smiles brightly at her, causing Lena’s heart to melt.

“Lunch is ready.”

“Awesome!” Emma’s smile brightens at the thought of food and quickly messages her sisters that she will see them later and for Alex to not jump on Lena right away.

Alex: No promises.

Emma groans at Alex’s message. She puts her phone onto silent and places it with the screen facing down. She watches Lena dish up the pasta and her stomach rumbles again, causing Lena to smile.

“This smells so good Lee.”

“Thanks Love.” Lena places the food in front of Emma and her plate next to Emma. “Do you want any wine?”

“No thank you. Do you have some soda?”

“Sure.” Lena says while pouring a glass of wine for herself and grabbing a can of pepsi max from the fridge for Emma. Lena’s eyebrows rise when she sees the blonde waiting patiently for her.

“What?” Emma tilts her head as she takes the can from Lena.

“You waited for me.” Lena explains while turning her stool so she can see Emma better.

“Of course!” Emma laughs and picks up her fork.

“Your sisters wouldn’t.”

“Ah well, they don’t have my… What did you call it? My gentlewomanly charm?”

Lena snorts and they start to eat.

“Hmm Lee! What’s in this?”

“Pasta with passata, onion, garlic and herbs.” Lena lists off. “Something quick and easy to stop the hangry monster from making an appearance.”

“You’re my hero.” Emma declares passionately, causing Lena to smile at her. “Actually.” Emma places her fork on her plate. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Lena stops chewing for a moment at the seriousness of Emma’s tone. Swallowing she grabs her wine glass. “Oh?”

“Yea. Earlier you said you were my girlfriend.”

“I did.” Lena nods and searches Emma’s eyes. “Why? Does that bother you?”

“No! I mean, what we did last night and this morning… You know… Urgh!” Emma rubs her face as she tries to find the words. “How is it I can write award winning songs but not say what I want too?” Emma closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Opening them again she looks over at a nervous Lena. Immediately Emma reaches out and takes her hand. “No, Lee, don’t look like that. This is all good! I just… You know my relationships have never gone well or lasted long.” Emma looks down at their joined hands. “Not because I didn’t want them too… I just… Never felt enough for them. The beginning was always great but then they would stop communicating with me, or get jealous at my success.” Taking a deep breath she looks back up at the woman who has her heart. “But with you, things are already so different. With you I feel safe and like I could take on the world. I love you so much Lena Luthor and I know we haven’t spoken about… You know… making it official… But… Erm.”

Relief floods Lena’s body and she relaxes. Giving Emma a small smile she scoots her stool closer and takes both of Emma’s hands in hers. “I love you too and you have helped me grow so much since I’ve met you. You made me see the world in a new and wonderful way and… Emma Danvers, will you do me the honour of being my girlfriend?”

Tears slip out of Emma’s eyes and she laughs. “That was so cheesy!”

“I know!” Lena laughs as tears fall down her cheeks too.

“Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend Lena Luthor.” Emma says softly and wipes the tears from Lena’s face. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Lena tilts forward and kisses Emma’s lips. They pull apart for air and continue eating while holding each other’s hand.

“Oh, and expect a shovel talk from both Kara and Alex. Mainly Alex.” Emma tries to say lightly.

“I figured as much.” Lena chuckles.

“Kara has already given me a shortened version.”

“Really? When?” Lena asks intrigued as she takes a sip of her wine.

“Erm… After the Christmas party.”

Lena’s eyebrows rise.

“I might have told them how I feel about you when they cornered me about the kiss we had under the mistletoe and I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have but as you know Alex can be very persuasive especially when she can kill you multiple ways with one finger and-”

“Em, love, it’s okay, I’m not mad.” Lena cups Emma’s face to stop her panicked blabbering. “I know you have a close relationship with your sisters and I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

The blonde takes a deep breath and smiles in relief.

They finish their meal and Emma stands to start cleaning up.

“Love, you don’t need to do that.” Lena tries to protest.

“You cooked Lee.” Emma kisses Lena’s lips as she passes. Carefully she loads the dishwasher and turns it on. “Well.” Emma turns towards Lena and smirks at her. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a shower.” Slowly she pulls her hoodie off and walks backwards towards Lena’s bedroom. “Do you wanna join me?”

Lena doesn’t answer but immediately stands, discards Emma’s other hoodie and follows the blonde into the en-suite.

-- -- --

The new couple climb the stairs up to Kara’s apartment. Both giggling at how the delivery boy almost dropped all the pizza’s when he saw Emma holding the door open for him. Emma made sure to give him an extra tip and gave a few of the boxes to Lena to carry up while she carried mostly all of them.

When they get to Kara’s door Emma kicks it a few times to get someone to open it. The weight of the pizza’s getting more and more heavy with each second.

“Pizza!” Kara yells when she opens the door.

“Well I can see where my sister’s love lies.” Emma grumbles as the boxes are taken from her hands by the excited blonde. She turns and takes the few boxes from Lena’s arms and follows Kara to the table and places them down.

“Did you pay for this?” Alex asks while walking towards Emma to give her a hug.

“Nah I stole them.” Emma says sarcastically while rolling her eyes.

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” Alex laughs while pulling away to grab a slice.

“Yea, yea.” Emma shoves her playfully shoulder into Alex who shoves right back.

“Be grateful you got the pizza at all.” Lena laughs while grabbing a plate.

“What do you mean?” Kelly asks.

“The Pizza boy almost toppled with them when he saw Emma!” Lena laughs remembering the sight.

“I seriously thought he was going to faint!” Emma shakes her head and smiles at her friend… Girlfriend.

Alex leans over to her and whispers. “What’s that smile for?”

“What smile? I’m just smiling.” Emma shrugs and tries to move away from her eldest sister but Alex follows her.

“Uh huh. Your smile grew.”

“I… Er… Kara, you might as well come over as you’re listening in.” Emma mumbles and the other blonde skips over to them.

“What’s up?” Kara smiles brightly.

“Emma’s smile grew.” Alex tilts her head and Emma looks past her at Lena. Who is chatting with Sam and Kelly and tries to look casually over at the sisters. They make eye contact and Emma’s face lights up.

“There it is again!” Alex looks behind her and sees Lena. Who quickly averts her eyes and tries to hide her own smile.

“Yea and your heart rate increased.” Kara nods while taking another bite of her pizza.

Emma sighs, remembering what Lena said earlier about not minding how Emma shares with her sisters. “Lena asked me to be her girlfriend.” Emma says quietly.

Kara squeals loudly causing all the Superfriends to look at the sisters. “Oh my gosh!” She superspeeds her plate on the coffee table and lifts Emma into the air in a tight hug.

“Kara… Can’t… Breathe!” Emma gasps out but laughs when she’s placed back on the floor.

“Sorry! I’m just so happy for you and Lena!” Kara gushes.

“Thanks Kar.” Emma smiles and then realises Alex hasn’t said anything. She turns to where Alex was standing. “Uh oh.” Emma’s smile drops and she quickly looks towards the kitchen. Alex has cornered Lena and Emma starts to move to get to her girlfriend.

“Wait.” Kara grabs Emma’s hand as she listens in. “It’s okay Em.”

“Is she being too harsh?” Emma asks worriedly, looking between her sister’s and Lena.

“She’s being Alex.” Kara shrugs and picks her plate up again. Offering Emma a slice which the blonde takes, not taking her eyes off Lena.

“Has she said the line of knowing how to kill someone with her little finger?”

“Yup.”

“Of course she did…” Emma rolls her eyes and chews on the pizza.

“I hear congratulations are in order?” Kelly and Sam grin as they approach the two blondes.

“I guess you’re right.” Emma tears her eyes away from Lena to look at her two friends.

“Now Emma.” Sam clears her throat and Emma starts feeling more nervous. “As Lena’s longest and dearest friend I feel I need to say, that if you ever, ever hurt her. I will hunt you down and make you wish you’d never been born.”

Emma’s eyes go wide at the scary tone Sam’s voice took. Even Kara is startled and freezes her chewing, especially remembering how Reign sounded.

“I promise I won’t.” Emma tries to reassure the brunette.

“Good!” Sam smiles, happy with Emma’s answer and gives the blonde a hug. “I’m really happy for the both of you.”

“Same. Took us months of planning to get you together.” Kelly laughs as she gives Emma a hug too.

Emma pulls back and blinks at Kelly. “Wait, what?”

“On our first date Alex was telling me about her family and she mentioned how you and Lena are really close. When I saw how close you were, we devised a plan to get you together. We’ve been trying for a while but it only succeeded a week ago.”

“The mistletoe!” Emma quickly turns to Kara who has a look of slight panic on her face so she quickly shoves the rest of her pizza into her mouth so she can’t talk. Emma glares at her sister before looking back at an amused Kelly and Sam. “Well… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Kelly smiles brightly at her girlfriend’s baby sister.

“What are you welcoming Emma about?” Alex appears by Kelly’s side and kisses her cheek.

As Kelly starts to explain Emma quickly looks for Lena and finds her nursing a glass of red wine in the kitchen. She narrows her eyes at her oldest sister and rushes over to her girlfriend.

“Hi love.” Emma whispers softly as she wraps her arms around Lena and lays her head on Lena’s shoulder.

Lena smiles faintly and turns to face her girlfriend. She lifts her arms and holds them behind Emma’s head. Emma searches Lena’s green eyes to see if she got affected by what Alex said. “That’s my line.” Lena says gently.

“Well, I did think about your pet name. Stuff like princess, babe, beautiful, but love just feels right.”

“Yes, princess doesn’t really suit me.” Lena scrunches up her nose.

“Yea you're more a Queen than anything.”

Lena smiles and kisses Emma. “And what does that make you?”

“Your humble servant?” Emma kisses her back, momentarily forgetting about the other people in the room. Who mainly avert their eyes. Other than Kara who watches with a huge smile on her face.

“No, you are too important to be a lowly servant.” Lena rests her head against Emma's forehead. “You are my Queen.”

“Aww!” Kara’s voice calls out and Emma and Lena turn their heads to look at the blonde. Who blushes in embarrassment and tries to look busy talking to Nia.

Emma and Lena both chuckle before looking back at each other.

“I hope Alex wasn’t too harsh to you?” Emma asks while gently running her fingers against Lena’s jaw.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Hey love birds!” Alex yells, catching their attention. “We’re ready to do the New Year crap stuff before we play a game.”

Kara huffs while sitting on the floor by the coffee table. Emma reaches her hand down to Lena’s and hovers there. Lena smiles and takes her hand, weaving her fingers through.

“Pass a few cushions over please?” Emma asks as they have to sit on the floor due to all the seats being taken by the time they get over to the coffee table. When they settle Lena immediately rests her head on Emma’s shoulder.

“So, due to L-Corp’s Gala last night we weren’t able to do the tradition of saying a highlight of this… last year and something we hope for next… this year.” Kara’s forehead scrunches up in confusion.

“Don’t hurt yourself there Kara.” Emma laughs and Kara throws her pillow at her. Which Emma catches easily, knowing what the blonde would do.

“Who wants to go first?” Sam asks looking around.

“I think our new love birds should do it.” Nia smiles at Emma and Lena while snuggling into Brainy.

Emma turns to Lena. Emma could see Lena felt uncomfortable so she squeezed the raven haired beauty’s hand. “Me first?”

“Sure.”

“So…” Emma thinks quickly about everything she’s done over the year. “Okay… This is actually quite hard! Cause winning the Grammy’s and other awards was a definite highlight. Travelling the world is always a plus. But, I think, realising I am in love with my best friend, tops everything.” Emma pulls Lena’s hand up to her lips and kisses it. Lena looks down feeling slightly overwhelmed by her emotions.

“That’s so disgustingly sweet! I’m getting cavities!” Alex yells dramatically and everyone laughs, including Lena. Who looks back up and quickly kisses Emma’s lips

“What do you hope for the year ahead?” Kelly asks intrigued.

Emma tilts her head. “Hmm. I mean there’s so much that’s going to happen. The American tour with Axis, my solo album which will most likely lead to another tour… On my own.” Emma frowns. “That’s weird to think about.”

“Won’t you have a band with you though?” Sam asks, tilting her head in wonder.

“Yea, I guess. It’s just weird thinking it will be new people. The auditions should be fun though!” Emma smiles lightly. “But, what I hope for in this New Year is… For things to remain as they are. I mean I get to do something I love as a job, I have the greatest friends in the world, the best sisters in the world and I found a love I never thought possible.”

“Awww!!” Kara, Nia, Sam and Kelly say in unison and Lena smiles softly.

“Serious cavities.” Alex rolls her eyes but flinches when Sam whacks her. “Ow!”

“Behave.” Sam laughs and Kelly kisses Alex’s cheek when the redhead pouts.

The Superfriends go round telling their highlights and what they hope for. Emma listens with a smile and continues to hold Lena’s hand. For Emma, she couldn’t wish for anything more.

(Part Seven)

#supergirl tv #supergirl #supergirl imagine #supergirl fanfic #supergirl baby danvers #supergirl fanfiction #lena luthor x baby danvers #alex danvers x baby danvers #kara danvers x baby danvers #lena luthor imagine #alex danvers imagine #kara danvers imagine #b!d #baby danvers

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copias-thrall · 4 years ago

Text

There’s Magic in the Night

A new year is breaking, and it's full of possibilities.

⬅️ Previous

(Reminder: not Repugnant accurate.)

It’s a 15min walk from the nearest subway stop in a part of the city that hosts low-income and broke college folk, and you’re beginning to wonder if your heeled boots were the best choice—but the shiny patent of them so nicely offset your cheap pink and black tulle skirt and fuzzy black crop sweater with inlaid tinsel that you’d decided on form or function. You’d almost changed your top when Mary had knelt and given your tummy a raspberry where it hung over the waistband a little, but his cute little pout had placated you a little after you’d threatened to do just that.

“You want a piggyback?”

“Nah, I’m all right, Mare. We’re almost there, right?”

“Yeah.”

Using his chin, he indicates a house down the block with a light on in every window and that’s lit up with string lights. It’s a little run down, but not falling apart. The neighborhood is full of three-story homes that are either co-ops or rented out by various floor configurations.

You’d tried to follow his explanation on who he knew and how, but the most you’d retained was that of the 6 people who rented the entire house, Mary knew 2 of them intimately. (“Yeah, they’ve had it every year that they’re lived there. I’m pretty sure a good third of the crowd is party crashers, but the more the merrier, right?”)

The closer you get, the louder the din from the house becomes—it sounds like there are 4 different playlists fighting for dominance, and the crowd ASMR is strong. There is a gang of smokers spilling from the front porch, down the cement steps, and clumped into murders in the small yard.

Ed and Dee are leaning against the railing on the steps, shivering in their best band tees as they take drags of their cigarettes.

“Hey, man!” says Mary as he leans forward and engages them both in a sloppy approximation of a cool, secret handshake.

“Hey, Goore!”

“Long time no see, dude.”

You nod at them, and they nod back.

“Where’s the rest of the gang?” asks Ed as he strains to see behind you in the dark.

Apparently Mary usually pregamed with his bandmates and then they headed over en masse later in the night. Horrified, you’d tried to convince him to uphold the tradition, but he’d insisted he could break off one year (“I’m not gonna toss you to the wolves, Suey. I see those assholes all the time.”).

Mary blows out a breath, and it hangs in the air like the puffs of smoke.

“Still pregaming. They’ll be by later. I wanted to give Suey the grand tour.”

Mary makes a sweeping motion, then wraps that arm around you. Ed and Dee’s eyes flick back to you.

“He’s a fucking liar; he was afraid one of you would steal me away.”

Ed coughs out the drag he was taking, and Dee snorts.

“You’re killing my street cred, woman.”

“Whatever, dude,” says Dee with a smirk, and Mary glowers at him. “You wanna bum one?” Dee holds out his pack as if in contrition.

Mary’s hand twitches, but he shakes his head.

“Nah, dude. Not unless it’s that chronic shit.”

“Yeah, they got those somewhere.”

“Cool. Cool cool cool.”

A few merrymakers exit the house—laughing and screaming—and they push by the lot of you as they presumably journey on toward another party.

“All right, dudes. We’re gonna go make the rounds, get some cold ones. See you on the other side!”

“Sounds good!”

“Do it.”

Mary ushers you inside, and—despite the open door—the warmth of the house hits you, making you feel suddenly uncomfortable in your winter coat. Like the outside, there’s a general mass of bodies that are sectioned off (in the hall; on the stairs; spilling out of the kitchen; lounging in the living areas) like music notes in a run of measures. You spot a worn-looking chair that’s piled high with coats, and you go to toss yours on, but Mary grabs your arm.

“Geez, Suey. You wanna get your coat jizzed on?”

“I—what?”

“C’mere, let’s not add our stuff to the pile that’s gonna make someone a nice sex bed later.”

He yanks your coat out of your hands and opens a door that leads to the hall closet. A beach ball tumbles out and is joyfully absconded with by a trio of party goers walking by, and Mary catches one golf club in his hand as it falls out from the top shelf and another under his arm. Unfortunately, he doesn’t catch the one that hits his booted foot, but you managed to stand on tiptoe enough to prevent the entire bag from depositing its contents on Mary’s head.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Between the two of you, you manage to get the clubs back in order from whence they fell.

You can see that there’s other junk up there and in the back—whether it lives there permanently or was just shoved in there pre-party, you guess you’ll never know—but there’s an entire row of coats on a rod, which seems to be the closet’s main purpose.

“Here.” Mary rifles through the mess until he finds a free hanger. It takes some adjusting, but he finally gets his leather jacket and your coat onto the same hanger and manages to squeeze it back into the mass.

“OK. Let’s go find Shonda.”

“Not Murray?”

“Apparently he’s elsewhere tonight.” He shrugs.

There’s a sudden squeal of voices, and when you turn, you see Kara and Elsie hurrying toward you. Elsie is in a sequined dress so garish it must be fashionable and Kara sports a sparkly red sweater over black jeggings that she’s wrapped fairy lights around.

“So you’re not dead!” says Kara

“Uh … no?”

“Christ, I would have called you, but I’ve spent the last few days with my head in a toilet,” laughs Elsie.

“Yeah, thanks for that guys,” says Mary. “What I really wanted to do at the crack of dawn was take care of this lush.”

“Pffft,” snorts Elsie. “You’re one to talk, Goore. As if your head doesn’t live in the toilet.

“Yeah, total karma, Mary. Remember that time you got your stomach pumped?”

“Jesus, Mare,” you say at him with a bemused smile. He scowls.

“Look. Honey whiskey goes down easy.”

Elsie and Kara cackle before grabbing up your hands.

“C’mon, let’s get you a drink, hon,” says Kara.

“What about me?” pouts Mary.

Elsie sniffs over her shoulder at him as she pulls you down the hall.

“Sorry, Goore. Girls only. Go set shit on fire or something.”

“That was once!” you hear Mary call down the hall after you.

“Wait—what did he set on fire?”

Elsie looks at you and mimics locking her mouth and throwing away a key.

The kitchen is full of bodies. In one corner, there’s a game of beer pong set up, and in the other, people are digging beer containers out of a giant cooler. On the counter are a few bowls half-filled with various snacks—the other half of which seem to be spilled over the counter and crushed into the linoleum floor. There’s a dark-skinned woman in a black & white plaid rockabilly dress and red cardigan who’s struggling to empty a bag of ice into a second cooler.

“Here—let me help, Shonda,” says Kara as Elsie leads you to the full cooler.

Shonda looks up. “Yeah, could you? Dunno where my asshole roommates are.”

By the time the two of them have the contents of the bag in the cooler—the cubes sliding in with a rough whoosh and plinking softly over the beers in the bottom—you and Elsie have fresh beers that she’s poured into solo cups.

“Thanks, Kar.” Shonda wipes her hands on the bottom of her dress, makes a face, then fumbles for a dingy kitchen towel hanging over the fridge door handle.

“Shonda,” says Elsie, catching the woman’s attention. She pushes you forward a bit. “This is Mary’s new squeeze.”

“Oh, um, hi.” You stick out your hand.

“No shit.” Shonda gives you a once over before giving your hand one firm shake. She nods a few times. “Yeah, ok. I see it.” She pats you on the arm. “Good luck with that.” She turns to Elsie. “Is that little shit here? We need to have words.”

Elsie jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “We left him down the hall.”

“He can run but he can’t hide,” Shonda says as she stomps away in impressively high red heels.

“Do I need to go defend his honor?”

Kara snorts.

“Nah,” says Elsie, waving your question away. “She’ll probably just make him do the heavy lifting the other stooges wheedled their ways out of.”

“He is stronger than those skinny arms make him look,” you muse.

Kara leans in. “Oh?”

You grin at her.

The two of them lead you into what must be a dinning room that seems to be the official set up for the snacks and libations. A bar with liquor and mixers have been arranged in the built-in, and there’s a folding table in the corner with an array of chips, snack foods, and a pile of wilted-looking pizza boxes. There’s a center table—which looks more permanent—that some sort of drinking game is occurring over.

You make a beeline for the pizza.

“I think I need a good base.”

As you juggle the pizza slices on a plate on the top of your cup, Kara and Elsie talk rapid fire across you, sometimes asking you questions (about you, about Mary, about you and Mary), other times going into long-winded stories about people you’ve never met, but are hilarious nonetheless.

“Fuck. I’m not drunk enough for this party yet,” Kara laments.

“Well, yeah,” says Elsie. “I thought we’d get our game on.” She pokes you in the belly, and you suck your stomach in away from her touch. “You done ‘getting your base’ yet?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You dump the paper plate and crusts into a trash bag slumped in the corner.

About the time Elsie is squeezing you three into the game at the table, Mary wanders in. His face brightens when he sees you, and he makes his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“There you are, baby doll.”

“I thought I told you ‘girls only,’ Goore,” says Elsie.

He jabs a finger at her. “I gave you more than enough time to monopolize my girlfriend, Ford.”

“Just keep your dick in check.”

“I do what I want.”

For the next half hour, you engage in a rousing game of flip cup, which you have always been terrible at, but Mary seems to dominate. By the end, Kara and Elsie are hitting their buzz—playfully shoving themselves and others—and you’re beginning to feel more at ease in this sea of unfamiliar people.

Ed and Trevor wander in and motion to Mary, but seem to address the whole crowd.

“Yo!” says Ed. “Wanna go upstairs?” He stimulates smoking a joint at Mary.

“Yeah, man!” Mary turns to you. “You wanna join?”

You shake your head. “Can’t. I get tested.”

“Laaaame,” says Kara, and you jump because you didn’t realize how close she’d gotten.

“You sure it’s ok?” Mary scrunches his face.

“Yeah, Mare. Go! Be free!”

“Don’t worry, Mare,” says Elsie coyly as she drapes an arm around you. “We’ll take good care of Suey.”

Mary looks horrified enough that you think he might change his mind, but then Ed and Trevor are pulling him away. Elsie looks down at you.

“What did you do to that boy?”

You squint up at her. “What do you mean?”

Kara insinuates her way in between you and hands you both disposable shot cups.

“She means you’ve got him pussy whipped.”

You scrunch your face further. “Mary? He’s like a stray cat that shows up sometimes for food.”

“Is the ‘food’ ‘sex’?” Kara jumps her eyebrows at you.

Laughingly, you shove at her. “Maybe.”

Elsie throws her hands up. “PUSSY. WHIPPED.” She downs her shot.

You and Kara follow suit.

“Ok, but seriously,” you half cough as you wipe a dribble off your chin. “Mary does what he wants. I don’t tell him what to do.”

“Aww, hon—we know,” says Kara. “Elsie is just giving you a hard time.”

Elsie shrugs. “I’m a Class A Bitch.”

“She is,” agrees Kara. She turns her cup upside down; a few droplets drip out. “Hey, bitch—go get us more suds!”

“Demanding,” grips Elsie, but she turns to make her way into the kitchen.

You and Kara wander over to the food table to graze, the howls from the newest drinking game dolcet background noise.

“Hey, I know Elsie tends to make people butthurt, but she just has no filter.”

“Oh. No, it’s fine.” You shrug. “People tend to think I’m an elitist snob, so I try to be, um, more open minded.”

Kara grins at you. “‘Splains why you’re dating Mary.”

You throw a withered carrot stick at her. “Don’t fucking call me out like that.”

Kara laughs as she tries to block the attack. The conversation seems to stall after that, so you try and dredge up a question.

“So you guys know Mary from high school or something? Mary was … vague.”

“Just Elsie. That’s why she’s a little protective. He’s seen some shit.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say quietly. You turn to look at Kara. “Did they ever …?”

Kara waves her hand at you dismissively, swaying slightly. “Shit, we’ve all fucked around with each other at some point or other.”

Your eyes bug out. “You and Mary?”

She snorts, and leans toward you at a dangerous angle. “Well I never slept with Mary. But I’ve been with Elsie and Dee, and Mary with her and Trevor, and Trevor and Dee had a thing with Ed.” She screws up her face. “I think I got that right. I can never keep it straight, honestly.” Kara shakes her head out; then her expression changes and she bites her lip. “Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve told you all that.”

You pop a Jax in your mouth. “Mums the word, sister”

As she’s giving you a sloppy, grateful smile, Elsie finally appears—tottering carefully—with three solo cups precariously balanced between her hands and tits.

“Shit—come get your drinks.”

You and Kara scramble to relieve Elsie of her haul without dropping the prizes as the drinking game breaks with an Awwwwwww.

“You guys wanna with another round?” Elsie throws her thumb over her shoulder as she sips from her cup.

“Fuck yeah, you know it!” exclaims Kara as she throws her hands up, beer spilling over the side.

After doing OK in a few rounds of Finger Spoof (you’re feeling the buzz nicely), you look around and realize you haven’t seen Mary in a while. You leave Kara and Elsie to their own devices and head into the kitchen. Grabbing your own solo cup in your teeth—ignoring it as some of its contents sloshes over the side and down your chin—you fish for a lite beer floating in the lukewarm cooler water for Mary.

If you can locate him.

He’s not in any of the rooms downstairs, nor is he outside with smoker’s club. You make your way up to the second floor, hoping he’ll be easy to find up there. There’s a door that’s locked and another where there’s a group hanging out on the bed and each other as Kpop loudly plays.

You find Mary in an open bedroom full of haze. He’s softly strumming an acoustic guitar—his fingers fumbling slightly on the unfamiliar strings as he tunes his way up the frets. He’s propped up in a corner, legs crossed under him, as the others in the room pass a joint around.

Picking your way carefully through the crowd, you make your way over to Mary. People shift and sway out of the way and scoot over when you smush yourself in next to him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You lean your head onto his shoulder, and Mary passes off the guitar to someone else. “Where’re Ed, Edd, and Eddy?”

He snorts.

“Went in search of snackies.”

He looks down at the beers resting in the small slick of condensation on the floor and licks his lips.

“One of those for me?”

“Yeah,” you say as you hand him the room-temperature bottle, which he takes up and chugs half of in one go. Watching his adam’s apple bobbing, you lean in to lick his neck. Mary jerks, then coughs, half spraying the beer out his mouth and nose. A few people squeal in surprise as you cackle, and Mary glares at you, wiping at his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his shirt that he’s curled over his hand.

“Fuck. You’re a pain in my ass.”

He drapes his arm around your shoulder, the bottle in his hand resting on your arm. The person who has the guitar now is strumming up a familiar song, and soon everyone is singing along (screaming or shrieking off key in some cases). Under the guise of getting his drink close to his mouth, Mary subtly maneuvers you into his lap—his other hand sneaking up under your shirt hem to rest on the curve of your belly with the tips of his fingers brushing just under one cup of your bra. You’re too loose from the drinking game to really care, so you lean back into his chest, warbling along to the tune as well.

You’re swaying, drink in hand, as you screech along to another song, when suddenly you become very aware of Mary’s erection pressing into your ass.

You turn your head. “Seriously?”

He rumbles into your ear. “Whaddya want? You’re squirming on my lap.”

Giggling, you purposely grind back on him, and he grabs your hips.

“Fuck, baby doll—keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess.”

You lean your head back on his shoulder as you circle your hips.

“You love making a mess, Mare Bear.”

He leans down to bite at your neck.

“I love making a mess on you. Not in my pants.”

“So stop me.”

Mary’s arm comes around your waist, effectively pulling you flush against him.

“FucK.”

More people wander in as the songs turn from nostalgic familiars to those of the drinking variety, and they raise solo cups and bottles in joyful celebration.

Everyone is sloppy; some sway to the rhythm of the songs, others drunkenly half mosh, spilling their drinks everywhere. You grinding your ass back into Mary—and him twitching up into you—is hardly a blip on anybody’s radar. His head thunks down onto the slope of your shoulder, his hips wanting to rut faster than subtlety or your own movements allow.

People are stomping, clapping, and spraying beer on each other as they half mutter words to drinking songs they realize they only half know.

Mary is a mess, trembling as he presses into you and mewling softly with each pass. Conversely, you’re having a grand ole time: rocking your hips as you sway and sing along to whatever the person in possession of the guitar is currently playing. Ignoring your own wetness and the growing throb in between your legs, you try to give him the pressure he needs.

You can feel his chest heaving into your back and the sweat from his forehead on your skin when it’s clear he’s getting close. His limbs shake as his arms squeeze you tighter, his movements almost stilling to nothing—and then he blows out a held breath like a drumbeat, his crotch pressing into you in pulses as he bites down into the juncture of your neck. Gasping, you spill a good amount of your drink as you jerk forward—Mary still rutting shallowly into you.

A few people cheer at your party foul—which hopefully takes any attention off Mary, who is clearly no longer hiding the fact that he’s cumming hard in his pants. He finally slumps behind you, his arms loosening and sprawling open.

“Shit,” he says.

You lean back. “Mmm … good?” you purr.

His hands sneak back under your top to sink into your flesh, and he leans up enough to whisper into your ear.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“You could’ve stopped me.”

He growls. “You know what you touching my dick does to me.”

“Was I, though? Touching your dick?”

Mary rubs his face into your neck as his hands squeeze your chub.

“Close enough.”

“Get a room, Goore!” screams someone before some of the group toss a couple of empty solos your way.

Mary looks up and grins.

“Maybe I fucking will.” He starts to stand up, bringing you with him—probably to hide the wet patch on his jeans. “See you losers later.”

There’s a general chorus of hoots and whistles, but mostly the crowd goes back to their drinking songs.

“Are we really getting a room?” you ask—arousal curling—as Mary directs you around the second floor, hands on your hips to keep you in front of him.

“A bathroom, yeah.”

There’s a slight wait—one Mary fills with his roving hands and lips—before the woman ahead of you stumbles out, wiping her wet hands ineffectually on her party dress.

Mary ushers you in, locking the door behind you. The two of you look down to inspect the damage. It’s actually not terrible. You can hardly tell at all on his jeans, and Mary undoes them so he can half shuck them down. His boxer briefs are a completely different story; they’re visibly soaked through at the top, and when he peels away the waistband, he reveals a sticky, slimy mess coating his stomach and flaccid cock.

“Shit. This may be a lost cause,” he says as he inspects the inside of the fabric.

“TP?”

“Yeah, unless you wanna lick it off …” Mary looks up at you with a smirk. “Which would be kinda hot, actually.”

“Sorry,” you say as you roll toilet paper around your hand, “but I like my jizz how I like my coffee: hot and fresh from the source.”

He runs a finger through the mess and then wiggles it at you. “It’s still kinda warm!”

You wrap your mouth around it because it’s the last thing he expects you to do.

“Uh …”

He’s momentarily rendered speechless as he watches you suck his finger clean and then smack your lips as if appraising.

“Nah. None of that reheated crap either.”

He blinks down at you. “Should I be horrified that I’m rubbing off on you?”

You give him a smile with your tongue half sticking out as you rub the wadded up toilet paper across his belly.

“I’m pretty sure I was just rubbing you off, Mare.”

Mary’s hands come up and sink into your hair. “Shut up.” He pulls you into a deep kiss. “Fuck. Love it when you tease me,” he says as he pulls away.

“I know.” You beam up at him and continue trying to clean him up.

He looks down at himself. “Fuck it.” He goes to toe off his boots, realizes that he’s wearing his “dress boots”—the less-scuffed ones that lace up to his knees—and snarls in frustration.

When he goes for the medicine cabinet, you step out of the way and toss the slimed wad of paper into the toilet. Making an Ah-ha! noise, Mary turns to you and snaps a pair of hair scissors triumphantly.

“Do the honors, will ya?”

“Wait—you want me to … cut your boxers off?”

“I’m sure as fuck not taking these boots off or spending the rest of the night marinating in my own jizz.”

You snort at him. “Whatever you want, Mare Bear.” You shuffle forward and hop up onto the sink. It only teeters a little.

“Hey! Hurry the fuck up in there!” comes a male voice through the door accompanied by banging.

“Fuck off, I’m taking a dump!” barks Mary.

“Dude,” says the voice, but the banging stops.

Mary shifts forward into the V of your spread legs as he hands you the scissors. He keeps his face close to yours. “Try not to cut off anything important,” he breathes at you.

“Of course—you’re no good to me clipped.”

His eyes meet yours, then travel down to his crotch. Carefully (willing your eyes to focus), you start from the top down, snipping the fabric—bunching it up with each shear—until you reach the end of the leg up to the crotch, Mary only flinching slightly (“Careful with the goods, woman!” “Fucking hold still!”). Once each side is cut, Mary and you work together to pull each half free.

As you ball up the front half to toss into the trash basket, Mary uses the back half to wipe up the lingering stickiness coating his cock and stomach.

“Better?” you ask when he’s finished and zipping his jeans back up, the other half of his boxers joining its twin in the trash.

He wiggles a bit. “Eh, it’ll do.” You expect him to back off, but instead he crowds closer. “What about you, baby doll? Maybe I should check on you.”

Before you have a chance to respond, Mary is shoving up the layers of your skirt and pressing his hand into your damp tights. You gasp at the sensation.

“Hmm,” he rumbles, “seems like you could use some clean up yourself.”

And then he’s maneuvering his head in between your spread legs, trying to position your knees over his shoulders. You let out an Oh, as your hands fly down to brace yourself on the edges of the sink; Mary growls in frustration as he tries to first pull down your tights, then to rip them apart to no avail. Before you can stop him, he’s picked up the shears and has snipped a slit in your crotch.

“Mary!” you yelp, but he just dives back down, tongue wiggling through the rip in the fabric to trace your seam before delving into your folds to flick at your clit. At the burst of sweetness, you moan, and your head thunks back into the mirror.

Head swimming, you lose yourself in the feel of his tongue as it swirls around your nub and then presses into it a few times before he’s sucking it in between his plush lips. He repeats this process, sometimes running his tongue down to your entrance and then back up, and at others holding the tip directly on your clit until you start squirming in frustration … only to then flick repeatedly back and forth.

A finger enters you, and you cry out, “Oh fuck,” as you tighten around it. Mary starts to slowly ease it in and out of you as his tongue continues its massage of your hardening clit. You’re really squirming now, rocking into his mouth and down onto his finger—making sure you light up every sweet spot. You feel like a guitar string wound too tight, ready to snap, and your pussy pulsates in warning.

Mary sets his tongue speed to 11, and you feel the tidal wave of your orgasm start rushing toward you. You let out a squeak as your one hand sinks into Mary’s hair right before your climax breaks, and you start bucking into his mouth. Like a good boy, he manages to follow the lead of your hips until your pussy stops popping and your body relaxes—your butt slipping down into the bowl of the sink.

After catching your breath, you look down to find Mary’s twinkling eyes staring up at you from beneath the layers of your skirt. You pet down the side of his head with an Mmm, and his eyes close as he leans into the touch.

“I think you only made me stickier, Mare.”

His head tilts to rest on your one leg.

“Not my fault you get wet as fuck. There’s only so much I can lap up at once.”

You shift up into a sitting position as Mary wipes his face—and the lower part of his makeup—onto your tights.

“Shit. Are the tights a lost cause too?”

“Stand up?”

You hop off the sink, and Mary inspects your backside. He gives it a slap before saying, “Nah, I think you’re good. Just a little damp.”

You crinkle your nose. “Well, I feel slimy. Turn around so I can take care of business.”

Mary peers into the mirror to even out his smudgy face before slurping some tap water from the faucet as you get your situation into a tolerable state.

When the two of you exit the bathroom—Mary’s arm draped back around your shoulders—there are two guys lounging on the bottom of the stairs leading up to the 3rd floor. They look up at the sound of the bathroom door opening, and one scrunches his face at you.

“Dude. I thought you were taking a shit.”

He holds up a blackened Yankee candle.

Mary shrugs at him. “We don’t kink shame here.”

The guy’s companion bursts out laughing even as you elbow Mary in the ribs. He just laughs as he says, “C’mon let’s get some suds.”

The two of you make your way back down to the kitchen where Shonda The Beer Færie has replenished the coolers again. Mary shotguns a can—foam spritzing everywhere—as you search for the elusive opener. Unable to locate it, you try—and fail—to pop the top off on the counter.

“Gimme,” says Mary—belching—grabbing for your bottle. After fishing for another bottle in the ice, he aligns the caps and pops them both with the other.

“My hero,” you say in an affected tone as you bat your curled eyelashes at him.

“That’s fucking right.” He makes an arm in an attempt to bulge his bicep.

You test it with your hand. “Nah. Too small, throw it back.”

Pouting at you, he says, “You’re the worst, and we’re in a fight.”

You shrug as you take a swig of beer. “Eh. I got what I wanted.”

Mary makes a grab for the bottle, but you twist out of his reach and bolt out of the kitchen. He doesn’t catch you before you seek sanctuary in the living room. All the furniture has been pushed against walls, the rug rolled and resting in a corner, and more bodies than there should be are packed into the center as a party mix thumps from the speakers.

You wiggle your way into the crowd and run into Kara and Elsie, who shout Hooray! and pull you into their bump and grind. The 3 of you raise your drinks into the air to avoid spilling on each other as you rock and sway, alternating who gets sandwiched.

Suddenly, Mary is at your elbow.

“Hey! Gimme back my girlfriend!”

“Sorry, Goore,” says Elsie. “Finders keepers.”

For a minute he looks genuinely put out, but then he just smirks. “Whatever, I’ll just enjoy the view.”

“Pig,” Kara spits.

Mary shrugs and starts to do a god-awful wiggle that you think is supposed to be dancing. He has the rhythm—and his ass jiggle is pretty nice—but that’s about all he’s got going for him in the moves department.

The mix must be trying to appeal to all types, but ends up being a spastic mix with no eye for continuity. Nineties Girl Pop transitions into Metal, which transitions into Country, then into Alternative, then to 80′s Power Ballad, then R&B, then Punk.

After screaming along to “Toxic”, Elsie leans in. “Fuck, I’m about to pass out. I need to get some air.”

“Want me to come with you?” asks Kara.

“Up to you, dear.”

They look at you.

“I should throw Mary a bone.”

Kara smirks at you. “Kinky.”

Elsie rolls her eyes at her friend. “C’mon you bitch ass.”

Seeing his opportunity, Mary gives a head nod as he seamlessly switches places with them. He pulls your back into him as his hands come round to rest on your hips.

“Good thing you emptied my dick earlier, or we’d have a problem,” he murmurs into your ear.

“Don’t be gross.”

“K.”

You and Mary grind or shimmy or jump depending on what the song calls for, your beer long drunk by now. At some point someone opens a window, and the chill, near-January air curls in—its icy but brisk tendrils working their way through the crowd. You shiver a little as the sweat on your skin tingles and cools at its touch, and Mary pulls you in tighter.

Meatloaf comes on—🎶 On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses? 🎶—and Mary snuffles his face into the crook of your neck, you tilting your head to the side to give him access.

🎶 Will he offer me his teeth? 🎶

He worries at you with his teeth.

🎶 Will he offer me his hunger? 🎶

His blunt teeth sink into you, and you let out a pleased rumble.

🎶 And will he starve without me? 🎶

“Yes,” he whispers into your ear right along with Jim Steinman.

You roll your eyes even though Mary can’t see you do it, but you let him spin you out—jostling the other revelers—and back into him (stumbling) as the drum beat drops. He tries to twirl you, but the crowd has packed back in around you, and all you accomplish is tripping over his boots.

🎶 …I was dying just to ask for a taste 🎶 he mouths at you.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” you say.

He leans in and nips at your lips, but you turn your head to whisper in his ear.

“I gave you a taste earlier, mister.”

“Mmm, but I’m greedy.”

You let him mouth at your neck as the two of you sway back and forth, Mary’s hands dipping lower and lower.

A sudden commotion is like a record scratch, and everyone turns to the front hall. Mary’s bandmates come into sight—caterwauling with 12 packs of shitty beer held aloft—encouraging the cheers of the other partygoers.

One spots Mary and points his finger at him.

“Goore! Goore! Goore!”

The other band members pick up the chant.

“Goore! Goore! Goore!”

The crowd takes up what has become a war cry:

“Goore! GOORE! G O O R E !”

Mary points back, then puts his hand up in supplication at you as he backs his way out of the room.

“You’re a goddamned tease!” you cry after him.

He shrugs before spinning on his heel to be assimilated in the group, the chant turning into whoops and hollers as they make their way into the kitchen.

Mary had warned you that the band usually did an unplugged set, and you surmise they must need to set up.

Without Mary or the girls, the dance room has lost its appeal, so you meander around the first floor. The drinking games have devolved into “Never Have I Ever,” and while the pizza is gone, a homemade-looking mac and cheese dish in a tinfoil baking pan has appeared.

You pile some onto a paper plate (whose structural integrity you seriously question) and are content to watch the proceedings until a girl in the circles demands you squeeze in with a slurred “None of this wallflower shit!”. They shove a solo cup into your hand, which is then promptly filled with whiskey from a Jack bottle.

For the next hour or so, the guests on either side of you—Lila and Marty—become the best friends you never knew you had while you all hoot and catcall each other to the escalating scenarios. The bromance comes to a swift end, sadly, when Dee appears in the doorframe, sees you, and points dramatically.

“It is time for the festivities!” he yells in deep baritone.

“I’m being summoned!” you yell, and there’s a chorus of boos as you wobbly make your way over.

“Come, yon neophyte, and join us at the gathering spot.”

“Lay on, McDee!”

Dee leads you out into the backyard, which is done up with myriad bulb lights. Mary winks at you as you pass him on the porch—picking your way around the hodgepodge of instruments—before you join Ed, Trevor, Kara, and Elsie at one side of a well-used iron fire pit on the grass. The girls are passing a flask back and forth as they snuggle you in between them.

It should be fucking freezing out, but with the alcohol, the body heat, and the fire, you actually feel quite cozy. There’s a buzz of voices as the band arranges and tunes the borrowed instruments. You think you can see human shapes on back decks in other lots, but it’s hard to tell through the glare of the lights.

The band members take their places, there’s a countdown, and then Mary and the guys jumpstart into their first crowd favorite. While there are some general cheers at favored sections, the intimacy of the party and the lack of mics or speakers make it a quieter affair than their venue shows. You and the girls sway back and forth in your triplet, and even the guys are fist pumping and mouthing along. They play two more of their own songs before doing a few classic 80′s punk covers that really get everyone hyped.

It’s not perfect—none of them are sober, they’re unaccustomed to the instruments, and the cold air isn’t helping dexterity. At one point the lead singer forgets the words and just la la las his way through the verse, which in turn sends some of the other members into a musical stutter. Not everyone is invested in the whole set—some people went back inside after the first few tunes, and others see the band as just background to their conversations. Those who are fully invested have gravitated closer to the porch—but your group of Mary’s bffls are content to hang out by the fire pit where a few people have started roasting marshmallows.

After an … interesting … mashup of “Rudie Can’t Fail” and “Classics of Love” that sounds like a physical representation of a key smash, the band closes ranks, and there’s some whispered conversation and emphatic gesturing.

“Ok!” says Donnie, the lead singer. “We’re gonna switch things up. Usually on backing vocals, Goore is going to take lead for our last song.” There are some boos that probably have more to do with the set ending than Mary singing, but also some whistles that are probably for Mary. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But it’s a party for us too!”

“Huh,” says Elsie.

“What?” you say into her armpit.

“Mary hates lead.”

You know. He’s mentioned ad nauseam.

Mary steps forward and takes position up front. When he brushes his forelock out of the way, he looks up briefly and catches eyes with you. You give him thumbs up. A grin breaks out on his face, and he winks at you. Slowly, he strums chords until he finds what he’s looking for, and you can tell he’s humming along quietly—it’s a familiar sight now to you, but you wonder how much of this crowd has seen Mary chart out a song.

Finding the key he’s looking for, Mary clears his throat. His voice isn’t rich in timbre, but he rasps out with feeling, and his pitch is near perfect.

🎶 So I hear you been wondering I've been wondering too Just what this crazy world has in store for me and you 🎶

You’re surprised at his choice, and you feel your face burn. Mary’s eyes flick up to you—glinting boyishly—and you stick your tongue out at him. He slows the song way down as he sings, changing the frenetic energy of the original into a soulful ballad to which he can growl along.

🎶 You scratching to find a way A tortured soul back from the grave O Baby Doll back to kill them all Now please won’t you stay 🎶

Mary pauses, looking full up at you before taking in a deep breath. A few heads turn to see who he’s looking at. You scrunch your face at him to convey your mortification, but he just shakes his head at you—he’s not going to stop.

🎶 Baby Doll whoa Baby Doll I need you I love you Baby Doll whoa Baby Doll O Please come back to me 🎶

You suddenly feel naked under the interested gazes of the curious onlookers as Mary continues on. He’s mostly singing at the guitar, but his few pointed glances at you make it clear who he’s singing to.

🎶 The tortures of your soul The rotting flesh pain never dulls O Baby Doll you will kill them all Now please come to me 🎶

You try to sink back into Elsie and Kara, who just push you forward again.

“Dude,” Elsie breaths at you.

“This is awesome,” says Kara.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” you mutter through your plastered on smile.

Some of the amassed crowd—which suddenly seems to have multiplied—start clapping to the slowed beat, and it causes a ripple of well-timed claps as well as those who can’t keep a rhythm.

Strumming in deliberate strokes, Mary looks up to hold your eyes once more.

🎶 I see you standing there In the shadows and in the rain A lifeless beauty Nothing could ever ease you of all your pain But Baby Doll the revenge you seek I dunno It will never be sweet But you'll never give it up Now come to me Come on 🎶

You shake your head as Mary continues to repeat the chorus into a soft fade. There’s a moment of silence after he’s finished, and he points out at you.

“Give it up for my very own baby doll!”

Applause breaks out and you give him double Fs.

Mary sets down the guitar carefully as Donnie steps forward again.

“All right! That’s it, motherfuckers! We’re about an hour away from the New Year, so grab a drink and sign up for our mailing list if you haven’t already!”

The crowd is whooping and whistling. A few people crowd up on the porch, as do Trevor, Ed, & Dee. Mary shakes hands, shoulder bumps, and backslaps his bandmates and some of the crowd, but his eyes are on you.

“I’d fuck him,” says Kara with a smirk.

Elsie groans. “Please don’t fuck in front of us. At least find a broom closet.”

You turn to her and give her a wolfish smile. “Who says we haven’t already christened it?”

Elsie buries her face in her hands as Kara tipsily attempts to fist bump you and ends up smushing your tit.

“Whoops! My bad!”

“Bitch, we’re cutting you off.”

“No, you’re not. Who would you do shots with?”

“Suey’s more than capable.”

You make a “who me?” face.

“Mebbe, but I think her mouth is spoken for.”

You’re about to respond, but arms suddenly encircle you, a mouth presses to your neck, and you squawk.

“If you’re not Mary Goore, you better watch your nuts!”

“I’m me, and I have to watch my nuts, anyway.”

You squirm around so that you’re facing him.

“Forget your nuts, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Aaaand on that note!” says Elsie, and she and Kara pat Mary’s arm before heading inside.

He looks down at you with hooded eyes.

“Whatever. You’re pleased. You fucking love that song.”

“Oh? Am I?”

“Yeah.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“I still have my nuts.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then point your finger in his face.

“You’re on thin ice, mister.”

“Mmm, I can think of a few ways you can take it out of my ass later.”

Your stomach flips, and you press into him, grabbing his jaw.

“Damn right I will.”

Mary bites his lip as you wiggle your hand in between the two of you to palm at his crotch. He closes his eyes and sways a little

and that’s when you step away from him.

“C’mon—my cup is empty. I need a refresh.”

Mary’s eyes pop open, and he whines while making an exaggerated puppy-dog face.

You snap your fingers at him. “That’s for earlier.”

There are still enough people mingling outside that it takes a while for the two of you to actually make it back inside—some are Mary’s friendly acquaintances he wants to say hi to and others are fans he can’t help but chat up.

“We’re going to be on Instagram again, aren’t we?” you say when you finally start your trek inside, his arm lazily resting around your shoulders.

His head turns to face you, and he gives you an impish smile.

“Tell me if I give a shit.”

You quirk your eyebrow at him. “You might give a shit later.”

His smile turns vulpine. “Promise?”

Your hand slips into his back pocket and squeezes.

It’s actually pretty close to the ball drop by this point, so you and Mary grab up two of the bargain plastic champagne glasses you find lined up in rows on the kitchen counter. When the cheap champagne starts being passed around like you’re all in a pirate shanty, you hold out the glasses (Mary’s already lost the base to his) for a fill.

There’s no way everyone is going to fit in the living room; the majority of the attendees are spilling out into the hall, up the stairwell, and out onto the porch, with you and Mary are squished in by the stairs—but the volume for Rocking New Year’s Eve is turned up so loud the speakers are fuzzing, and a few people are streaming it on the phones.

“T-Minus one minute!” someone screams, and a cheer goes up.

“Oh shit!” you exclaim and start digging around in your bra.

“What?” asks Mary as his eyes flick down to your tits.

You retrieve two silver dollars, warmed by your skin, and press one into Mary’s free hand.

“What’s this?” He holds the coin up at eye level.

“Silver dollar. If you hold onto one as the year turns over, it’s supposed to bring good fortune.”

He looks at you skeptically as he turns it this way and that. “Does it work?”

You shrug. “Can’t hurt. My grandma swore by it.”

“THIRTY SECONDS!”

“Where d’you even get these?”

You grin.

“Amazon.”

Shouts come from the living room: “10 … 9 … 8 …”

Mary turns to face you, and the two of you take up the chant.

“7 … 6 … 5…”

He crowds a little closer, the fist holding the coin draped over your shoulder with yours resting on his hip.

“4 … 3 … 2 …”

You don’t get out the “1” because Mary smashes his mouth to yours—just a hard press of lips to lips—then he’s pulling away to press his glass to your mouth. As you try to sip out of it, you fumble your own glass to his mouth. The two of you only succeed in spilling half the contents all over each other before conceding defeat.

There’s some shrieking a moment before everyone in the hall gets sprayed with foamy champagne. Since there really isn’t any room to escape, Mary and you try your best to duck and cover, laughing as the droplets come raining down. The beach ball from earlier comes out of nowhere, and you punch it back into the air, the plastic of it slick from the champagne shower.

Everyone is still screaming, separated friends are trying to find each other amidst the revelry, and some dude on the stairs is shouting Tennyson over an off-key rendition of “Auld Lang Syne”.

“Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky!” 🎶 Should old acquaintance be forgot, 🎶

Elsie and Kara are jumping up and down from where they are in the living room, pointing, and starting to make their way to you.

“The flying cloud, the frosty light!” 🎶 and never brought to mind? 🎶

The beach ball beans you in the face, and Mary takes it and lobs it onto the porch where it hits the back of Donnie’s head, causing the rest of them to cackle and holler back.

“The year is dying in the night!” 🎶 Should old acquaintance be forgot, 🎶

Like magic, Mary procures a half-full bottle of bubbly from the train of people maneuvering in the hall and takes a big swig before passing it to you. You chug the rest, coughing as the lukewarm bubbles fizz up your nose.

“Ring out, wild bells, and let him die!” 🎶 and auld lang syne? 🎶

Laughing, Mary wipes at your face with his sleeve, and you realize he’s still got the silver dollar clutched tight in his hand.

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#mary goore #ofc #feral cats fic #gritty girls #gutter punk #my writing #original content

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disastrousjest · 4 years ago

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I have to tell him… he should know…

Joseph slowed as the invasive thoughts filled his mind. These weren’t… they weren’t his thoughts. So where did they come from? He pressed his hand to his forehead. The cool metal of his left palm felt soothing. He hadn’t realized he had broken out into a sweat. Was he getting sick? After a couple of moments, he glanced around him to see if anyone was watching him. Suddenly aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t imagine how it might have looked just to slow to a stop in the middle of the courtyard. He was supposed to be heading for his next class, but something was troubling him. Ever since he had that first dream. The one of Caesar’s death, these random fragments had been flooding into his mind. Joseph hadn’t used much of his Hamon since he defeated Kars. There hadn’t been too much of a need to give the fact that things were pretty peaceful. Occasionally he used it for little things to take advantage of a situation. So, the sudden rush of thoughts and emotions, the only thing he could root it back to be that memory he had dreamed about. After all this time though. Why was he only now getting these thoughts and visions? A few years had passed since Caesar had been killed. Perhaps it was seeing him again now. Somehow alive once more…? Maybe Caesar himself had been the trigger. He wasn’t sure what he felt about this.

It wasn’t making it any easier on him either. The weight he bared in his heart. Every day he thought about it. And every day he thought about him, his heart would beat faster. A sigh left his lips. And to collect himself, he clenched his fist just over his heart, closing his eyes for a moment while he took a deep breath. (This heart… it beats for you. It always has.) The memory of what he saw in his dreams still lingered in his mind. The feelings he felt circulating around that moment. Caesar’s thoughts, his regrets and the things he wanted to say to him. How could he have forgotten about that? It had been what had torn Joseph apart so terribly upon losing him. Maybe it was because the loss had been too much for him to bare that he had blocked out these thoughts and feelings from coming through. Like a repressed memory, he had pushed away the feelings that Caesar’s energy flooding through his veins had brought him. He had loved him. He had loved him and never been able to tell him about it. And Joseph had returned those feelings. His heart was full for Caesar, despite their differences. How often they fought and argued with one another, his love for him had run deep. Deeper than anything else he had ever known. His heart had been utterly shattered when he had lost him. And it quivered when he had found him again, somehow. Something he still didn’t know how it had come to pass. Yet here he was. His heart ached to be with him in the ways they had both wanted. But now he had to question with Caesar’s broken memories of them, would he even want him like that still. Could Caesar fall in love with him again? Or did he still retain some of that love in his heart even without all of his memories?

“Caesar…” Joseph breathed his name, without realizing it.

The memory flashed behind closed eyelids. Standing, holding his bandana in his hands, knowing damn well what it meant. Afraid to call his name and knowing it would be met with silence. The cold chill of the Swiss mountains seemed oddly colder that day, freezing his blood as panic had rose in his chest. His desperate cries for Caesar and the sound of heavy rubble being moved through the empty, blood-soaked lobby of a broken-down hotel. It wasn’t until the sun had come out behind a cloud, peaking through the holes in the building that he had finally found him. A flash of crimson on the floor, catching the light and gleaming brilliantly against the cold concrete. He remembered the rush of energy he got from that blood-soaked bubble he had found upon first entering the hotel. Feeling the flood of life and emotions rush through his body. Yet somehow it had been that little bit of pooling blood that had tipped his emotions. As though seeing it had confirmed what he hadn’t wanted to believe. Caesar was gone. Caesar had died. And he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. He had pushed him to walk away to his death, alone. His cries and wails of agony had filled the empty halls, shaking the foundation as he yelled out in his pain. His heart breaking to pieces in that very moment, the ache raking through his body and shaking him to his core. He had lost his chance to ever make things right. To ever tell him how he felt. And even to apologize to him for the things he had said. All of it had been his fault.

At least that was what he had thought.

He blinked, feeling something wet on his face. Opening his eyes, he moved a hand up to his face. He hadn’t realized he had started crying. Smiling to himself, he wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his shirt. A sad smile painting across his features as he stared somberly and fondly towards the ground in front of him. “Damn, even now you still have me beat. You were always worried about me leaving you behind, but Caesar…” He raised his gaze towards the sky now. “…I don’t even know if you can still love me the way you did before.” (So maybe I’m the one who was left behind…)

“JoJo…?”

Hearing the echo in his mind, he turned his head as though expecting to see Caesar standing there. Of course, he was standing there alone at the moment. But what he saw was another vision because when he glanced over, he was suddenly seeing the world around him in an orange haze. The sun was just starting to sink below the horizon. And what he was seeing wasn’t Caesar, but himself. Joseph Joestar, sitting with one knee propped up, a wrist dangling from it while he leaned back on his other hand. His mask was gone now as it had been destroyed in his fight against Esidici. He could tell this much because this version of himself still looked a little tired from all the fighting. Or maybe he was anxious about what was coming next? Joseph knew that since he was seeing it this way, he must be seeing through Caesar’s eyes again. His memories. The pieces of him that were handed over when he gave him his Hamon. The moments of extreme emotion he had felt that he had never conveyed. This moment in time, Joseph remembered it now that he was seeing it. They were to leave for Switzerland soon to go after the Pillar Men, there was no point in not confronting them now that they knew about the Stone and one had already been defeated. Joseph had decided to go out and collect his thoughts, sitting outside the estate just as the sun was beginning to set. A hard battle was ahead of him and he hadn’t been sure how he was going to handle taking on two more Pillar Men. Fighting the first of the three had been hard enough for him. He was worried he might not be able to make it through this entire fight. That was when Caesar had come out to join him. Now that he was seeing it from Caesar’s eyes though, he had to wonder—why had Caesar come to find him that day?

He watched as he glanced over towards himself, or rather where Caesar was. “JoJo, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“You’re not here to tell me I should be doing something to prepare for the fight, are you?”

There was a pause. “No… It’s not that.”

“Good because I’m not in the mood for another one of your lectures, Caesar.”

Silence for a moment. “…Our fight will probably be a hard one. There could be a chance one of us may not come back to Roma when it’s over. If that’s the case, then you should know that I—”

“Don’t you start talking like that!” He could hear the fierceness in his own voice. And the gaze that belonged to Caesar shifted back to him, seeming hesitant. He could feel Caesar’s feelings here, a mix of complicated things. He was frustrated with him for not listening, but at the same time in admiration of him.

“JoJo…” He sighed. “Then let’s work together to make sure we both come back, okay?”

The memory faded after that and when he came out of it, he was crying again. His hands curled into fists, gripping the fabric of his shirt at his chest. He knew now what Caesar had been trying to say. After hearing his thoughts and feeling the deep emotions coming from him. He understood. Why hadn’t he realized what he was trying to tell him before? He would have at least gotten the chance to tell him that he loved him. At least once. Maybe things would have been different if Caesar had known that he loved him back. Perhaps they wouldn’t have gotten into a fight that would tear them apart. He had Caesar now, he was back. Somehow, he had come back from the dead. But… he didn’t remember everything. He didn’t remember how he felt about him, right? It was unclear. Their chemistry together was so natural… He shook his head, trying to clear the hopeless thoughts away. He had to keep fighting for this. So what if Caesar never remembered moments like this again? He still loved him. Caesar was still Caesar, even if he didn’t realize any of it. And Joseph was still more than determined to bring back what memories of him he could and the rest, he would just have to get to know all over again. If he never remembered feeling this way about him, wanting to tell him how he felt. Then he would just have to find a way to have him fall for him again. Only then would he be able to explain everything to him. Until then he would just have to deal with these feelings, both his and Caesar’s now. He would have to deal with the ache in his chest and the weight of his feelings. For as long as he could, anyway.

(I will tell you everything one day. Caesar, I never stopped loving you.)

//looking for the bloom again @shabcn

#jojodrabble #jjba rp #shabcn #returnfromheaven #always his sunshine

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shewillreadyou · 4 years ago

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Becoming: Chapter 11- A woman’s worth

As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

A/N: Will Karis break under Madeleine’s pressure?

Disclaimers: All characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: Language, sexual content, tw character death

Catch up: Becoming

Word Count:2638

Pairings: Liam x MC (Karis Vasquez

Song inspiration: A woman’s worth- Alicia Keys

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

“Excuse me, may I have this dance?”

“Raymond, wow of course, well if it’s okay with you Liam?”

Liam smiles but it does not reach his eyes.

“Of course. I’ll catch up with you soon,” he says as he heads towards Rashad.

On the dance floor

“Karis, you look…damn.”

She blushes furiously but her blush quickly fades.

“Raymond, you look great too. But what are you doing here?”

Raymond looks around to see who is within earshot. He pulls her close and speaks in a low voice in her ear as Liam eyes him from across the room.

“Are you ok? Just squeeze me if you are not. I got a phone call from some chick named–”

“Let me guess, Madeleine?”

“Yeah, she wants you out of the way. She asked me what was going on between the two of us. I told her that we were colleagues. She insisted that I come here tonight as her plus one and talk you into going back with me. I was about to hang up the phone on her when I realized that you might be in danger.”

“Really? You are just as bad as Liam? You flew here to save me? Well thank you but I’m fine, really.”

“Kar, these people don’t want you here. They were willing to fly me here, on the off chance that I could talk you into leaving. Is this really the life that you want? Come back to Paris with me. You can finish school, go to law school and come work at the firm. You don’t have to have drama for the sake of love. Come back with me tomorrow, I can’t offer you a palace but once your internship is up my flat is yours.”

“Raymond, you’re sweet. Clueless but sweet. I don’t care about living in a palace, or whether Madeleine wants me here or if my relationship looks like drama to you. All I want, all I ever wanted was Liam. So, I’m sorry you wasted your time coming here, but if you would do me a favor, go tell Maddie, that she can go to hell.”

At the head table

Liam approaches Rashad with fire in his eyes. “I want answers. Why is he here?”

“Why is who here, Li?”

“Raymond Perry!”

“You mean Madeleine’s plus one? I have no idea? Do you know him?”

“Yeah, we’ve met. He’s Karis’ co worker.”

“Wait, he’s that Raymond? And you let him dance with her?”

“Yes, because I didn’t want to cause a scene and I trust her.”

Karis saunters up to Liam, her expression is unreadable.

“Rashad, Russell, thank you both so much for your hospitality. This has all been lovely. I look forward to seeing you both soon. Liam, a word?” she said calmly.

“Sure angel.”

“Can we go now? I can not be sure I won’t embarrass you if I run into Madeleine.”

“Absolutely. I’ll say a few goodbye’s.” He makes the rounds and instructs his guard to escort Karis to the car.”

While she is waiting for Adonis, the door to the car opens and Madeleine gets in and closes the door.

“Madeleine.” Karis never even looks at her.

“You know Karis, I have tried being nice to you. I even flew your little boyfriend here to talk some sense into you to no avail. There is no reasoning with you. What would Liam think if his little miss perfect was caught in a compromising position with her boyfriend?”

“Oh, you think i’m perfect? Liam knows better. Besides, I have never been in a compromising position with Raymond or anyone else for that matter. And you know Madeleine, I could say the same for you. You are impossible. No wonder Leo left you for some random girl he met on a cruise. You want Liam?” She turned to stare at her with an icy gaze.

“Take him from me.”

Just then there is a knock on the window. Madeleine opened the door to find a livid Olivia standing in the breezy night.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Maddie? Liam is going to flip his shit. Is this what you think is going to win him over? What did you do, threaten her? Give it up. She isn’t afraid of you?”

She pulls Madeleine out of the car by her arm and the two of them head back into the estate arguing quietly. Moments later Liam joins her and they head back to his apartment. The moment the car starts to move Liam reaches for her hand and she begins to sob uncontrollably.

“Whoa, Karis. What’s this about?” He slid closer to her on the seat and wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed on his chest.

She was so overwhelmed with emotion she could not get out a coherent sentence. When they arrived a short time later at his apartment, he held her close carrying a great deal of her body weight as they entered the elevator. When they made it inside, he helped her settle on the couch and got her a box of tissues and a glass of water.

He sat next to her rubbing soothing circles on her back. When she was finally calm enough to speak, she took several cleansing breaths and turned to Liam.

“I didn’t come to Cordonia to be arrested for murder. Keep Madeleine away from me Adonis.”

“What did she do? Is this about Raymond?”

“No, it’s about you. It’s about the crown. She is relentless. Raymond was just a pawn. She doesn’t have an issue with me, outside of I am in her way. She sent for him thinking that he could talk me into leaving tonight with him and when that didn’t work, she threatened to blackmail me.”

Liam’s mouth falls open, he wipes her tears.

“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I will handle it. Promise.”

He kissed her lips sweetly and they settled into a comfortable silence.

“So, it’s still early. What else did you have planned for tonight?”

“It’s funny that you asked. I’ll be right back.”

Liam disappears onto the terrace and is gone a few minutes before he comes strolling casually back into the living area with a devilish smirk on his face.

“What are you up to?”

“Oh, nothing dear.”

“You’re lying, but ok. Have you checked on your Dad today?”

“Yes, he is stable. But they still aren’t releasing him.”

“I was thinking we should get up early tomorrow and go see him. Maybe take him a decent cup of coffee and a heart healthy breakfast.”

Liam stares off in the distance, lost in thought.

“You have to forgive him, you know.”

“Huh?” Her words snatch him from his reverie.

“Not for him. For you.”

He nodded his head, still not focused on her.

“Earth to Adonis!”

“I’m here. I’ve never had anyone I’ve wanted so badly to please.”

“Most people want to please their parents.”

“Not him.” he finally focuses, looking at her with adoration.

She looks confused.

“You.”

“Me?” she looks puzzled.

“Yes, you. Have I told you how incredible you are today?”

“Nah, but i’m listening.”

“After the day you’ve had, you’re still thinking about me.”

“Of course I am.”

“You are discerning, and sincere, and quick-witted, and courageous, and diligent, and capable,” he dotes on her as he peppers her neck with kisses. She squeals with a smile from ear to ear.

He picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder and smacks her ass.

“Where are we going?” she giggles.

“You’ll see. Patience my queen.”

When they stopped out on the terrace he sat her down they were met with a large hot tub with candles lit all around.

“Did you do this for me?”

“Yeah, I did. I wanted it to be romantic. Is it cheesy?”

“No, it’s sweet. But aren’t we a little over dressed?”

Before she could get the words out he had shrugged out of his suit coat and was reaching for the zipper of her dress. When it pooled at her ankles she stepped out of it and he held her hand helping her into the steamy water of the hot tub.

“OMG, it’s amazing!”

He looks at her and slowly takes his clothes off piece by piece until he is standing in only his boxer briefs.

“You know, It’s not nice to tease, your majesty.”

He joins her in the water and shivers as his body adjusted to the temperature. He sat on one of the underwater benches and pulled her on to his lap. She straddled him and he gazed into her eyes for what felt like an eternity. She poured them both a glass of champagne.

“What?”

“I was just thinking…What does love mean to you, Karis?”

“Love is…sacrifice, dedication, loyalty, compromising, and commitment.

“All important to making a relationship work.”

“What does it mean to you?”

“You know it’s funny. I never even gave it any real thought before I met you. I certainly wasn’t raised to have any expectation of romance in my life.”

“That’s funny coming from you. You are incredibly romantic.”

“You think so?”

“I do. Now, answer my question.”

“Hmm, love is patient, honest, kind, protecting, giving, thoughtful and trusting. I have never known love in this sense until I met you. I knew that I loved you the morning I left your apartment back in New York for the airport.”

“Really? Day one?”

“Absolutely. You didn’t feel it?”

“I clearly felt a strong connection. I don’t think it was love. But it was something. That’s probably why I was so hurt.”

“When I found out what Madeleine did, I knew that her character was not one of a queen. Leo tried to warn me to keep an eye on her. Let me ask you this, when did you know?”

“I knew the moment I smelled your cologne in Paris. It was like every bit of logic went out the window. My emotions came storming back in, like a flood. I was hurt. But longed for you, I craved you, I missed you.”

She tried to blink away the tears but, alas it was in vain.

‘No, no crying right now. We are being romantic.”

She smiled.

“That’s what I want to see. Let’s talk about something else. I know we briefly talked about it and you said that you wanted kids and I know my father mentioned it, but… How many kids do you think you want?” he asked as he sipped his champagne.

She takes a moment to consider her answer.

“I dunno, maybe 7 or 8,” she said casually.

He spit out his champagne.

“How many kids?”

She smirked. “Your father did say that heirs equal stability.

“Clearly you intend to be very stable.”

She takes his glass from his hand, and places both glasses carefully on the side of the hot tub. She turned to him and clasped her hands behind his neck.

“I don’t have a set number of children I want. I will be happy with whatever number of children we have.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and she kissed him sweetly.

“Does it freak you out at all that this time next year we could be married and expecting our first child?”

“Only slightly. Definitely not as much as I expected it to freak me out.”

He kisses her again. This time it was urgent and deep. His hands traced her curves and found the clasp to her bra. It plopped into the water and floated at the top as his mouth moved openly down her pulse line. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

His tongue teased her collarbone before he took her perky breast into his mouth. His tongue flicked her nipple while his hand gently massaged the other. The water lapped around them as she grinded on his lap. He lifted his hips and slid his boxers off freeing his hardened length. She took him in her hand stroking him as he groaned in pleasure.

He lifted her by the waist to stand on the bench. He pulled her black lace thong to the side as his mouth found her center. Her knees buckled and his strong arm circled her waist pulling her closer and supporting her at the same time. “Je veux seulement te plaire.”

“Adonis!” she screamed his name as she rubbed his bald head. When she was starting to come undone he pulled away with a smirk.

“You are teasing me again,” she said slightly shivering.

He pulled her back down into the warm water and wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m not teasing. I need to be inside of you,” he says as she straddles him again.

She reaches for him guiding him to her entrance. She took in a sharp breath as she stretched around him. Her eyes widened at the sensation.

“Go slow. We have all night.”

“Like I have a choice.”

“God, you feel incredible. It’s so tight.”

“You feel large.”

“Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly.

“Don’t be,” she said as she picked up the pace.

He lifted his hips, winding them slowly at first, then rolling them thrusting harder.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.”

“Well, stop running from this dick.”

“Oh my god. Adonis, I can’t!” she moaned.

“Yes you can. Take it,” he said as he began thrusting like a jack hammer.

She wrapped her arms around him tightly and began contracting around him as she plunged up and down on his length.

“I’m, I’m soooo close. Give me every inch of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please love.”

“If you insist..”

Her once straight hair was now dark and curly from the way the water was splashing, just how he liked it.

He tangled his hands in her dark wet curls exposing her neck. He didn’t know if it was the way the moon was glowing against her caramel skin or the way the water beaded up as she bobbed up and down out of the water, but he couldn’t have been more turned on. He thrusted into her completely filling her. Her eyes went wide.

“Take it. Take this dick.”

She was sure she felt it in her stomach. After a few more powerful thrusts they fell over the edge together. He carried her bridal style to bed where slumber found them both quickly.

The next morning they arose early to visit with Constantine before they got their day started. Karis had made breakfast and snuck it into Constantine, in her purse. She also had a canteen full of his favorite dark roast coffee.

“She is thoughtful, smart, beautiful, fearless and can cook. Keep this one Liam.”

“That’s the plan, father.”

“Thank you, sir. You flatter me. Adonis, I’m going to give you two sometime alone.”

A few moments later, Liam joins her in the waiting area where she is chatting with Kenyon, the guard charged with looking after her while she was visiting.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, nurse Emily is in with him. I told him I would come back when she was done. Karis, what do I say to him?” he asked, his eyes threatening to spill tears he had been holding a lifetime.

“Keep it simple. Tell him that you love him. That you forgive him and that you hope that you have made him proud. Remember, this is for you.”

She gives him a hug and whispers, “I’m so proud of you,” in his ear as she squeezes him tight, before he heads back in to chat with his father.

About thirty minutes later, Karis was sitting checking social media when there was an announcement on the intercom.

Tagging:

@txemrn

@pixie88

@khoicesbyk

@blackkingliamstan

@mom2000aggie

@shannonwrote

@shanzay44

@bbrandy2002

@hopelessromanticmonie

@fanjessfic

@dcbbw

@lucy-268

@choiceslady

@twinkleallnight

@blackkingliamstan

@bebepac

@shanzay44

@mainstreetreader

@romereadingshop

@romewritingshop

@lem-20

@texaskitten30

@maurine07

@queenjilian

@secretaryunpaid

#trr #trr au fanfic #choices fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #king liam #adonis x karis #Meet Karis #king of cordonia #the royal romance #shewillreadyou #kim reads #kim writes #kim reblogs #follow shewillreadyou

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bareillykibarfis · 5 years ago

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mess(ed up)

[ GUYS!! Thank you so much for 200 followers!! So, as a gift to you guys, I present to you a Karman fic!! It is based on this post by @legendarilymessedup. Thank you for giving me inspiration to write something!! Hope this reaches your expectations!! ]

You can also read it on ao3: here.

Kartik makes sure the flag is correctly set around his neck.

He isn’t nervous. He probably should be, considering what he’s gonna do, but there’s this rush of adrenaline in him, and he feels invincible.

He is so thankful Rajni convinced him to do this. This was his Amitabh Bachhan moment, and he’d be damned if he didn’t saviour every moment of it.

He takes a deep breath. With the microphone in his hand, he steps forward, so he is in everyone’s view.

“Bhaiyon aur Behenon” He does a dramatic turn, ready to give a speech on homophobia, that was bound to leave them speechless. (He’d prepared for it the entire time they’d taken to reach here, and he was proud of it.)

As he turns around, the first thing he sees is all the family gathered in front of the tree, looking at him. He has an audience, exactly what he wan-

And then he sees it. Aman. No, not Aman. A framed photo of him. And the garland of flowers around it.

His heart drops. He looks at the scene below him, frozen. There’s the pundit, and there’s the entire family… except for Aman.

“Chalaa ja yaar.” Aman had said. But, Kartik hadn’t listened. He’d been selfish, he’d stayed. And now…

“A-Aman..”, he whispers. His eyes fill with tears, his throat tightens, and there’s this ache in his chest. Everything hurts.

Aman. Aman. Aman. Where have you gone? It’s unbearable how he feels. He’s crying and crying, and his heart feels so heavy. He drops down on his knees.

“Arey khana to khaale yaar”, Aman always pestered them before they went out for their job.

“Bas kaar na!!”, Aman had laughed that day, when they were both in their bed, and Kartik wouldn’t stop throwing the pillows at him.

“Kya baan raha hai?”, Kartik always asked, himself not helping Aman at all, letting him do all the work in the kitchen. Whatever was the answer, the food was always god-tier. “The secret ingredient is love.”, Aman would always say when asked how he cooked so good.

Who would take care of when and what he ate? Who would love him? Who would he have pillow fights with now?? Who would he call family now??

Kartik’s cries have turned into screams, and they’re horrifying, pain-filled screams. His cheeks are damp with all the tears, and yet they never seem to cease.

How will he ever live with this? It’s all his fault. All of this. He should never have insisted they come here, he should never have kissed him on the train, he should never have stayed. Aman was.. dead.. and it was because of him.

Down at the courtyard, the entire Tripathi family is looking at Kartik with a baffled look on their faces.

Champa is the first to realize what’s going on. She looks at Kartik, who is on his knees, and then at the base of the tree, where there’s Aman’s photo, with the flower garland around it, and suddenly it's all clear. Her heart drops for a second.

Kartik is shouting now, and there’s agony written all over his face. Champa decides she has to do something. Something before...

She shakes her head, removing any negative thoughts, and starts going towards the roof. Shankar and Chaman Tripathi, both clueless, watch as she goes past them. “Kaha ja rahi ho?”, there’s an edge to Shankar’s voice, but Champa ignores him. She starts ascending the stairs.

Rajni enters the gate. At the sound of the door opening, both men look towards it. Seeing Rajni enter, Chaman’s face immediately lights up with a smile.

“Rajni!! Beta tu aa gai?” he asks. But Rajni pays no heed to his question, she’s looking at Kartik, who is shouting. She’s confused. This wasn’t what they’d plann-

She looks at the courtyard and sees Aman’s photo. And the garland around it. She immediately brings up both her hands to cover her hands, her whole body numbing.

Aman wouldn’t… he couldn’t have.. Shankar and Chaman follow her gaze, and they both finally realize what is going on.

“Nahi.. Beti nahi. Esa kuch nahi hai..”, Chaman starts moving towards his daughter.

“Aghe maat aana aap.” she says, her voice breaking. “Khush hoge na aap log? Ho gayi na aapko tassalli? Tut gayi na Kartik aur Aman ki jodi!!!” She is crying now.

Champa reaches the roof. Kartik has stopped screaming and now looks more broken than ever. He’s whispering, “Aman. Aman. Aman.”, like it’s a prayer that will bring him back to life.

“Kartik.” she says. He doesn’t seem to hear her.

She reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. He flinches and turns up to look at who it is.

The look on Kartik’s face breaks Champa’s heart. His eyes are red and swollen, his cheeks are wet with all the tears, he looks heartbroken.

“Kartik. Kuch nahi huwa hai. Sab thik hai.” But he ignores her, and goes back to staring at the floor, whispering the same word, tears falling from his cheek to the ground.

Before she can explain any further, she hears Rajni shout.

When Sunaina and Aman get out of the room, Champa is trying to console Kartik, Rajni is crying while Shankar and Chaman are trying to explain to her that everything is fine. “

"Arey, yaha kya ho raha hai??” Sunaina asks. At the sound of her voice, Rajni turns to look towards her.

She sees Aman.

“Aman?” her voice is filled with disbelief. She runs towards him, and hugs him tightly. Aman is confused, but hugs her back. He feels her teardrops on his shoulders. He breaks the his, looks at her and asks, “Kya huwa? Sab thik toh hai?”

As she looks at Aman, she’s reminded of Kartik.

Oh God. Kartik.

“KARTIK!!” she shouts, turning towards the roof.

Champa looks towards them. Rajni points to Kartik, so as to ask her to make him turn around.

Kartik feels his entire world crumbling. He feels numb. He has nothing left to live for. His heart is still aching, and he feels so powerless.

“Beta. Dekho toh sahi.” Champa chachi is saying, but he ignores her.

“KARTIK!! KARTIK!!” Rajni’s voice reaches his ears. He turns his head to look towards the direction of the voice.

His vision is blurry from all the tears. But he sees that Rajni is pointing towards someone… Aman?

He wipes his eyes to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. He really hopes he isn’t. He can’t afford to have his heart broken again.

He looks again. Aman. Is. Still. There. Aman. He’s alive.

The feeling he feels in his heart is unreal. This, he realizes, is true happiness. He slowly stands up, his legs shaking. Champa holds his arm, giving him support. He shakily comes down the stairs, looking at Aman the entire time, not blinking even once, afraid he’ll disappear.

Aman has a tired look on his face. He’s wearing glasses, and a shirt which Kartik knows wasn’t Aman’s choice. He looks fed up, like he’s gonna let the world win. Like, he’s ready to give up.

“Aman.” he says just this one word.

“Woh ab Aman nahi hai. Hum usko naya naam de rahe hai. Mar gaya hai Aman.” Shankar Tripathi says, in an icy voice.

Kartik feels anger boiling within him. “Aur kitna karoge aap??” he snas. He points towards Aman. “Dekha hai aapne bete ho?? Halat kya ho gaayi hai?? Khush lag raha hai kya vo?? Kya paaoge ye kar kar??”

“Hum jo bhi kar rahe hai, soch samaj ke kar rahe hai. Tum bich me na aao, warna bhari padega tum pe.” Shankar says, glaring at his own son.

“Arey yaha par ho kya raha hai?? Kya kar rage ho aap log??” Kartik says, exasperated, laying his hands in front of him. “Bete ki aadhi zindagi nahi kati hai aur aap log antim sanskaar karne chale??”

“Hah. Hum Aman ki antim sanskaar kar rahe the. Uska naya janam hone wala tha. Ab yaha se chale jao, warna Aman ke saath tumhara bhi karna na pade.” Shankar Tripathi says, his voice curt and blunt, but mostly angry.

“Yaar..” Kartik puts a hand on his forehead, exasperated. “Laga tha aap log to samjhoge.” he turns around and starts walking away.

Kartik. Is. Walking. Away.

Aman feels helpless. He feels like he should do something, anything. He even opens his mouth to say something, but his mother digs her nails in his arm, so as to say, “No”. He looks at her. She isn’t looking at him, she’s looking at his father, who is glaring at him. He closes his mouth.

What is he to do now? Have they lost this battle?? His heart is breaking. Will they ever see each other again? Where is Kartik?? Is he leaving already, without a single goodbye?

“Chalo suru karte hain.” Shankar Tripathi says in a smug, satisfied voice.

They’re all just going to go to the mandap, when Rajni laughs. “Tauji, aapka problem yaha nahi waha hai.” She points towards the roof.

Aman looks. And there’s his boyfriend. Kartik. Shirtless. The pride flag around his neck. (How had missed all these details before??). A microphone in his hand.

“Bhaiyon aur behenon.” he starts, and Aman feels his heart clench with happiness.

The speech he gives is just iconic. And the look on Shankar Tripathi’s face is quite the sight to see. When Kartik shouts, “Homophobia!!! Homophobia!!! Homophobia!!”, each time doing a different pose, Aman feels his face break into a huge smile. He is so so so proud of Kartik.

Aman’s happiness spell is broken when he hears his father say in a voice filled with anger, “Beta.. Tu wahi ruk.”. Shankar Tripathi then proceeds to go inside the house.

Aman now, free from his father’s angry glared, runs up the stairs to the roof. As soon as Kartik sees him, he practically engulfs him with a hug.

“Tu thik hai.” Kartik says, and Aman feels teardrops on his shoulder.

“Main thik hi to hoon. Mujhe kya hona tha??” he is confused. “Arey, tu ro kyun raha hai?”

Kartik breaks the hug, and Aman sees his eyes are red.

“Yaar.. Tu.. Tu.. Tu maar gaya socha tha maine.” Kartik is crying again.

“Par… kyun..” Aman’s voice trails off as he turns his head towards the courtyard, where he sees the sight below him.

“Oh God.. Kartik” Aman turns towards his boyfriend, whose face is red from all the crying. He cups his face. “I’m alright. I’m right here, okay?” He wipes the tears. “Ab isse pehele ki papa aa jaye, nikalja yaha se.”

Kartik wipes his eyes. “Arey mein kaha jaunga? Kyun kahi jaunga? Aaj to ye solve karke rahunga.”

“Nahi yaar papa tujh ko-” Aman begins, but Kartik cuts him off.

“Bas papa ko shoot karne se rokle. Mere last wishes ke list hai yaar. Sun-” Before Kartik can finish, he sees Shankar Tripathi coming out of the house, holding something in his hand.

IS THAT A GUN??!! Please don’t let it be a gun, I’m not ready to die. God, no, you know I have so much left to do. Please don’t let him kill me.

Aman is pulled back by Champa chachi. Kartik is left all alone.

Shankar Tripathi isn’t carrying a gun (Kartik is so thankful). Instead, he’s carrying a stick, a huge one at that. He has this look of revenge in his eyes...

Suddenly Kartik is once again a helpless 9 year old, he’s back in his room at Punjab.

“Papa, nahi-”

His father hadn’t even let him complete his sentence. “Ladkon ke saath ghumta reheta hai? Haan??? Sharam nahi aati tujhe?” He’d been hit with the belt once, and then again, and then again. It’d hurt, and he’d cried, but his father had been ruthless, determined to beat the homosexuality out of him.

“Agar firse maine tujhe uss ladke, ya kisi bhi ladke ke saath paya na, toh tujhe kaat ke rakh dunga.” His father’s eyes had been red with anger, and he’s been so scared that day.

Shankar Tripathi’s eyes remind him of his father’s eyes. He gets an uneasy feeling on his stomach. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea…

Before he can complete the thought, his eyes meet Aman’s. And he just knows. It’s either him or Aman. The latter one is obviously never going to be an option. So, he straightens his back. Yes, he’s gonna take this. For Aman. He has to. For love, for the-

The first blow lands on his back, and every single thought flies out of his mind. The pain is excruciating. Before he can compose himself, Shankar Tripathi hits him in his shoulders with another blow.

Kartik can hear Aman shouting something, but his ears are ringing and his body is hurting everywhere and he cannot make out a single word. He can hear Chaman chacha shout out, and he can hear the little gasps from Sunaina’s mouth. But he can’t fathom any of it, because Shankar Tripathi just won’t stop hitting him-

Kartik realizes he isn’t hitting him anymore. He freezes, waiting for the next blow. But it never comes. He slowly straightens his back. He looks towards Shankar Tripathi, who is standing with a pained look on his face, his hand on his back. The stick is on the ground now.

This is your chance, Kartik. You can leave if you want to.

He looks at Aman. The look on his face stops him. There’s a look of helplessness in his face, and it breaks Kartik to see him that way. He’s not gonna run away, because running away means leaving Aman alone, and he cannot have his lover’s heart broken.

So, he picks the stick from the ground, and gives it to Shankar Tripathi, who is too shocked to say a single word. Kartik looks at Aman, and nods.

The beating resumes. Kartik doesn’t even have the time to register his pain from one hit when Shankar Tripathi is on him with another.

He can feel himself getting weaker. He doesn’t know how long he can stand up.

Suddenly, he sees Aman. Coming towards him.

Aman. Aman. Aman. I love you so much.

Aman is coming towards him, and his arms are opening, preparing for a warm hug. But, Aman runs past him, up the stairs. He doesn’t even look back once. Kartik is dumbfounded.

His father is beating Kartik. And he’s helpless.

Aman is shouting, and trying to get to them, but Chaman is holding him back. He’s fighting, but he’s too weak. He has to do something. Anything.

Suddenly, he sees his father drop the stick; he’s too tired. He looks at Kartik, who looks just about ready to break.

Kartik. Chala ja. Yeh tera mauka hai.

Kartik even looks like he’s contemplating leaving the courtyard. But then, their eyes meet, and Aman knows. Kartik will never leave him alone.

He cannot let this go on anymore. He loves Kartik, so he really hopes he understands. He takes a deep breath.

He runs towards Kartik. Kartik looks so happy, his arms open. Aman ignores him, and runs straight upstairs towards his room. He doesn’t turn back becuase he knows what he will see will break his heart.

He enters the room, and locks the door. He now knows what he has to do.

Kartik stares at Aman’s room in shock. He just.. really went in like that??

For a moment, Kartik is baffled. But then, he realizes. He is trying to get all of this to stop. It only makes sense, Shankar wa-

Before he can complete his thought, Shankar Tripathi is back in his business. It’s even more unbearable now.

Just as Kartik feels like he’s gonna pass out, he hears the sound of the stick dropping, and Shankar Tripathi sighing in defeat. He looks up to see his tired face. He looks around and the entire Tripathi family looks shocked.

He spots a tap at the far side. He staggers towards it, and opens it. He then ducks under the tap so the water falls on his head.

The cold water jolts his body back to life. His steps still faltering, he stands up, facing towards the Tripathi family.

“My sexuality,” he points to himself. “is my sexuality. None of your sexuality.” Immediately after this, he feels his body give away, and he falls, losing consciousness.

#shubh mangal zyada saavdhan #smzs #smzs fic #ayushmann khurrana #jitendra kumar #kartik singh #aman tripathi #karman #karman fic #mine #*writing

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mobius-prime · 5 years ago

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152. Sonic the Hedgehog #86

Oh god. That cover, though. What the heck is with that terrifying sharp-toothed robot smile? How does a robot even do that? *shudder*

Heart of the Hedgehog (Part 1): Evil's Return

Writer: Danny Fingeroth Pencils: Sam Maxwell Colors: Frank Gagliardo

While Sonic and Tails are on their local reconnaissance, Sonic decides to make it more fun for Tails by continuing his intermittent training of the young fox in matters of speed. Tails does his best to keep up, but when a gust of wind knocks him off course Sonic has to rush over to catch him before he falls out of the air, which puts a damper on his ego.

Hmm, we certainly haven't heard any mention of Sonic's little roboticization accident from StH#39 in a long time. I wonder if its sudden inclusion here as a random example of hardship ties in, in any way, to the plot of this issue? Naaahhh, I'm sure it's a total coincidence! Tails heads out to find some firewood while Sonic gets the fire going, but minutes stretch into an hour, and still there's no sign of him.

Sonic, getting worried, goes against everything Smokey Bear taught him about campfire safety and just leaves the fire going while he rushes away to find his friend. He runs all over, calling Tails' name to no avail, until a very different voice finally responds to his calls - with a plasma blast.

Well now, other-robotic-version-of-Sonic, we haven't seen you in a long time - since aaaall the way back in the Knuckles Chaotix special, in fact! Sonic remembers his robotic double's apparent defeat at the mitts of Knuckles back then, but Metal Sonic arrogantly recounts how as a robot he was able to rebuild himself so he could come back for revenge. That's right, he was the saboteur of the Freedom Fighters' aircraft, and interestingly enough, he hasn't been sent by Eggman, who presumably doesn't even know he's here. Instead, he's purely in it for vengeance against his organic counterpart, having kidnapped Tails to get back at Sonic and planning to go after Knuckles as well once Sonic is dead. Sonic is enraged that Metal Sonic would dare to touch his friend, and tries to attack him while demanding to know where Tails is being kept, but Metal Sonic easily dodges every blow Sonic tries to land while landing some of his own with ease. He's both faster and stronger than Sonic, and basically just toys with him by doing things like wrapping him in a wire shot from his wrist and flinging him around to tire him out. Once Sonic is good and exhausted, Metal Sonic finally grows tired of the game, deciding to actually explain his plan while Sonic realizes just why he's so powerful.

In case you don't remember, Metal Sonic (back when he was still misnamed as Mecha Sonic) merged with the power gem during the Knuckles Chaotix special, and apparently it's helped him come back and become even stronger than before since then. Metal Sonic explains that he plans to give Sonic a fair chance to save Tails by letting him free, telling him that he's currently being kept at the top of the nearby Mt. Mobius, an active volcano which is due to erupt any minute now. Even more worryingly, Metal Sonic is able to make it there and back in an easy five minutes, with a now truly worried Sonic estimating it would take him closer to half an hour to get there on his own two feet. Still, he refuses to give up, racing off as soon as Metal Sonic lets him free to save his friend, with Metal Sonic ominously promising to make things harder on him as he tries to reach Tails in time. How will he make things harder, exactly?

…well, I guess it is indeed harder to save a captive friend when you're unconscious on the ground! Metal Sonic, leaving the woozy Sonic behind for now, flies back to the mouth of the volcano, where Tails, strapped by his wrists to the rock just above a lava pit, insists Sonic will come to save him even as Metal Sonic laughs at his unfaltering confidence…

Against the Haunted Past (Part 1)

Writer/Pencils: Frank Strom Colors: Frank Gagliardo

All right, who's ready for another installment in the life of everyone's favorite character, Monkey Khan? Just in case no one's picked up on it yet, every time Frank Strom gets to be in charge of plot we jump right back to The Many Adventures of Monkey Khan - I guess since he created the character he's quite attached to him, after all. We jump back to ten years ago (well, the text says ten years ago, but considering that we open with Julian Robotnik pleasantly discussing his scientific endeavors with a very much unimprisoned King Max, before he even got his hands on the original roboticizer, it has to be more like twelve). Julian, irritated after Snively accuses him of sucking up too much to the king, decided that he needs some live test subjects for his experiments on cybernetics. Worried about attracting obvious attention if he started kidnapping local citizens, he instead decided to go after a village on the other side of the world, at the very fringes of the kingdom.

Cut to the peaceful village of Leung West, which you might recognize as sharing half its name with Leung Kar from Sonic Super Special #8. This is where some canon details get extremely fuzzy, so I'll try to detangle the mess for you as best I can. The original village from the Super Special was called Lau Kar or Leung Kar interchangeably. Now we have Leung West, which was presided over by the village leader Lau Khan, both names of which seem to suggest a connection to said village. However, later in this same issue it's claimed that Monkey Khan's ancestral village is called Kar Leung, which is literally just Leung Kar with the two halves of the name swapped around. Despite the obvious connection between the two names, Ian Flynn later on apparently stated he considers the two villages to be separate, just having coincidentally similar names. I'm not sure how easily I buy this, considering the circumstances, but eh, whatever, if anything it just comes down to a minor inconsistency in canon that's easily overlooked. Moving on! Lau Khan was Ken Khan's father - yes, that's right, Monkey Khan's given name is actually Ken, and for whatever reason he and his father don't seem to follow the trend of family name first, given name last that the other inhabitants of Not-Asia all have. Lau Khan was disappointed to find Ken roughhousing with the other kids his age, and scolded him for acting like, you know, a normal kid (or teen? It's not made clear what his age is, but he's clearly not a little kid at least), because their village was completely pacifistic.

This is a brilliant time to do the I-told-you-so song, Ken! Julian quickly rounded up everyone in the village and began experimenting on them, with the end result being the death of literally all his test subjects except for Ken the only one whose body was strong enough to survive becoming a cyborg. Julian decided to test his new pet on a group of Overlanders nearby, and Ken easily wiped the floor with them singlehandedly. Julian was of course very pleased, but as he started talking about what he planned to test him out on next Ken turned and vehemently refused, saying he would never work for Julian after he killed all his friends and family, which kind of completely ignores the fact that he was literally just attacking a group of Overlanders on his order two seconds ago. Julian, disappointed, declared his project a failure, zapped Ken unconscious, and sealed him away in a capsule, which, as we know, was found years later by chance by Sally while on a mission of her own.

Oh, well, that's probably good! I know I definitely enjoy waking up strapped to a table in the base of my mortal enemy whom I previously believed to be dead. I find it a little odd that Eggman seems to "remember" Ken, considering he's not even the same entity that originally experimented on him, but it's entirely probably that Eggman does in fact know a version of him, as it's stated that the zone he originally came from was very similar in most respects to Mobius Prime, with the main difference being his eventual self-roboticization. What's perhaps more strange is that Ken recognizes Eggman, since he looks so different from Robotnik, but eh - big stupid mustache, robotic servants, and evil demeanor will give a villain away, I suppose.

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 86 #writer: danny fingeroth #writer: frank strom #pencils: sam maxwell #pencils: frank strom #colors: frank gagliardo

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1dffexchange · 6 years ago

Photo

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

To: E @unofficialxstyles

From: Leigh @thatoddpanda

Summary: There will come a day when Alena will know his name, but for the meantime, he'll be that Cute Guy Who Lives In 4D, and she'll be the girl from 4B.

An AU about neighbours, meddlesome roommates, dogs as the best wingmen, and things sent to the wrong person.

Author’s Note: My deepest apologies for taking so long. E, I hope you enjoy this!

Janelle and Tilly are totally gonna pay for this.

The girls will regret leaving her alone this early in the morning – on a weekend, no less – and Alena will make sure of it. Tilly’s going to be sorry for not coming home last night and Janelle’s going to wish she didn’t wake Alena up at the crack of dawn with a rushed “Brett surprised me with a romantic getaway in Cornwall please take Chowder out on a walk thank you love you bye!” as a seemingly appropriate explanation.

Hell will be unleashed on Earth.

At least, that’s how Alena puts it as she chases after the ball of fluff at the other end of the leash. It’s unfair, really, that she’s the one running along the cobblestoned streets of Oxford before the sun is fully out when she should still be in bed right now. This is Janelle’s job. It’s her puppy, for crying out loud. What was the purpose of drafting up a contract – courtesy of none other than Janelle Prescott herself – outlining their responsibilities over Chowder when they’re all just going to leave her high and dry?

She’s being dramatic, of course, but that’s just Alena before nine in the morning. Snarky and grouchy with a penchant for conjuring up empty threats directed at her flatmates.

Alena wants to cry by the third time Chowder manages to escape her hold. She loves the dog with all her heart – really, she does. Arguably legions more than Janelle does. But God it’s six in the morning and she’s running on two hours of sleep and Chowder’s way too energetic for this time of day. It’s impossible for her to keep up at this state. Alena just isn’t made for mornings. She knew it then when she was a naïve first-year signing up for 7 AM classes, and she knows it now when she pretends she doesn’t hear nice old Mr Lindbergh’s cheerful greeting as she passes by his bakeshop.

She feels a bit guilty about that right away, so she promises to herself that she’ll buy an extra bag of pastries from him the next time she pops in for a cuppa.

When they finally make it back to their building, Alena lets go of the leash for good. She has one hand on her waist while the other grips the neckline of her shirt in a shoddy attempt to fan herself. Chowder is now sitting on his hind legs. He stares at her, bearlike features shining with innocence as if he didn’t just make her go after him for five bloody kilometres. At this point, it’s hard to discern whether it’s sweat or tears that are running down Alena’s skin. Either way, she can’t bring herself to hate Chowder when he looks that bloody endearing. A possible demon clothed in thick brown fur, yet still endearing all the same.

There’s a ding at the other end of the lobby just as Alena wipes the dirt off her face rather ungracefully. Very quickly does she pull her thin grey shirt back down. A bloke steps out of the lift, yawning as he rubs his eyes from beneath his glasses. She recognizes him quickly – the short, seemingly soft brown hair and the scruff that perpetually lines his jaw something that Alena has grown accustomed to seeing nearly every other day.

It’s because of the run, is what she can say on the off chance that someone wonders why her cheeks are tinted pink. It’s really due to the cute guy that lives across the corridor making his way to the letterboxes lining the wall, but he doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t even know her name, to begin with.

Nor does she know his, but it’s a work in progress.

Saturdays have always been mail days for Alena. The same goes for him, she thinks, considering that the two of them have seemingly developed an unspoken routine of running into each other in the lobby at the end of the week to check for any post or package. It has never happened this early, but it’s a surprise that she certainly doesn’t mind

Nameless Neighbour from 4D presses his forehead against the cool metal doors. He stays like that for a few minutes – unmoving, not bothering to check their mailbox like he’s supposed to. She’s half-certain that he has fallen asleep standing upright.

Rooted in her spot, Alena doesn’t realise that she’s been staring at her neighbour until she feels Chowder’s fur tickling the exposed skin of her leg. Her eyes widen, and just when she thinks the redness of her cheeks has subsided, it comes back in a rush with the recognition that the sun’s just rising and she’s already acting like a total creep.

She certainly isn’t admiring the way his white henley is stretching across his back. That she swears on Chowder’s life.

After a deep breath and a quick check of her reflection through her phone’s screen, Alena fishes her keys out of the pocket of her running shorts. Chowder is roaming around the lobby as she walks up next to the boy and she lets the dog be — because, really, what sort of trouble can a four-month-old pup cause that’s worse than the hellish morning she’s just been through?

It takes another lungful of air for Alena to compose herself, to play it cool as she slips her key inside the hole of their own mailbox, to make sure her tone will not waver when she speaks, “You’re here early.”

The close proximity of the sound disorients him if the way his shoulders jump is anything to go by. He says “Huh?” to the wall when he lifts his head, a faint indent lining his skin where the steel hinge of one of the doors pressed against it. His eyes blink in rapid succession before it dawns on him that the person who just spoke is standing to his left.

“Oh, hey,” he smiles softly. Alena supposes he was only half asleep since he is able to answer, “Yeah, uh… my flatmate’s been looking forward to this package all week.” He proceeds to open the metal flap of their own box. “You?”

“Well—”

Chowder answers that one for her by nuzzling against his leg. There’s a brief second of surprise before 4D is bending down with a grin to scratch between the dog’s ears. It seems to excite Chowder so much that he takes to licking the guy’s face. Though he doesn’t seem to mind the pup’s antics — what with the corner of his eyes crinkling in pure delight despite having half his face smothered with saliva — Alena still takes caution.

“Chowder, behave.”

The smile doesn’t leave his face when he puts enough distance between him and Chowder. After he wipes his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt, he tilts his head up, chuckling, “Chowder? Chowder the chowchow?” And before she can defend her choice of name, he continues, “That’s genius. Personally, I would go for Chow mein but that’s only because I love myself some Chinese food.” He gets up after one last rub, pulling the hem of his shirt down in the process. “He’s adorable. How long have you had him?”

“He’s actually my roommate’s. Been with us for like, three months.”

He nods, acknowledging, and their conversation hits a lull as they both tend to their mail. 4B’s box is unusually full today. Beneath the stack of envelopes is a brown parcel, slim enough to be pulled out with ease yet big enough that it takes up half the space. It’s the first thing she grabs, a gasp promptly tumbling out of her lips at the sight of the student radio’s logo marking the middle of the wrapping paper. ‘Congratulations!’ emblazon the bottom right corner in block letters.

“Anything interesting?” he prompts, locking up with their own mail on hand.

She holds up the package, beaming. “I won a contest!”

He draws in a sharp breath that makes her smile falter and hang awkwardly. “Err, sorry to break it to you but… unless you’re named Harry Styles then I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

When he’s met with furrowed brows, he points at the back of the rectangular box. She flips it over, frowning when she sees a name on it that is indeed not hers. Her shoulders slump. A signed copy of WKW: The Cinema of Wong Kar Wai is in her fingertips, hiding underneath the wrap amongst other freebies, and it will not find a home in her bookcase. It will be in the possession of some Harry Styles, who — now that she thinks about it — has a name so ridiculous he probably doesn’t even exist in the first place.

Alena takes the rest of their mail then shuts the flap close. There’s a trace of disappointment in her tone when she voices her thoughts out loud, “Don’t think I can swing by their office to give it back right away though.”

“You don’t have to do that. I live with Harry.” Oh, she thinks, He’s real? How unfortunate. “Reckon that’s the package he’s been waiting for too.”

“Well…” her eyes flicker down to the parcel. “Okay then.”

Alena hands the prize to him so quickly as if it burns to the touch. She knows that if she holds onto it for a little while longer, it’ll be harder for her to part with it. She takes Chowder in her arms, which the puppy takes as an opening to lick the phantom frown off her face. They both head to the lift, and with her hands full, she thanks him when he presses the button to their floor.

It isn’t until the doors have closed and they have reached the upper level when he speaks again, “What’s in this anyway?”

“A book about Wong Kar Wai’s films.” She cuddles Chowder closer to her chest. “It’s signed by him too.”

“Never heard of him,” he admits, a pensive look crossing his features. “Don’t think Harry has, either. Dunno what he’d want with this.”

“There’s some other stuff in it too, but I’m not sure what. Didn’t pay attention, really. I was just after the book.”

He hums in response. A brief bout of silence falls over them as they continue the rest of their ascent. It’s a quick ride up, the doors parting on the fourth floor with no other pitstop. They make their way out and come to a halt at the corridor where their flats meet halfway.

Still-Unnamed-Bloke from 4D (she really should ask him what it is) turns and dips his head down to get to Chowder. “Be a good boy, yeah?” he says, running his fingers through his fur one last time before looking back up at Alena.

All too quickly, she’s hyper-aware of the current state of her appearance. Stray strands have escaped the tight ponytail holding her long black locks together. Baby hairs stick out in every which way possible. Her shirt has ridden up slightly, exposing a strip of her skin where stretch marks line her hip. Her lips are pale, poised in a tight, awkward smile. In her arms is a high-spirited dog still trying to paw at her neighbour.

She’s seen better days.

“So, uh…” he sticks his thumb out to point at the cherry wood behind him.

“Yeah,” she chuckles lightly and nods.

Alena pivots on the heels of her red trainers and takes the two steps to get home. Chowder runs free once the flat is unlocked. Her hand is on the bronze knob when she tilts her head up and sees that he still hasn’t moved an inch in the hallway. He’s got one arm crossing over his chest as he scratches the back of his neck.

The smile on his face is immediate when he notices her looking back at him.

“Uh… yeah,” he breathes, finally dropping his arm back to his side. “See you around, 4B.”

His back is on her before she can respond — if she can even do so in the first place — and then he’s disappearing into the comfort of his own flat. All she faces now is the bronze 4D engraved on a metal plate contrasting the dark wood. It isn’t until barking sounds echo in her living room that Alena finally shuts their door close.

She crouches down, taking Chowder’s fluffy face into her hands, before stealing a scratch between his ears. “We are not telling Tilly and Jan about this, alright?”

She takes the fat stripe of saliva across her cheek as a yes.

///

It’s futile to even attempt going back to bed — Alena realises that after tossing and turning for a considerable amount of time, only to find out that sleep doesn’t have its arms wide open for her anymore. It takes about a good hour or so ‘til she finally gives up, jumping in the shower before getting a headstart on her still-life portfolio.

Not that it’s due anytime soon, but preparedness is key for a professor like the great Sinead O’Malley.

She has done about fifteen shots of an empty drinking glass on the countertop, trying to get the composition just right, when Tilly does up the final steps to her walk of shame. Or perhaps it’s a stride of pride, depending on how good the bloke did her last night.

“Aren’t I such a wonderful roommate?” Tilly lilts, waltzing into the kitchen with a paper bag in hand. It’s as if she’s floating on air, and yep, it definitely is a stride of pride.

Alena doesn’t miss a beat. “Nope.” She clicks the shutter and it turns out like all the previous ones — lacklustre, mediocre. “I had to take Chowder out today.”

Said puppy is currently dozing off peacefully on the couch. That could’ve been me, Alena muses.

“Where’s Janelle?” The ringlets of Tilly’s fiery red hair come loose as she takes a container out of the bag.

“In Pornwall.”

Tilly snickers. “I like that. I’m stealing that one.” She picks up another box and holds it out to Alena like a present of some sort.

It’s a slow reveal as Tilly sings— rather, tries to carry out a high note (it’s more of a shrill, really) while opening the lid. Not that it actually would’ve held up under normal circumstances, but Alena’s carefully crafted plan of vengeance is but a mere afterthought at the sight of her favourite mouthwatering stack of coconut pancakes from the cafe along St Michael’s Street.

“Now, am I a good roommate or not?”

“The absolute best!” squeals Alena. She places her camera down on the table and replaces it with Tilly’s peace offering.

They both take their places on the stools and begin digging into their own breakfasts. In the midst of the silence, Alena takes note of the unusual glow of Tilly’s pale skin. It does a wonderful job making the lovebites on her neck stand out. She doesn’t miss the way Tilly is swaying her head along to some beat that only she knows of.

It’s when Tilly’s phone chimes and a shy smile worms its way onto her lips that curiosity gets the better of Alena. “You’re in an awfully good mood.”

Tilly tries to keep her glee at bay by keeping her spoon in her mouth, but it is to no avail. “Well… let’s just say Louis Tomlinson’s definitely going to get a phone call one of these days.”

“Tallulah,” she says loftily, cocking an eyebrow paired with a smirk. “Is this commitment I hear?”

“Oh relax. It’s just shagging, not bloody marriage.” Tilly sets her spoon down on the box. “Besides, he’s a fun guy. I wouldn’t mind if this becomes a thing.”

A gasp is the most Tilly can handle hearing from Alena right now, so she reaches for the stack of mail sitting on the corner of the island to save herself from any further inquisition.

“What do we have here?” Tilly thumbs through each envelope, all the while mumbling, “Liam Payne… Liam Payne… Liam James Payne… Are you sure you didn’t get the neighbour’s mail? Liam Payne… Oh!” She takes a red one out of the pile. “This one’s for Jan.”

“Liam Payne is like,” Alena wipes the sugar off her lips with a napkin, “the captain of the footie team now, right?”

Tilly hums her assent as she continues to segregate the mail.

“And he lives across the hall, yeah?”

Once again, Tilly hums. There’s a whopping total of two envelopes addressed to their flat when she’s done sorting. Though there’s still a third of the pancakes left on the plate, Alena reaches for the taller stack as she gets off her chair.

“I should probably get these to him then. Might be important.”

“They’re just fan mail.”

“Still,” she insists.

Tilly doesn’t really care enough to protest, so Alena gets to exit their flat and head on over to 4D without another word. The door opens to a bloke with buzzcut hair, black sweatpants hanging off his hips and a grey shirt brandishing the uni’s logo across his torso. Alena doesn’t live under a rock. She knows who Liam Payne is; everyone does. Smart, gorgeous, athletic Liam Payne who never stops raving about saving the environment. Alena in her first year would’ve been thrilled to be standing on his doorstep. Third-year Alena? Not nearly as much, apparently.

“Hey!” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying not to take a peek inside the flat over Liam’s shoulder. Not that she could, either way, as he’s got a good few inches on her. “Liam, right?”

“Yes!” he smiles warmly. “What can I do for you, love?”

She hands over the envelopes to him. “These got sent to ours.”

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that.” His lips curl to a slight frown for a moment before they spring back up. “Thanks for bringing them around though.”

“Sure thing!” she beams, a bit too enthusiastic even by her standards.

There’s a beat of silence that passes between them before Liam decides to break it first. “Well, do you want to pop in? I’ve made some Greek chickpeas on toast for breakfast. Good for the health and is delicious too.”

Alena contemplates on the offer for a bit. While it makes for a wonderfully sound excuse for her to finally know Glasses Guy from 4D’s name, there lies the possibility of her coming off a bit stalker-ish. The chance encounter just hours ago has already filled in her quota. Besides, there’s still a bit of pancake across the hall that has her name written all over it. No toast can beat that, no matter how tasty Liam claims it to be.

So, she says, “Ah, I’ve already eaten,” a half lie, “but thanks for the offer though.”

“Alright. Well, thank you…” he trails off, and it takes a second and a half for her to realize that he’s waiting for her to introduce herself.

“Alena.”

“Right. Thanks, Alena.”

“You’re welcome, Liam.” She gives him a brief nod and a smile before flitting back to her flat.

Liam closes the door behind him and heads back to the kitchen where he and his flatmates — or rather, one current and one former flatmate — are having breakfast. He drops the mail onto the rest of the pile Niall had gotten earlier and takes his place on the seat next to Zayn.

Niall pushes his glasses up his nose. His mouth is full of chickpeas when he asks, “Who was that?”

“The neighbour,” Liam responds nonchalantly.

To downplay his curiosity, Niall takes a moment to gulp down the last of his food before continuing, “From 4B?”

“Mhmm.”

And, before Niall could further ask which one of the girls from across the hall brought it in, Zayn speaks, “Did you seriously have your fan mail sent to a different address?”

“They don’t want it sent to Merton anymore!” defends Liam.

“That doesn’t mean you should address it to your bloody neighbour,” chides Niall, “Great. First, there’s Harry’s prize from Oxide, now it’s your fan mail.” He circles the breakfast bar and stops next to Zayn. “By the way, you might want to leave early. Harry’s gonna be—”

“Too late!” They hear him before they see him, but in a matter of seconds, Harry is striding into the kitchen with his nose upturned. “Good morning Liam. Good morning Niall.”

The absence of Zayn’s greeting rings clear, so Niall tunes out the inevitable bickering between the two by going through the mail. There’s an odd one out, a square envelope that isn’t Liam’s fanmail nor a monthly bill. A careful, golden flourish of a name that’s foreign to him sits on the cream paper.

“Does anyone know an A-lee-na Diane Mercado?” He holds it up for the rest of the lads to see.

“Oh, no no no,” Zayn says quickly, turning to Niall to weasel himself out of Harry’s cold glare. “It’s A-leh-na. Not A-lee-na. She hates it when people pronounce her name wrong.”

“Who’s Alena?” asks Harry, pronouncing it correctly at the first try. He’s looking at Niall instead of Zayn even though the latter has a higher probability of answering that question.

It’s Liam who responds instead. “The girl from 4B.” When Harry just blinks at him, he continues, “You know, black hair, a wee bit short—”

“The cute one with the pretty brown eyes, yep. Got it,” mutters Niall when the recognition hits him right in the face.

The rest of the boys hear him loud and clear though, which is why Zayn attempts to retrace Niall’s words.

“I’m sorry, cute one?”

“With the pretty brown eyes?” adds Harry, a mischievous glint sparkling in his own eyes.

“Is our little Nialler crushing on someone?” Zayn probes further.

“Not just someone, our neighbour!” Harry eggs on, eyebrows wiggling. His shoulders are shimmying too, but Harry has never been known for his coordination so his timing looks a little bit — no, extremely — off.

“I’ve got it.” Zayn snaps his fingers. “We can call you Niallena!”

“Or,” Harry sing-songs, “Aleniall!”

“Yes, yes, Aleniall does sound better.” Zayn shifts on his seat and looks up at Niall. “Say, mate, how pretty are her brown eyes?”

“Are they prettier than me?” Harry leans on the counter, propping his chin on his intertwined hands as he bats his eyelashes meticulously. Niall grabs the dirtiest dish towel within his reach and chucks it at his roommate. To his dismay, Harry catches it in the nick of time and slings it over his shoulder.

God, Niall wants to buy a one-way ticket back to Ireland and bury himself in the soils of his homeland. Maybe he could go somewhere farther, somewhere warmer — like Ecuador, maybe — so that his corpse will decompose faster. If this is what Zayn and Harry are like in the midst of a cold war, he doesn’t even want to imagine what it’d be like once one of them waves the white flag and decide to team up.

“Sod off, will ya?” Niall turns to Zayn with his brows furrowed. “How do you even know her in the first place?”

“She’s in Fine Arts too. Absolutely wicked with a brush, that lass.”

“Ohhh.” That makes sense, he supposes, especially when he thinks back to the day she moved in and he caught a glimpse of an easel being hauled inside their flat. “You friends with her then?”

“Yeah, I guess. I was the one who told her that the redhead in 4B was looking for roommates. Worked out well then, eh?” Zayn smiles wickedly.

“Hold on,” Liam chimes in with a contemplative look on his face, “Is she the reason why you’ve been getting the mail? ‘Cos I’ve lived with you for three years now mate and you’ve never done that once before.”

“I’m just being a good roommate!”

His friends know him all too well, so clearly, no one buys his thinly-veiled excuse. He can feel the heat rising up his cheeks, and such is the curse of the Irish because now they’re snickering at how red his face has become. It’s an admission in plain sight, there’s no need for him to spell it out loud.

“God, you lot are the worst,” huffs Niall.

Harry drapes an arm around his shoulder, looking down on the envelope in between his fingers. “Well, go on then Postman Pat. You’ve got one last mail to deliver.”

With both hands now resting on Niall’s shoulders, Harry starts pushing him out of the kitchen and lets go only when Niall is standing in the corridor. Harry leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. Defeated, Niall heaves out a sigh. He looks between 4B’s door and the letter, and then he turns his head back to Harry who’s got an expectant look on his face.

The internal battle wagers on until Niall eventually decides to head back inside. He grabs a sticky note and a pen from Liam’s room, as it is the one closest to the front door. Big chunky letters saying ‘It got mixed in our mail :)’ are scrawled on the Post-It and attached on the envelope. Niall comes back out and sticks it on the door with a strip of masking tape. He knocks twice before dragging Harry back with him inside and shuts the door close behind them.

Harry takes the towel off his shoulder and hits the back of Niall’s head with it. “What the hell was that?”

Niall grumbles and shoves Harry off him. “Enjoy your vegan breakfast.”

It might not be much, but Niall will take the look of disgust on Harry’s face as a bout of victory.

///

It could be a splash of ice-cold water or someone farting right in your face. Maybe the sound of a jackhammer working on the street or the news of a loved one taking their last breath. There are worse ways to be woken up, but that doesn’t mean Alena appreciates having the fire alarm be the first thing she hears in the morning.

Strike one was last Sunday, and— well, okay, maybe she needed that or else she would’ve been late to brunch with her sister. The second: two days ago, with only one hour of sleep after a late-night shoot. Janelle had choice words with Liam to make sure it won’t happen again; a barking Chowder and a grumpy, sleepless Alena are just too much to deal with in the morning.

It’s Thursday, the sun is barely out, and it’s happening again.

Alena jumps out of bed with an agenda. She tears off a page from a random notebook, scribbling on it furiously with thick strokes underlining particular phrases. Her flatmates practically cheer when she marches across the hallway. Three knocks and a note taped to the door after and Alena buries herself back underneath her covers.

Inside 4D, Niall exits his bedroom when the alarm goes off, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. “Harold! What the bloody hell are you on again?”

“How is the water burning? How?!” Harry screams. Chestnut curls sit wildly atop his head, eyes blown wide in sheer panic. Niall would laugh at how ridiculous his flatmate is looking right now had the bloke not been a constant pain in his ass for the entire week.

“Jesus,” he mutters. He grabs a towel, dampening it before pushing Harry out of the way to stop the fire. He doesn’t even want to think about it. Doesn’t want to know how one of Oxford Law’s most brilliant minds can be such an absolute buffoon in the kitchen.

Harry just stands there, helpless, as Niall cleans up after him. “This wouldn’t happen if Zayn still lived here.”

“This wouldn’t happen if you stayed out of the damn kitchen,” snaps Niall.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Ni! Liam’s diet is going to kill me!”

“Not if you burn the flat down first!”

Harry loses the opportunity to defend himself as the sound of loud knocks fills the room and Niall is already marching to the front door. Niall’s befuddled by the sight of an empty hallway, but before he could chalk it up to one of the little kids in the building pulling a prank, he catches a glimpse of a sheet of paper contrasting the tan floors of the flat.

Niall doesn’t know what to expect from it, but he supposes a complaint from one of their neighbours is well-deserved (and honestly long overdue) at this point.

Dear 4D,

Please stop tripping the fire alarm at six in the bloody morning. Some of us need sleep. This is the third time you’ve woken me up. Show some mercy.

Also please tell Liam Payne that we have his fanmail. Again!!! If he doesn’t win the game next week we’re telling his fangirls his REAL address.

Sincerely, 4B

PS: DO NOT INTERACT UNTIL AFTER 9AM!!!

PPS: have you guys been feeding our dog?

Niall’s trying his hardest not to castrate Harry when he looks up from the note with an early morning fury that only he can possess. “Now look what you’ve done!”

“How was I supposed to know that water burns?” Harry yells back, and shit, why isn’t Liam here to keep Niall from strangling Harry to his untimely death?

“It doesn’t, you bloody idiot! How did you even get into Oxford?”

Harry gasps, loud and ostentatious that make Niall question if he truly did hit a nerve. He decides he doesn’t care. What he does care about is getting back to sleep, stat, and to amend the bridges that Harry’s (inadvertently) burning down. So he tears off a page from the legal pad on the coffee table, scribbles a heartfelt apology, waits patiently until the clock strikes nine to slip the note under 4B’s door, then bans Harry from even breathing in his direction until he’s resurfaced back from his hard-earned slumber.

///

The Saturday that follows the fire alarm incident isn’t her designated mail day, so it takes a little bit longer for Alena to bump into Liam’s — and Harry’s — Still Nameless Roommate.

Funny how she practically knows everyone who lives in 4D except for the one guy she actually has eyes for. Social media should do the trick. Tilly could drop his name without an afterthought. Heck, she can utilise her acquaintance with one of his former roommates who’s in the same course as her. But a small part of Alena — the one with a voice too loud for anyone’s good — wants it to happen through the old-fashioned way.

She’s also got slippery fingers prone to double taps on Instagram. And Tilly’s the biggest blabbermouth of all of Europe. And Zayn owes her one too many favours that she doesn’t want to cash in yet.

So she doesn’t take the risk.

It finally happens on a Wednesday. Alena wants to take advantage of the fair weather so she exits her flat with a sketchpad and her watercolour kit stashed in her canvas tote. She’s just pressed the down button for the lifts when she hears a voice from behind her.

“Hey!” It’s 4D, waving his hand as he walks swiftly towards her. He’s got a blue polka dot shirt with a pair of black skinny jeans to match. A strap of his backpack rests on his shoulder.

“Hi!” She smiles when he stops next to her.

“No Chowder today?”

“No,” she laughs, hoisting her bag up higher, “He’s with my roommate.”

“Ah, I see.”

The doors finally part and they enter the lift. Already inside is a man in his late thirties who smiles at them in acknowledgement when they nod at him politely.

“Listen,” Friendly Neighbourhood Guy From 4D begins again after they’ve made it two levels down, hand reaching back to scratch his neck, “I really wanna apologize ‘bout the fire alarms last week.”

“Well it hasn’t happened again, so it’s all good,” Alena reassures him with sincerity because apparently, her grudges expire at the 9 o’clock mark.

He sighs, relieved. “Great! That’s— good! Great!” He clears his throat just as they reach the ground floor. They’ve only taken a few steps into the lobby when he sticks his hand out to her. “I’m Niall, by the way.”

Niall.

Niall Niall Niall.

Not 4D, not Glasses Guy, not That Nerd Who Lives With Liam as Janelle once said. Just Niall.

Alena tries to contain her glee, so the rest of the world will have to pretend not to notice that she’s lighting up at the mere discovery of the guy’s name. “Alena!” She accepts his hand and shakes it briefly before pulling back.

“So, erm… d’you go to Oxford too?” he asks as they exit their building together.

“Yep,” she nods in the midst of pulling down the sleeve of her tawny button-up. “Fine Arts. You?”

“History and Econ,” he answers, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Are you off to class then?”

“Not yet. I’m gonna hang around at the Grove to work on a project.”

Niall stuffs a hand in his pocket. “Oh, well… is it alright if I walk with you? I’m meeting a few mates at Magdalen so I’m going the same way.”

“I don’t mind.”

It takes fifteen minutes to get to The Grove on foot, during which Niall and Alena fill the silence with mindless chatter. He tries to apologise two more times for Harry’s Kitchen Disasters and she brushes him off both instances with light chuckles to show that she really has gotten over it. Apparently, Harry is going bonkers over Liam’s vegan diet, and since Zayn has moved out of their flat and Niall is practically dead to the world in the mornings, Harry has decided to take matters into his own hands.

Those fifteen minutes fly by way too quickly for Alena’s liking. It’s just a little after her grand retelling of how Chowder nearly ruined her latest artwork when they eventually bid their farewells. She’s on her phone in a heartbeat, though the autumn leaves sparking her inspiration keeps her from fully paying attention to the message she’s typing.

omgggg ate i finally know his name

It’s supposed to be sent to Casey. The response should be coming from her older sister, but sticky fingers do not pair well with distraction, so of course, Alena finds herself texting a different thread instead.

Tilly Who?

Alena wants the ground to swallow her whole. Uproot her entire life and create a new identity for herself. Maybe move back in with her parents, even though they live 6,000 miles away and are basking in all the sun Pampanga can offer. All ideas seem more appealing than her flatmate knowing she’s been harbouring a crush on their neighbour for a while now.

Janelle OOOOOOOOOOH! Is this the nerd boy?

Tilly Nerd boy??

Janelle Brett says hi, btw.

HI BRETT 👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼

Tilly Bye brett Dont change the subject Whos nerd boy

jan is chowder wit u? give him kisses for me! xxxx

Tilly hellooooooooo

Janelle Will do 😘🤗 Brett wants to know too.

Tilly WHO IS NERD BOY I want to know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Janelle She’s gonna know eventually Lens.

Tilly WHOOOOOOOO whoooo

oh my gosh FINE its the bloke in 4d

Tilly Oh shit NIALL? YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON NIALL

thats how u spell it? and what makes u think its him 🤨

Tilly

Because everyone knows who liam is And zayn doesnt live there anymore And harry doesnt look like a nerd DEDUCTION, BITCH!! omyGOD

Janelle

See? I told you he looks like a nerd!

stopppp dont be mean ☹ tilly please dont tell anyone about this PLEASE

Tilly I WONT! 🤐🤐 Im just gonna lock you out tonight

um where do u expect me to sleep then

Tilly

sleep with him 😉😏😉😏 🍆✊🏼💦💦💦

TALLULAH

///

As it turns out, Harry Styles is an actual name of an actual, living and breathing human being who really does live across the corridor. Alena confirms this at a party that Janelle’s coursemates are throwing, and Brett walks over to a bloke and screams “Styles!” as he claps said guy’s back. Harry turns around and Alena gets a good view of him — the same set of rowdy curls and the slightly slouching stature that she’s seen more frequently ever since she started hanging out with Niall.

The party is a bit too posh than what Alena is used to, but nothing short of what she expects from Law students. Oddly enough, she ends up chatting the night away with Harry, who admits feels a slightly out of place even though these are the same people whom he goes to classes with. His number makes its way to her phone when the night draws to a close, paired with a promise to ring him should she need his assistance.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever have to.

She’s certain she won’t find a use for it.

Except she’s now lost track of time and it’s nearing midnight and it just so happens to be pouring buckets on the very same day she’s without an umbrella. She’s the only one left in the studio, Ruskin is still a long way away from home, her flatmates aren’t picking up, and she only realises just then that she doesn’t have Niall’s number.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and today, desperation is synonymous to shooting Harry Styles an SOS.

HARRY! Its alena from 4b Sooooo sorry i know its late but can i ask u for a favor?

Had Alena been in the comforts of her own flat, she would’ve heard the way Niall calls for Harry — fuming, brows set in an alarming dip as he shows the texts to his roommate. She also would’ve assumed that the lads have given a home to a hyena with the way Harry flat-out cackles at the fruits of his hard labour. But she isn’t, so all she’s left with is a text message that comes in a few minutes later.

sorry love its niall . harry mustve given out th wrong number Everything alrite tho ? maybe i can help

Stuck in the rain and none of my roomies are picking up :( Was gonna ask if u could check if theyre still alive

theyre not home . chowders staying with us for 2night where r u ? i can pick youu up

Alena stares at her screen for a moment. Contemplates and weighs the pros and cons. She’s beyond exhausted and all she wants is to cuddle with Chowder. On the other hand, she doesn’t want to be a bother. She looks frantic, hair a wild mess atop her head, cheeks splattered with purple and gold paint, skirt askew her hips that the zip that’s supposed to be lining her leg now runs along her backside.

When she yawns, she decides that sleep trumps everything else. Inconvenience and unsightliness be damned.

Ruskin

Alright . be there in 20 x

Niall shows up in less with a grey Skoda that she knows belongs to Harry. He jumps out, opens an umbrella for her, and she voices out her gratitude as she straps herself in. She gets comfortable as Niall rounds the car and gets inside the driver’s seat.

“Why’re you out so late?” he asks as he starts the car.

“Been working on a project and lost track of time.”

He alternates his gaze between her and the road. “What’s it about?”

“It’s supposed to be about magic but… I don’t know…” she sighs, hugging her overflowing tote closer to her chest, “It’s not coming out like how I envisioned it to be.”

Niall frowns briefly before the corners of his lips tug up to a soft, sincere smile. “You’ll figure it out.”

The lampposts that they pass by illuminate Niall in warm, methodical flickers. He looks calm and soft, like a favourite pillow that brings comfort as the moon shines and makes it hard to get out of bed when the rain falls. And as the wheels graze the asphalt that will take them home, Niall distracting her with mindless chit-chat about this new diet that Liam’s trying (and consequently bringing Harry closer to his grave), Alena has a good feeling that she will do just that.

///

“Just ask her out, mate.” Liam’s chin digs into Niall’s shoulder with every syllable he speaks.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees through a mouthful of dumplings. The Notebook playing on the telly has his full attention, which is how he ends up dropping another xiaolongbao back on his plate. That and his fingers appear to be sworn enemies with the chopsticks he’s gripping.

“You’re holding it wrong,” Niall assesses in the midst of pushing Liam’s face away.

“I’m just saying!” Liam grins, leaning back with his arms propping him up. “She’s nice, she’s pretty—”

“She willingly hangs out with you,” adds Harry. He seems to have given up on the chopsticks. “That’s a very rare trait.”

“Fuck off,” Niall huffs.

He takes to staring at his notes on world economy to fend off his flatmates. Except none of the words makes any semblance of sense to him because now it seems his brain has taken up residence in the room across the hall. A whole month has passed since he finally struck up the courage to introduce himself to the girl from 4B — Alena — and it feels like the stars and the planets have all aligned in his favour.

And Niall doesn’t even believe in all that cosmic mumbo jumbo.

“C’mon,” says Liam, “You haven’t been out on a date in years.”

Niall shoots him a pointed glare. “Years? You were there when Lisa broke up with me. That was six months ago.”

“That’s six months too long.” Harry pops the last dumpling in his mouth and places his plate on the coffee table next to Niall’s books.

Liam seems really keen on this whole idea so he continues, “Just give it a shot, Ni. What have you got to lose?”

Everything? Niall presumes. A friend. A perfectly wonderful neighbour who once split a sandwich with him simply because she’s really proud of how the melted cheese turned out. Someone to pick up at Ruskin because of a shoot that ran until the skies are tinted pitch black. The bi-weekly mail runs that he’s come to enjoy. Maybe even Chowder, and Christ, Niall really has gotten attached to that growing furball.

Even though Harry’s eyes are practically glued to the telly, he still puts in his two cents. “Go for it. Maybe she can draw you like one of her French girls or summat.”

“Jesus,” Niall grumbles. “That’s it, I’m out.”

He gathers up a few things — his laptop and its charger, a legal pad that most definitely belongs to Harry, an Econ book that’s seen better days, and a green highlighter that’s about to put itself out of commission — then heads out of the flat. It’s only when he’s shut the front door that he realises he has nowhere to go to. It’s late. He’s not really in the mood to trek all the way to the library. No coffee shop within a three-minute radius is open. His room isn’t even remotely an option. The bed is far too inviting and he won’t get an ounce of work done.

The hallway is the only way.

It isn’t so bad. No flatmate to bother his peace nor depict him as a modern-day Rose. He can still access their wi-fi from where he’s sitting. The floor’s a bit colder, but he can manage. In the thirty minutes he’s been outside, only the couple who lives in 4F has passed by; drunk off their arses but not enough to disturb Niall (or at least, sober enough to navigate around the makeshift blockade he’s created).

He’s completely in the zone he doesn’t notice the door in front of him open.

“What’re you doing out here?”

Niall lifts his head up, mouth slightly ajar, though it takes a little longer for him to take his eyes off the screen. “Hey,” he smiles at Alena, who’s holding a garbage bag as she looks at him with furrowed brows. “Liam and Harry are being… well, Liam and Harry.”

Alena gives him a sympathetic smile. “Lemme just throw this out and you can study at mine.”

“You sure?”

She now has her back to him as she heads to the chute at the end of the corridor. “Yep. We’re all staying up late anyway. You just have to be really quiet though. We don’t like noise.”

“That I can do.” He picks up his stuff once more, though he only has his laptop and charger in his arms now as Alena is quick to grab the rest.

“Remember, absolutely no noise.”

Niall runs his thumb and forefinger across his lips to mimic a zip then holds his hand up in a silent vow. Chowder is bounding over to them the second the door opens, wide-eyed and tongue out. He only manages to say “Hey bo—” before the girls shush him right away.

Right. Total, absolute, complete silence.

The rich scent of coffee takes over his senses. Tilly has her readings spread out on the coffee table while Janelle has set up shop on the couch. In front of the crackling fire are sheets of paper and some paint brushes, along with a couple of mugs with murky brown water. He situates himself near Alena’s spot, more out of fear of encroaching her flatmates’ space than anything.

He settles in quite nicely. It’s serene. The heat from the fireplace is a welcome change. Every once in a while, one of the girls would ball up a piece of paper and throw it at anyone who’s on the verge of falling asleep. Chowder would pad over to Niall to trick him into giving some belly rubs.

Niall falls for it every single time.

It’s only when he’s going over his notes when a distraction comes in the form of a small scrap of paper that Alena slides over.

Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea? It says, in the same hurried script as the noise complaint they got last month.

Niall tears a portion off his pad and uses his highlighter to jot down his response before handing it to Alena. She smiles at him before getting up, returning a few minutes later to hand him a steaming cup of coffee. His name is on it, scribbled on a bright pink sticky note with a smiley face at the bottom. He chances a look at all the other cups on the floor. They’re all labelled accordingly — ‘DO NOT DRINK’ and ‘coffee paint’ and ‘SAFE to drink’ in different colours of Post-Its.

He wonders how many mishaps there have been in the past, drinking from the wrong cup and ingesting paint water instead, for her to take such precautionary steps.

Alena goes back to work right away. Try as he might, but Niall couldn’t. It’s the occasional glances, watching as she purses her lips to the side. Tendrils escape the ponytail that holds her hair up. Her shirt, white and splattered with paint both old and new, hangs loosely around her frame. The light of the fireplace casts a warm glow on her skin, one side illuminated better than the other. He gets lost in her concentration; mesmerized with the way her tongue darts out just the tiniest bit as she tends to the details of her painting.

He takes it all in — the way her eyes sparkle in the firelight, narrowing as she assesses her work; her back slumping forward to a degree that is probably not good for her spine; the crease between her brows, the left one dipping more than the right; how her gaze shifts back and forth between two sheets as if she’s torn as to which one of her self-portraits showcased her skills better — the one that captures her in the midst of a laugh or the other that has her all stoic and collected.

Niall is so caught up in his daze that he doesn’t see Janelle crumpling up a sheet of paper.

Shit.

He’s nowhere near dozing off and yet here he is, getting hit square in the cheek for being too distracted.

From where he’s sitting on the floor, Niall looks up at Janelle with an unimpressed glare. She returns it with a smirk before diving back into her case studies. It’s the push he needs to finally mind his business and type up the damn conclusion for his paper. He doesn’t check the time once he wraps up the essay, but it’s only him and Janelle that appear to be the last two men standing.

One sticky note on top of a painting, a hushed farewell, and Niall takes his leave.

When Alena wakes up, it’s with a soft, shy smile at the sight of Niall’s chunky handwriting. She ends up choosing the one swirling in different hues of brown that depicts her with a grin as bright as the soft morning light.

///

Take one glance at Alena and you’ll see a woman who has the whole world at her fingertips. Loose tendrils that frame her face are curled to perfection. The rest of her hair, parted at the middle, is pulled back to a sleek bun. Janelle has done a wonderful job on her makeup for the night, cheekbones accentuated and plump lips looking even pinker. She’s in a pristine white dress and nude heels to match.

She’s in her element by the looks of it — surrounded by art that’s brought to life by her own fingertips (well, hers and a few of her other coursemates). Wide smiles tug at her lips as she welcomes the exhibit’s guests. Anyone would think she’s having the time of her life, and for the most part, she is. Though there’s still this tiny squeak inside her that doubts the quality of her work, it’s easily quelled by the positive remarks she’s being showered in all night.

And had she been eagle-eyed, she would’ve noticed the way Niall’s jaw drops at every artwork that has her name attached to it.

When Alena finally catches a breather, she spots Niall in front of one of Zayn’s paintings. She excuses herself from her sister and a few of her professors to go up to him. She reaches Niall at the same time as Harry, though the latter takes one look at the caption before he’s scoffing and moving onto the next work.

“What’s the deal with those two?” she says to Niall, thumb directed to where Harry is slinking off to.

Niall pauses from reading the description to turn to Alena. “Who, Zed and Haz?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you lot used to live together?”

He nods. “Would you believe me if I said they were the best of mates?” Her eyes widen, and he chuckles in turn. “Proper inseparable those two. Had this whole plan to live our final year to the wildest of their abilities. Except Zed moved out to live with his girlfriend and now, well… you know. Harry’s just being stroppy but he’ll get over it. Anyway,” he breathes, lips curling upwards, “I should offer my congratulations, star of the night.”

“Not even remotely true!” Alena defends, although the rosy glow of her cheeks isn’t simply because of the makeup now. She holds back her grin, points her head to the side and says, ”Care for a tour?”

With a nod, Niall takes her up on the offer. It’s quite a task, he realises as they roam around the gallery, deciding which one to focus on — the artworks or Alena’s animated commentary. She’s all smiles talking about her peers’ art yet gets more timid and reserved when discussing her own. There’s no suppressing her vibrant glow, however, and Niall simply gives up on everything else to let himself get caught in her light.

He takes it all in, from how her lips twitch to keep herself from grinning to how she twiddles her fingers when someone compliments her on her works. Freckles dot the expanse of her cheeks, like constellations that could no longer be contained by the universe that lies within her eyes. He just wants to stare and stare and stare, marvel at the art among the art, and he probably would have had Alena not been dragged away by a few of her colleagues at some point in the night.

It takes a while, but Niall eventually finds his way back to Harry, who’s now sipping on a flute of champagne as he stands in front of one of the artworks. He’s got a pensive look on his face; shoulders square, brows drawn together, and nose slightly upturned. Niall’s lived with the bloke long enough to recognise the show he’s putting on from a mile away.

“Say, Haz,” Niall begins, saving him from dragging out his pretence, “D’you still have that book you won from Oxide?”

“The one about the director? Yeah, why?”

“I’ll take it.”

Harry turns to him, curious, but he doesn’t press on any further. “Yeah, okay.”

///

There are things that Alena has grown accustomed to as of the late, such as Chowder waking her up with slobbering kisses whenever she falls asleep on the sofa, and catching Louis Tomlinson tiptoeing out of Tilly’s bedroom every Saturday morning.

Today is no different, and though these weekly rendezvous have never been a well-kept secret within 4B, Alena indulges Louis in his sneaky exits and lets him slink away in peace.

That is until Alena realises that today might be slightly different after all when she hears a familiar voice as Louis opens the front door.

“Tommo?”

Louis stiffens and grips the doorknob tightly. “Nialler?”

From the living room, Alena halts from sorting her hair out to look back and forth between the two blokes. “You know each other?”

“Erm, yeah,” responds Niall. Despite the glasses, his eyes squint, mind going a mile a minute to discern whether or not his vision is playing tricks on him. A flustered Louis and a dishevelled Alena; put two and two together and Niall comes up with: “Are you two…”

“What? No!” Louis defends.

And then, Alena groans, “Oh god, no.”

“Oh, okay then,” says Niall, smiling lightly, squared shoulders slowly easing up. “Where’s Chowder?”

“In the—” Louis turns around in time to see the dog by the fireplace, busying himself with an eerily familiar lump of cloth, “Shit, my jumper!”

Unbothered (and confident that Louis can deal with Chowder all on his own), Alena grabs her keys, joins Niall out in the hallway and into the lift.

“Wait, so just to be clear,” Niall begins as they make their descent, “Louis and Tilly?”

Alena schools her expression to remain neutral. Except she has never been blessed with acting chops to begin with, so the slight curl of her lips gives her away even though she claims, “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“So that’s a yes then,” he grins. “By the way, I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye last night. Harry, uh…” he rubs at his nose, looking at all the metal confining them before settling with: “He was feeling poorly.”

“Oh?” she frowns, “Is he better now?”

“Hm? Oh— yeah, yeah, I think he’s fine. Just needed to sleep it off I guess.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet as they fall into the routine of getting their mail. Head in the clouds, Alena doesn’t notice how fidgety Niall is being. Had it been any other day, she would’ve picked up on the little glances he’s been throwing at her, the way he presses his lips when she takes out a brown parcel from the mailbox, or how he pulls his hood over his head and draws the strings together when they make their way back up.

Except she’s still reeling from last night’s festivities that Niall fades away in the background for the time being.

“Earth to Alena?” Niall snaps his fingers then waves a hand in front of her face, “Helloooo.”

“Oh, sorry.” She bites her lips and looks up at him with wide eyes. “Do you wanna come in for a bit? Chowder misses you.”

His hand comes up and it disappears underneath his hood as he smiles apologetically. “Maybe later? I gotta check up on Harry.”

“Alright.”

They slowly step backwards, eyes not leaving each other even if their backs have hit the doors to their rooms. It feels almost juvenile, the way they trade shy smiles and mumbled goodbyes. Alena wonders as she enters her flat if there’s ever an end to her schoolgirl crush.

There probably isn’t.

“There’s toast for breakfast.”

Alena looks at the couch and sees Louis with Chowder on his lap. She makes her way over to them, rubbing the dog’s fur before sitting next to him.

“You should try harder than that if you want to woo Tilly.”

“I am not trying to woo Tilly.”

She pats his shoulder as she sits back. “Sure you are.”

Alena ignores his defensive “I’m not!” as she goes through the mail. Only the rectangular package is addressed to her, so she sets the rest of the envelopes down on the coffee table. She tears off the wrapping paper, brows furrowing at the sight of the Wong Kar Wai book that she’s been pining over all those weeks ago. Her curiosity only amplifies when she’s met with a folded piece of paper with her name on it instead of the title page.

Dear Alena,

Please consider this book as a gesture of goodwill. I truly believe that you are its rightful owner. The other book with the prize was about Susan Sontag (did I get it right?). Harry only wanted it to woo a girl. Spoiler alert: he failed. Let me know if you want that one too.

Congratulations on the exhibit, by the way. I wasn’t kidding when I said you were the star of the night. You were practically glowing. I didn’t have the chance to tell you this but you really looked beautiful tonight. I think you look pretty all the time, actually. Especially when you smile. And you smiled a lot tonight, so I really liked that.

I hope you’ll let me make you smile all the time.

Sincerely,

That very fit bloke from 4D

(I’m kidding it’s Niall)

PS: We watched In the Mood for Love the other night. I can see why you love his work. Harry probably won’t let me choose for the next movie night but that’s his loss.

PPS: Feel free to set this on fire.

“What are you waiting for?” says a voice that’s distinctly far from Louis’ brash tone. Alena whips her head around and finds Janelle looking over her shoulder, staring at Niall’s letter. Instead of budging when Alena pushes her away, Janelle points to the door and says, “So? You know where to find him, go!”

“Chowder supports you,” adds Louis, holding up the dog next to his cheek as he flaps his paws in the air.

“But I haven’t got an excuse to go over there.”

“You don’t need one. Come on.” Janelle rounds the couch and grabs Alena by the hand.

“But—”

“No but’s!”

In a flash, they’re right outside 4D, Janelle’s knocking on their door, and Harry’s opening it as Janelle goes back to their own flat.

Harry’s lips curl, a sly, knowing smirk, before looking over his shoulder to say, “Niall! Special delivery!” and then he’s pulling Alena inside. He’s practically a blur as he speeds through grabbing Liam’s arm and shoving him inside one of the bedrooms. A blanket of silence befalls as they’re left alone, with her still lingering by the doorway and him in front of the couch with his hands shoved deep inside his pockets.

“You can talk now!” yells Harry, voice slightly muffled from behind closed doors.

It prompts Niall to shake his head, mutter “Jesus” under his breath, and then he’s ushering Alena back out into the hallway.

“So,” she begins as the door clicks shut, tucking a stray strand behind her ear.

Shyly, he echoes it back. “So…”

“I’m guessing Harry’s feeling better?” she jokes, and he goes along with it with a smile.

“Oh, much. Sleep? Very underrated. Easily one of the best forms of medicine. Highly recommend it. You should try it some time.”

“Hey!” she defends, although the edges of her chapped lips are turning up. “Thanks for the, uh… gift, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” He shoves a hand back in his pocket, rocking back and forth on the heels of his trainers lightly. “So… uh, have you burned it yet?”

“Don’t really want to.”

“Oh?”

Alena nods, and the silence begins to stretch between them once again.

“Just ask her the fuck out already!” It’s Harry, followed by a harsh shushing from Liam. Alena goes pink and Niall’s throwing his head back with a groan.

“For the love of God.” Niall bangs his fist against the door once. “Sorry about that. Fuck.”

“It’s alright.”

He scratches the back of his neck for a bit before running his hand up and down his arm. “Erm, so, uh… there’s this open-air cinema tonight. Do you uh… maybe... wanna go? With me? Like, on a date?”

Alena smiles softly, nodding, and Niall swears he’s forgotten how to breathe. “I would love that.”

“Finally!” It comes from 4B this time, a synchronous yell from Louis, Tilly, and Janelle. Alena wants to die from embarrassment, but at that moment, they couldn’t have been more right.

Finally indeed.

#1dff #exchanges

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hhhhhzsskksz · 5 years ago

Text

Kanaya isn’t surprised to see you; in fact, she seems to dismiss the trunk-beast in the block as easily as if she didn’t know of it at all.

No, you think warily, that’s not true. She looks at you with something satisfied in her eyes, an approving little nod when Eridan ushers you in front of the extraordinarily expensive husktop and the into a chair that feels uncomfortably like a pile. Your face flushes at the thought, but you figure you’ve been red enough for the last few days for it not to make a difference.

She smiles, and she feels like home, but a home with sharp edges and locked doors keeping others out and you in. She glances up and behind you to Eridan, and flashes him a characteristicly restrained but conspiratory smirk.

“Karkat, I’m so very glad to see you well!” She grins, and it’s a genuine grin. You relax a little. You’re usually anxious, but right now you’re just being unreasonable. Kanaya’s your most trustworthy friend. So what she’s been talking to Eridan? They’re friends too.

“Yeah, he’s been settling in-“ Eridan looms over you to jokingly rest his elbows upon your shoulders. There’s no real weight behind it, you’d probably collapse if there was. It’s a firmly playful action. His hands dangle under your chin, in front of your neck. You blink a little as the dazzle of his rings, which occupy his fingers in a relatively restrained amount in his casual state but are by no means absent, reflect the light of the husktop. The glare of it pricks your eyes, and for a moment, it feels like all you can see is the white of Kanaya’s fangs and the golden rings of lights speckled with jewels.

You sit up a little straighter and rest your chin against his hands to avoid the glare. You jolt for a moment at the chilliness of his skin. Eridan laughs and shoves his cold fingers back under your chin.

“Cold bulgewipe-“ you gripe, before reaching up and slapping him on the cheek. Eridan makes a sound that sounds more like a moan of pleasure than pain. You’re 70% it was a joke. At the possibility of the other 30%, you give a chuckling Kanaya the most apologetic look you can muster while still half-wrestling your grinning iceblock of a morail.

“Careful, I might have to resort to my known quadrant vice!” Kanaya comments playfully. That makes you stop play-fighting Eridan for a moment to glare at her. From the crinkle of her eyes and the soft, affectionate curve of her mouth, you come off less threatening than you’d like.

“If you try to auspice us, I will start a fucking riot, you madwoman.” You grumble. Eridan takes your moment of indignant protest to shove his cold hands down your loose shirt, making you shriek and squirm before sliding to the floor in escape.

For a minute or so, the room is only filled with the sound of toothless insults and fits of giggles. Your ribs hurt, but the floor is soft under you. You close your eyes.

You never got to talk to your friends like this, too afraid of identification to use the shitty voice or video cam on your husktop.

There’s a lining of melancholy to it anyway. You miss something you never had. You have it now, and it burns you in its wake.

As he finally comes down from the throws of his laughing fit, Eridan plucks you off the ground without warning and places you firmly in his lap. He settles back in the chair and faces a bemused Kanaya.

Eridan’s arm crosses your chest. The shirt sleeve falls to reveal your shoulder, and his grip is too tight to correct it. Tight, but not painful. Not unless you resist.

Kanaya smiles and makes a temple of her fingers to rest her chin.

“You look good. Better than when I last saw you.” She comments. The last time she had saw you had been when you were 8 and gathered the bravery and stupidity required to send a blurry photo.

“You should brush his hair though.” Her eyes rise to Eridan, and he ruffles your head affectionately.

“It’s cute like this.” He rejects firmly.

“So, uh- what were you two talking about before?” You ask.

“You, mostly.” She replies casually. “Eridan wants make to make you some properly fitting clothes, with his sign and such.” She glances to him, and Eridan removes one of the arms around your waist to fake-gag.

“I’vve got to *burn* those bluebitch clothes he wwas wwearing yesterday, him wwearing some dead landdwweller’s sign-“ He shudders, and then adds. “No offense to you, a course. You’re jade. That’s different.”

You see something flash in her eyes that don’t quite understand, but a moment and it’s gone. Perhaps it was just the husktop. Signals can get lost in space, you guess.

“Or to him, I’m assuming.” She says, and if she’s uncomfortable, she doesn’t show it.

You can’t see his face from your position in his lap, but you can tell from the change in his posture that he’s suddenly sporting some sort of grin.

“Oh, but he’s not-!” He trills, and his hands trace along the side of your chest. You suck in a breath, as his claws dance over fabric so thin it might as well not be there. There’s a tingling in your spine and a sort of pleasant numbness building in your head. You let your head fall back and hit Eridan’s chest softly. The air greets your exposed neck.

“I’m gonna showw her, okay?” He whispers in your ear, and it takes a moment to register. By that time, his hands have found purchase at the bottom of your shirt.

“What?” You mumble, too slowly. Eridan paps you gently on the cheek, and you can see the faint green blush of a voyeur on Kanaya’s cheeks.

The cloth on Eridan’s chest is soft, not the hard padding of a military costume. Something deeply ingrained recoils within you as the bottom of your stomach makes contact with the air.

Your movements are clumsy at best, but you lurch upwards in the vague direction of the gill-hole you assume to be his ear.

“Does she know?” You ask, and even pap-heaviness must not be able to conceal the panic in your eyes, because Eridan’s now-visible face frowns, large and looming over you.

“Wwell, not about this-“ His hands trace your sides lightly and you shiver. You’re not sure if it’s from the cold of your hands or the inconvenient whims of pale serendipity.

“But yes. For almost as long as I havve.” He confirms. It should be a relief. You think you’re going to vomit.

“Are you alright?” Kanaya’s face swims in your vision. She looks unsure; it’s a distinctly unfamilar expression for her to have. “He doesn’t have to show me, I’m sure you can tell me through Trollian-“

“Wwell, I wwasn’t going to *now*-!” Eridan snaps, and you hold up a hand placatingly. The tension melts from him almost instantly, and Kanaya seems visibly relieved.

“It’s fine.” You grumble, and the deep intake that comes next is more an anchor than breathing. You can do this, it says. You don’t have a choice.

You lift your shirt. Kanaya’s eyes are scalpels wielded by the empire’s most pitying vivisectionist.

“Eridan says they’re gills, he thinks-“ Kanaya’s eyes widen, and she doesn’t seem happy, exactly, but she nods encouragingly towards you, never lifting her eyes from your stomach, “well-“ you continue, “They’re pretty fucked up. And I don’t think they work.”

Eridan jolts and makes an indignant noise. “I did *not* say that. Besides, wwhether they wwork or not isn’t important. It’s-its about the *symbol* of it, you knoww.”

A bitter taste emerges at the back of your digestion-tube. It’s not a symbol of anything, you know. You’re red-hot and tiny and covered in vestigial organs you can’t use; a miscellaneous joke of a troll.

“Are those the only ones?” Kanaya asks, and the succeeding moment of silence seems to urge her into clarifying. “I don’t mean to pry, but gills must be taken into account when making any quality garments...” A moment passes.

Eridan taps your cheek with his claw as if to alert you into the conversation. “Wwell,” he asks, “Do you?”

Kanaya makes a surprised face and sends Eridan a look bordering confusion and jest.

“I had figured you had-“ Her eyes fall to you, and you shuffle in an attempt to casually sling your shirt sleeve back over your shoulder. You know what this looks like. She’s implying-. You’re as red as the sun at noon. Floors are fascinating to observe. You would know.

Eridan seems mostly nonplussed. “It’s been 3 nights, Kan. Adjusting to space and shit. Even I’m not that insatiable.”

Eridan drops his chin to your shoulder, and you feel his cool breath, catch a shimmer of fangs as white as the star-bleached earth in an Alternian drought. He’s grinning lechorously, and you tilt your head back instinctively to create distance from the danger of his jaw.

You realize, as your neck is bared towards the screen and your eyes pressed tight against your lids, that you had done exactly what Eridan wanted you to do.

“Plus, I think Kar’s a little shy.” Eridan says, smugness permeating the words as his noses along the column of your throat.

You wait for Kanaya to tell him off, something about decency, but she just laughs. Eridan, ever prone to jolting displays of immaturity, leaves a raspberry on your throat and pulls away, snickering. You do not squawk as you try to pull up the loose collar of the slippery shirt to wipe away his spit, because *gross*. It doesn’t work, and your neck is left cold and wet until Eridan graciously uses his scarf to wipe away his salvia, still giggling. Kanaya rolls her eyes.

You’re still breathing heavily. Everything feels hot, almost feverish, and you focus on Kanaya’s face. She’s swimming in your vision, and in the whirlpool she’s unfamilar, the angles of her face transforming into maleficient caricatures of themselves.

You think you’re going to be sick. You close your eyes and tuck your head against Eridan’s chest, trying to block out your surroundings. You make sure to angle your shoulders to cover your neck. The protection it provides is all in your thinkpan, you know. Eridan could rip your arm out of your socket like snapping a dry twig.

“Are you alright, Karkat?” Kanaya asks, and when you look up, her face is kind and familiar as ever, that of your oldest friend.

Eridan tenses as if to respond for you, but you uncurl a bit and manage to eke out a muffled “M’fine”.

You’re starting to get awfully tired of people smirking at you like you’re some sort of wriggler.

“Well,” Kanaya trails off. There’s an intentional breathiness to her voice that leaves her assumptions regarding the two of you pretty obvious. It’s a sort of encouragement, in the crude way that some frat cerulean slapping the shame globes of his morail after scoring some red fling in the barracks is encouragement.

“The charts for measuring will be sent to you. I’ll send the ones for gills and without, to be sure.” She pauses, unsure. Hesitantly, she adds; “I’m sure, if you would be so inclined, that you could find a suitable tailor closer to you, in whatever section of the galaxy you’re in currently. I appreciate it, to be sure, but I’m not sure why you would still..”

Eridan tenses and holds out his hand as if to grab hers. It pauses midair as he remembers the distance. The rings rattle as his hand *thumps* back onto the four-legged holding slab.

“Because you’re my friend, Kan.” He says finally, after the sort of pause borne of conviction rather than hesitance. “I wwasn’t going to just ascend and then...wwhat? Fuck off wwithout you guys?”

His hand tightens around you, and he leans his head against you. A happy little puff of air escapes his fangs as you touch him back, curving your hands along his arms to find skin. Kanaya watches, and something hard melts off her demeanor. She smiles, and it’s warm, with only the slightest peek of fangs.

You think vaguely that this sort of collective vulnerability leans into quadrant territory, but it’s hard to care when Kanaya rests her chin on her hands like she’s 5 sweeps, her eyes pensive and *kind*, and Eridan’s holding your hands. You feel the kiss of cool air on your cheek. Your eyes slip shut like a content purrbeast. The glow of the husktop burns sweetly behind your lids like a sunset peeking through the curtains of your hive, and for a second, you don’t think you could anything better than what you are feeling now, safe and surrounded in this ship swaddled in the deafening cocoon of space.

@are-u-kitten-me-right-meow

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jjbaconsumedmysoul · 7 years ago

Text

Wamuu x Reader: “Pleasure”

It was just a small side job to get you a bit of extra money. When you had heard from your friend Suzie Q that her boss was seeking another helper around the house, you accepted wholeheartedly. It was just weekends when you were needed to tidy up, and it was never terribly messy. On one hand, you had never expected to be someone’s personal maid, but the job paid extremely well.

Of course, the thought crossed your mind that there might be a catch: maybe she’d lower your pay soon, maybe it was only temporary, maybe it would be permanent (you certainly didn’t want to be someone else’s cleaning lady for the rest of your days). But, this… This you had never imagined.

Tears streamed down your face as your body shook with sobs. The interrogation had gone on long enough. Why wouldn’t they believe you? You told them everything you knew, but still, they hadn’t found what they were looking for. You kicked and bit, but they paid no heed. A clawed finger trailed across your cheek, you heard a voice soft as honey yet sharp as steel.

“Where is it?” the nail dug into your cheek, and you gasped at the prick of pain. “The stone?”

“I told you,” You spat through your convulsions. “I don’t know any stone…”

There were three men. The one crouched before you seemed to be the leader of the group. His violet eyes seemed almost inhuman as they peered out of the dark cloth tied around his head. Another man, just as tall and just as intimidating, stood to his right, a smug smirk on his face. The last, however, seemed a bit different. He stood slightly taller than his compatriot, and seemed even more muscular, if that were possible. His gaze was directed not at you, but straight ahead, as if he were a soldier waiting for his command. But you could see something behind those eyes. His muscles twitched a bit, as if in discomfort.

The leader suddenly squeezed your jaw in his spindly fingers, turning your face from side to side, inspecting you, for some unknown reason. You glared at him with abhorrence and rage. He then released you, throwing you to the ground like garbage as he turned on his heel.

“Esidisi, come. Wamuu,” he looked over his shoulder, a malicious grin lighting his face, “Eat up.”

Eat up? Eat what? Eat… you? Your mind blurred in an avalanche of thoughts as your breathing became shallow. One man, Esidisi probably, turned to follow his master as he exited the dark cell, leaving Wamuu standing in silence. His eyes finally met yours. His body was rigid and alert, an experienced fighter if you’d ever seen one. But his gaze wasn’t threatening, it was contemplative. His brow furrowed as he looked down at your frail form.

Just before the others reached the door, he turned. Kneeling before the backs of his betters, you heard his resonant voice fill the cell.

“Master Kars,” The two men slowly turned to face him, “May I…” You couldn’t see the expression on Wamuu’s face, but something about it obviously amused his commander, who let out a wry and teasing chuckle.

“You want a little toy? I might understand if it were a skilled hamon warrior with whom you could duel to the death, but it’s just a disgusting little lump of flesh.” You held stationary where you were chained to the ground, almost hopeful, yet still fearing for any of the possible outcomes.

“It may prove useful,” Wamuu began again, “These humans form very strong attachments. It could be used as bait –”

“Very well,” Kars cut him off with a scowl, “But the human is your responsibility. Esidisi,” Kars waved for the other man to follow him out of the cold stone cell, leaving Wamuu behind.

As the slam of the iron door echoed through the darkness, he turned back around to inspect you. Your tears had ceased, though you still were quite shaken and confused. Wamuu walked around behind you, and you panicked, not knowing what his intentions were. You felt him pull at the shackles restraining your wrists. Suddenly, the chain was wrenched apart, and you heard the clatter of metal on the floor.

“Stand.” his voice commanded you, however the order was not necessary as he easily hauled your fragile frame to its feet. Your hands fell to your sides, your posture almost defeated, as he turned you around to face him. He noticed the handcuffs still rubbed against your wrists, and you gasped as he took your hands in his large fists, bringing them up to shoulder level. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was as if a hundred blades of wind cut through the iron all at once, breaking the shackles into pieces as they fell to the cold stone ground. The only expression on your face was awe.

“What do they call you?” His voice was softer than it had been before. You took a deep shuddering breath before answering.

“I’m (y/n).”

He had seemed like such a stern warrior, a man whose only concern was his master’s wishes and his own honor. But you could see something beyond the cold, hard exterior. At first, he thought it necessary to come to you only daily to deliver a large, raw chunk of meat. You had to explain to him how often humans eat, how small their portions generally were, and what a “vegetable” was. Intrigue flashed behind his eyes every time he learned something new, and his visits gradually became more lengthy.

He was sitting beside you as you tore a loaf of bread. He had no idea where he had acquired it. It was still warm and fresh, it crackled as you bit into it, crumbs spilling onto the floor. Wamuu regarded you as usual. But this time, you paused. You carefully tore off a small chunk, holding it out to his lips. Your smile was a bit shy, and you chuckled.

“Try some,”

He seemed taken aback at first, but slowly opened his mouth. You raised your eyebrow. Did he expect you to feed it to him. You grabbed his wrist with your free hand, placing the bread in his palm. You then ripped off a piece of your own, bringing it up to your mouth. He stared, curiously, as he followed your lead. He chewed and swallowed. He stared off into the distance again.

“That was awful.” You giggled, as he remained straight-faced.

Once you tried to describe how humans actually cook food, and he had found the process tedious: why go to so much trouble for something that merely provides sustenance? This started your conversation on the concept of pleasure.

“Humans take pleasure in eating. They take pleasure in hobbies, and relationships,”

“Do they take pleasure in fighting?” You paused at this question.

“Some take pleasure in fighting, but for most of us, fighting is merely the means to an end.”

“I do not understand.” He tilted his head in confusion. You took in a deep breath to explain to him.

Wamuu was fascinated by the history of battle. You tried to recount for him all you could remember from your lessons. The motivation behind each battle intrigued him the most: the Christian religion behind the crusades, the lust for power during the Era of Warring states, the desire for freedom over tyranny during the American Revolution. And of course, World War II, the current conflict between all the nations of the earth.

“But war is not all glory and victory,” you tried to explain. “War causes pain and suffering.”

“Is that why you do not fight?” you paused at his question.

“What do you mean?” You asked. He looked down as you sat, finishing your meal, on the floor.

“Why are you so small and fragile? Why was it so easy to capture you?” Your face burned, almost enraged by the insults. “Do you only concern yourself with pleasure?” You stood, staring up at him with a subdued fury behind your eyes.

“I fight with my words. I get what I want through compromising with people, not terrorizing them. I don’t cause pain to others for my own benefit. That’s the difference between you and me.” Your face was just inches away from his, and you panted slightly, releasing every ounce of anger that had been pent up inside of you since you were captured. Yet you dare not touch him. You wouldn’t punch him or slap him or grab him by his collar. Because you were better than him. His eyebrows raised at your sudden surge of assertiveness, of rebellion.

“Then, that is it.” His expression returned to stoicism. “That is what I sensed from you. You are a warrior, but of a different kind.” With that, he turned on his heel and left. You gazed in shock and silence as he strode out of the room. What did he mean?

The incident passed as if it had never happened, and the only shadows left behind showed in the progression of your relationship. Your conversations were originally very one-sided: you would tell him of human tradition, and he would nod his head, taking in the information. But now, he began to tell you his stories. The tales of the Pillar Men, the rise of Kars. He stared off into the distance as he recalled his past, and something about it made you feel… comforted.

“(Y/n),” You paused as you wiped your mouth with a napkin he had so courteously brought you. He rarely used your name, expect when he was being extremely serious. “I have a question to ask you about humans.” His back was turned, and he seemed to be gazing at the wall, deep in thought. You stood, wiping the crumbs off of your lap, and approached.

“Yes, Wammu?” He twitched a bit. You were used to his calm and quiet exterior, though often you could see hidden glimpses of intrigue, of discomfort, though usually he never became enraged. But right now, he seemed restless. His hesitation made it seem as if he were unsure about his actions. Wamuu had always been confident in every situation. Except for now. “Tell me about… attraction.” You halted in your tracks. You thought that the Pillar Men had no use for copulation or romance, or anything other than pursuit of power. However, Wamuu was different, he had always been different compared to Kars and Esidisi. He was strong and skilled, but he was still a child on the inside. He was sincere. You took a deep breath.

“Attraction is… When a human forms a bond with another human. It can be based on their appearance or personality or both–”

“I know what it is,” he interrupted you, turning on his heel to gaze deep into your eyes. “But how can you tell if it’s real? If it’s something more?” You heart began to beat rapidly in your chest. Could he possibly be asking this because he felt this way about… you? He was your sole companion, he had been for a while now, and you certainly enjoyed conversations with him. You enjoyed how much he cared for you, even if his expression didn’t show it, and how much you had learned from him. But was it love?

“There’s no way to tell for sure,” Your eyes were still fixated on his, and you stepped closer. In one moment, his face seemed to break. His eyebrows furrowed and his fist clenched. He looked at the ground in embarrassment.

“But when I first saw you… Why couldn’t I kill you? You were fragile and weak, nothing but a puny human. But the way you fought back. The way your frail figure railed against Kars every strike. Was that attraction? Is that why I come to you every day to make sure you’re well fed and content? I’ve only ever lived to serve my masters. How is it that you too can have such a hold over me?” You almost felt dizzy. To think that such a beautiful and powerful creature could ever fall in love with a pitiful being such as yourself shocked you.

But all the same, you welcomed it.

“I-I think,” You stuttered out, placing your hand into his. He looked down at the initiation of contact curiously, “I think that is love,” you gathered your confidence as your eyes fluttered shut, raising on your tip-toes so your lips could reach his. You waited for the kiss. And waited.

“What are you doing?” His deep voice sounded uncharacteristically nervous. You opened your eyes, staring at his confused expression and stifling a giggle.

“It’s a kiss. It’s an act of,” you squirmed, still a bit shy, “of love” his eyebrows raised in recognition.

Suddenly, he grabbed you by the waist, and you let out a small squeak of surprise. You latched your fingers behind his head and into his hair as he pulled you to his chest, your toes leaving the ground. Your lips met, forcefully, and you shivered at his cool touch. You could feel every inch of his chiseled frame supporting your body. You involuntarily tilted your head and slid one hand down his chest, gasping at how cold his body seemed. But you loved it.

Soon, he set you down, and you stumbled as you regained your composure. His face was flushed red, and his usual stoicism was replaced with surprise. His hand seemed to unconsciously trace where your lips had left his, as if he were remembering the touch. You smiled shyly.

He abruptly pinned you to the wall, attacking your lips with even more vigor as he ran his fingers up and down your sides. You shivered as his hands grazed across your breast; he probably didn’t know just how sensitive that area was. You pressed both palms to his firm chest as he sucked at your lips. Your leg slid up to wrap around his massive thigh as you pulled him in as far as you could, making sure that no space was left in between you two. Slowly, you parted your lips to let your tongue graze across his own. He immediately took the hint, and practically started devouring you with his mouth. You would have giggled if you could. Something about his ignorance yet his unbridled aggressiveness was so endearing. He probably had no idea what he was doing, but he tried his hardest to please both you and himself.

As you broke away to take a breath of air, you heard him whine softly. You made sure he didn’t see your smirk as you softly kissed his neck. At this, he shuddered. You took full advantage of this opportunity, placing light kisses down his collarbone (where you could actually easily reach him). You sucked lightly as he shuddered. Running your hands up and down his biceps, you heard him moan your name. His hands groped your waist tightly, as if he were afraid you would soon slip away from him.

You finally paused, to look up into his eyes.

“Now do you understand why we seek pleasure?”

#wammu #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #x reader #reader insert #I said no updates on Sunday #i lied

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