#oh shit today i did actually learn that a green light flashing right after a red light on a card reader indicates the door is bolted shut

[kaitsawamura]

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮   Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮  Rating: M (for mature)  ⎮  WC: 5525  ⎮   Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader  ⎮   Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint)  ⎮  AO3

NOTES⎮  Thanks to @spacelabrathor​ for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome​ for fueling my Kiri fever dreams.  Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp.  Hope y'all enjoy!  (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar.  But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it.  They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself.  Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.  

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer.  You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet.  He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally…  and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time.  It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it.  Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people.  You’d have the whole place to yourselves.  Like that should mean something.  Which it did.  It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach.  Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago.  Neither of you had made a move.  Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with.  It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on.  But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency.  The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye.  Not for the obvious reasons.  Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse. 

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk.  But he was just like that you had quickly discovered.  He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch.  He knew when to push and when to back off.  He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn.  The kids flocked to him.  Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him.  It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts.  The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there?  You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly.  It isn’t big.  You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses.  Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous.  But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time.  Clean, straight lines and lots of windows.  In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door.  Is that a pool ?  Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro.  The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth.  You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out!  I mean, that would have been fine, of course.  I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.”  He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool.  “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!”  You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym.  I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely.  You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here.  The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves.  But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins.  You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago.  And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs.  No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side.  Shit.  His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you.  He has to know .  Doesn’t he?  From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .  

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive.  Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard.  You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping.  It’s so green .  There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna.  Violets, tulips.  Huge hosta plants.  And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.  

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!”  He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it?  I guess it is pretty nice, huh?”  You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile.  You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.”  You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world.  After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet.  “What are you thinking for today?”  The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat.  You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?”  You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan.  The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips.   He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick.  You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet.  He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.  The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display.   Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri.  I just don’t want to wear you out .  You’re a Pro Hero.  You’re on the job a lot more than I am.  Plus, you’re getting kind of old.  Is that a little gray I see coming in?”  Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair.  There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted.  Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.”  Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw.  His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip.  His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment.  You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity.  He looks as if he’s going to devour you.  You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body.  A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up.  The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin.  The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen.  You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat.  The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym.  You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment.  When you could give extra attention with extra time. 

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you.  You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk.  Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit.  Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist.  It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk.  Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk.  It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills.  The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy.  You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well.  You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven.  His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice.  You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out.  It surges through you like pure energy.  

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook.  This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt.  Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet.  He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?”  He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach.  You were fast, but still not always fast enough.  You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in.  Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top.  You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over.  “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard.  You good?”  

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable.  He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late.  You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today.  Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back.  But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core.  He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours.  You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before…  “Fuuu-.”  It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open.  You’re seeing stars.  Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again.  You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun.  You snort, rolling your eyes.  Why does he still look so fucking good?  The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl.  His hair has curl to it?  You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes.  You like the curl.  “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?”  It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms.  “I’m thinking not.  Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.”  You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows.  Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.   

“Is that any way to treat your student,  Red Riot?”  You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll.  He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space.  You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.  

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth.  “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher.  I’m not that much older than you.  Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?”  He’s so fucking close.  This is getting dangerous.  Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance.  Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass.  Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.  

So you fall back on what you’re here to do.  Fight.  You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away.  His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared.  He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay.  I see.  I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?”  You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri.  Bring it on.”  He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control.  “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles.  Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more.  Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply.  And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon.  But you’re also both stubborn.  And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination.  No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration.  The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not.  You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head.  You can be too predictable sometimes.”  He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire.  You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless.  You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc.  A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle.  He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming.  But he doesn’t.  And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.  

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward.  He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand.  You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck.  Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body.  It doesn’t take long for him to tap out.  You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off.  Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride.  You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad.  In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good .  He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you.  His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere.  He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes.  If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you.  He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable.  You did good today.  Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far.  Keep it up.”  He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts.  He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment.  “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--”  The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his.  His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair.  You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more.  Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment.  A suspended second in time.  But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side.  But it’s warm and gentle.  Gentle.  Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle?  But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations.  His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit.  You’re so wet .”  He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit.  He takes his hand away and you mewl.  “Can I?”  He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts.  You nod, eyes half-lidded.  He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious.  Adoration.  It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt.  You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it.  Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm.  You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat.  He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to.  He’s done this before, he’s had to.  He’s too good.  Too fucking good.  Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth.  “Shit.  Shit.  Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--”  He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym.  It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but  Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue.  But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock.  You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum.  Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them.  Another time, maybe.  

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing .  He could snap you like a twig.  But he won’t.  You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…”  You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders.  You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled.  You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much.  His forehead drops to yours as he pants.  But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to.  It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins.  You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss.  “Oh fuck, ohfuck.”  You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing.  “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper.  Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity.  Let him leave marks.  Let him leave them everywhere.  He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling.  “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.”  His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good.  S’ tight.  Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym.  The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip.  He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes.  Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ”  He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct.  He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point.  “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream.  Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic.  The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath.  “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins.  His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt.  He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole.  Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours.  Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before.  You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri.  Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression.  Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed.  He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex.  But you’re smiling.  Lazy and tired, completely at ease.  “Wanna take a shower?”  When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest.  He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm.  Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra.  Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now.  When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again.  His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss.  But it's slow and sweet. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers.  He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water.  Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now.  The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep.  But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in.  When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel.  “You okay?”  He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired.  I should, uh, probably get going.”  Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line.  Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail.  But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug.  A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest.  His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice.  You bury your face further in as you nod against him.  Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed.  He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him.  Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.  

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you.  The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.  

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket.  It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets.  He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake.  You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb.  A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist.  His eyes are open now and he watches you.  You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious.  “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time.  I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t…  I don’t really hook up .”  Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across.  He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful.  And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along.  You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling.  “I just.  I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you.  I’ve liked you for a long time.  And normally I would have wined and dined you first but...  Well.  Here we are.  Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face.  “Is something funny?”  That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri.  I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.”  A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection.  The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

[wizkiddx]

hiiiii i love your stuff - could u do one where the readers ill but they have stuff to do and tom has to look after her. maybe if they were just friends before too but both pining? thankuuuuuuuuu

should I be writing this instead of revising? clearly fucking not. Did I make this little blurb req ridiculously long purely to procrastinate? Of fucking course.

but also this was v cute! I assumed u meant famous!reader, sorry if that's not what u were after at all anon x

summary: Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

warnings: fainting / feeling ill

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It couldn’t be today. Of all days, why today? You’d been at home for two weeks doing absolutely nothing, before this trip. And yet it’s when your itinerary is packed to the brim, people moving heaven and earth just speak to you. Two weeks of unrelenting press for Marvels next big ensemble movie. 

Your manager was speaking to you, reeling off a run down of todays activities but instead of listening you nodded along blankly - head rather cloudy with this heavy mist that was not shaking off, no matter how hard you tried. 

“You got that Y/n/n?” Lucy pointedly spoke, eyes almost physically knocking you backwards as if her eyeliner was battery rams. Fumbling with your thoughts, your answer wasn’t particularly cohesive earning you just a disappointed head shake. 

“I um… yeh I think. Who-who did you say I was paired up with?” 

“Y/n please for the love of god. Tom, like I said the past fifty times.” And to be fair to Lucy she wasn’t wrong. It was the first major major promo tour for the both of you and after just two days so far - you were both exhausted. She was more than allowed to be a bit short tempered. 

“But we-we hardly know each other? The chemistry won’t be there and-“

“As I said, I tried to re-jig it but Kevin is of the mind that acting is your job.” Her tone was sharp but as she glared across the opposing seats, in the little mini van Marvel had hired for you as transportation, her eyes softened. Lucy had been so wrapped up in her own stress she may have overlooked quite how gingerly you were sitting. By the time she had arrived at the hotel, your stylist had already managed to half save your ghoulish looking face, with sunken under eyes and tired skin, so it wasn’t so blatantly obvious how crap you were feeling.  “Is everything okay with you?” 

It felt pretty puny to say that the jet lag from flying to Tokyo had been weighing you down further than you wanted, or that the local cuisine top chefs had kindly prepared for you last night wasn’t siting well in your stomach. To be honest, even you thought it was just your body being a bit overdramatic. So in response, you put on your best happy-go-lucky face feigning a smile.

“No no I’m fine, just want to give the best interviews I can and you know…. I’m awkward as hell as it is, then pair me with the most talented actor that I share about two minutes of screen time with…it’ll be interesting.” 

The way Lucy reacted with a weird slow nod, eyebrows furrowed, meant it was quite apparent you had perhaps overplayed that one. Had you not been so over the day before it even began, you would’ve tried again to give a more believable act. But as you were, you turned your attention back out to the bustling streets of Tokyo and the high rise buildings bordering each pavement. 

You didnt have a problem with Tom, far from it in fact. Tom was hilarious and the times you had met him, you’d both built up this weird and sarcastic competitiveness with each other. It was a game of who could get the last laugh, each of you pushing each other with the Mickey taking just a little further. Of course, not in a malicious way, just the way you’d both lived pretty similar but parallel careers - when everyone drew comparisons between the both of you, it was nice to make it a joke. 

Like Tom you’d also started out on stage, had a ‘big break’ movie as a kid and then spent your teenage years on and off film sets - till marvel happened. Then everything blew up to epic proportions, changing your life forever. Actually, it was so similar to Tom’s story, plus the fact you were also from the south west of the UK. It was bizarre your paths hadn’t crossed more - He probably could’ve been a useful ally in the the whole ‘becoming famous’ thing. 

And yet, you could probably count on two hands the amount of conversations you’d had with him. 

Now that, that was the issue. Right from the beginning you learn what the press want and when you are publicising a movie you cater into it too. They’d all be asking for the insider scoop on set; what pranks you’d pulled on each other; what was the most annoying thing about each other. Which is hard if you’d only had 5 or 6 days actually on set together. 

By the time the cab had wormed its way through the Tokyo traffic and you arrived at the PR hotel, it was already 9:30 - making you 15 minutes late (blame it on the traffic). Instantly then you were ushered straight to the interview room for the evening, no chance of green room chat or grabbing a drink before. The place was stuffy, everything was draped with black curtains except the poster board that Tom was already sitting infront of. 

He’d scrubbed up well, no doubt about it. He was wearing statement-ish burgundy suit trousers, teamed with a black knitted but collared shirt thing - that was clearly tailor made for the man. As soon as he noticed you scurry into the room, his face broke out into a warm smile, jumping up to greet you in a friendly hug. It was brief, and as you pulled back you accidentally bumped your head on one of the overhanging lights. No doubt someone had spent a ridiculous amount of time configuring them so they were positioned perfectly, which you had just ruined with your big head. 

“Oh shit!” Tom just laughed in response, shaking his head slightly as he lead you the two steps across to your pre-positioned seats. 

“Making an entrance as always I see!”

“Yeh, you know me, a bit of chaos just to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Oh is that why you’re ‘fashionably late’” With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, you just rolled your eyes, fidgeting on the chair to find a position that didnt aggravate  your stomach so much.

“I’m ready now though! What did I miss? Just having to pretend to be your friend for 15 minutes?” You stressed the words as though the thought of conversation with Tom was the absolute worst thing in the world - which you definetly didnt think. Scowling like you’d insulted his dog Tessa, it was almost visible how the cogs were turning in his head looking for a comeback. Unfortunately for him though, he was quickly shut up but the organiser bringing the first interviewer in . 

For what would, no doubt, be a long day. 

////

Everything had started off so well, the banter was flowing between you and Tom, no major spoilers revealed that meant Marvel would have to make the journalist disappear. It was once you hit an hour of back-to-back interviews that everything started to crack bit. Because yes, it had only been an hour but that was enough to exhaust you on this particular day. When Tom joked around you got slower and slower, similarly the  energy was zapped from your own answers. It’s not very compelling when someone says ‘you have to watch this movie’ in a monotonous voice with sullen eyes. 

As the interviewers were swapping in and out, Tom actually lightly nudged your shoulder.

“Everything alright? We’re trying to sell tickets and you’ve got a face like thunder.”

“Oh no-no sorry I just, I-um.”

“You want some water?” Now looking at your with more concerned eyes, as if he was just nervous he’d actually offended you for calling you a boring bastard. And you would’ve picked up on it and alleviated his concerns, if it weren’t for the fact your eyes were glued on the water bottle he was holding out to you. You were thirsty. You knew that, that wasn’t the conundrum. What you weren’t so sure about was whether your stomach would accept it, or more violently reject it. In a very non ‘we’re-trying-to-sell-a-movie’ style. 

But the lightheaded fogginess in your brain won out, as you nodded jerkily, taking the bottle and taking a little swig - too cautious to take anymore. 

Now concerned with how Tom thought you were being a Debby-downer too, you managed to perk yourself up for the next four interviews. They were easy, asking questions without any activity and though you did rely on Tom beefing out and adding to your answers, it was okay. Then the next interviewer came in, who you recognised as being from the BBC, Ali Plumb, that had interviewed you a number of times. From the way Tom jumped up to give him afirendly bro-hug, you guessed he also was familiar with him. As soon as he took a seat the cameras were already flashing with the red light, demonstrating his 7 minutes had already started. 

“Guys! It’s been a while.” 

“How are you Ali?” You started it off with the pleasantries, Tom echoing, before the speccy dirty-blonde asked his first question. 

“So the last time I spoke to you guys the universe was in chaos, Peter Parkers on the run and Aurora Blake was trying to strip her own powers, so I guess my first question is how are you both doing? We can use this as a therapy session if you guys need.” His very typical nerdy joke made Tom laugh, nodding as he leaned forward and repositioned a bit. 

You didn’t share the same humour though, more focused on this invisible blanket of stuffiness that seemed to have been thrown on top of you. It made you feel groggy, incredibly hot and so unbelievable nauseous. The lights weren’t helping either, it felt like you were pouring with sweat from your forehead. You thought Tom was answering Ali, even if you couldn’t really hear  - everything had merged into a deafening roar. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, unconsciously making you fumble yourself to standing, desperate to get somewhere with fresh air. The last thing you saw before your vision tunnelled into darkness was Tom, reaching out to try and catch you. 

Because next thing you knew, you were on the floor, wires from all the cameras and lights digging into your back as you looked up to see Tom on one side and Lucy on the other - both wearing a similarly panicked expression. You knew you hadn’t been out long, seconds if that, going by the fact everyone else was in the ‘oh my god’ phase of panic. It was a bit weird how calm you where, but then again all your life you’d been the ‘class fainter’. Waking up on the floor was something you were long since used to. 

“Y/n? You awake?” Rather stating the obvious Tom asked the question as you bent your head up - allowing you sight of all the concerned facing oggling you. With a defeated sigh, you flopped your head back. 

“If this is a dream then it’s a real bloody nightmare.” This time Tom didnt seem to appreciate your joke, looking at you without almost dumbfounded eyes, as you blinked repetitively and groaned. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucy appeared to want to lecture you, which to be honest wasn’t the most time appropriate. You were still on the floor, legs crumpled up under you, so ignored her. Instead you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to blink away the blotchy haze that threatened to takeover your vision once again, whilst the pair above you both cautiously rested their palms on each of your shoulders -trying to be useful. The room still felt cramped and stifling, as everyone around were no doubt looking at you. 

It took a few minutes but your body seemed to get over itself, sitting up normally and trying to make small talk with Ali - who, by the way, was still sat awkwardly in the chair. Still nestled on the floor, your back up against the chair you had been siting on as you raved with Ali of the Harry Potter theatre show. In a natural lull in conversation, Tom perked up - from the door where he’d been muttering with the organiser as Lucy bit her nails nervously. 

“Y/n you need to go home.” 

All of you knew what Tom said was impossible. Not being egotistical, but you were too important. Although you hadn’t been paying masses of attention for Lucy’s run down of your itinerary - you knew it was packed. 

So you just looked up and rolled your eyes at Tom, earning yourself a strong glare, before locking the organiser in eye contact.

“How many have we got till lunch?” 

“Um this gent here” He gesturned toward Ali, who was almost squirming in his seat now “then two more.”  

“And then lunch?” 

“Yes, then you have a personal appearance at a dinner, so transport will be coming to pick you both up.” This poor guy seemed obsessed with the clock and his timetable, looking at your with a mixture of panic and frustration. You should know this stuff, you should’ve listened to Lucy. 

“How fars the drive?” 

“At this time probably an hour and a half.” 

The plan was clear in your head, you’d sort yourself out in the car and be fully fine by the afternoon and evening engagements. Plus you felt almost fine now. So with a sigh, you hauled yourself up onto the chair, patting for Tom to sit back down. 

“It’s half an hour and then I’ll sort myself out at lunch - come on their waiting.” The way Lucy pouted showed she disagreed somewhat, except a stern look kept her from protesting, as Tom walked toward you. 

“Are you sure you don’t loo-“

“Let me stop you before you insult my appearance.” Snickering slightly at his worried face, you laughed it off , knocking his side with a gentle murmur of ‘don’t worry about me’. 

In fact after that little episode you did feel a little recovered, which meant you were properly noticing the change in the boy sat next to you. Throughout the remaining three interviews he’d done a complete 360 from earlier. Rather than trying to get little digs at you, he had become fiercely protective - jumping in if a questions wasn’t particularly appropriate or relevant to the movie ( meaning when an awfully crap man asked what underwear you’d been able to wear in your suit) ; taking the heat of the conversation as well as just watching you like a hawk. Each time you answered his beady brown eyes were watching you from the side, you got the impression it wasn’t only just because of the risk of spoilers. 

Quite remarkably, you survived the rest of the day pretty well, after a power nap in the car on the way over - even if it was a bit difficult when you had your manager watching you like a hawk from the seat across. It was as if Lucy had never seen anyone ill before, she seemed concerned that you were going to spontaneously stop breathing and die at any point. 

Though by the time all the official business at the dinner was done, your body and willpower had reached the end of their tether. You and Tom were both on a round table, surrounded by 6 CEOs and execs of what seemed to be a multimillion pound business enterprise. With the language barrier meaning you had to speak through the two people on the table who were fluent in both japanese and English, the conversation was already pretty jilted. Though to be fair, the six did seem to be enjoying the evening - something you werent able to reciprocate. Thankfully, five minutes after the main course dishes had been collected, Tom spoke up from his position opposite you.

“This has been lovely and we really appreciate your time and generosity but me and Y/n have a really early start tomorrow so I think we should probably get back to the hotel.” You swore in that moment you could’ve kissed him, and it looked like Tom could tell - by the way your shoulders sagged and you let out an exhale of pure relief. Apparently even if you’d managed to convince the hosts you were enjoying the evening, Tom easily saw through the performance. After some hurried goodbyes, Tom led you out of the hall with his hand hovering over your lowerback, trying to make sure your exit was as discreet as possible. 

Away from the bubble of chatter and activity, in the deserted hallway, Tom stopped you - lightly holding both hands on each of your arms. 

“Wheres your team?” 

“Um Luce is back at the hotel, she was trying to see if she could reschedule any of my stuff tomorrow.” You winced at the way he sighed, realising you were all on your own in some random business event hall in Tokyo.

“Harry -my brother- is waiting in the car at the front - is that okay?”

“No Tom, don’t worry abo-“

“Yeh well I am and I think you feel ten times worse than you’re letting on.” He spoke harshly, like a school teacher telling you off - except the hint of a kind smile at the end was a dead giveaway. 

“You sure?” 

With a relieved nod (Tom had thought you might be a bit more stubborn - you obviously were really really ill) he wordlessly shrugged his suit jacket off, wrapping it round your shoulders. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a chill but to be quite honest you were a bit distracted by the woody cedar smell of Toms aftershave that enveloped your senses. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being fussed on by him? To be fair he wasn’t wrong either, you were in a strapless evening dress - you would’ve preferred to be in joggers, but Marvels press team had other ideas. 

After a quick pit stop at the toilets, the two of you managed to make an unnoticed escape out the building - into a big SUV which had seconds prior pulled up onto the steps. You literally melted into the nearest window seat, body hunching over as you probably crumpled Tom’s jacket beyond belief. 2 seats along from you, a frizzy haired boy gave you a sympathetic smile, which you returned weakly whilst muttering a ‘hi’. Meanwhile, Tom pulled the sliding door shut, sitting across from you. 

“Oh Y/n this is Harry and Harry this is Y/n.” In unison both of you replied with an ‘I know’ eye roll. Your response was somewhat more shocking to both Holland boys, you could tell from the way they had this whole nonverbal conversation with their eyes - they were very clearly brothers. Needing to explain you continued. “I like to keep tabs on my castmates, I’ve seen you on Toms instagram.” That had both boys smirking, Harry presumably just because you knew who he was; Tom more smugly, you’d just given away you slightly stalked him on instagram. 

Silence reigned for a moment, as the driver put his foot down slightly. 

“How you doing?” Tom asked. 

“Mhm…” you thought for a second, how to eloquently describe the sensation. 

“shit.” 

Both boys chuckled a little and even though you had closed your eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your temples, you could feel the eyes on you. 

“You want the music off?” Harry asked, referring to the indie-rock coming quietly out the speakers of his laptop, which was resting on his lap. With a shake of your head you refused, even if really silence probably would help your head, you were already causing the two Hollands enough trouble - no need to bore them during the journey back into central Tokyo, especially when you weren’t the most enthusiastic company ever. 

Thankfully the music stayed on a low volume, whilst the car seemed to settle into a comfortable silence. With a long exhale you fluttered your eyes open, seeing Tom focused on his phone, before you rested the side of your head against the black-out glass. Taking some relief from the cool glass, you huddled further into the corner of the car against the door.

Floating in the space between sleep and wakefulness, you were kind of aware of your head occasionally bobbing and jerking about - but really didn’t have the energy or willpower to do anything about it. Instead, the thing that perked your attention was hearing some supposed-whispering from inside the body of the car.

“I know she said she didn’t care but she was clearly lying-“ 

“Like you know! You’ve been desperate to try and spend some time with Y/n- maybe you poisoned her just so you could be all knight-in-shini-“

“Turn. The. Music. Off.” Tom sounded scathing now, and with a grumble from your other-side the cheery drum beats ceased.

“Happy now?” …and Harry was sarcastic. 

“Swap places with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

“So she can lie down.” 

“Well no because you would still be in the way if we swapped.”

“Yeh but she can lie on my lap idiot.”

“She can lie on me.”

“She doesn’t know you!”

“Well for 1, barely ten minutes ago she said she did know me. And 2, she doesn’t know you any better!”

If this was their version of whispering, you would love to hear what volume ‘shouting’ was. There was no reply for a short while, you imagined the two brunettes locked in some intense staring match.The next time Tom spoke he sounded more defeated - almost begging. 

“If I admit you beat me at the driving range the other day will you-” 

“I KNEW IT!” Harry yelped, the volume making you jerk, eyes flying open before reflexively closing because the light was too bright. There was a little mutter of an apology, then silence again. 

Once agin you must’ve drifted off because it felt like absolutely no time had passed when a firm but gently hand on your shoulder nudged you awake. 

Sure enough the boys had swapped position, Tom now sitting along the seat from you, Harry looked a little sulky from across the way. It was Tom who was reaching over, a gentle and peaceful smile on his face.

“You wanna lie down? Don’t want you to strain your neck.” He wasn’t wrong, adding to the throbbing headache, the cloudiness in your brain and the unsettled feeling in your stomach… now your neck hurt. Just bloody great. 

Had you been your normal witty and perceptive self, you might’ve teased Tom as to why him and his brother had done a switch - but everything hurt and all you wanted to do was sleep for a hundered years. So with squinting eyes you jerkily nodded, missing how Tom chuckled to himself. The guy undid your seatbelt, then sat back to let you balance the back of your head on his thigh, looking up at the roof of the SUV. Already your eyes were closed again, you kicked off your slip-on heels and bent your legs up to lean against the backrest - occupying the position you had been sat in before hand. You felt his hands reposition the jacket, pulling it round so it was now like a blanket tucked under your chin. 

To be fair it was much more comfortable than sitting up and you weren’t even aware of how quickly you dropped back into sleep. 

Though it wasn’t quick enough to miss Harry’s very sulky sounding comment, presumably meant only for Tom’s ears. 

“Still think you’re being fucking creepy bro.” 

<33 lemme know what u think! (would make me feel less guilty for not doing all the work I rlly should be doing aha)

tagging : @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 3

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

A week passes, and her interaction with Agent Mulder fades into the recesses of her memory. She files it away under “times a cute guy hit on me,” alongside overly friendly waiters and optimistic students.

She and Ethan’s anniversary is coming up next week and she’s been grappling with the best gift to get him; something practical or indulgent? He is a prolifically thoughtful gift-giver and she feels pressure on each special occasion to select the perfect thing to give him, though the pressure comes only from herself. She’s contemplating this as she finishes up an autopsy, replacing the organs in the chest cavity and suturing up the Y-incision.

“Dana,” the pathologist about to come on shift calls out to her, “someone is asking for you.”

“I’ll just be about ten minutes, Trudy. Who is it?” she returns, gently settling the young woman’s liver back into her body.

Trudy shrugs. “Tall guy in a suit, cute, dark hair.”

She feels a flutter in her belly and then immediately chastises herself.

“Tell him I’ll be right there, please.”

She apologizes internally to the decedent as she rushes through the final steps, not taking quite as much care as she typically does.

After scrubbing her hands and fixing her hair, she steps into the hallway to find Agent Mulder sitting on a bench. His back is against the wall, his long legs crossed casually as he studies the art hung opposite him. He looks so composed and confident it unnerves her.

“Agent Mulder, what can I do for you?” she asks, forcing confidence she does not feel into her own voice.

The smile that lights up his face when he turns to look at her makes her flush, and she can feel the heat in her cheeks. Being unable to hide her emotional response behind her fair complexion has always been something she resents.

“Scully, good to see you. I wanted to follow up on the Dugan case, you said you were interested in understanding the motivation behind your autopsy findings,” he says as he stands and walks towards her, his tall frame looming above her such that she has to look up at his face. He stands close enough that she can smell his aftershave and see the stubble coming in on his cheeks.

“Oh, yes, I was curious about that,” she replies, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. Why does this man make her so nervous?

“If you’d like, you can meet with the lead behavioral analyst on the case. They can tell you how they drew parallels between the wound pattern you observed and the perpetrator profile,” he offers, a slight tilt to his head as his green eyes jump around her face as though he’s trying to commit it to memory.

“That would be great, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that,” she replies self-consciously, feeling as though she asked for something she shouldn’t have, even though she’d never requested this.

“Do you have time today?” he asks, lifting his wrist to glance at his watch. She knows it’s just past 4 pm.

“Um, yes, actually, I’m done with classes for the day and that was my last autopsy. I was just going to do paperwork for a bit, but I can defer it until tomorrow.”

A small smirk flashes on his mouth, but quickly disappears.

“Alright, why don’t you meet them at that cafe you mentioned in, say, thirty minutes?” he asks.

“Okay, that should work,” she replies, “what’s their name, so I can find them?” She should have just about enough time to change and get there by 4:30.

His eyebrows lift as though he just realized he forgot something, and he pauses before continuing.

“Uh, Fox. His name is Fox. I’ll describe you to him, he’ll find you.”

“Fox?” she asks dubiously, “is that a real name?”

He purses his lips. “Sadly, yes.”

“Alright, well, thank you, Agent Mulder. It was, um...it was good to see you again.” She extends her hand with her chin held high, trying to portray an air of professionalism and not one of a girl with a crush, which is how he makes her feel.

He takes her hand and smiles at her warmly, a little something coy behind his eyes.

“Likewise. I hope to see you again very soon,” he says confidently, and she feels her belly tumble yet again.

——————————————————————————

He stands in the hallway until Scully disappears into the staff locker room, then books it over to Cafe Adamo to get a quiet table in the corner. He’s not sure exactly what he’s after here; she has a boyfriend after all. He just hasn’t been able to get her out of his head all week. When the lead analyst on the Dugan case had a family emergency and needed to take leave, he jumped at the opportunity to take over the case, getting a little thrill from reading over her report and incorporating it into his profile. It felt as though they were creating something together.

He watches the clock, a pit in his belly as he wonders how she’ll react to learning that he tricked her into having coffee with him. He barely knows her, but gets the sense that she doesn’t take shit from anyone. That is, in fact, what draws him to her. Well, that and those plush pink lips. He hasn’t been this affected by anyone since he and Valerie split.

When the door swings open and she steps through in fitted jeans and a black T-shirt, he feels a wave of nausea. She’s even more beautiful in street clothes than she was in scrubs, her tiny waist curving up into a modest bustline. She scans the room and when her eyes fall on him, she quirks her head to the side and her eyebrows knit in confusion. His heart starts to pound and he stays glued to his seat, watching her traverse the room until she reaches him and gives him an expectant look.

He holds out his hand. “Fox Mulder,” he says with a guilty smile, and she lifts her chin before tucking it to her chest, taking his hand with a pensive expression.

“I see,” she says, her tone skeptical. It’s clear that she is unsure of his intentions.

“I am the lead behavioral analyst on this case, for the record. I am now, anyway,” he offers, and watches her doubt deepen. What the hell did he think was going to happen, catfishing an unavailable woman into a date? “Will you sit?” he asks hopefully, and she does, though he can tell by her posture that she is one wrong move away from fleeing the scene.

Someone comes by and takes their coffee order, and he sets his profile on the table, getting right to the reason he asked her here lest she think he’s completely full of shit.

“You noted that the victim was stabbed repeatedly in the exact same location, giving the appearance of one wound,” he explains, “we’ve seen something similar with the other victims, and at this time my theory is that the perp lost someone close to them in this manner, perhaps a family member or parent. I believe they’re re-creating the injury that killed their loved one, though because these crimes are so rage-fueled they feel compelled to injure the victim more extensively than just the one wound. The repeated stabbing in the same location provides an outlet for that rage while preserving the one-wound injury that is the cause of death.”

She reads over his profile with interest, nodding along as he speaks. “That’s very interesting,” she says, lifting her head to look at him, and he feels a swell of pride at her praise. “You had to trick me into getting coffee with you to tell me that?” she adds flatly, and now it’s him who is blushing.

She smiles victoriously at having made him uncomfortable, a bright, dazzling, toothy smile, and he’s overwhelmed by how attracted he is to her. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again and just shrugs.

Their coffee is delivered and he watches intently as she licks at the foam on her cappuccino. Her blue irises dart up to meet his and he startles at having been caught, picking up his own cup and taking a big gulp that burns the roof of his mouth.

“Your name sounds very familiar,” she begins, “why do I feel like I’ve heard it before?”

“Uh, I had a bit of a reputation at one time,” he says with a regretful tone. “Are you familiar with the X files?”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Spooky Mulder,” she says with realization, “that’s where I’ve heard your name.”

He grimaces. “Not my favorite nickname, but yes, guilty as charged.”

“But you’re in the BSU now? Not on the X files anymore? I’m surprised I’ve never seen you around Quantico,” she remarks, and he can see her relaxing a bit.

“No, the X files division was shut down a couple years ago. I was in the BSU before I reopened the X files, and transferred back after I was reassigned. I’m part of a small BSU team that works out of the Hoover building, so I’m not down here all that often these days.”

“Why was the X files division shut down?” she asks before licking more foam from the rim of her mug, and he shifts in his seat.

“Well, how much time do you have?” he asks with a shy smile, “it’s a long story.”

She returns his smile. “Not that much time. So you’re into aliens and all that paranormal stuff?”

“Well, let me ask you this, Scully,” he says, leaning in, “do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?”

She gives him an incredulous look, but answers. “Logically, I’d have to say no.” He nods and sits back, but she continues. “Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements would exceed a spacecraft’s capabilities…”

“Conventional wisdom,” he interrupts, “I just happen to disagree with it.”

“On what basis?” she asks, curious but not derisive, which is what he’s used to getting in response to his theories.

“If you’d seen what I’ve seen, Scully, you’d understand why I believe in such extreme possibilities.”

She tilts her head expectantly. “Do tell, Agent Mulder. Or should I call you Fox?” she asks with a haughty tone, though a playful one, and he blushes again.

“Please, it’s just Mulder. I even make my parents call me Mulder. I’m sure you can understand why with a first name like Fox.” She makes a face that says she can’t argue with that, and he continues. “I’ve seen things, Scully, things that defy all logic and can’t be explained by the laws of science. Repeat abductees, men who can stretch their bodies and travel through the slats of a heater vent, prehistoric monsters dwelling in the woods.” She’s giving him a doubtful expression, one eyebrow cocked suspiciously. He laughs a little. “I know I sound crazy, but it’s just crazy enough to be true. When convention and science offer us no answers, might we not finally turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?”

She screws up her mouth, politely suppressing the “you are certifiably nuts” expression that wants to present on her face. He’s used to it, and takes no offense.

“What I find fantastic, Mulder, is any notion that there are answers beyond the realm of science. The answers are there, you just have to know where to look,” she says in a tone that is both playful and sincere.

He smiles at her, sure he looks like a total dope. This conversation is more intellectually stimulating than any he’s had in months.

“You should come see the X files sometime, Scully. Tell me how you make scientific sense of what you see.”

“You have them?” she asks with wide eyes.

He shrugs guiltily. “I may have acquired a few on my way out.”

Her head dips lower in disbelief. “Is that allowed?”

“No, definitely not,” he answers with a chuckle. If only she knew the extent of his flaunting of bureau policy during his time on the X files.

She smiles at him in a way that he can only interpret as openly flirtatious, an acknowledgement that she finds his insubordinate behavior a little bit enticing. As suddenly as the smile appears, it vanishes and she checks her watch.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she says as she stands.

“Right, you’ve got somebody waiting for you,” he says with a regretful tone.

She looks at him guiltily, then thanks him for the coffee and leaves. He sits there for a long while, staring at the door she exited through.

“Shit,” he says aloud to no one.

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ heavy ✦

this chapter pairing; snakehybrid!woozi&bunnyhybrid!dino x reader

genre&warnings; Snake Eyes!AU, threesome, dom!jihoon, oral(fem receiving), fingering, creampies, cum eating/cum sharing, breeding kink, dirty talk, but also a bit of crack lbr, jihoon and chan being little shits 😩😭.

notes; you don’t have to have read Snake Eyes to read this! It’s not part of the main plot! 💕🐍 also the--☠️ draft for this was literally from 2013 and I literally ran it through the hot setting on the washing machine and put it in the dryer 3 times to get it to what it is today ☠️ Also!!! the final chapter of Monster Mash!!! omg!!! I can’t believe it’s done AND to end it with a Snake Eyes au chapter!! 😭😩 Enjoy!! Have a great rest of the weekend!!! I love u!! Happy Halloween!! 🎃👻 💕

word count; ~4300

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

it’s heavy;

heavy how i want you so bad

heavy when it hits me so fast;

heavy and it’s driving me mad

that i’m never gonna give you up!

“OH MY FUCK--GOD!” A shrill voice cuts through the nearly empty living room; three forms huddled together on the sofa as the horror movie continued on the tv screen.

“Are you serious right now, Jihoon? Nothing even happened yet and you screamed!!” You tease.

You’d come to learn that Jihoon quite actually hated horror films.

And apparently so did Chan.

Your eyes scan over Jihoon’s frame squished into your side as his own eyes leave the tv for the 60th time that night; his grip on your waist tightening as he digs his face into your shoulder. “I can’t do it, I’m trying to look at the corner of the screen but I just know something’s going to pop out, I just know it, I--”

“Hyung, she’s right you know, nothing’s even--FUCK WHAT WAS THAT!?” Chan jolts at the screen, his own arms tangling with Jihoon’s around your waist in fear as the demon in the movie re-emerges from a dark closet.

You sigh, wondering why Minghao and the others hadn’t replied to any of your calls and messages; leaving you alone with Jihoon and Chan on this dark and rainy Halloween night. And you loved Jihoon with your whole heart and taking care of cute Chan was always fun but everyone being missing and unreachable seemed a little peculiar. 

Even to you.

“You guys, it’s not even real. Look, c’mon, nobody is going to pop out of the closet later. I’m sure Mingyu would kill whatever came crawling out of the closet Jihoon and Chan, do you even have a closet for demons to come out of?” You tried to lighten the mood and reassure them as you pry their clammy fingers from your midsection.

They simultaneously shoot you a glare, crossing their arms as you separate yourself from their bodies.

“I really don’t get how you two are so easily scared by these horrible movies!”

Chan pouts, “Well hybrids exist so surely demons do too!” You shoot him a dumbfounded look, “That literally has zero correlation.” 

“Whatever, I’m gonna grab more popcorn and I’ll be back.” Jihoon grumbles; eyes avoiding the screen as he scurries off to the kitchen.

The horror movie continues to play, small whimpers and screams coming from both of the boys on either of your sides.

You still don’t understand why they thought watching a horror movie on a rainy night was a good idea but they were determined to finish it by this point. And you, on the other hand, were getting bored. Horror movies weren’t that bad for you and you slept perfectly fine afterwards so you weren’t worried.

Unfortunately for Jihoon and Chan, that was not the case.

Jihoon had cocooned himself into a blanket with only his eyes peeking out and Chan had stolen one of the sofa pillows and had used it to hide behind when a scary scene was taking place. Biting your lip, you turn to each of them, watching as their eyes stay glued to the TV.

“Hey, if you two are so scared, why don’t we just turn the movie off. You’ll regret it if you can’t sleep later… And Minghao might kick my ass if he knows I let this happen to Chan.” You offer. Jihoon clears his throat, agreeing that maybe it was a bad idea to continue while Chan already started to reach for the remote tucked under the mass of snacks nearby.

As soon as he hits the power button, a bolt of lightning flashes outside causing the power to suddenly blow.

“Fuck! The demon’s here, I knew it, it’s because we watched the movie! We’re done, oh god, I haven’t even lived that long and Minghao hasn’t even taken me to a theme park yet and I--”, Chan cries, throwing the remote control haphazardly across the room as he tugs his fluffy ears down in panic. He immediately turns to you, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he continues to ramble incoherently against your skin.

On your other side, Jihoon has gone completely silent as one of his hands searched the dark for one of yours; his eyes completely closed in fear of seeing something in the dark that he didn’t want to see. You attempted to wrap an arm around each of them as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, their forms drawing even closer and molding to your body.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m shocked that you two are so scared of the dark right now.”

The only real light coming in was from whatever little bit of moonlight was visible through the clouds as you stared at the blobs glued on your sides. “Let’s be fair here. We just watched a horror film where things lurked in the dark, can you cut us some slack!?” Jihoon scream-whispers as Chan nods against your shoulder, “Jihoon-hyung’s right, I’m not normally scared of the dark!”

You pat him on the head, running your fingers through his hair as he leans into your touch.

Jihoon unwraps from your hold a few moments later, his eyes adjusting to the dark against his will as he clears his throat.

“We--Maybe we just need a distraction, that’s all… I’m sure the power will come back on soon, or maybe one of the others will come see if we’re ok. We just… We need to find something to do or else our minds will wander.” He suggests. You nod in the dark, raising an eyebrow, “Like, a game or something?” Jihoon hums back an agreement. The three of you sit in silence trying to think of anything to play but nothing comes to mind.

“I can’t think of anything, Jihoon.”

Chan sighs, raising his head from your shoulder. “We could play that one game, y’know, ‘are you nervous?’ I heard Minghao-hyung talking about it! All we do is touch or do things to each other until someone chickens out! It could be anything!” You could hear a smile in his voice that almost made you smile until you heard Jihoon scoff.

“That sounds like fun until something grabs you and it’s not me or her, Chan.” Jihoon deadpanned.

You can only grimace knowing that comment went straight to Chan’s head. “Why on god’s green earth would you say that, hyung!?” An exasperated noise leaves Chan’s mouth as he lets go of you, arms flailing off of the sofa before he gasps and balls up again. “Oh my god, what if something grabbed me just now, would you have done anything to save me?” You had no idea who that question was directed to but you replied with a simple “yes”.

“Are we going to play or what? The more I sit here, the more I start seeing demons in the kitchen over there, to be honest.” Jihoon was getting restless, his fingers gripping your shirt. “We don’t have anything to do anyway, we need to get our minds off this power outage, and the potential demon. I think Chan especially needs it, he seems to be losing it more than I am.”

You can only nod in agreement; after all, what could go wrong. “Should I start then?”

It’s silent for a beat before Chan speaks up. “I’ll do it!”

Even in the dark, you can see Chan sitting up on his knees as you turn to face him slightly. He pushes your shoulder, causing you to crash into Jihoon; your back to Jihoon’s chest as his legs open wider to accommodate your figure. It’s a little uncomfortable on the sofa, but Jihoon doesn’t seem to mind. “Are you nervous?” You can almost hear the smirk in Chan’s voice and although you were confused with the shift in the atmosphere and maybe a tiny bit concerned at where this was leading, you didn’t voice it.

“Not at all, Channie. Should I go next?”

Jihoon and Chan both make noises of agreement as you considered your options. You really didn’t know what to do, so you simply placed your palm down onto Jihoon’s sweatpant clad thigh and squeezed. A garbled noise leaves his lips and you can hear the stutter in his breath. “Jihoonie, are you nervous?” He’s silent for a little too long before he replies with a slightly breathless ‘no' and asks if it was his turn.

You nod, feeling his arms come around your waist as he rests his head in the crook of your neck; lips lightly trailing up behind your left ear as he whispers a simple “nervous yet?” before kissing the shell of your ear.

You had to admit, this was getting a little too hot too fast and you weren’t sure if this was the nature of the game but you weren’t mad about it.

“Um, n-no…”

Chan takes the lead, lips easing into a wide smile. “I’ll go next!” His fingers rests on your bare thighs, slightly prying your legs open as he makes space for himself between them; careful to avoid grabbing onto Jihoon’s legs.

By nature, you clamp your legs shut, trapping Chan’s hands in between as you yelp. “Hold on, wait, wait, wait, what is going on here!?” Your face burns red in the dark, almost glad the power was out so that they couldn’t see even though you already know Jihoon can feel the way your body warms up.

Neither of them knew how to answer, so you sat in silence; only your steady breaths heard as you sat between Jihoon’s legs with Chan’s hands trapped between your still clamped legs. 

Chan clears his throat as he attempts to pull back his hands from between your legs. “I--um, uh, it--it was Jihoon-hyung’s idea! He told me to tell Minghao-hyung I was sleeping over and to not check in! And then he called Mingyu and told them to not check in either!”

“What!? Me!? Don’t you dare pin this on me, brat! We planned this together!”

Your mouth hangs open in shock, eyes threatening to fall out of your skull as they continue to argue. “I didn’t wanna do it! I told hyung it wouldn’t work! I told him we should’ve done it differently!” Chan cries; tossing his head back dramatically.

“Okay, both of you shut up! Jihoon, what is going on!?”

The snake hybrid groans from behind you, arms still locked tight around your waist. “Listen… I--It wasn’t supposed to go like this, okay? We were gonna finish the movie and then ask you if--if you wanted to, y’know, play with both of us. And don’t try to deny it, I know you think Chan is cute. I just wanted to treat you to something nice.”

Chan wiggles his fingers, still trapped in between your thighs. “But then it got all spooky instead and the power went out...” The bunny hybrid mumbles.

You could feel your body heating up at the thought of being between Jihoon and Chan. And in truth, you’d thought about it maybe once, but it was a fleeting thought that’d left your mind just as quickly as it’d entered.

“I--I mean, uh, I mean, I’m okay with this b-but Jihoon, are you really okay with this? You don’t have to--”

“I’m fine with this, too.” Jihoon cut in, his arms squeezing your waist tighter.

A thankful sigh escapes Chan’s lips as he chuckles, “Thank god. I’m not gonna lie, I’m already a little hard....” You can see his face clearly now that your eyes completely adjusted to the dark.

“We literally haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Shut up, hyung!”

“Ngh… C--Chan…”

Your fingers tangle into his hair, careful of his ears as he dips his tongue into your entrance. Jihoon continues to nuzzle at your neck, appreciating your warmth as the younger hybrid works your body up for the both of them.

“She likes it when you use your fingers, y’know. And if you curl them just right, it makes her feel really, really good.” Jihoon guides. His lips ease into a lazy smirk when Chan listens eagerly and brings his fingers to your folds; using your wetness to coat them before he positions his index and middle fingers at your entrance. “Can she take two at once?” Chan asks, voice almost eerily innocent to which Jihoon chuckles under his breath - the action making you shiver at how easily the two of them seemed to get along so well in this situation.

“Of course, she can. She’s always so good about taking my cock. I bet I could slide right into her tight ‘lil pussy right now. Couldn’t I, baby?”

You nod shakily as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of Chan’s fingers sinking into you slowly. He curls them almost immediately and you mewl and squirm as Jihoon’s grip on you tightens. “Oh, she’s so tight around my fingers already, hyung~” Chan murmurs. He thrusts his fingers into your hot cunt, tongue on your clit when he finds that you seem to like that best.

“Hmm~ Look at your favorite bunny hybrid trying to please you. Fingers knuckle deep while he teases your clit with his tongue. Are you gonna cum for him?” You let out a choked noise at Jihoon’s words and your fingers lock tighter into Chan’s hair when he taps your g-spot, wiggling his fingers inside of you to stretch you out.

“Oh, g-god, yes!”

Chan sucks your clit between his lips and Jihoon has to hold you down tighter as you try to grind against Chan’s face.

Jihoon’s fingers start to roam and squeeze you through your shirt; delicate fingers pinching your nipples as you mewl at the sensations they were making you feel. It was one thing to have Jihoon’s hands all over you but now that Chan was added to the mix, you found yourself getting addicted to the excitement that flooded your senses.

“A-ah, Chan…” The sound of you softly calling his name has him immediately pulling off of you, lips glistening with your wetness when he peers up at you through the dark.

“Hyung, am I allowed to fuck her?” Chan questions quietly. The snake hybrid bites the inside of his cheek.

His possessive nature screamed no, but the other part of him already felt his cock throbbing at the thought of you getting fucked by someone else and getting filled with so much cum from the both of them that it’d be spilling out of you.

Jihoon’s throat feels dry at the thought alone.

“Yes. Fuck her tight ‘lil cunt and fill her up with cum. We’ll breed her so fuckin’ good she’ll be begging us both for more.” Chan giggles innocently; a complete contrast to the way his eyes burn with unadulterated lust when he leans in close to your face.

“Ah~ Minghao-hyung always complains about me rutting against the pillows. Says my libido is too high, but I just can’t help it~ Finally, I get to fuck your tight cunt and I get to cum inside you and fill you up with my cum instead of just using my hand and making a mess on the sheets!” He grins.

Christ, Chan was really oblivious to the way his words affected you.

“Ngh, please, one of you j-just fuck me already~” You whine.

Jihoon’s fingers tug on your shirt, helping you lift it off of you as you’re finally completely bare to them both. His fingers immediately go back to teasing your chest as Chan sits up proper between your legs, pushing his sweats and underwear down. “Hyung, are you sure this is a one time only thing?”

You mewl as Jihoon pinches your nipples hard; nails digging into his clothed thighs in return. “We’ll talk about it later, Chan.” He replies easily.

Chan wraps a firm hand around his cock, moaning as he spreads the precum all down his shaft. “Mmh, I really need to fuck you now.” He mutters.

“D-do it…” Whimpering, you try to spread your legs a little more given the small space. “Mmh, m-maybe taking it to the bedroom, ah, might’ve been a better i-idea.”You mutter.

 Chan pouts, trying to get comfortable as he rubs the head of his cock through your folds, tapping your clit as you cry out in pleasure. “No, what if something grabbed one of us on the way there?” He retorts.

Jihoon laughs under his breath, eyes focused on the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

Chan lets out a shaky moan as he sinks his cock into your tight warmth, brows furrowing when he can already tell that he won’t be able to hold himself back. “Ah, you’re so--so tight…” He whines. His cock was a little shorter than Jihoon’s but just as thick to stretch you out to your liking.

He gives you a second to adjust before he skillfully draws his hips back and slams his cock into you. “Fu---fuck, she feels so good, I--I don’t think I can h-hold back…” His hands are on your thighs keeping your spread; biting into his bottom lip. “Ngh, please--please tell me I can fuck y-you harder!”

Jihoon smiles, snaking a hand down to your clit as he starts to roll the nub between his fingers slowly. It makes your pussy clench down harder onto Chan who lets out a choked whine at the feeling of your walls clamping down onto him in a vice grip. “Well, baby? What do you want? Tell your cute ‘lil bunny.”

Chan’s cock curves into your g-spot perfectly and with Jihoon’s fingertips teasing your clit, your head already starts to feel fuzzy. “Mmh… ah, y-yeah, fuck me h-harder, Chan… I wanna feel y-you...”

He whispers quiet thank you’s into the dark; hips slamming into you as Jihoon keeps you locked in his hold. Soft whines and moans spill from Chan’s lips and for a moment, it makes you wonder if he always sounded like this when he was alone and rutting against his pillow.

And almost as if Jihoon can read your mind, his sultry, lust filled eyes watch Chan’s cock fucking into you as he whispers, “How’s she feel, Chan? Better than rubbing your cock against the sheets? Or how about your hand?” The younger hybrid whines, cock throbbing as he already feels himself close to an orgasm.

“She---She, hah, feels so w-warm and wet… S-Shit, I’m going to think a-about this whenever I, ah, need to g-get off…” He licks his dry lips, committing to memory how your pussy felt around him. “It’s n-not gonna be the s-same when I’m alone…”

“Enjoy it while you can, bunny~” Jihoon teases. He takes his fingers off of your clit, nipping at the shell of your ear. “As for you, don’t cum, baby.” You nod shakily, realizing that at least that much was still only reserved for Jihoon.

Instead, Jihoon continues to provokes Chan, soft giggles on his lips when he sees the bunny hybrid struggling to stave off his orgasm. “Ah, hurry and fill her up with your cum~ I bet it’s been so long since you’ve cum, huh? You probably have a lot ready just to breed her tight little cunt too.”

His own words prove to do damage to himself when he feels his cock throbbing in his sweats; he really needed Chan to hurry up. And Chan doesn’t fare any better himself; airy whines and groans filling the air as he feels his abdomen tightening the more Jihoon continues to speak.

“Fu--fuck, I’m--I’m cumming!” Chan cries, hips pistoning into you at a breakneck speed as he fucks his cum deeper and deeper into you. Your body jerks between them both, choked whines of your own mixing with his as you do your best to not cum either which proves hard when Jihoon starts to coax you too.

“Mm, bet it feels nice and warm, huh, baby? Hot cum filling up your ‘lil cunt, waiting for me to cum inside you too so you’re full of both of us.”

“Jihoon…” You whisper, hips moving against Chan’s as he rides out the remnants of his orgasm. You can already feel the cum sliding out of you from around Chan’s cock and your mind turns to putty at the thought of Jihoon still fucking you and making you cum.

“Alright, bunny, time for you to move.” Chan nods slowly in return, thrusting into you one more time as the two of you share a moan. “Okay, okay, move!” Jihoon grumbles.

He realized it’d take days if not weeks to get Chan’s smell off of you. 

Not that it was a problem. He always had ideas in store to make it easier.

Chan slides his cock from inside of you, watching as the cum drips down onto the sofa in large globs. He licks his lips, already itching to get his hands back onto you as he starts to move back.

Jihoon slowly unwraps his arms from around you and moves to switch places with Chan who tugs his own sweatpants back up. “Can I take a shower after this?” He asks quietly.

The snake hybrid exhales harshly through his nose as he replaces Chan between your legs, pushing his sweats and underwear down in one swift motion. “We’ll all go shower after this, now hold her still.” Chan nods, ears flopping atop his head; satisfied for now.

He wraps his arms around your midsection much like Jihoon had done, chin nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he watches Jihoon running his cock through the mix of your wetness and Chan’s cum. “Mmm, hyung’s gonna make sure our cum stays inside your hot cunt~ ‘Cause you need to be bred, y’know? Ah, Jihoon-hyung’s so lucky~ He gets to breed your pretty pussy whenever he wants~”

Jihoon’s jaw clenches tight, a hand placed firm on your thigh as he uses Chan’s cum as lubrication when he eases his cock into you. “Fuck, you’re so wet!” He growls; already starting a quick pace as he chases his high.

He’d waited long enough.

“Ah, you’re so warm too, you feel so good, baby…” Jihoon pauses, licking his lips as his eyes meet yours in the darkness. “And all mine, right?” He thrusts into you particularly hard for emphasis; almost daring you to say anything different.

“G-god, yes, yes! I’m y-yours, ah!” Chan slithers a hand down your torso, fingertips on your sticky and swollen clit as he starts to pinch and roll the nub between his fingertips. You clench around Jihoon; overwhelmed with the urge to cum as they both stimulate your body.

“Why don’t you cum for Jihoon-hyung, hmm? Cum around his cock and milk him for all he’s got~” You mewl at Chan’s words, toes curling as you and Jihoon both feel each other close to the edge. Jihoon’s cock curves into you perfectly and hits all of the right spots inside of you that have you bucking your hips to match his thrusts.

It only takes a few more thrusts before you feel the tension in your body threatening to snap at any second.

“Jihoon, I---”

“I know, baby. S’okay. Cum with me.” His voice is breathy and raw as he, too, feels his cock throbbing inside your tight heat.

Chan and Jihoon work in tandem as your rushed cries of Jihoon’s name start to roll off of your tongue and his thrusts become erratic; groans on his own lips as the two of you cum at the same time. Jihoon doesn’t stop his quick pace either, instead, doubling it as he fucks his and Chan’s cum further into your pussy.

“Shit, that’s right, hyung. Breed her fuckin’ cunt.” Growling, Chan pinches your clit as you let out a high pitched whine.

“J--Jihoon, please, please, pl--please b-breed me! Get m-me full of your c-cum!” You cry; delirium mildly settling in as his hot cum paints your walls and spills out of you from around his cock.

“Ngh, that’s---that’s right, baby. Beg me to fill you up, hah, just like you like it.” Jihoon starts to slow down his thrusts just as Chan starts to ease his fingers off of your clit and you sob quietly at the bliss that continues to wash over your body.

Your chest rises and falls in deep breaths as the remnants of your orgasm start to ebb off and you immediately slump against Chan’s warm chest as the tiredness starts to overtake you. “Fuh--fuck, ‘m so full o-of cum…” You whine.

The two hybrids can only groan in unison.

Jihoon starts to slide his cock out of you; licking his lips when he sees how much cum spills from your spent pussy. “Ah, such a waste.” He comments.

“Wait, wait!” Chan catches your attention and Jihoon’s when he starts to move from behind you. Jihoon shoots the bunny hybrid a confused look when he ushers for Jihoon to move again. “Just trust me, hyung.”

They switch places one last time as you rest against Jihoon’s clothed chest, eyes focusing on Chan who kneels in between your legs.

“Hey, can I kiss her?”

You blush as Jihoon narrows his eyes at the other male. “Only one time. Make it good.”

Chan smirks as he immediately dives headfirst in between your thighs; lapping up the cum that spills out of you and onto the sofa. You latch your fingers into his hair by reflex, sharp cries on your lips from the oversensitivity as Chan collects the mixed cum on his tongue.

Jihoon has to admit, he’s a little impressed.

Once Chan deems it enough, he holds the cum in his mouth as he pulls away from your cunt and your hands fall from his hair.

You watch through hazy eyes as he stops when he’s face to face with you; smiling at you angelically. He leans in, lips pressed firm against your own as you moan into the kiss. And once your lips part, Chan’s quick to push the cum into your mouth; a little dripping down your chin at the messy way his tongue pushes it in. 

He pulls away once all of the salty substance is out of his mouth; a trail of saliva and cum connecting your lips as Jihoon whistles in amazement.

“Wow, can’t say I saw that one coming.”

Your cheeks flush and Jihoon enjoys the warmth that radiates from you in between their bodies. 

Chan smiles at you innocently again; reverting back to his sweet bunny-like nature.

“Can we find some candles and go shower now, please?”

[liddolwhynot2000]

Leaving

____________________________________

Summary: And even if the two of you were friends, she told herself, it hardly mattered. He was, despite his very vocal protests, friends with Hange, another woman. So one more to the list was no matter of concern.

____________________________________

Pairings: Levi/Reader, Levi/Petra

Genre: Angsty, One Sided Love, Levi ends up happy for once

____________________________________

Levi sat in his office, glaring down at the table full of paperwork. Usually he had a better work ethic then this, completing his work neatly and on time. Today, however, his mind was rather jumbled up. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to fully focus on the words sprawled on the paper infront of him.

Instead, all he could think about was how, a few days back, Petra had confessed her undying love and devotion to him. He had awkwardly tried to turn her down, only for her to beg him to actually think about it before making a decision. She had insisted that she could break down his walls, if only he would give her a chance.

That had been before they had faced an attack from Marley, so he hadn't bothered to give her offer more then a moments notice, dismissing any notions of romance and too busy with trying to keep his brats alive. But now, he was seriously considering her words. Not the idea of being with her, but the idea of just having someone.

He had spent so much of his life alone. He hadn't felt a warm embrace since the loss of his mother. But maybe, maybe he could actually have a companion. Someone to settle down with, someone who could support him.

Petra would be easy to settle down with, if he was willing to abandon everything that made the idea of being with her uncomfortable. Like the age difference. He was in his early thirties and Petra had just turned twenty. Even though she was the one pushing for the relationship, it still made him feel like a creep. And he knew everyone would point fingers at him, especially since he was her superior officer and she was directly in his squad. Even if he decided to not give a flying fuck about that, the idea of opening his heart to someone who he would probably send to their death at one point was uncomfortable for him.

Sighing, he decided he would turn her down firmly the next time he saw her. There was no reason for him to indulge her, he harboured no romantic feelings for her and it was best she got over her little crush as soon as possible. He would try to be nice as he could about it.

Mind made up, he went back to work.

____________________________________

Petra stood infront of her captain's office door, wanting nothing more then to go inside, but too scared to. She had confessed to him in the spur of the moment and was now afraid of facing rejection from him. Although a part of her, the part that was hopelessly in love with him, refused to give up.

It was well known that Captain Levi wasn't the type to take any sort of lover. In fact, someone had even passed a rumour that during his health inspection, he had checked the box for sexual partners as none. Of course, that rumour had also been promptly strangled to a graceless death once he got wind of it and made the entire survey corps run till they dropped. Everyday. For a week.

She knew he was hardly what one considered attractive, and that the attention and admiration he got from his title often withered away because of his stone cold personality. But she neither cared for his looks, nor his rank.

She was one of the few people who had noticed his kindness. The way he went out of his way to help his comrades, whether it was on the battlefield or giving advice. The fact that he gathered momentos of their fallen cormades. How he often carried expeditions on his back to lower the death rate. All those little things that others failed to notice, she had. And all of it made her fall hopelessly in love with him.

She could tell he thought that spending the rest of his life on his own and dying on the battlefield was his fate, but she would do everything possible to convince him otherwise.

Resolving herself to convince him, she knocked. The door creaked open, and peering in, she realized he wasn't in his office. Suddenly she remembered that most of the soldiers had gone out to drink, she figured he must have gone along with them.

Shrugging, she decided it would be best to approach him the next day and decided to go to sleep early rather then seek him out right now.

She had no idea how much she would regret not going to the bar that night.

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

The bar was packed. Levi scrunched up his nose in disgust at the sight before him. Rowdy soldiers laughed and sang together. The smell of booze wreaked in the air and someone was playing the guitar.

He had been dragged into this filthy place by Hanji. All the soldiers had the night off and wanted to enjoy it to the fullest. The only reason Levi had allowed Hanji to drag him in here was because he refused to let the 104th cadets drink. It was entertaining to snatch the glass of alcohol out of their hands, watch them fume, turn around and then falter at the sight of their captain being the culprit.

Once Eren and his little group left the bar, Levi decided his job of torturing the brats was done, and left a little while after them. He had initially wanted to leave the moment they had, but Hanji had decided to play her usual game of pointing out random, pretty girls in hopes of inticing him to 'getting some'. Once she got desperate at his constant rejection and started highlighting men, he tripped her and left at the speed of lightning.

Walking slowly in the darkness, he let himself enjoy the peace and quiet. The Survey Corps headquarters were always loud. Something was always going on. Whether it was training, mission plans, Hanji, the brats wreaking havoc or Eren accidentally transforming for the unteempth time, he could never enjoy any genuine quietness.

The sound of a struggle broke him out of his thoughts, eyes narrowing as he turned to the source.

'Let go of me-I said let mph GO-'

'Come on we just wanna have some fun-'

He inched closer to the alleyway. Spotting three men surrounding a struggling woman, pulling at her clothes, the sight had his blood boiling. The image of another woman, older, being pulled at by men too strong for her, just like this, flashed through his mind.

Without a second thought, he lunged.

____________________________________

The next day, the Survey Corps headquarters was rather quiet. Over half the soldiers nursed hangovers and pretty much died at anything louder then a whisper. The former 104th cadets, who had been upset at not getting to drink, suddenly felt glad. The faces of their superior officers gave away exactly how horrible they felt.

Petra chuckled at the sight of her cormades and their pathetic state, relieved that she hadn't gone out, sothe newbies wouldn't see her in this less-then-decent condition as well.

'Umm, excuse me?'

Almost half the room turned towards the door. A woman stood there, her long hair tied in a braid and holding a basket full of goodies in her hand.

'I'm here to visit someone. I was hoping someone could guide me to him. '

Armin, closest to the door, smiled pleasantly and approached her. The rest of the room returned to their business of trying to look alive despite feeling the opposite inside. No one else bothered hearing what was going on, although Petra couldn't help taking note of their visitor.

You were clearly a civilian and, Petra had to admit, quite the beauty. Wearing a white button up shirt with a light green vest on top and a long brown skirt. A rather plain look, but it suited you nonetheless.

Armin began leading you away, and Petra realised she hadn't learned who you were visiting. Oh well, it was almost time to give the captain his tea. The mystery could be solved later.

.....................

Holding a tray with tea, some biscuits and two cups, she knocked on the door. She could hear muffled noises, it was probably Commander Erwin or Hange inside with him. She smiled to herself, glad that she had brought more then one cup.

Once given permission, she entered, and found herself rather startled by the sight infront of her.

For once, the captain wasn't seated at his desk. He sat on the couch, casually leaning back, one leg crossed over the other, an arm splayed on the top right of the sofa. On his left, sat the pretty woman who Armin had led away. The basket she had brought with her had been opened, and its contents, which included cookies and box's of tea, were strewn about on the table infront of them.

'Oi put the tea down already.'

Snapping out of her thoughts at the Captain's voice, Petra swallowed roughly, trying to keep her expression neutral and set the tray down. She began to reach for the kettle to pour it for him, all the while trying to not give into curiousity and the ugly feeling in her gut by looking at the woman occupying the other end of the couch. A part of her sorely wished she had only brought one cup instead of two.

'There's no need to pour it for me. You can leave now'

'B-but captain I always-'

'There's no time. We have patrol in the afternoon, go tell the others and prepare accordingly. If I find anyone slacking off because of last night, I'll kick the shit out of them'

There was no room to even think about disobeying that tone, so, with a clear 'Yes sir!', she stiffly saluted him and left the room. Each step felt strangely heavier then the last.

..................................................

When Petra had joined the Survey Corps, one of her favorite activities had easily been horse riding. It was relaxing for her, even on patrol. The light breeze that accompanied it made her feel fresh and it was good excercise too. She often got lost in her thoughts during this time. Although, not for the first time, her thoughts were centered around the man leading the patrol.

She didn't contemplate how strangely handsome he looked with his hair swishing back and forth like that. Nor did she think of ways to get him to accept her. Today, she could only mentally question him.

Who were you? How long had you known each other? Were you a friend? Or a fan? Wait no, Captain Levi didn't entertain fans, no matter how attractive. The two of you had clearly met before. Were you his lov-

Petra slammed the brakes on that thought before it could finish, calming herself. She was getting too out of hand and wild with her assumptions. You had likely been an aquantince of some sort. Nothing more.

And even if the two of you were friends, she told herself, it hardly mattered. He was, despite his very vocal protests, friends with Hange, another woman. So one more to the list was no matter of concern.

Determined to shut out the voice in her head that alluded to that you being something more then a friend, Petra nudged her horse fiercely. She simply wasn't use to him being even slightly friendly towards other women. That's all.

The strange burning in her chest never quite left.

____________________________________

Later, she learned that you had come to thank him. Captain Levi had saved you from some thugs last night. Relieved, she told herself to not think about you anymore. Clearly, your visit had been a one time thing and Captain had just been polite. She doubted she would see you again. And so, she carried on with her life, dismissing all her thoughts about you.

Three months later, they had returned from a mission and stopped for a while in the civillian district that came before their headquarters. Everyone dispersed, with Eld dragging Gunther away to the flower shop to buy something for his fiance and Eren and his group heading to a food stall. After Olou made another attempt at hitting on her and bit his tongue, Petra promptly went looking for the Captain.

She figured he was probably at some tea stall, trying different tea's. Or maybe buying cleaning products. Humming, she strolled along the road, eyes scanning the crowd. He had turned her confession down, but she was still determined to let him know that she cared. Maybe spending some time with him would reassure him that she was serious? She was willing to wait for him as long as necessary.

When she finally found the person she had been looking for, her heart dropped in her stomach.

Captain Levi was sitting at a little cafe, drinking tea, just like she had thought he would be. However, he wasn't alone. You, dressed smartly in a knee length yellow dress, sat next to him. The two of you appeared to be peacefully chatting and sipping tea, clearly interacting with more familiarity then two strangers were supposed to possess towards each other. An indication that this wasn't a just a coincidental second meeting. Or third.

Petra hadn't cried since her first expedition, something she was proud of. She had faced deathly situations on a mothly basis since then and had refused to shed a single tear. But right now, as she turned on her heel and walked away with as much dignity as she could muster up, she really wanted nothing more then to sob into her pillow.

____________________________________

The next time she saw you again was about nine months after the 'Cafe Incident'. The Survey Corps had returned from a deadly mission. They had accomplished their goal, but some had sustained some injuries, fortunately incurring no loss of life. The biggest one of the injuries was captain Levi. He had gotten wounded while protecting Mikasa. The girl had gone off on her own again and nearly gotten killed.

After the doctor had looked him over and bandaged his wounds, he had been put on a week of bed rest. He had tried to vehemently argue against it, but Commander Erwin had put his foot down and ordered him to do nothing for the entire week or be suspended.

All the members of squad Levi had taken turns bringing him food and changing his bandages. Even a guilty Mikasa had helped out, shamefully apologising to Captain Levi.

Of course, it was only when it was Petra's turn, that you chose to visit captain. Entering the room, with a tray of bread, soup and some water, she could only feel relieved that the Captain was asleep and that you were sitting far away from him on the couch while reading a book. Food containers were neatly set on the table, filled with stew and boiled vegetables.

When the door opened, you looked up and then smiled at her. The smile faded when Petra set the tray down and began talking.

'You shouldn't be here'

'Excuse me?'

Maybe it was because she was feeling petty, or jealous, or both really. But she couldn't stop herself from misusing the rules to make you go away.

'Civillians aren't allowed here on work days. And they certainly aren't allowed to bring food here. You need permission from the commander or the Captain'

It was a lie really, the entire week after a mission like this was usually considered unofficially off, hence there was no need to get permission. Several soldiers often recieved visits from concerned family members during this time. Petra knew that well. You, however, did not, and looked confused.

'I-Levi never mentioned that- He told me I'm listed as his emergency contact and that means I don't need permi-

'I checked the list. There's no name there'

Another big, fat lie. Your name had been discreetly added to his file a month ago. Petra had bitterly discovered it while delivering the file to Commander Erwin and had accidentally opened it beforehand.

'Are you sure? I signed the form, if you could please check agai-'

'I'm sorry but there's no name there. Please leave and take your things with you. You need specific permission and an actual relation to the soldier to visit'

Okay, she was officially a petty bitch. The part of her that felt ashamed at her own behaviour was easily overcome by the part of her that was sick and tired of being indirectly rejected by Captain Levi for this- this woman. She couldn't help feeling victorious as you made to gather your things.

'She doesn't need to go anywhere'

Petra's eyes widened, while you stopped your movements and immediately rushed to his side, asking him how he was feeling. He answered lowly, voice hoarse from sleep, assuring you that he was fine.

Like a thief caught stealing, Petra made to leave the room as silently as possible. As she shut the door, she briefly made eye contact with Captain Levi, whose usually emotionless eyes had morphed into a dark glare. He obviously hadn't missed out on what she had tried to do and if that last look had been anything to go by, she was in some major trouble.

____________________________________

Levi calmly ate his stew, enjoying the fresh and rich flavour. You had made it for him, hence why he couldn't help savouring it even more. You had left a while ago, after he had made you leave. You ou couldn't stay overnight and he wasn't comfortable with you walking in the dark by yourself.

With a slight smile, he mulled over your existence. You had been a part of his life for a year now and he honestly hadn't expected things to turn out the way they had when he first you.

You, the crying, shivering girl he had walked home that night, had now become the most important person in his life.

And, Levi scowled, you had just been majorly disrespected by one of his subordinates. He had expected better from Petra. She had allowed her personal feelings to get in the way of being a professional comrade and had misquoted official guidelines.

He had initially been furious and had wanted to punish her immediately. However, you had insisted on finding out what the matter was and had stopped him from acting out in anger. It was solely because he had you calming him down that he hadn't taken any drastic steps.

You had been the voice of reason, pointing out to him about how young Petra was, and how to her, she had watched her first love pretty much fall into the arms of another woman. She was just a young girl who couldn't bottle up her feelings properly yet. Professionally punishing her now would only lead to more outlandish behaviour. Her feelings were something she would grow out of, or at least learn to control. Any official repercussions would lead to a bad mark on her record and would probably make the matter worse. His usual style of dealing with brats just wouldn't work this time.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned into the pillows, wondering where he had gone wrong. He had rejected Petra firmly when had found the chance, which had been a day after meeting you. He had tried to be gentle about it, not wanting to hurt his comrade and had thought she was mature enough to not take it too personally. Obviously, he had been wrong.

While Petra hadn't approached him with any more confessions, he had caught her looking at him with that weird, longing expression more times then he was comfortable admitting. Her feelings had begun to interfere with her behaviour, and that was intolerable. No matter what you said, he would have to do something about this sooner or later.

The solution came to him a week later.

____________________________________

Petra stood in Commander Erwin's office, shoulders straight, arms in a firm salute. She could hardly believe her ears.

'I-I'm being promoted sir?'

'Eventually, yes. You and the rest of the senior members of Levi squad will support Section Commander Hange and train new squads formed from the 105th and 106th cadet corps. The end result will be four squads, each led by one of you, giving you the rank of Captain in about a year. The rest have already been informed.'

She stared in awe, not sure if this was real. She had walked in here, nervous, expecting an official warning for her behaviour with the woman whose-name-she-refused-to-even-say-in-her-mind. It had been four months since then, and captain Levi hadn't said a word to her about it, only assigning Sasha in her place to bring him tea in the morning. She had figured her punishment had been the unnaturally long wait for it and that the Commander would rip her a new one for making the Survey Corps soldiers look disgraceful in front of civillians. After all, the Military Police and the Garrisons were the ones lacking discipline, while the Survey Corps was reknown for being the prim and proper gorup.

With a determined smile, she profusely thanked the Commander, feeling genuinely grateful and excited at the prospect of leading the next batch of soldiers.

'The Special operation Squad has been officially disbanded. All four of you will head to the Northern Survey Corps headquarters with the cadets-'

Her eyes widened, heart plummeting.

'-and train them to respond to severe situations in that area. The military there was far too unprepared for Rod Reiss's Titan attack. It Marley attacked from there, we wouldn't be able to withstand it'

'Sir the northern branch..?'

She hadn't mean to interrupt him, but the words had left her mouth before she could stop them. Erwin raised an eyebrow at her, his expression cool and tone even, but still sharp enough to make her wince.

'Is there a problem officer Ral?'

'No sir!'

'Good. Prepare to head out in a week's time. After a year, they give soldiers the oppurtunity to settle their family in the civillian areas. So make sure to fill out the paperwork for it.'

With one last salute, Petra made to leave, only to stop dead at the Commanders voice. This time it was dry and toneless, but the threat was clear in it.

'One last thing, Officer Ral. Do try to behave respectfully and professionally around the family members of the higher ups there. Not everyone is as forgiving as Captain Levi. Some would end your career in minutes.'

Unable to look him in the eye, she bowed her head in agreement.

'Dismissed, Officer Ral. Have a safe trip and work hard. '

____________________________________

After fleeing to the safety of female barracks and finally finding herself alone, she let go of her somber demeanour and let the tears of humiliation loose.

Her promotion wasn't about her doing a good job so far. In fact, it was a way of saying that she wasn't doing her current job well enough. She had known that some soldiers would be sent to the Northern areas to improve the military there, but had figured Captain Miche and his squad would take on that responsibility.

The only way she and the rest of her squad had been nominated for it would be if Captain Levi had suggested them. And for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why. Besides the incident with you, she had still been dutiful as ever. Everything done on time and as efficiently as possible. So why had Captain decided to punish her like this. Sending her away from all her cormades, uprooting her career so carelessly. Just why.

Wiping her eyes, she realized she would just have to ask him herself.

____________________________________

'This isn't punishment Petra'

'But Captain, it feels like it is-'

'No, you dumb brat. If this was punishment, why would the rest of the squad be going with you? Why the hell are they so happy, frolicking around like little high-as-fuck shits huh? It's because it's a fucking honour. All of you are being assigned to build and lead the Northern military forces. A military that hardly exists, you shit heads are going to built it from scratch. And here you are whining in front of me, like a petulant little brat'

She gazed at him, wide eyed. Opening her mouth to talk, she immediately shut up as he glared fiercely at her.

'Stop holding yourself back because of your...'feelings' for me. You're more then this. You've done a damn good job on the field and this is your reward. Now get out of my office, go pack and then fucking celebrate your promotion with the rest of those hormonal brats. Understood? Good. '

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her. He could only hope his words had gotten through to her and that she understood that he truly hadn't meant to punish her.

Shoulders slumped, she walked down the hallway to her room. Captain Levi's words had cleared her head, however, Petra thought to herself sadly, the sight of you nursing your swollen, clearly pregnant stomach, while Armin and Mikasa helped you up the stairs, had made a far stronger impact.

It really was a good thing she was leaving.

____________________________________

A/N: I read too many fanfics about Levi breaking the readers heart for Petra 😤😤. So, I decided I would (realistically) break Petra's heart. Not for the reader. But, for reasons that make sense, rather then Levi rejecting Petra specifically for the reader. Also, Levi is in his mid thirties and reader is at least 27. I kinda wanna make a part that explores the hints of Levi and Readers relationship I gave in this, but I don't know if anyone would want to read that. My asks are open, so please ask away. I hope y'all enjoyed this!

[bffsoobin]

Windflower

01|02|03|04|05|06

↳ after a heartbreak you find yourself in a small town looking for purpose. you find employment with Choi Soobin and his impressive ancestral home. when you start to fall in love again, there’s no way for you to predict what you find in the depths of the home and Soobin’s mind.

➤ hanahaki au, angst

Word Count:3,052

Warnings: drinking (reader gets shmashed), vomiting, reader is very hard on herself, crying, swearing, mentions of pain, mentions of surgery, arguments, anger, Soobin’s temper is short as hell,Soobin is probably hiding something, it’s getting really angsty guys

A/N: Here’s another Windflower chapter! I can’t believe I’m writing the fifth part of this already. I still love this series so much I can only hope all of you are liking it just as much!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Luckily, Soobin was much too caught up in worrying over your injury to realize the way you winced with every wrong movement. There was absolutely no way you could let him know that you were growing flowers for him. The best you could do for now was push him out of your room and try to give yourself some space. 

“Soobin,” you rested a gentle hand on his thigh as he rambled about his encounter with a rude teenage worker at the hardware store. “I think I’m gonna take a shower, okay?” 

“Oh, yeah! Of course! I’m gonna go,” he stood in an awkward hurry- tripping over his own socked feet- once again towering over your frame as you remained stationary on your bed, “set up that AC unit in the living room. We can...watch some TV?” He bit into the soft flesh of his bottom lip, a small sign of nerves that sometimes caused the boy to make himself bleed. The stern, slightly panicked edge of his voice that you had become accustomed to since his return had totally dissipated. Unfortunately for you, the low sting of pain in your chest showed no signs of following suit as the boy backed out of your room carefully.

Once the solid click of the door shutting registered in your mind, an ice cold wash of anxiety took over your body completely. Despite the still oppressive heat, you shivered, feeling numb all the way down to your toes. A sudden burst of hot tears rimmed your eyes as you leaned against the sturdy bed frame for any amount of support you could get. Had you not learned anything at all? Oh god, how did you end up here for the third time in just over a year? 

A shuddering breath passed through your lips, only exemplified by the pain- although still slight- present in your chest. The persistent tightness felt as if someone had reached inside of your body and held a firm grasp on your heart just to control the blood flow. When did it get so hard to breathe? You tried to sit up, one hand covering your chest as if the mere presence of it would do anything to calm your anxiety. A disgusting mix of tears and snot was descending down the planes of your face, but there was nothing you could possibly do to stop them other than wiping your shirt vaguely over your skin. You couldn’t keep going like this and clapped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your hiccuped cries. If you cried any louder, you ran the risk of Soobin hearing and coming to check on you like a doting boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. Damn Choi Soobin and his increasingly boyfriend-like tendencies. That’s what had gotten you into this mess to begin with. How many gentle touches and thoughtful gestures could one girl take before she actually busted at the seams? You poured your heart out to him so early on that you’d allowed him and his actions to become so amplified in your head that you honest to god started to fall in love. The realization made you shudder. You were in love with Choi Soobin, and as much as you wanted to ignore it, the flowers prickling the inside of your chest made that impossible. You thought you knew better than to ever feel this way again, yet here you were, clinging to your last shreds of sanity as yet another unsuspecting roommate waited downstairs. 

Anger cropped up in your chest like weeds growing through gravel; dislodging the weighty feeling of despair that had just sent you for a tailspin. Your body was still shuddering, hands quaking as you finally made it into your bathroom and turned the shower to a heat that was wildly inappropriate for the weather. Despite the absurdity, you felt that you needed to feel the heat. You needed the type of pain that came with showering in water a bit too hot. The encasing, slowly rising hurt of scalding water that leaves your skin a bit raw to the touch felt like just punishment for the hell you’d landed yourself in again. Sniffling subsided, you stepped under the heated spray and got to work washing the day off of your skin.

----

By the time you were out of the shower, you were still at a loss for a way to contend with your newfound ailment. On one hand, you could just up and disappear from the town, creeping out in the middle of the night and continuing your aimless drive across the country. But something about that idea made your heart wrench in sadness. The thought of Soobin waking up in the morning to find you absent from the house without even the slightest indication of why you left made you feel sick to your stomach. You couldn’t do that to him. On the other hand, you could be honest and confess your feelings; tell Soobin that you had fallen in love with him and as a result have found yourself stuck in an incurable situation. 

But that was terrifying. What would he say? As much as you thought you knew him, who were you to assume he wouldn’t admonish or shame you? And facing the fact that he surely didn’t like you back? You’d rather not. 

So instead you dressed yourself and bounded down the steps to meet Soobin in the living room. You would simply pretend that nothing was wrong, work on distancing yourself and extinguishing your emotions until summer ended and you could leave without raising suspicion. As you descended the stairs, you caught sight of Soobin sprawled out on the sectional, bottle of water in hand...shirtless. You cursed under your breath and pivoted on your foot to escape back upstairs and pretend you were just feeling sick; but the sound of the staircase gave you away. Soobin’s head popped up at the noise, and as he made excited eye contact you knew there was no other choice but to drag yourself downstairs. 

“Hey, look! I set up both units down here and it already feels so much better,” he smiled lazily from his position on the couch. As you approached, you could see that had one of the units placed directly in front of where he was laying with his perfectly sculpted, honey toned torso on full display. Your mind reeled at the thought of how soft yet firm his chest must feel, and the way his slender figure could so easily-- a punch of pain in your chest had you righting yourself and swallowing down a wave of nausea. Soobin cocked his head at your behavior but you realized the look as simple concern. On a normal day, you would have come up with some kind of creative jibe about his staring, but today you simply gave him a small smile and sat down on the slippery leather cushion. 

If he noticed your change in behavior, he didn’t mention it; or more likely he just chalked it up to your earlier incident. Silently, he slid the remote your way as the sound of the small AC unit melted more into the category of background noise. You started up the show the two of you had started together and slumped into the couch, careful to angle your body away from his. 

After a few minutes, it became clear that you still weren’t in the right head space to pay attention to something as trivial as the comedy flashing on the opposite wall, so you picked up your phone with the intent of doing some research. Feelings squashed or not, you knew you would need to locate a hospital that could do a removal surgery for you. Provided you could time your exit from the house right, you could get surgery at someplace on the way to whatever your next destination would be. 

As soon as you opened the browser, your phone alerted you that the network was down. Soobin had previously warned you that due to the location of the house, both data and wifi had a tendency to shit out at a moment’s notice. The knowledge that even your phone had to be complicated today sent your mind reeling in an unwanted direction. God, you needed a break. 

The garden stood just outside the window as a reminder of calm, serene beauty that you needed so badly right now. For as many times as you’d gazed down at the flora; you never failed to find a new detail to captivate you. In the light of the descending sun, you caught sight of a thriving patch of lilacs. Odd. Lilacs were your grandmother’s favorite flower, and you could have sworn they only bloomed in April or May. But then again, what did you actually know about flowers? With Soobin and his green thumb, it shouldn’t come as too much of a shock that he was able to make a patch of lilac grow in early July. 

“Hey,” Soobin’s voice shook the thought right out of your mind, “it’s almost 6, are you hungry?” It was obvious that he was still treading on thin ice around you, and a small part of you really appreciated that. Another larger part of you hated the way his care and concern made the walls you were trying to put up crumble to the ground. 

“Yeah, I could eat,” you took a second to think, “actually I could use something to drink.” Soobin cracked a smile at that, putting his perfect teeth on display between plump lips. 

“Well, I’ve got a liquor cabinet I haven’t touched in a bit.”

“Really? The whole time I’ve been here and you never even mentioned that?” You had thrown your idea of distancing yourself into the wind. That could always start up tomorrow morning. 

“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel, but judging by the look on your face, I’m about to find out.”

“Yep!” You were already making your way to the kitchen to open every single cabinet in search of exactly what you were looking for. A cabinet stocked full of every single liquor you dreamed of drinking in your freshmen year of college. Unbeknownst to you, Soobin was watching on as you began to place heavy bottles onto the counter, giggling like a kid in a candy shop. 

----

How much time had passed since Soobin arrived home with a bag of greasy food from the diner you had visited on your very first day in town was a mystery to you. All you knew was that your rum and cokes- which had become progressively more rum than coke- were perfectly soothing all of the trouble you’d been through today. As you shakily mixed your fifth drink of the night, Soobin loudly expressed his concerns. 

“I think you’ve had enough, Y/N,” he laughed as you growled at the twist lid of the soda bottle that was giving you grief. He reached over your shoulder easily, laying his larger hand on top of yours. “I’m serious, you’ve had enough. You’re drunk.” The steely edge of his voice that you had heard for the first time earlier in the day when you whacked yourself over the head was back. For some reason, it made your blood boil. You could feel Soobin everywhere. His breath was ghosting over your hair, cascading down the smoothed skin of your neck in a way that made you flinch. His chest was only a few inches away from your back, and given the heat that the alcohol already had rolling off of you in waves, his extra warmth was not needed. Even his scent felt like it was choking you, rolling into your nose and slightly open mouth until even the smell of the open rum became a mere after note to the sharply contrasted cedar wood and citrus scent that felt like it was crawling down your throat and right to the spot in your chest where you were aching the most. 

“Get off of me,” you grumbled, yanking your covered hand away from the soda bottle. The movement made it teeter precariously as Soobin fumbled to hold it upright. 

“Jesus, Y/N. You almost spilled that!” 

“Whatever, Soobin,” you had made your escape from his vicinity, but you just couldn’t push down the suffocating feeling of his presence as you stood in the middle of the living room on wobbly legs. 

“Don’t be like this just because I’m cutting you off,” he approached you slowly, as if you were some kind of wounded animal that needed rescued. “You’ll wake up feeling like shit tomorrow if you keep drinking.” 

“I’m not just being like this ‘cause you’re cuttin’ me off-” you paused to gather your thoughts- “And I’ll still feel like shit tomorrow morning no matter what!” 

“Okay, just because two drinks would make you feel bad in the morning doesn’t mean you should have-”

“I would wake up feeling like shit even if I didn’t drink! I just feel like shit, Soobin!” 

“Y/N,” he took a single step forward, and you took a matching one backwards. He frowned deeply, lines forming on his forehead as you showed physical distrust in him. 

“Don’t,” the word barely escaped, shaky and quiet as the alcohol mixed with your hidden pains to overflow the dam of your mind. 

“Don’t touch me, please. Don’t even-” you coughed, chest contracting painfully, “come near me. I can’t trust you.” 

“You can’t trust me?” Soobin was raging instantly, fists balled at his sides and jaw clenched until you could see veins throbbing. “I let you live here, no questions asked. You rolled into town; no plan for anything so I gave you a home and a job! All out of the kindness of my own heart, I may add! You have gotten almost everything you’ve ever wanted since you got here, and you have the audacity to say you don’t trust me? What have you been doing the last six weeks, then? The first night when you spilled your heart out to me? What was all of that? I trust you, Y/N. Why can’t you say the same for me?” A solitary tear- born from anger or upset, you weren’t sure- rolled down Soobin’s heated skin.

The pain in your chest had become more persistent under the stress of his words, and you actually had to gasp for air as you swore you could feel the flowers growing an inch. 

“I just can’t!” You felt childish under his glare, stuck and unsure of what to say. “Opening up to you was a mistake. I came here out of desperation, you know that! I regret telling you about myself. I regret coming here. I regret ever knowing you.” To anyone outside of your body, you must have seemed perfectly sober. On the inside, your vision was swirling and swimming as you struggled to keep focused on the man across the room. “I can’t sit around the house and pretend that I’m not..” Soobin looked at you expectantly. 

“You’re not what, Y/N? What?” His voice rose and shook more with every question as he advanced on you. You felt terrifyingly like a flighty deer being stalked by a streamlined wolf. 

“That I’m not making the same god damn mistake I did before! That I can’t stop spending my free time trying to figure out why this house is so god damn confusing, or how you’re able to grow so many different flowers totally out of season!” His face became cold and stoic but he didn’t stop you. Instead, he watched on silently with intensified eyes. 

“I can’t pretend that I’m not in l-” a harsh roll of your stomach killed the words on the tip of your tongue. While for a moment it seemed like some kind of higher power had gifted you with the restraint your intoxicated mind lacked, you soon felt differently. Your whole world spun as you gagged; the telltale taste of vomit sitting at the back of your throat as you fumbled for the nearest bathroom. Luckily you were familiar enough with the layout of the house to launch yourself onto the floor in front of a toilet before emptying the contents of your stomach. 

Rum burns even more coming up your throat than going down, you decided. The mix of alcohol and the greasy diner food you had ingested when the night was still young made your eyes water violently. In between rolls of your stomach, you laid your forehead on the cool porcelain of the toilet and indulged in the darkness behind your closed eyes. The relief only lasted a few seconds before you were hurling again. This time you produced much less vomit, but there was an incessant tickle in your throat that threw you into a fit of dry heaves. The sound of yourself bounced off the walls just to mock you. 

When you were able to open your eyes again, you examined the damage. Mostly to be sure that you hadn’t puked over the side of the bowl; but also partly to see if your suspicions were correct. Staring back at you from the mix of nondescript upchuck was a smattering of wide, red petals that gently faded into white at the bottom.

Although you were done actively puking, a new roll of tears filled your eyes as everything caught up to you. From the doorway, you heard Soobin clear his throat. In a hurry, you reached up to flush all of your offensive excretions before he could spot the real reason for your anger and adjacent need to drink yourself stupid.

“I brought you uh, a washcloth,” he stuck his hand toward you but made no attempt to step closer, obviously wounded by your earlier comments. 

“Thanks,” you winced at the acrid taste lingering in your mouth as you reached for the cool cloth to wipe at your mouth. Soobin stepped back from the door but you had a feeling he was still lingering outside in the hallway. 

You laid your head back on the cool seat of the toilet; alcohol and despair rushing to your head all at once. What the hell were you going to do now?

[aver-no]

Real to Me (Princess and the Frog AU) Chapter 1

First | Next

AO3

Summary: Virgil’s closer than ever to getting his dream, Pat’s prince is finally coming, and the Creativitwins are here, queer, and- shit.

Relationships: Platonic moxiety, familial creativitwins, eventual prinxiety

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remus, and Janus (eventually Logan and C!Thomas)

Warnings: Unsympathetic Janus (I promise he gets a redemption arc) and like. one very minor swear word (lmk if I need to add anything else)

Word count:  4343

A/N: Heyyyy... so this chapter. Was NOT meant to be this long lmao, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! I worked really hard on it, and as always reblogs are very much appreciated :) (Also feel free to drop by my ask box if you have any questions!!)

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Virgil groaned as he fumbled for the off button on his alarm clock. Another day. He rolled out of bed, narrowly avoiding the beat-up nightstand, working the kinks out of his neck. He quickly straightened out his sheets and stepped over to the old (“it’s vintage”) mirror his mama’d given him. Virgil wanted to make sure he was presentable, if only so he’d be stared at as little as possible. He tugged at his tight curls and grimaced. He’d slept in his work clothes to save time in the morning (lord knows he needed all the sleep he could get) but it left him looking a little rumpled. Virgil could see bags under his eyes too, and there was no time to put on makeup. He sighed. The outsides are just gonna have to match the insides today. 

Virgil shuffled over to his closet to grab his coat. He rubbed his eyes and smiled at the sight of his dad’s picture, right next to the illustration he’d given Virgil so many years ago. Working three jobs suddenly didn’t seem as soul-crushing as before. He grabbed the black coat, quickly shrugged it on, and dashed out the door, snatching his hat at the last minute – it might rain later.

Virgil got to the corner just as the tram was pulling up, green paint and white stripes as dull as ever. The door opened and Virgil was eternally grateful someone he knew was at the wheel. He didn’t think he could handle the stress of wondering if they were going to go off the tracks. He gave a small smile to the portly man driving. “Hi, Charlie.”

“Hey Virgil!” Charlie looked him over sympathetically. “You’re lookin’ a bit roughed up today, son. Didn’t get much sleep?”

Virgil internally grimaced, knowing he’d probably be getting comments like that all day. He just forced a laugh as he reached the top of the steps and replied “Gotta pay the bills. You know how it is.” He wasn’t going to mention he could pay the bills just fine with one job. Or that he was probably chasing a pipe dream.

“Ha, yeah,” and a sympathetic look were the only responses Virgil got. That was fine. Uncomfortable people didn’t ask you questions.

Virgil walked down the dirty aisle of the tram. There were some empty seats, the hard plastic kind that public transport always has, but he just grabbed hold of one of the metal poles in the middle of the aisle. 

Every once in a while, Virgil felt his eyes close for a few milliseconds longer than he’d normally let them. He didn’t want to let his guard down, lest he be pickpocketed or trampled or find himself in any other scenario anyone else might call “unlikely,” but it took an astounding amount of effort to pry his lids open every time. Virgil tried to fight it by staring at the people and cars passing by. New Orleans was as lively as ever. Even at 5:30 in the morning, there were jazz musicians playing on street corners and people dancing beside them, looking like there was nowhere else they’d rather be. 

Virgil unfortunately became quite familiar with that fact as he stepped off the tram, almost running into a line of musicians as they paraded down the street. He started to get increasingly impatient as the trumpet, then the trombone, then the drummer danced by. Just as there was a break in the line and Virgil could see the street he needed to take to Duke’s Cafe, a large man with a handkerchief grabbed his hand and swung Virgil around in a circle. Affronted, Virge pushed the man’s hand away and quickly walked in the direction of the restaurant. Some people need to learn personal space.

一

“Wait Remus, I’m going to- ! Oof!”

Cackling could be heard as a fancifully dressed man with loose, dark curls piled on his head slammed into the railing of the ship. 

“But Roman,” Remus said innocently, “I thought you said you were excited to get on land.” He waltzed up to the man pushing himself away from the edge of the boat.

“That doesn’t mean push me off the ship!!” Roman playfully shoved Remus.

“Eh, you didn’t fall or anything,” Remus shrugged.

The other rolled his eyes as the boat slowly pulled up to the docks, allowing the men aboard to see the photographers and reporters waiting to catch a glimpse. As soon as the ship pulled in view, flashes started to go off, capturing its gleaming white hull and a man standing behind the railing. As Roman flashed a practiced grin, Remus stepped away from the railing, as if hoping to prolong the time he had before stepping off the boat. When the ship began to pull to a stop though, the twins walked over to where the stairs led down to the dock, one with excitement in his eyes, the other with distaste. Roman struck a pose, hands on his hips (easy access for elbowing Remus), and flung off his crown to dash down the steps. Remus chased after him, determined not to be left on the boat (again), only pausing when he physically ran into Roman at the bottom of the stairway.

“Ro, what th-?!”

“Prince Roman! Over here!! Did you see you were declared most eligible bachelor by the Times-Picayune?” 

Remus squinted at the reporter that called out to them. To Roman, anyway. Most eligible bachelor? Really?? That’s the dumbest question I’ve ever heard.

Roman, however, grinned and drifted to the center of the crowd. “Well no, you see, I just arrived, but to say I’m surprised would be-”

“Prince Roman! What do you think of New Orleans? Have you received your invitation to Eli La Bouff’s masquerade?” 

Remus’ expression soured. Masquerades were lame anyway. He tried to push his way toward his brother. “Roman, come on-”

“I’ve found this city quite welcoming so far,” Roman didn’t acknowledge Remus, he just paused to beam around at the crowd, “and I’m looking forward to seeing more of it. In fact-”

“In fact,” Remus cut in, finally reaching that asshole, “we’d enjoy it more if we did some sightseeing.” He shoved Roman away from the crowd without waiting for a response. He hated reporters. He wasn’t even allowed to talk around them because apparently what the press hears is “important to our reputation” and if he doesn’t watch his language, “rumors might spread.” It was one time! And who would actually believe that Roman uses cacti as dildos? The whole thing’s all shit on a stick if you ask him.

“Oh, yes! Sightseeing!!” Roman clapped his hands excitedly and followed Remus off into the city.

一

Roman couldn’t remember when, but at some point he had lost Remus in the busy streets. It was definitely after he’d changed into street clothes, but before he passed the place grilling shrimp… The prince wasn’t too worried about his brother, but having a loose Remus on the town probably wasn’t great for the people of New Orleans. 

Ro’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a trumpet blaring a couple blocks down. His head shot up and he took off down the road, drinking in all the sights around him. Every once in a while, he’d wink at a stranger, or maybe strum his ukulele in tune with the sounds of the city. 

As the prince reached the end of the block, he saw a line of musicians dancing down the street. Roman’s face lit up and he chased after them. When he caught up he strummed along with the group and called, “Mind if I join?”

“Hey, we can always use another!” a dancing man with a handkerchief shouted back.

“Ashidanza!” Roman danced off after the band. These guys’ll probably show me all around the city. 

They walked down several streets, each as exciting as the next. There were so many people milling about, so many smells and sounds, so many lights strung up between balconies, and restaurants on every corner. He flashed his most heart-stopping grins at the people they passed, drawing blushes left and right. His eyes only lingered on a few, before he danced on.

The group of musicians passed by a diner that smelled particularly good, and a tall man with a strong jaw caught Roman’s eye. He spun around, strumming louder to catch the man’s attention all while eyeing him up and down. Tight curls, glowing skin, dark eyes? Looked a little tired, but handsome nonetheless. Yeah, that deserves a wink. But as soon as the man turned away from the table he was cleaning, he just rolled his eyes at Roman’s antics and walked back inside the diner. Roman simply shrugged and lost himself to the music. 

The group continued for a few blocks until they found a fairly empty road and started to really play off each other. Now this is what I signed up for. Roman cheered and whooped along with the others, and slowly a crowd formed.

It’d already been a few hours since he’d seen Remus but… what’s a few minutes longer?

一

“Order up!” Virgil held back a grimace at Buford’s gruff voice and the dinging of the bell. He turned to walk towards the back counter with his tray and pushed imaginary flyaways away from his forehead.

“Another coffee over here, Cher!” The man at a nearby table called.

“Gotcha, Eddie.” Virgil internally sighed and poured the coffee into the cup, eyeing Buford every once in a while to make sure he wasn’t gonna start slamming the bell again.

“Hey Virgil!”

He threw out a quick “Mornin’ Georgia” while placing a woman’s plate down.

“Hey, how you doin’ Virgil?” another voice called.

Virgil finally looked up to find a whole group of people sitting around a table, and hoisted the coffee pitcher off his tray to serve them. “Hey y’all.”

Georgia grabbed the mug he just filled for her. “We’re all goin’ out dancin’ tonight, care to join us?” 

There were some words of assent amongst the group, but Virgil just protested, “You know I don’t dance. Besides, I’m-” he handed a napkin to a dirty four year old he wouldn’t have even come near if it wasn’t his job. “Need a napkin? I’m gonna work a double shift tonight.” Virgil strode over to a well-dressed man putting a napkin around his collar. “Here’s your hotcakes.” He folded his empty tray to his side and turned back to Georgia’s group. “I’m just really busy right now-”

“Again?” Georgia interrupted. “All you ever do is work.” She looked so disappointed Virgil almost felt bad. Almost.

Buford’s bell dinged. “Order up!”

“Maybe next time,” Virgil called over his shoulder, knowing full well it was a lie. He thought he might’ve heard someone say “I told y’all he wouldn’t come.” But that was probably just his imagination.

Buford cut him out of his thoughts, “You daydreaming ‘bout that damn restaurant again?”

Virgil deadpanned. “Buford. Your eggs are burning.”

He scrambled to get them off the griddle, but kept going off on Virgil. “You ain’t never gonna get enough for the down payment.”

“I’m gettin’ close,” the waiter scowled indignantly.

“Yeah? How close?” Buford was just mocking him now.

Virgil pushed down his frustration to demand, “Where are my flapjacks?”

The chef didn’t seem to notice Virgil’s impending anger, just laughing out, “You got about as much chance of getting that restaurant as I do of winning the Kentucky Derby!” Virgil’s lip curled into a snarl, but Buford kept going. “Saddle me up, y’all! It’s post time! Giddyup!” Virgil heard the worst trumpet imitation he’d ever had the displeasure to witness coming from behind him as he stormed off with the food piled on his tray. Just ignore him. Just… just ignore them. You’re getting there. 

The bell dinged and Virgil looked up to welcome the customer, brightening a little when he saw who it was. Thank god. An easy customer. “Morning, Mr. La Bouff.”

“Morning, Virgil,” Eli rumbled as he pulled the chair out from his usual table and opened the morning paper.

Virgil placed the eggs and flapjacks on an old woman’s table. “Congratulations on being voted King of the Mardi Gras parade.”

“Caught me completely by surprise! For the fifth year in a row,” Eli joked. Virgil smiled good-naturedly at Mr. La Bouff’s hearty laugh. “Now, how ‘bout I celebrate with some-”

“Beignets?” the waiter placed a plate in front of the large man. “Got a fresh batch waiting for you.”

“Well keep ‘em comin’ till I pass out,” Mr. La Bouff laughed gleefully. 

Virgil had just given his most indulgent customer service smile and turned toward the kitchen when the door slammed open and left a blond boy with a light blue jacket and a cream waistcoat beaming in the doorway. He stood there for only a split second before jumping up to Virgil, shouting, “Vee!!! Virgil Virgil Virgil, did you hear the news??” He plopped down into the chair across from Mr. La Bouff to say “Tell him Daddy!!”

Mr. La Bouff slowly swallowed and held up his paper to show the front cover displaying a handsome man with loose curls and a dimpled smile. “Oh yes,” Eli started, “Prince Roman-”

“Prince Roman is coming to New Orleans!!” Patton interjected, giggling excitedly. “Isn’t he amazing?” His face got all dreamy before continuing, “Tell Vee what you did, Daddy!”

“Well, I invited-”

“Daddy invited the prince to our masquerade ball tonight!!” Pat jumped up excitedly, then seemed to realize he was making a scene and sat down to continue a little quieter, “Tell him what else you did!” Mr. La Bouff paused to look at Patton for a minute, expecting him to interject again, but Pat stayed silent. He looked to his daddy and beamed, “Go on.”

“And he’s staying-”

“He-” Pat started, but then caught himself, deciding to shove a beignet in his mouth instead.

“...And he’s staying in our house as my personal guest,” Eli finished proudly.

Patton nodded excitedly, and Virgil looked at them both with wide eyes. “Pat, that’s amazing! It’s a lot, but… amazing.” He walked back to the kitchen to grab another batch of beignets, and when he got back he placed the treats in front of them and rested his hand on Pat’s shoulder. “A little word of advice: My mama always said, ‘The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’”

“Don’t I know it,” Pat laughed, taking a big bite of his pastry before gasping, “Wait, that’s it! Virge, you are a genius!!” Virgil gave him a look of confusion from where he was placing dishes in the sink. “I’m gonna need about 500 of your beignets for the ball tonight!” Virgil looked up in alarm. 500?? Patton darted over to where his daddy was sitting and grabbed a large wad of cash from his wallet. “Will this about cover it?”

The waiter stood there speechless for a few moments before forcing himself to reach out to take the money Pat was shoving at him. “I- yeah. Yes, this- this should cover it just fine, Pat.” A rare smile slowly grew on his face and he looked up at the La Bouffs gratefully. “This- this is it... I’m actually getting my restaurant!”

Patton hugged Virgil tight and bounced him around, squealing, “It’s gonna be amazing Virge!” Suddenly, he let go, gasping, “I’d better get ready.” He grabbed his daddy and shoved him towards the door. “Tonight my prince is coming!!”

~

“Everything looks good to me, Mr. Fenner.” Virgil looked away from the building (his building!) as the man in question began to get up to haul the “For Sale” sign away. Another, much shorter man with the same nose and mustache walked by where Virgil stood. “.....And Mr. Fenner.”

“We’ll have all the paperwork ready to sign first thing after Mardi Gras,” the taller of the brothers announced.

“I’ll be at the La Bouff’s masquerade ball, how ‘bout I sign them then?” He wanted his ownership confirmed as soon as possible – there was no way something this good could actually be happening to him.

“You drive a hard bargain boy,” the shorter Fenner called from the car. “We’ll see ya there!”

Virgil finally let himself take a breath once the real estate agents drove off, and stood back to take in the view of what would be his restaurant. He felt truly hopeful for the first time in a long time. He was really gonna get his restaurant. Wow.

He was startled out of his reverie by a woman sneaking behind him to say, “Table for one please.”

Virge turned to see a woman with graying hair and deep smile lines holding out a beaten up pot with a bow tied around it. “Mama!”

“Here’s a little something to help you get started,” she smiled.

Virgil’s face went soft, a little nostalgic. “Dad’s gumbo pot…” He hesitantly reached out to take it from her.

“I know,” Eudora comforted, “I miss him too.” They both stood there for a moment before his mama urged, “Well now, hurry up and open the door!”

Virgil went and unlocked the doors, and as soon as they were wide enough to walk through, said wistfully, “Look at it mama... Doesn’t it just make you wanna cry?”

Eudora took in the cobwebbed rafters and the creaky walls. “Yes…”

Virge seemed to notice her skepticism, turning to look at her after placing the pot on a lone stool. “It’s a little rickety, it’ll definitely need some sprucing up to be safe, but can’t you see it? The maitre’d is gonna be right where you’re standing, and over there’s gonna be the gourmet kitchen.” Virgil gestured to the left end of the room. “And hanging from the ceiling, a crystal chandelier! I’ve been thinking about the weight of it to make sure it doesn’t fall down, and so long as it’s not too big, I can save on the structuring of it. Of course I won’t pinch pennies too much, I want it to be safe, but-” 

“You certainly have this all figured out, don’t you,” his mama laughed. “I’m sure this place is gonna be wonderful baby. It’s just…”

Virgil looked at her nervously. “What?”

“It’s a shame you’re workin’ so hard. It’s all you do,” Eudora smiled gently.

“How can I let up now that I’m so close? I’ve gotta make sure all Dad’s work means something.” I’ve gotta make him proud.

“Virgil, your daddy might not have gotten his restaurant, but he had somethin’ better,” Eudora squeezed his arm gently. “He had love.” Virgil snorted lightly. “Laugh all you want baby, but that’s all I want for you. Pat’s got his own dreams of happily ever after.” Virge’s eyebrows scrunched. “I don’t want you to be lonely. I wanna see you dance off into happily ever after too.”

Virgil stepped away from her. “Mama, I don’t have the time right now. I’m so close. Maybe when I get up and running, but right now… it’s just not an option for me.”

Eudora sighed and patted Virgil’s hand. “Alright sweetheart. I trust you.”

一

Roman stood amongst a crowd of people, all dancing and cheering. The trumpeter blared his horn, and the rest of the band energetically played along, the whole atmosphere charged with the infectious energy. A short news boy danced along with Roman, trading moves back and forth and smiling wide. After a few trades, the prince stepped to the edge of the circle to let the boy have his moment. With the space to himself, the kid dropped into a split and popped right back up.

“Ashidanza!” Roman laughed, tilting his head to some swooning admirers and immediately spinning back into the fray.

“Ro!” a familiar voice called. Roman looked up and smiled brilliantly, having caught the eye of his black-clad brother. “There you are. I should’ve been following the shrieking earlier.”

“Excuse me?” Roman dramatically placed his hand on his chest. “That is the sound of joy.”

“Sure, and you’re a heartthrob.” Roman squawked indignantly as Remus shoved him away from the crowd. “Come on, I found a restaurant that sells frog legs!!”

“What?? Ew, no. I’m staying here,” Roman dug his feet in.

“But Rooooo, they have five different sauces!! Five!!!”

“Yeah, for frog legs!”

“You got to play your jazz,” Remus argued, “so now we’re gonna eat some goddamn frog legs.”

“But I haven’t gotten to show all of my moves yet!” Roman protested. “And I’ve almost gotten enough admirers to form a fan club!”

“We should leave then, so my roguish good looks and entrancing humor don’t steal their hearts.”

“You mean your worm of a mustache and your freakish flirting?” Roman teased.

Remus glared and opened his mouth to argue, when a smooth voice came from the wall behind them. “Gentlemen!” The twins spun around to find a tall, masked man with a hooked cane and a black hat leaning casually against the wall. “Enchanté. A tip of the hat from Dr. Côté.” Roman noted that he didn’t actually tip his hat. The man – Dr. Côté – pulled a business card out of seemingly nowhere and held it out to them. “How y’all doin’?”

Remus swiped the card away before Roman could even lift his hand. “’Tarot readings, charms, potions.’” Re’s eyes shone brighter with each word. “’Dreams made real.’” 

Ok, now Roman’s attention was piqued. 

Remus looked up with a wild grin on his face. “You can really do that stuff?”

“Well… normally I do it for a price but… I suspect I’m in the presence of some very important people,” Dr. Côté grinned charmingly, canines glinting. The twins’ heads whipped around to share a look.

“...What other things can you do?” Roman inquired.

Dr. Côté seemed to really notice Roman for the first time. “Why don’t we take a little trip to my office and I’ll show you.”

The twins gave each other a look. Then Remus jumped up, shouting, “Come on, let’s just go already!”

~

First thing Roman noticed was that the “office” was not an office. Honestly, it was more of an urban cave – a nook in an alleyway off a street that was more dirt than anything else. It was filled with all sorts of things Roman never imagined would make for desirable décor. There were herbs dangling from one corner, and large masks with strange markings hanging on almost every available surface. Roman was pretty sure he saw some bones in the corner. The rugs on the floor didn’t match each other at all, but all were made of what was once probably very expensive fabric. Now it was just musty, matted, and muddled. The furniture was limited to a small, circular table in the center of the room, sitting directly beneath a chandelier that gave off an orange light, which didn’t seem to help much in the way of seeing. Roman silently vowed not to go within three feet of any of these… decorations.

“WOAH, cool bones!” Remus, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms.

“Don’t touch those!” Dr. Côté hissed. He took a deep breath and grinned, gesturing to the table Roman noticed earlier. “Why don’t you come have a seat?” 

The men settled themselves around the table, Roman carefully examining his chair before sitting, just to make sure he wasn’t about to sit on anything… distasteful. 

Then, Dr. Côté pulled a deck of cards seemingly out of nowhere. They didn’t seem particularly special, simply decorated with a symbol of a hand that had an eye in the center, but the voodoo man held them with reverence. 

“Are you gonna do a card trick?” Remus snickered. Roman buried his smirk and elbowed his brother’s side. He did not want to make a magic man angry.

Dr. Côté simply looked up, though, giving an oily smile. “They’re tarot cards. I can tell you your past, your present… your future.” He gave a knowing look and fanned the cards out to the twins. “Go ahead. Take three.”

The princes reached out to the deck, holding their chosen cards close to their chest as if it were a card game. 

The Shadow Man stared at them for a moment, as if expecting them to do something before prompting, “How ‘bout I take a look at those cards now?”

Roman grinned sheepishly and placed his cards on the table. 

“Ah… now you, young man, are quite a prince,” Dr. Côté began. “A prince of fairy tales, really.” Roman thought he heard Remus huff beside him. “Your world is truly… perfect.” Something retreated inside Roman a little at the words, but he looked up when the Shadow Man asked, “But will it ever be anything else? Nothing is quite so disheartening as playing the same role all your life, huh? But when I look forward… I can see you’ll be more… very soon.”

The prince felt an anticipation swell inside him. Very soon.

Dr. Côté grinned down at Roman, then turned to Remus, peering at his cards. “Ah, yes. You’ve always been ambitious, hm?” Roman was shaken from his reverie and just barely kept from snorting. (Judging from the glare his brother aimed at him, he didn’t do a very good job.) Remus was ambitious if you considered chaotic enthusiasm to be ambition. But Dr. Côté just continued, “You could do more, be more, than they’d ever imagined. I know it. What are you going to do about it?”

Roman looked to Remus, and Remus looked down at his palms. A hand was outstretched for each of them to shake. “Well, boys?” 

The world was still for a moment. And then the black-clad prince’s hand shot out and shook the voodoo man’s, the other prince soon following suit.

“Very nice.” Dr. Côté’s smile grew leering. 

Then an orange smoke crept up Roman’s arm and into his mouth, and the world went dark.

A/N: Sorry, the ending came kinda fast 😅 I hope you enjoyed it anyway!! Please feel free to point out any mistakes you see, and keysmashes are VERY appreciated :D

Taglist: @midnightstorm-underthe-moon @meowthefluffy

[doc-pickles]

the jolex college AU that literally no one asked for

Soooo I did a thing. I’ve actually had 90% of this in my drafts for awhile and I just decided to finish it today. (nina you said you didn’t have any fics in your drafts. WELL I’M STUPID SO THERE’S THAT) I’m not planning on expanding this past a one shot but it’s a fun little AU that my mind kicked up one night while watching 14x15 and drinking too much sangria. It’s not polished up or beta read but I figured something is better than nothing :) 

also TW// jo swears like a freaking sailor in this fic

“A fucking fire alarm? Really?!”

Jo Wilson was not one to be inconvenienced, especially not while she was in the damn shower. She let a groan out as the water above her shut off, probably an incentive to get her out of the building in case it really was on fire. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jo muttered to herself, reaching for her towel. After wrapping it around herself, she realized that she hadn’t brought her clothes with her. “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Fuming with anger, Jo began to walk down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor and out the front door of Earl Hall. Various cat calls and whoops met Jo’s ears, but she was too angry with whoever the hell set off the fire alarm to acknowledge them. 

“Wilson! You trying to give us a show here,” Jo turned at her name, staring down Andrew DeLuca as he attempted to get under her skin… or under her towel. “I wouldn’t say no to a free peep show.”

“Oh shove off DeLuca, you’ll fuck anything with a pulse,” Jo retorted, earning a howl of laughter from DeLuca’s friends. “I’ll show off the goods to anyone who can tell me who set off the fucking fire alarm while I was showering though.”

“That would be me.”

Jo whipped around, one hand coming to hold the bottom of her towel in place as she came face to face with the person who had effectively ruined her day. 

She hadn’t met the man before, but Jo was instantly mesmerized. He wore a dark blue shirt and plaid boxer shorts, hair ruffled at odd angles and the beginnings of a scruffy beard appearing on his sharp jawline. The man was handsome and by God did Jo just want to fuck him right there and then. 

Kill him. Kill him right there and then. 

Jesus Christ Jo, pull your head out of your vagina. 

“So you’re the asshole that set off the alarm,” Jo asked, eyebrow raising as if daring him to refute her words. “Well hi, I’m Jo and I’m fucking pissed at you.”

“I’m Alex and I really enjoy your talent for slipping the word ‘fuck’ into almost every sentence that comes out of your mouth,” Jo stared back at Alex, unamused by his joke. “Listen I’m sorry, I was trying to study for chem and my hot plate burned a hole through my notebook. You should be back in soon if it’s any consolation.”

As if by fate, the fire alarm stopped ringing and someone shouted that it was safe to go back in. Students began to file in but Jo and Alex kept their staring match going. She couldn’t tell if it was the mounting sexual tension between them or just plain old hostility, but Jo couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man in front of her. 

“You’re on my fucking shit list Alex,” Jo stated firmly before walking away. “You better watch it!”

“Hey! You didn’t hold up your end of things,” Alex called out, causing Jo to turn back around and lift an eyebrow in question. “You said that you would ‘show off the goods’ to anyone who told you why the fire alarm went off. Well that was me.”

Jo paused momentarily, thoughts racing a million miles a minute before she moved closer to Alex and opened her towel up. Eyes wide, Alex immediately diverted his gaze away from Jo, not anticipating that she would actually flash him. With a satisfied smirk, Jo tucked her towel back into place and walked back towards the dorm hall. 

“Have a good fucking night Alex!”

+

“If I never end up at another frat party it’ll be too soon,” Jo complained, swatting a hand away from her ass as she followed her roommate towards the kitchen. “Why’d you have to drag me out here, Hannah? You know Brandon trolls these parties looking for unsuspecting girls to trick into dating him so he can cheat on them a month in.”

Hannah looked at Jo with a bored expression, as if to say she was tired of hearing this story over and over again. 

“We get it, you hate Brandon Thomas and everything he stands for,” Hannah rolled her eyes and handed a red solo cup to Jo. “But you realize that this is the Kappa house and Brandon is in Chi Omega. They’re sworn enemies, you’ll never see him here unless the planets align and someone’s sacrificed a virgin to the moon god.”

Jo rolled her eyes, lips coming to the cup and taking a large swallow of the jungle juice inside. She didn’t really know anyone at these parties, but there was always free alcohol and she had a pocket knife stashed in her bra in case she got into trouble. 

“Jo, promise me you won’t kill me but Brandon is here,” Jo’s head whipped around to look at Hannah, eyes wide as she stared her roommate down. “He’s by the front door, just turn around and walk towards the backyard and you’ll never see each other.”

Jo eyed the back door, only 50 feet from where she was standing. She could definitely make it there without being noticed. Weaving through the crowd, Jo was positive she would get out without accident. 

“Jo! Is that you?”

Brandon’s voice sounded over the crowd, making Jo cringe as she realized she had been caught. She looked around in a panic, almost yelling as a pair of arms slid around her waist. 

“Just play along, I hate that douche bag too,” Jo looked up in shock, realizing that the person that had grabbed her was the guy who had set off the fire alarm last week. “Nice to fucking see you, Jo.”

“Oh you’re a piece of- MMM,” Jo was cut off by Alex’s lips pressing into hers. Jungle juice and adrenaline coursing through her veins, Jo presses back against him. Alex holds her against him for a minute more, one hand trailing to grab her ass while the other pulls her closer into his embrace. Her free hand unconsciously comes up to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck and Jo swears she can feel him moan under the pounding sounds of bass music that surround them. Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, he pulls away with a crooked grin. 

“Sorry, that prick Thomas was walking by, had to give him a show. You’re welcome.” 

Alex walks away from Jo then, leaving her standing in the middle of a frat house party completely confused. 

+

“Jo! I’m walking out the door but your alarm has been going off for 20 minutes!” Hannah slammed the door to the dorm room, abruptly waking Jo up. She looked to her bedside clock, groaning loudly as she realized that she had 15 minutes to get across campus to her 9:30 AM class. 

“Well fuck,” Jo bemoaned as she rolled out of bed, grabbing whatever clothes were around her and throwing them on. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t miss O Chem again. Fuck!”

Rushing out the door, Jo let her worn out sneakers pound across the pavement towards her Organic Chemistry class. It was only week two of spring semester and she couldn’t risk missing class for a second time. 

Skidding into the lecture hall, Jo raced past a few students and slid into the back row of her class only five minutes late. She let out a loud breath, pulling her notebook out of her backpack as she tried to tune into the professor.

“You know you might be able to learn more if you show up on time,” Jo’s head snapped up as she looked to her left, realizing that the seat she had chosen was right next to Alex. “Funny seeing you here.”

“You have a lot of nerve trying to talk to me again after what you did at that house party,” Jo kept her eyes locked on her notebook, refusing to even glance at Alex as she started writing notes. “Even if you did save my ass, who goes around kissing strangers?”

“We’re not strangers. I know that your name is Jo and we live in the same hall and you smuggle cereal out of the dining hall when you think no one is looking,” Alex shrugged, eyes trained on the lecturer at the front of the hall. “And you’ve shown me your rack, I feel like that counts for something too.”

Side eyeing the man next to her, Jo watched Alex listening intently to their professor. He had a serious expression painted on his face, one that made him look years older than he was. Today he wore a forest green sweatshirt that bore the university’s wrestling team logo. Jo thought back to the first time she met Alex, remembering the way his shoulders and arms were built up more than anything else on his lean body. His dark hair and eyes that had instantly caught Jo’s eye seemed harsher under the fluorescent lighting of the classroom. This version of Alex that she was staring at today seemed so different than the Alex who accidentally set his chemistry book on fire and kissed her at a party to help her avoid her cheating ex. This Alex… well he seemed cold and unapproachable. 

“Okay that only proves that you’ve been stalking me,” Jo rolled her eyes. “What do you want? Are you expecting me to sleep with you? Or help you with your homework? Because that’s a no on all of the above.”

“Nah figured you needed a friend,” Alex shrugged, pencil tapping against the edge of his textbook. “You seem like the lonely type.”

��I am not lonely,” Jo’s voice comes out louder than intended. Her next words are softer as she glares at Alex, their teacher and lesson long forgotten. “I’m just selective about who I spend my time with.”

She does try to concentrate on her work then, but Jo can feel Alex’s eyes boring into the side of her head. He frustrates her, angers her in a way that nobody has before and she can’t decide if she wants to punch him in the face or kiss him until she can’t breathe. 

Wait what?

Jo shook her head, trying to clear out the image of a shirtless and sweaty Alex out of her mind. She was not going to start fantasizing about the handsome muscular man who’s lips felt like velvet against hers and who’s hand on her ass made her feel like-

“You’re drooling.”

Her hand flew up to her cheek, wiping at the small pool of liquid as her cheeks flamed red. She chanced looking over to Alex, who wore a shit eating grin that was slightly crooked. Damn it, keep it in your panties Jo!

“I was thinking about… dinner tonight,” Jo nodded, keeping her gaze forward. “Probably going to get… take out, something fast and easy.”

“Fast and easy, huh?,” Jo could swear that Alex’s voice took on a husky quality to it as he lowered his volume. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine as she futilely tried to calm the rising sensations in her body. ”That’s my favorite. For dinner I mean, I love it fast… and easy…” 

Whipping her head around, Jo locked her eyes with Alex’s. The intensity of their stares almost scared her, but more than that Jo was desperate. She wanted this complete stranger (and total asshole) in the worst ways possible, her mind conjuring up images that would send her straight to Hell if she dared to say them out loud. 

“I have no idea what the professor is talking about,” Jo admitted, eyes watching Alex’s lips as her tongue darted out wet her own. “But I really wanna get out of here.”

“If I fail this class because of you, you’re never gonna hear the end of it,” Alex was hastily shoving his books into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as Jo rose and made a beeline for the door. 

The pair ignored the stares they got from their classmates as they raced out the door, jetting into the empty hallway in a fit of giggles. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Jo found herself in Alex’s embrace. He pinned her against the wall, lips hungrily devouring hers as her hands fisted his hair roughly.

“Come on lover boy,” Jo smirked, hand tangling in Alex’s own as she broke apart from him and dragged him down the hall. “My roommate has classes for the rest of the day so my dorm is empty.”

[starcatcherscenarios]

Imagine : Ateez (One Member)

Imagine swapping phones with your classmate Seonghwa by accident. 

this was longer than I thought...

Being the class president has its perks. First, the teachers love you so you get away with anything, though you don’t cause trouble that often. Your classmates try to befriend you so they too, can get away with being late, forgetting homework etc. Of course you noticed that’s why they were being overly friendly you weren’t oblivious. Even with that, people treating you differently and all, there’s one classmate that hasn’t treated you any different. Park Seonghwa. He’s the class nice guy, friendly with others and teachers are fond of him. You guys aren’t close to being besties but, it’s safe to say he’s a good friend. Aside from your friends, who are in different classes, Seonghwa is the only person you kind of socialize with in class. 

You two eat lunch together, and share notes from class. It’s mostly innocent smiles and laughs with him and frankly if people didn’t know any better, they would say you and Seonghwa were dating. However, you knew he doesn’t see you like that. His type was the sexy, confident popular type of girl. You were the adorable, funny, regular type of girl. Not popular but not an outcast either. Your friends love to tease you about him and though you try so hard to deny it, you like him. It’s hard not to. 

One day, you decided to help the soccer team look for a new team manager, because that’s what class presidents do right, plus you didn’t mind helping. Scouting for a manager took time, which lasted a whole school day and after. You left the school’s parking lot around 5, some of the boys on the team offered to walk you home but, you were ‘just up the block’. Which you weren’t, the walk home was at least 35 minutes. Walking back was going to be hell, so you wanted to at least treat yourself to something. 

Your eyes landed on a nearby Bubble Tea store. You loved bubble tea, so you jogged across the street and walked in, the ringing of the bell gets you off guard. It’s not like you been here before. You walked near the counter, looking up at the menu above. You actually don’t know what you want, usually it’s some green tea but you wanted something sweet, just didn’t know what specifically. 

“I’ll have a Chai Tea latte and she’ll have a peach smoothie.” 

You look aside to you to see Seonghwa ordering...for you. You blinked in surprise, all the while trying to act fast getting your wallet out, but he was faster and handed the cashier a twenty. 

“You’re order will be ready shortly.” The cashier says, handing Seonghwa back his change. 

“Surprised?” He says breaking the silence. You both grab a seat at the window, you chuckled at his question.

“To say the least. Thank you, you didn’t have to.” 

“You were just holding up the line, president.”

You managed to giggle at his comment, there wasn’t really a line anyway. You pulled out your phone to see the unread messages by your friends. How does one group chat come to over 60+ messages. Some tea must have been spilled you thought. 

“You have that phone charm too?” Seonghwa’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You give a glance to your mini bunny charm, you saw his eyes lit up as he pulled out his phone flashing the same charm only in a different color. 

“M-My kid sister bought this for me as a birthday gift.”

“Really? I bought this for myself as a birthday gift.” 

“Wait, seriously? This cute, little blue bunny?” You giggled once again. You never knew Seonghwa had this child-like soft side to him. 

“Yeah, I thought it was cute.” He set his phone aside on the table when he heard your order called. He excused himself to go get them, you also placed your phone next to his to see the matching charm next to each other. 

It looks like couple charms...

You shook your head, no way can you be thinking that. You shouldn’t rile up your own feelings like that. But can you blame yourself? To others on the outside, this would look like a bubble tea date, and the matching charms don’t help. You glanced over at Seonghwa who was making his way back and your cheeks blushed a soft pink. 

As time passed by, you and Seonghwa were getting along amazingly. You always knew he was a nice guy but to learn these new details about him made you feel somewhat special. Though everything was going smoothly, you had to get home and it was getting dark. Seonghwa offered to walk you home and this time you didn’t protest or feel bad. You genuinely wanted to keep talking and hanging out with him.

“Man if I knew you lived so far, I would’ve drove you home instead.”

“You mean on that death bike of yours? No thanks, I like living.”

“Hey, my Louis isn’t a death bike. Don’t worry, one day when you ride with me, you’ll love it.”

Ride with you? On his motorcycle? He would want to?

“Hm, maybe you’re right. Next time then.”

Before you could change your sentence, because let’s face it, what next time? You were at least 75% sure he’ll go back to just waving at you in the halls and nothing more. You started feeling worried, maybe you thought too much ahead of being his best friend...or something more.

“Next time? Sounds great, I’ll give you call then.”

Wait..

“You don’t even have my number.” You don’t remember giving him that earlier or ever.

“Sure I do. Remember I didn’t show up to school one day? My perfect attendance ruined. Anyway, you texted my number about the class assignments I missed.”

He saved my number since then?? That was–

“B-But that was like a month ago.”

Which was true. You had to find one of his friends, Minki? Mingi? To ask for his number since as class president you didn’t want any of your classmates to lose their pace in education. You had done it before with a couple of others but they never saved your number.

Seonghwa only shrugged his shoulders whilst whistling away. A natural blush spread across your cheeks again for what seems to be third time today.

After a little while of walking and talking, you both finally reached the end. You thanked Seonghwa for walking you home and he smiled and said something along the lines of ‘it was no big deal’. You waved him off as he did too, you stood outside your complex building doors to see Seonghwa walk back. You hoped he would return home safe at this hour.

An hour later, you were starting to get ready for bed. Homework was done, face was washed, hair was in a messed up bun and teeth were brushed. Just as you were about to turn off the lights your phone rang.

But it rang weird. Since when did you have your ringtone as Sunmi ‘Gashina’ ?

That’s when you saw it. This wasn’t your phone. It was the same model and color but the blue rabbit charm was certainly not yours.

Not to mention it was your number calling you. It was saved as ‘Pretty President’ and it’s picture was one of you, off guard with eyes fixated on a book in your hands. Somewhat to be in a library but you couldn’t tell. You answered the phone.

“H-Hello?”

“Class President?”

“Seonghwa?”

Then you heard his sweet, awkward laughter.

“Uh, I think there’s been a mix up.”

“You have my phone?”

“As you have mine.”

What luck and trickery this was for you. Lucky because you at least know who has your phone, trickery because of Seonghwa having your phone.

“We probably just grabbed the wrong one then earlier. Sorry I didn’t notice.”

“I didn’t either, until I got home.”

You laid down on your bed, trying to calm yourself down. You hoped Seonghwa wasn’t the snooping type. Yeah, you had a password on your phone but it was a simple ‘1234’ and now you wished desperately you changed it before. You could hear the rustling, shuffling and long sigh. The sound of a bed creaking gave you the answer that he was on his bed too.

“Uh, can you promise me something?”

“Um, yeah. What’s up?”

“Don’t try to snoop through my phone.”

“I was about to ask the same thing!” You laughed.

“Wait really? Is that what you think of me, president? I’m–”

“Seonghwa, whatever you’re about to say, you’re the one that asked first. So maybe I should be offended.” You hopes he could hear the sarcasm in your voice.

“You’re right, next time I’ll just think before saying, president.”

“Why do you keep calling me president? Don’t you know my actual name?”

A little doubt grew in your stomach for who was you for Seonghwa to remember by name? ‘President’ is a nickname so you wouldn’t be offended but did he really not know you’re name?

“Of course I know your name, y/n.”

The sound of your name roll of his tongue squished any doubt you had. You liked how it sound when he said it, so easy and soft. Like he’s been saying it for years without hesitation.

Not knowing how to continue the conversation, you decide to ask about your contact name he had. Butterflies swarm in your stomach knowing this phone call was going to last all night.

“I think I like the name ‘Pretty President’ more, what about you?”

“.......Can you hold on for one second?..........FUCK! She saw it when I CALLED HER! MY PHONE! SHE HAS MY PHONE! Shit I didn’t think...damn it. I’m an idiot. She knows. She knows. She–maybe not.”

“Seong-”

“I’ll just play dumb. Does that work? Fuck, she’s smart, she’s gonna find out I fucking like her. Damn it why didn’t I grab my phone!!”

“Seonghwa! You didn’t mute yourself.”

“Oh.”

You were right, this conversation with Seonghwa over the phone took all night. You were sure by the end your feelings for him grew even bigger, as his did for you.

[katehuntington]

Title: Changes - part eight Word count:  ±4800 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part eight: Zoë meets with Terry Cliffer, or is it the shapeshifter? She tries to find out fast, but can’t prevent bullets from flying. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks.  Music: Boulevard Of Broken Dreams - Greenday. Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish & @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

     Zoë sips her cappuccino as she observes the foam floating on top of her hot drink. She’s at Beetle’s, sitting on a stool at the bar. Cigarette smoke fills the air, and even though she would love to light one, she ignores the smell. Instead the huntress stares at the bottles across from the counter, exhibited on the shelves, the back wall is a mirror to create the illusion that they have a lot more drinks in store. It’s a modern kind of place, the only history it shows are some pictures, pinned to the wall. The current number one hit Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Greenday plays in the background. She listens to the lyrics, the song appealing to her.      I walk this empty street, on the boulevard of broken dreams      Where the city sleeps and I'm the only one and I walk alone      My shadow's the only one that walks beside me      My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating      Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me      'Til then I walk alone

     The long nights are taking their toll. Although strangers still see a stunning young woman, she herself notices the signs of fatigue in her reflection, despite her makeup, that is a little more prominent than usual. Zoë finds it thrilling to pretend to be someone she’s not. She traded her leather biker outfit for a white blouse, a black blazer, matching suit pants and pumps. Her straightened dark hair is combed back and tied together in a bun. It’s funny, leather or business, she still gives away the same message; don’t mess with me. 

     Her eyes capture the bottle of Johnny Walker Red again. She would kill for a glass, but having a shot wouldn’t be a smart thing to do. Focus is the issue here; no way she’s letting her guard down. The damn bastard shot her once and she doesn’t feel like peeling a bullet out of herself for the second time today. But one glass wouldn’t hurt, right? Zoë shakes her head, deciding against it.           This appointment can go two ways: either the shapeshifter shows up and this bar and its customers are going to have the most ‘exciting’ evening of their lives, or Terry Cliffer shows up and this will be nothing more than a boring interrogation. Not to mention, this case will once again take longer than anticipated, because by now, the fucker could’ve easily shifted into someone else already. 

     She finishes her coffee and leaves the empty cup on the bar. Carefully, she glances over her shoulder. Zoë can’t put her finger on it, but she can feel a pair of eyes burning in her back; someone’s watching her. The shapeshifter maybe? She remembers Sam’s words and realizes that even if she meets Cliffer within fifteen minutes, the son of a bitch might actually be here right now. Suddenly, she hears something sweeping towards her over the wooden bartop. Startled, she turns to the bartender, who still has his hand folded around a glass of whiskey.      “You’ve been eying that Johnny Walker bottle for twenty minutes and you look really tense. You need a drink, on the house.”

     She looks him in the eye, trying to decide whether or not to trust him. She smiles politely and takes the glass, but doesn’t drink, just yet.      “Thank you,” she says, observing him. “You’re the owner of this place? Rob Michaels?”      “That’s me,” Rob answers while he polishes a glass.      We’ll see about that, Zoë thinks to herself. The bartender could be the shapeshifter, for all she knows. She needs to figure out if he is, without giving him the impression that she’s suspecting him.      “Then you probably know most of your regulars, right?” she questions.      “Right…” Rob hesitates. “Am I being questioned?”      “Whatever you wanna call it,” she flashes him her FBI identification.

     He raises his eyebrows. He thought there was something more to her than just a businesswoman who’s getting a drink after work, but a fed? He had city police over, even state police at one point, this is a new one. He leans in for her to hear his whispered words.      “Something shady going on in my bar?” he asks, looking around for anything suspicious.      She puts her ID away in the inside pocket of her blazer, after which she folds her hands together, ignoring his question. “What do you know about Terry Cliffer?”            Rob chuckles. “Are you kidding me? Terry wouldn’t hurt a fly.”      “We’re not just around to catch the bad guys, Mr. Michaels. We actually intend to prevent crimes from happening, too” she states, pretending to be insulted.      “Is he in trouble?” the bar owner wonders.      “I think I’m the one who’s doing the questioning here, Rob. Can I call you Rob?” Zoë grabs a hold of the conversation again, not impressed.      “S-sure,” he answers, intimidated.      She glances at the clock, it’s 5:55. Then she continues.      “Tell me what you know.”

     Zoë’s eyes are penetrating, yet calm and the bartender soon begins his story, but he doesn’t start off with anything new. Shy guy, father of two, yada yada yada. Her thoughts wander off to the whiskey bottle on the shelf again, as she partly listens. Shit, she wants that heavenly brown liquor, and she wants it bad. Although there’s a full glass in front of her, she still refuses to drink it. Zoë hasn’t actually seen him rinse the glass, nor if he poured the whiskey straight from the bottle; it could be spiked. The huntress contemplates on dragging him over the counter and cutting him; if he screams out in terror, he’s not the shifter, if he doesn’t, he is. Yeah, maybe not such a great idea, Zo, she thinks to herself. And all this time she keeps staring at the Johnny Walker Red.

     “He moved into town a few years back with his family. I believe he still owns some property about a mile or three out, though. Somewhere on 110th Ave,” Rob says with a lowered voice.      Suddenly there’s the sound of glass breaking. The bartender turns around and is surprised to find the bottle of whiskey in pieces on the floor.      “Ah, damn it! Must have left it too close to the edge,” he mutters as he kneels down to pick up the biggest pieces of shattered glass.      Startled, Zoë stares over the bar, recapturing what just happened. Did she just… Ah shit, not this again.      “That’s a shame,” she comments to break the silence.      “Sure is,” he agrees, but then pulls his hand back with a little screech. “Ow!”      He gets up and Zoë immediately detects the bleeding cut on his finger, which causes Rob to hiss in pain. A shapeshifter wouldn’t feel a thing when being cut by glass; so much for her theory. As if she was waiting for the lights to go green on a racetrack, she puts the glass to her mouth and lets the whiskey ooze down her throat. My God, she so needed a drink. 

     In the meantime Rob takes off to the kitchen, probably to bandage the cut. It’s when the door closes behind him, that his last words sink in. 110th Ave! Cliffer owned land there? She quickly gets her ducks in a row. She knows O’Brien, Middleton and Gibson, the missing people, have all been at 110th Avenue over the last month, but no one actually owned a place there. This might be a major lead! Why didn’t she learn about this sooner? She has to find the exact address and pay a visit as soon as she’s done here. 

     As the place gets more crowded during these after work hours, Terry Cliffer walks in. Zoë straightens her back and looks over the crowd. Insecure, the guy in his mid-forties searches the place, then he carefully approaches the bar. He’s not a tall man and he seems thin. It surprises Zoë that the shapeshifter chose his body to copy in the first place.       He glances behind the bar, probably looking for Rob to ask if there has been anyone around looking for him. By this time, Zoë has hopped off the bar stool and walked up to the guy. Her gun, loaded with silver bullets, hangs from her belt and burns in her flesh through the fabric of her dress pants. If he attacks, runs, or does something else that she doesn’t like, she’s going to shoot him.            “Terry Cliffer?”      He turns around and looks her in the eye. Not a sign of recognition. The shapeshifter would recognize her, after all, she is the one hunting him. Nothing strange, nothing out of the ordinary happens, he just puts out his hand to greet her.      “Are you the FBI agent?” he assumes, carefully.      “That would be me, yeah,” she takes out her federal agent identification again. “Shall we take a seat?”      They move to a table in the far corner and sit down. A good spot, one she picked out the moment she walked in. From here, she has a clear view over the entire place, yet it’s private. She signals Rob, who probably took care of his little problem and is back behind his bar. In a few seconds he halts next to their table.

     “What can I get you?” he takes out a pen and a small notebook.      “A beer, if that’s okay?” Terry glances at the woman across from the table.      “Be my guest,” she approves and looks up at Rob. “Plain water please.”      “Oh, and can I get something to eat? I didn’t actually get the chance to have dinner, yet.” The last sentence was more directed to Zoë than to the bar owner, excusing himself again in that self-conscious way.      “The usual?” the owner of the place asks.       Terry nods.      “Anything else?” Rob glances from one to the other.      “No, I think we’re fine,” Zoë answers.      “Okay then, coming right up.”

     Rob leaves the table and finally Zoë can start her conversation. She begins with an attempt to break the ice, since Terry seems to be pretty tense. It’s not every day that you have a one-on-one with an FBI agent.      “Not planning to have supper with your family?” she assumes.      “Not today, my wife took the kids to their grandparents for the week, down in Preston,” Terry tells her.      Good, they are safe, Zoë notes. She folds her hands together leaning on her forearms on the edge of the table, ready to start the interrogation, but Terry beats her to it.      “I don’t want to be rude, but I expected to meet a man today,” he admits with a nervous laugh.      “Right, I heard you talked to my partner. He called in sick,” she makes up quickly.       “It was really odd, he didn’t know your name,” Terry tells her. “For a moment, I thought I was being pranked or something.”

     Uh-oh. Is he suspecting something? She has to come up with something good now to keep a good impression.      “I actually got married a week ago,” she lets a smile play on her lips, turning her mother’s engagement ring on her finger, drawing attention to the piece of jewelry.       “I changed surnames. What can I say, he doesn’t like change.”      “Congratulations!” Terry smiles back, seemingly buying it.      Pfew, that was a close call. Now it’s her turn to ask some questions, because all she has been doing during the last five minutes is covering the Winchester’s fuck ups. Just as she takes a breath to begin, Rob shows up next to the table with their drinks and a cutlery set for Terry. Zoë lets out an annoyed sigh and looks away.

     “One beer and plain water.”      He puts down the glasses from his dinner-tray, which he holds up with his left hand. As he sets down Terry’s beer, the meat knife slips from the plate and falls, the sharp edge pointing down. Zoë looks up just in time to see the knife penetrate the hand of the man she’s about to negotiate. She almost lets out a moan of disgust, but strangely enough, Terry doesn’t even notice it until he glances at his hand.      “Terry, Jesus Christ! I’m so sorry, it - it just fell off!” Rob stammers, but neither of them hear him.      It’s not a silver knife, it’s stainless steel, Zoë realizes instantly. Slowly the person  - no - creature, on the other side of the table lifts his head until he looks directly at her. His facial expression is no longer insecure and friendly, but self-confident and sadistic. For a brief moment his eyes flash white, as the eyes of a cat reflect when it stares into a pair of headlights.

     “You son of a--”      There’s no time to finish her sentence. In a split second, the shapeshifter draws his gun and Zoë is just in time to flip the metal table over on the side. She goes for her Smith & Wesson as well, as the shapeshifter backs up, causing his chair to fall over. Several people turn around to see what’s going on as Rob turns pale and steps back. Just before he unleashes a bullet on her, she shouts a warning.      “Everybody on the floor!”            As screams are let out by people inside the bar, the shifter fires two bullets at her, but by using the steel table as a shield, she stays unharmed.      “No way you’re gonna shoot me twice, fucker,” she snarls as she aims her gun over the edge of the table and pulls the trigger.      Making sure not to injure any civilians, Zoë fires three shots in a row. She’s not sure if any of them hit the target, but he’s still running.      “Fuck!” she curses as the third shot shatters the glass of the front door.

     Quickly, she follows and intends to run outside. Good thing she takes cover behind the doorpost as she glances around the corner, because the huntress stares right into a barrel. Just in time, she retreats and the two bullets shoot by her. Stumbling back inside, she takes a short second to catch her breath with her back against the wall and her gun tightly gripped in both hands and pointing it down. Several frightened and panicked eyes look straight at the FBI impersonator. One face stands out, Rob stares at her as if he just saw a ghost.      “I hope you’ve got insurance, Rob,” she comments, out of breath from all the excitement.      He nods his head, dumbfounded, unable to get a proper ‘yes’ or ‘no’ out of his mouth.      “Good, have a nice evening. Sorry ‘bout the mess.” She smiles uncomfortably and gives him an awkward wave.

      After gathering her courage, the huntress exits the bar. With the gun pointing ahead and her index finger off the trigger, Zoë clears the area, but there’s no one there but a bunch of thrill seekers who probably heard the gunshots. Zoë lets out a sigh and lowers her nine mil; she’s back to square one. There’s no need to follow him, he could be anywhere and anyone by now. She moves back to the small alleyway next to the bar where she parked her Harley, still expecting an ambush behind every corner. When she walks up the street, she notices a shiny fluid on the sidewalk, which catches her attention. Curious she kneels down and touches it with the tip of her finger; it’s blood. A grin appears on her face; looks like she managed to hit him after all. 

     When she looks further she notices a blood trail leading to a manhole in the center of the alley. The shifter left the cover off, allowing the huntress to stare down into the black depth.      “Hope my bullet hurts as much as yours did, fucking lizard!” she bellows down.      Zoë gets up and makes her way to the Harley, thinking through her next move and forcing herself to focus, even though the adrenaline is still rushing through her body. Terry Cliffer’s property at 110th Avenue; that is her first priority. She would bet money on it: this has to be the location of the shapeshifter’s lair.

     It’s quiet in the parking lot when Zoë pulls up to the motel, but she doesn't pay much attention to the silence, determined to close this case tonight. She rushes inside while taking her helmet off, doesn’t bother to pay attention to the man behind the counter and quickly opens the door to her room. Her Macbook is still buzzing softly and as soon as she presses a key, the screen activates. She selects a tracking website from her favorites and types in the information she has. After several seconds a complete address shows: 3841 110th Avenue NW. Quickly she kicks off her pumps, changes her dress pants for jeans and her blazer for the new leather Harley Davidson jacket. As she’s lacing up her biker boots, when three loud bangs on the door startle her. Cautious, the huntress takes her gun in her left hand, finger still off the trigger, and silently approaches the door.      “Mrs. Johnson! I know you’re in there!”            She recognizes that voice, it’s the owner of the motel. Quickly she puts away her weapon and opens the door. The old man is waiting with a phone still in his hand, he doesn’t seem amused.      “I just received a call from one of my guests who was dining at Beetle’s Bar, said he saw you shooting up the place,” he recalls.      “I can explain that,” she states, calmly.      “I bet you can. You know what? I’ll bet your real name isn’t even Johnson. I want you out. I said I didn’t want any trouble,” he insists, pointing down the hallway.      “Just give me a sec.” She goes for her ID in her inside pocket while her other hand makes a calming gesture, then she shows it to him.      “My name isn’t Johnson, you’re right. It’s Evans, Sarah Evans. I’m a federal agent and I was working undercover,” she explains.      “FBI? Yeah, right. I don’t give a damn. Now, get out of my motel,” the man decides.      “Alright, let me get my stuff,” she sighs, putting back her identification.

     Instead of pulling back her hand empty, she grabs a small flashlight, turns it on and points it in the old man’s eyes. Her suspicion is confirmed, because his eyes flash white. For a brief moment the shapeshifter is overwhelmed by the reveal, enough time for Zoë to drop the flashlight into her striking hand, breach the space between them and slam her fist right up his nose, giving him one hell of an uppercut. He goes down in the hallway and looks up at her, staggered.      “Come on. Did you really think I was gonna be that easy?” she chuckles, flipping the torch up in the air and catching it skillfully.

     She grabs him by the collar and drags him inside her room, shifting the fight between four walls instead of on the corridor, not wanting innocent bystanders to get caught in the crossfire. She drops him to the ground, glaring down on him with disgust as she takes her gun from behind her waistband. The shifter clears his throat, wiping crimson red from his lip.      “Actually, I did. I almost shot you twice. Reckoned this would be a piece of cake,” he gloats with a grin, after which he struggles to get on his feet, holding his hands up. “You wanna shoot me in a fully booked motel? Try to explain that to the neighbors.”      Zoë narrows her eyes at him, mentally kicking herself for leaving the gun suppressor in her storage locker the last time she was there. The bastard has a point; shooting what looks like the owner of Motel 6 through the heart, will definitely draw attention. She scoffs, pursing her lips, then she takes the magazine from her weapon and lays it on the bed.      “We’ll finish this the old fashioned way, then,” she agrees confidently.

     They face each other, challenging. Zoë adjusts to a back stance, putting her left foot behind her and bending her knees slightly. Her hands lift up in front of her face as she flexes her fingers, ready for anything that son of a bitch is going to throw at her.       “I have to say, you got me fooled. Making me believe Terry Cliffer was going to be your next dress-up party, while he actually was your first. Smart,” she admits.      “If you admire me so much, why waste me?” he tests, blood dripping from his nose.      She smirks at that, entertained by his arrogance. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

     He steps towards her, but she beats him to it. In a quick move she defends, blocking his attack with her forearm and swings her back leg up with force, kicking the shifter hard against his temple. He goes down, shaking his head to ward off the black spots that are inevitably swimming in front of his eyes. When he looks up, the huntress has taken her rear foot stance again. One fist with her palm up on her hip and ready to strike, the other is ready in front of her to defend.       “Gotta say, you fight pretty good for a girl,” He gets to his feet again, wiping his brow. “Or should I call you the Karate Kid?”      “Oh, I’m not a kid. I’m more like a ninja,” she smirks, staring him down.        “Ninja or not, you’re no match for me.”

     He charges her, faster than humanly possible. Despite his supernatural speed, she dodges his jab and releases another kick, against his ribs this time. The creature locks her leg before she can retreat, however, and steps in while Zoë has lost her balance. With a fierce strike, his fist hits her in the jaw, hard. He still has a hold of her leg and twists it, forcing her on the floor, pulling a groan of agony from her as the ligaments in her knee stretch further than possible. Not giving up that easily, she pushes her left foot from the ground, using the leverage of him still holding her right leg tight to swing the other to his head, hitting him on the side of his face with her instep. He releases her and she breaks her fall, rolls, and gets up again, all in one swift movement. The arm that had a strong grip on her only seconds ago, is now twisted to the shifter’s back. Roughly, she  forces him to his knees; he can't go anywhere. 

     “What did you do to those people?” she demands, not asking very nicely.      “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t actually kill them. It’s far more fun to watch them suffer,” he responds, sadistically.      “You son of a—”      She doesn’t have time to finish her sentence, because the shapeshifter throws his head back and hits her hard in the teeth. Sharp pain shoots through the roots into her skull and for a moment there she’s sure he broke off a tooth or two; so much for looking fabulous.       In that split second, the chameleon manages to fight free, grabs her by her arm and violently throws her over his shoulder. Zoë lands on her back, the air slamming out of her lungs. She gasps sharply, unable to catch her breath. No time to recover from the pain, though, because she receives a kick in the gut a moment after. 

     Losing control over the fight fast, she tries to push away from her attacker to buy herself some valuable time, but her opponent takes the liberty to help her up, forcing her to stand by pulling her hair, before she suffers a blow in the chest with a strength that exceeds that of a human being. The huntress slams into the table, the edge bruising her lower back, feeling the tight grip of the shifter's hands on her throat when he roughly pushes her into the wooden surface.       With a devilish grin on his thin lips, he chokes her, clearly enjoying the display: how his victim fights for air, trying to pull in desperate breaths as he crushes her throat under his fingers.  

     “You know what I do to them? I keep them somewhere safe, safe from the world, where no one can find them,” he tells her, his speech eerily slow, as if he’s reading a chapter of a horror novel.      Zoë glances aside briefly. Although she can’t move her head, she notices the empty whiskey bottle she and Dean left last night, still laying on its side in the window sill. She reaches out, almost touching the glass, but the bottle remains out of reach by an inch or two. The shapeshifter laughs at her attempt and continues his story, as if he has all the time in the world to tell it.      “Humans are such strange creatures, you know? If you keep them together in a tiny cage for a while, they tend to behave like spiders. They attack each other, eventually kill and actually eat their own kind out of pure desperation. How amusing is that?”

     Zoë can’t hold back a gag, but forces herself to concentrate on the bottle. It vibrates almost unnoticeable, then the bottleneck turns towards her slightly. Focus, Zo! You can do this! She sends all her energy through her stretched out arm towards the nerve endings on her fingertips. It works, because the bottle flies into her hand. With an unexpected strike Zoë breaks the bottle on the shifter’s head, who stumbles back, finally letting go of her neck. Trying to suck oxygen down her painful windpipe, she coughs uncontrollably. Alright, that’s enough. A fair fight seems noble and all, but having a face off with a supernatural being, might not have been one of her smartest ideas. The huntress reaches for her gun and takes the magazine from the bed, swings around, aiming at… nothing? The room is empty.      “Fuck, not again,” she curses, bummed that she can’t put twenty years of jujitzu training in good use because of the runner.

     Before bolting out the door, the experienced huntress glances both ways down the hallway, her gun ready. Shit. No sign of the shifter. She lets out a frustrated sigh and  moves in, rolling her tongue over her straight teeth in the meantime, checking if they got chipped after the nasty headbutt she received.       When she clears the foyer, she is surprised to find the real motel owner, tied up to a chair in nothing more than a shirt and trunks, his mouth taped.      “Are you alright?” she asks, as he ‘hmm’s’ loudly.      In a quick movement she rips the tape from his mouth, unleashing a rant of curses and shouts.      “Ouch! That son of a bitch! Where is he?! Where is that bastard who did this to me?! I’m gonna kill him! I swear, I’m gonna--”

     Zoë stares at him for a moment, feeling a headache coming on, then grabs the roll of duct tape from the counter. While the manager keeps on raging, she rips off a piece of tape and presses it over his mouth. There is no way in the world she’s gonna release the pissed off elder; he needs some cooling down time. Casually she picks up the phone and for a moment considers dialling 911, but decides this isn’t really that much of an emergency and calls the local police.      “Hello? Yeah, hi. I just found an old guy tied up to a chair in not much more than his undies… Motel 6, 2107 Highway 52 North... My name? Yeah, it’s Not Interested.”       She hangs up and clears her throat, wiping her prints from the horn, then walks away, bored, with the roll of duct tape in her hand, leaving the furiously moaning motel owner behind the counter.

     Back in her room, she gathers her things and stuffs them in two duffels, which fit into the two big leather saddlebags on her Harley perfectly. She makes quick work of getting rid of all the evidence, including the glass she shattered on the shifter’s head. With both bags on her shoulder, she takes a last look around and leaves the room, waving at the motel manager on her way out while hiding her face from the security camera.       The cover of the manhole in the center of the parking lot is removed; her shifter went underground again. He's running back to his hideout, only he doesn't know that she knows exactly where that is.      “3841 110th Avenue Northwest,” she mumbles to herself as she gets on her bike and puts the helmet on her head.

     That’s where she’s going, that’s where this is going to end. The Harley engine roars loudly when she accelerates. Its back tire spins for a moment before the motorbike takes off as the evening sets in. This is going to be her last night in Rochester and his last night on the face of the earth. Zoë is determined: this hunt ends tonight.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part nine here

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[mimymomo]

Love Is War ~ Orphydice

So I came up with this idea after listening to an English cover of the Kaguya-sama Love is War opening (that’s not important to the story at all). Also, I wrote half of this story in the middle of the night so...enjoy!

Eurydice was at battle. A hardened soldier in a losing war. Each day was getting harder and harder to fight, to resist her ever-growing urges to throw down her weapons and give in to temptation. If only the side she was fighting against actually knew they were at war...

“Heads up,” Persephone grinned cheekily, sliding into her seat next to Eurydice’s, “Orpheus is definitely gonna try and ask you out today!”

Eurydice groaned, “again? That’s gotta be the third time this week!” These fruitless attempts were becoming more frequent by the week. “Persephone, I know it’s you who keeps pushing him to do this. You’ve got to stop encouraging him to keep asking.”

Persephone was Eurydice’s closest, and maybe only, friend. She was in her late thirties yet acted like she was no older than twenty-five. Eurydice met Seph in her last class in the fall quarter of her freshman year.

Eurydice was exhausted―four classes a day had been a terrible idea, and by class number four, she was truly feeling it. She shuffled into the classroom at the end of the hall. And immediately, her eye was caught by a lady in a vibrant green dress.

Her wild, curly hair flowed in endless waves. Stray strands of gray hair perfectly contrasted against the brown. Sun-kissed skin shines under the harsh, fluorescent lights. She was older, Eurydice knew as such, but by how many years? Not a clue. It could range from one to twenty; the numbers never blended better. A spotlight shone through the one open window, somehow impeccably highlighting her frame. She looked as if she was a goddess. Eurydice couldn’t help but be drawn to the woman, taking a step to the empty seat next to her. One step, then another and another. Next thing she knew, she was seated in the chair and talking to the woman with an infectious smile and laughing for the first time that day.

Persephone, she had introduced herself. An ex-botany now wine studies major student, she originally enrolled in college years ago but dropped out after one year to marry her high school sweetheart. After a near divorce, she was looking for a new start and believed going back and getting her degree would help do just that.

“Sucks that starting next year I’ll be attending the same school as my baby nephew, but at least I’ll get to lovingly, embarrass him, so there’s a silver lining!”

From that moment on, the two grew extremely close. Eurydice gained a friend she could talk to and trust. Or at least she thought she could trust.

“Well maybe you stop forcing yourself to reject him, then he’ll stop asking you,” the older woman prodded. Eurydice just shook her head; she couldn’t do it, not again, not after every other man before. She had been hurt too many times, bruised and broken beyond repair- no one, not even sweeter than fresh cream Orpheus could fix that.

Orpheus Thrace, second-year and Persephone’s younger nephew? Cousin? She wasn’t exactly sure; there were too many halves and steps and god family relations involved to keep track. Eurydice had been smitten with the boy from the moment she first laid eyes on him. She could remember that day perfectly- walking into her poetry 107 class at the beginning of the fall semester last year. She was already irritated that day due to one, having to take a poetry class when it had nothing to do with her major (economics), two, the only time it was being offered, and it didn’t affect her schedule was at eight am, and three, adding sprinkles on top of the already burnt as shit cake, she had missed her alarm and was running late. So to say she was more than a little aggravated walking into the lecture that morning would’ve been an understatement.

She barged into class, her obvious bed head wild and sticking up and out in every direction, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead. The professor stopped speaking and nearly every head spun towards her direction.

“Well good morning and thank you for arriving fashionably late and gracing us with your presence Ms...”

“Mendoza.”

The elder man scoured over his attendance sheet before giving Eurydice a few quick up and down glances. “Ahh, yes, Ms. Mendoza,” he said slowly. “In the future, plan to show up on time for these lectures. Now, take a seat.”

Eurydice rolled her eyes at her professor’s belittlement and slunk over to the first open seat she could find- an aisle seat near the back of the room. Throwing herself into the seat, she brought her hands up to her face and sighed. Great start to the year... she thought bitterly.

“Now as I was saying before the...interruption, please take a look at the learning criteria for this course on the bottom of your syllabus,” Professor whatever his name was announced.

“Shit,” Eurydice muttered onto her hands. She didn’t have a syllabus and she definitely wasn’t going to ask for one now and risk yet another callous remark from the old coot.

“Um, excuse me?” a whisper caught her ear.

Eurydice groaned again, turning to the voice, and immediately she felt her breathing hitch. Oh shit, he’s cute.

The first thing she noticed was his eyes- what color were they? Hazelnut brown? Maybe a faded green? Was that a hint of pale blue in there? Whatever they were, they were enchanting. Eurydice felt herself drowning in them, swirling around unwillingly in their pool.

The tips of his straight, dark, brown hair just reached the top of his eyes a soft, hesitant smile painted his pink lips. Oh god, his lips, pretty pink and plump…

Eurydice shook her head, trying to get the picture of this stranger's model lips out her mind, “I’m sorry what did you say?”

The stranger smiled, his teeth were perfectly straight and pearly white, “sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to know if you wanted to share this syllabus with me? Since I knew you came in late and don’t have one.” He adjusted the front of one of his brown leather suspenders. Suspenders, a white shirt, and a...red bandanna? The man had an interesting style, that’s for sure. But Eurydice couldn’t help but be drawn to him despite that.

“Yes, please,” She whispered brightly, “thank you so much.” She flashed him a smile and his cheeks flushed a dusty shade of magenta.

“N-no problem.”

“Now, where are we?”

“Right! Uhh, we’re right,” the boy scooted closer to Eurydice, setting the stack of stoked paper in the center of them. He smelt of something warm, sweet with a hint of musk, like from being surrounded by old books. Was that his cologne or just his natural scent? Eurydice felt heart flutter in her chest, what the heck? “Right here,” the boy pointed at a stray bullet point midway down the page.

Eurydice spent the remainder of the fifty minutes struggling to pay attention to the monotonous voice of her professor or keep track of the never-ending words on the page, while her attention seemed to travel elsewhere. On a certain someone to be more precise.

By the time the bell tolled, Eurydice was spent. The cute stranger was packing up his things and slinging a...guitar? Over his shoulder. Had that always been there? I wonder if he’s good? Shit, I think he’s talking to you! Quit spacing out!

“I’m sorry?” Eurydice said, shaking her head trying to turn her attention the bandana banded boy.

He smiled a nervous smile, “I was just wondering if you would like to go get something to drink with me?”

“Ain’t it a bit early to be drinking?”

“Oh, oh no,” he scrambled, waving his hands in a cute, semi-frantic gesture. “I meant like go get tea or something. The student cafe isn’t too far from here I think. And I don’t have my next class until three pm.”

This boy...just giving away such personal information to someone he just met. Sure, she didn’t have another class until noon but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend her free time with some eccentric stranger she only met an hour earlier. Even if he was undeniably attractive. Eurydice smirked, doing her best to keep up her blasé appearance. “I’m more of a coffee person myself.”

“I’m sure they have coffee as well,” he assured. “My aunt who goes here said the scones are to die for.” His aunt? Eurydice paid no mind.

“I don’t even know your name,” she countered. She didn’t know why she was fighting so hard, or even giving his random man her attention, but there was just...something about him she could resist.

The man gave her the biggest, dopey smile, damn, no person should ever be allowed to be that cute. “I’m Orpheus.”

Orpheus. Orpheus. Orpheus, she repeated in her head.

“Hello Orpheus,” she loved the way his name rolled off her tongue, sweet like honeysuckle and molasses.

And against her better judgment, she replied, “I’m Eurydice.”

The two made their way out the double doors, and down the cement paths to the student cafe in the center of campus. They passed towering buildings and pushed through the bustling crowd of manic students coming in every direction. As they walked over a small bridge, Eurydice glanced at the tall willow trees that veiled over the river that ran throughout the campus. Colorful leaves floating on top of the dark water.

By the time they walked into the cafe, most students had left for class leaving the place nearly deserted. The two ordered their drinks - one tea and one caramel macchiato with an extra espresso shot - then sat in large, cushioned chairs near an electric fireplace.

They sat and chatted about everything and nothing. Where they’re from (both grew up locally but on different sides of the city- Orpheus on the east side, Eurydice on the west), what grades and majors they were (Orpheus: first-year music. Eurydice: second-year economics), and before they knew it, hours had passed.

In the middle of a heated chat over what Beatles album was superior (the White Album obviously), Orpheus’ phone began to buzz on the table. He picked the cell up and began typing away, his nimble fingers tap-tapping on the tiny keys. “Sorry,” he said placing the screen face down, “my aunt was texting me. Asked how my first class was.”

“You have a nice aunt,” Eurydice remarked, head in hand, elbow on the tabletop.

“She’s something,” Orpheus sighed, his smile slightly waning. “But I love her.”

Eurydice felt something twinge in her chest. Listening to stories of Orpheus and his loving family stung just the tiniest bit. She’d had enough time over the years to come to terms with her complicated family drama but it didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt sometimes.

“She said she wanted to stop by and check on me, face to face, I hope you don’t mind,” Orpheus groaned, his face scrunching up like an embarrassed child’s.

Eurydice shrugged, “‘course not.”

At that moment the jingle from the door could be heard and a familiar voice rang through the cafe walls: “Orpheus!”

“Lady Persephone,” Orpheus grinned, waving her over to the table.

“Poet, what have I told you about the Lady Persephone crap? I’ve known you since you were in the single digits and your parental guardian is my brother, just call me aunt Seph already.”

“Hey, I still call Mister Hermes, Mister Hermes!” Orpheus whined. “And besides you yelled at me the first time I called you aunt Seph!”

“That was years ago!”

“It was traumatizing!”

“Persephone?” a flabbergasted Eurydice cried out, deriving the attention to her and away from the twos ridiculous argument.

“Songbird! I see you’ve met my nephew Orpheus?”

“Nephew?”

Persephone quickly explained how Orpheus, as a small child, had been adopted by her older half-brother Hermes after his mother left. So, he had terrible parents too? Maybe they were more similar than she once believed.

From that day on, Orpheus joined the twos small friend group. And since that day to the present, Eurydice had been stuck at the ultimate crossroad. It was obvious that Orpheus had a thing for her, subtly was not one of his defining traits. And his constant invitations to go and do various activities with him wasn’t helping hide that fact either. And while Eurydice knew deep, deep down inside (well maybe not too deep), that she felt the same way. But she never could find her able to take that step, to cross that bridge. Each relationship before Orpheus had taken a piece of her, smashed her bridge to broken pieces, even chucked some down the raging stream. It had taken her so many years just to reassemble that bridge to some semblance of its former glory, she couldn’t risk having it damaged once more, especially by someone who came across as caring as Orpheus. His blow would shatter her past restoration.

“Quick here he comes,” Persephone whispered, dragging Eurydice’s attention back to the present, just as Orpheus bounded his way in front of the girl's table.

“H-hello Eurydice,” etched out across his face was a pure, innocent smile. The nerves in Eurydice’s gut fluttered about, batting against her stomach.

“Oh, uh, what do ya want Orpheus?” Eurydice cringed at how harsh her attempt at tonal indifference came out. She knew Orpheus didn’t deserve it, the poor boy too sweet and mirthful for his, and her, own good. But damn, did Eurydice not want to give Persephone the satisfaction of being correct on the status of her intense infatuation with the young musician.

He paid no mind, “I’m playing a gig at Mister Hermes bar in a couple of days, I was just wondering if you’d want to, maybe, come as well? Or maybe just help me practice? I could always use an audience.” Copious amounts of unfiltered hope and adoration bled through every word. Eurydice knew she should be annoyed by Orpheus' persistence, his blatant disregard of her previous refusals and body language. But she couldn’t bring herself to be; she knew the boy was not the quickest when it came to picking up on social cues. Plus Eurydice had a large suspicion that some aunt of his was pushing him to continue his trivial pursuit.

Ahh, so he’s taking a more gentle approach this time? she thought. No longer attempting to sweep her off her feet with bombastic musical performances or bouquets of expensive flowers that all mean love and heavy infatuation. Eurydice refused every offer- big or small- no matter how hard she wanted to agree. Today would be no different.

“Sorry Orpheus,” she said, fiddling with specks of nonexistent dirt under her nails. “I can’t.”

His shoulder sagged and smile all but vanished. Eurydice instantly felt bad for shooting the boy down that quick, but it had to be done, for both their sakes.

“Oh...okay,” his voice gummy and discouraged, like a stepped-on marshmallow.

“Oh give me a break,” Persephone snapped, slapping her hands down against the flat surface. “You can make it to that show, I know it, you know it too. Why are you lying?”

Eurydice felt something boil inside her, a pot left too long on high was now began to simmer over, spilling all its contents for the world to see. “I don’t see how this pertains to you,” she bit back, glaring the older woman down with eyes of steel.

“Well, you’re my friend and you’re lying to a member of my family, I think this does pertain to me,” Persephone said calmly, her carrying a twinge of an edge.

“Well, I’ve told you countless times to stop encouraging all these stupid advances!” Eurydice shouted, not noticing nor caring if she disturbed any passer biers. “I'm never going to say yes no matter how many times you get him to ask, and you of all people should understand that. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?” Why did Persephone not get that this was hard in her? Why did she not understand that every time she had to turn down Orpheus, another piece of her heart chipped away, drifting downstream until it inevitably sank, never to be seen again? It hurt, it hurt so badly. But she had to do this, she couldn’t lose Orpheus, she couldn’t go through the pain of heartbreak again. She was a lone wolf on the field, she didn’t have time for a partner.

“But-”

“Aunt Seph, it’s fine.” The two turned their attention to the man of their conversation, both having forgotten he was even present. His face was blank, eyes glossy, staring down, off into space. “Eurydice is right. We should stop this.”

“But Orpheus-”

“It’s fine,” he asserted. He shifted the guitar case strap on his back, fingertips white from clutching on so tight. “I’m gonna go, class.” That was a lie. Eurydice knew his schedule like the back of her hand, Orpheus didn’t have another class for another hour, usually joining her and Persephone in a quick run to the student cafe for a fast breakfast. But Eurydice has no energy to correct him. She wanted to scream, to tell him he had the wrong idea, that she felt the same way. But she kept her mouth closed, biting her lip close to breaking the skin. She watched as Orpheus shuffled out the door, head hanging low, carrying himself like a scolded puppy running from the scene of an accident.

“Aunt Seph.”

“What?” Eurydice said blankly.

“He called me Aunt Seph,” Persephone scoffed. Eurydice felt something crawl in her stomach when Seph brought this significant word change to her attention. To many, saying ‘aunt’ and not ‘lady’ was no big deal, but to them, it meant everything.

The two sat in deafening silence until Eurydice tore away and all but sprinted out the door.

…

A few days after the disastrous incident, Eurydice found her racing through the crowded streets to a familiar bar. Hermes.

When she arrived, Hermes directed her upstairs to his and Orpheus’ living quarters where Seph was supposedly waiting. She raced up the stairs and down to the second door on the left: Seph’s guest bedroom.

“Songbird!” Persephone smiled, swinging the door wide open.

“Seph,” Eurydice yelled, charging in past the older woman. “What’s the emergency?” Eurydice was stewing alone in her apartment, trying and failing not to think about the young musician whom she guarded her heart against when she received a confusing text from the lady of spring telling her to get here quick.

She had been too worried about Persephone’s cryptic message to even consider the implications of standing in the home of the man whose heart she just recently broke. But Persephone looked...fine? Giddy even. What was happening here? “Seph, what’s going on here? I thought there was an emergency?”

“Oh, there is,” she grinned and Eurydice felt a chill travel up her spine. She didn’t like that smile, a hint of glimmering mischievous shining through the cracks. “Come on, the problems down the hall.”

Persephone guided her down the hall to a wooden door lit by the hall lights, a room Eurydice had never ventured through. “I lost an important paper for Hades when I was staying here and now I can’t find it. That brother of mine said he might’ve moved some stuff in here.”

“You called me here, thinking it was some huge emergency, just to help you look for some paper?” Eurydice gaped.

Persephone gave a quick nod, “like I said it’s an important document. And I figured two bodies would find it faster than one.”

“Did it not come across your brain that I could’ve been busy?”

Persephone pulled out a key and began to twist the lock, “if you were that busy, you wouldn’t have been here this quick. I know you’ve been holed up in your room think about that boy.”

Eurydice folded her arms, “you're the one who caused all this. I was fine keeping my distance but you kept pushing him to ask me out.”

Persephone unlocked the door, yanking out the key, “yeah, yeah, songbird, but think of this as me trying to fix things.”

“What do you mean, trying to fix-” Persephone sharply jerked the door open, light flooding in the dark. And there in the darkness, kneeled on the floor was a tall, skinny figure Eurydice instantly recognized.

“Orpheus?”

The young man tilted his head up, slowly standing, “Eurydice…?”

Suddenly, Eurydice felt a forceful shove on her back and she tumbled into the closet, falling into Orpheus’ arms. Slam! Then it was dark.

“Persephone!” Eurydice screamed, breaking away from Orpheus. She turned the knob- locked. She banged on what she hoped was the door. “What the hell? Let us out!”

“No can do Songbird,” she chirped through the other side of the wooden door. “You two need to handle whatever’s going on between you.”

“Seph,” Eurydice grumbled lowly, irritation seeping through her tone. Hard as the strongest steel, sharper than a razor blade. “Let me out NOW!”

“I told you Eurydice, I’m not letting you out until you and Poet figure out that relationship of yours. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Hades and I have a date. The counselor said it’d be good for us. ‘Bonding’ or some craziness like that. See you two in a few hours!” And with that, the two young adults listened to the sound of their freedom step down and out of the hall.

Eurydice continued to bang on the door, yelling for someone, anyone to come and answer her pleads, to come and open the door. She reached in her pants pocket, hoping she could use her cell to call Mr. Hermes to let them out. Nothing. She checked the other, then the backs, all empty. She must have left it back in her room.

“Great, just great!” Eurydice wallowed, slumping to the carpeted ground. She tucked her knees to her chest, “I can’t believe she locked me in here-”

“With me?”

Eurydice whipped her head in the direction of Orpheus’ voice. Even in the dark, his shadowy figure was easy to pick out- hunched over, fingers tugging at the loose ends of the old carpet. “What?”

Orpheus scoffed, “I’m sorry. I know you’d probably want to be anywhere else besides being stuck in a stuffy closet with me, the loser who apparently can’t take no for an answer. Who, even after being rejected, again and again, is still helplessly in love with you.” Orpheus sniffled, and Eurydice watched as he wiped cascading tears off his cheeks. “I told Lady Persephone that you didn’t feel the same, but just kept telling me to keep trying, that I was wrong, that I had a chance. And like a fool- I believed her. I kept trying, even though in my heart I knew the truth. I knew I stood no chance of winning your heart. You’re too good for me,” he gave her a wet, smile, eyes shut tight and throat clogged from holding back sobs. “But I still tried. And I ruined it.”

Eurydice felt her tears began to spring in her eyes as well, clawing at the back of her throat. Pricking needles on her tongue, “Orpheus-”

“I ruined it.” He wasn’t listening. “I ruined everything. Now, you don’t even want to be in the same room as me. I’m sorry Eurydice. I’m to blame for all this.”

“You’re wrong,” Eurydice sobbed, cutting the manic boy’s lament short. She shook her head, “you’re wrong. This isn’t your fault.”

“Eurydice,” Orpheus whispered half-heartedly.

“No,” Eurydice bawled, rising to her knees, dragging them over to Orpheus. She took his hands in her own, squeezing them, “you did nothing wrong. You, you were right all along.”

With a deep breath, Eurydice felt her battle armor slowly start to peel off, falling to the dirty, trodden ground. She was raising her white flag, why was she still trying to convince herself that fighting this exhausting battle was worth it? Why was so certain that she didn’t deserve love? Happiness? Him? She was done. Screw it, if this bomb blew up in her face, she’ll gladly accept the blow. This feeling and this man in front of her were worth the risk.

“I love you.”

Orpheus gasped, eyes so bugged out they looked as if they’d fall right out of their sockets. Eurydice wanted to laugh at his expression, but she couldn’t. She needed to focus. “I love you. Orpheus, I love you,” Eurydice sobbed, gripping the front of his shirt. “I have for a long time now. I was just too scared to admit that, to you, to Persephone, to myself...I’ve been hurt by so many people, more times than I can count. I just, I just-”

Orpheus wrapped his arms snuggly around Eurydice’s shoulders, holding her close as she cried, body wracked with wet heaves. He held her and held her and held her, running his hands up and down her back, letting every single salty tear spill.

When she finally calmed down, she pulled no more than an inch away. Orpheus places his forehead on hers, burning hot. They sat there quietly, just taking the other in.

“Is it true?” Eurydice stared into his eyes, a sliver of hope piercing through, “what you said, is it true? That you, that you love me?”

Eurydice cupped the sides of his face, fingers brushing against bristly, unshaven stubble. Her heart pounding- ba thump, ba thump, ba thump. With a nod, she gave him a warm smile, “it’s true. I do.”

A large grin overtook Orpheus’ face, “I love you too, Eurydice!”

Pink in the face from embarrassing excitement, Eurydice released a shaky breath, “I know Orpheus, you've told me plenty of times.”

“And I’ll tell you dozens more,” he chirped, a song of love filling his heart and head. He brought her in for a serried hug, their heartbeats thumping in a synchronized rhythm. Maybe laying down her weapons wasn’t sure a terrible decision in the end?

Then a horrifying thought popped into her head, “shoot.”

“What’s wrong?” Orpheus shot back panicked, had Eurydice already changed her mind?

“I just realized, Seph's never gonna let this go! Her being right, that is! She’s gonna tease us to high heaven once we pop outta this closet and she learns we’re dating…”

“Wait, we’re dating?” Orpheus asked gobsmacked.

Eurydice tensed, “o-oh, did you not want to? I just assumed-”

“No, no, no! I do!” He yelled. He couldn’t let her think about that reality, and he definitely couldn’t let her speak it into existence.

Eurydice smiled, “okay then. Now all that’s left is to seal the deal.”

“Seal the deal?” Orpheus asked voiced laced with confusion.

Eurydice nodded her head. With her eyes still locked with the taller boy’s and a sultry smile, she brought the tip of her pointer finger up to her lips and gave them a few quick taps. Even in the dark, Eurydice could tell Orpheus was blushing. She imagined the shades of pink that shadowed his cheeks and the redden tips of his ears. Due to their proximity, the young girl swore she could feel a warm heat radiating from the boy’s face.

“O-oohh...I see,” Orpheus stuttered, breaking his eyes away from Eurydice’s fervent stare.

She giggled at his nervousness and placed her hands gently to his cheeks, rubbing the pads of her thumbs over smooth skin. She had dreamed about this moment for over a year. Now, she finally had her chance, she wasn’t going to waste it. “I mean, they did lock us in here. We might as well take advantage of it.” And before he could reply, Eurydice closed her eyes, stood to the very tips of her toes and surged forward, pulling Orpheus’ head down slightly down in the process.

So hot, was Eurydice’s first thought as the two’s lips met. His lips- soft, hot, scalding even. After a few, too short, seconds passed, she pulled away. “Shit, I’m sorry. Was that okay...?”

Orpheus swiftly nodded his head. “Oh Gods, yes,” he whispered before swooping down and recapturing her his with his. Love and eagerness bleeding through his lips.

Eurydice placed her arms around Orpheus’s neck and ran her fingers through his brown locks, while he snuggly wrapped his around her waist. They stayed that way for a while then Eurydice had a sneaky idea. She brought one of her hands down and placed it at the hem of Orpheus’ shirt; glacially slipping her fingers under the fabric the teeniest bit, running them over a smooth patch of pale skin causing Orpheus to jump at the feeling.

“Is this okay?” Eurydice asked a fraction of a centimeter away, not wanting to separate their lips. Orpheus left out a huff and a fast nod, his eyes glossy and lips just starting to get puffy.

Eurydice smiled and brought their lips back together. “You know you can touch me too,” she teased through their kisses and continued with her touch; her feather-light strokes reaching farther, getting longer. She could feel Orpheus reach out to do the same but stopping just as he grazed her shirt. Sensing his hesitance Eurydice pulled her hand out and grabbed hold of Orpheus’, giving the long fingers, calloused from strenuous guitar practices, a few good squeezes, and rubs, before bringing it behind her back and up her shirt. She gasped at the sensation of delicate fingertips circling her lower back and sides, then up and down gently over the dip of her spine. Damn, this was getting much more intimate than she ever imagined it would.

Orpheus pulled back breathing heavy, swollen red lips wet and puffy, “that okay?”

Eurydice nodded, eyes glazed over, desperate to feel his touch again. She reeled him once more and continued their tango.

She doesn’t know how long they spend interlocked in the closet but she can’t bring herself to care. They shared searing kisses all over their mouths, necks, and throats, tongues battling for dominance. Frantic yet exquisite touches over and under clothes, nibbles on ears and collarbones and heavy breathing filled the room. A fiery ball of heat and jitters burned in the pit of Eurydice’s stomach. Months of longing, intense internal turmoil, and tiptoeing around feelings now poured out through their every action. The feeling coursed through her body, affecting every nerve and every sense until Orpheus and his lips, his touch, his scent, was all she could think of. Orpheus. Orpheus. Orpheus.

Suddenly, a long creak rang out and a blinding light shone in their faces. Both young adults pulled back from their make out and squinted, shielding their eyes from the onslaught of brightness before them.

“Well, what do we have here?” the voice snickered. They immediately recognized the saccharine, sing-songy tone. The same voice that they heard from the other side of the door just hours? Minutes? However long ago: Persephone.

Another voice sighed. With squinted eyes, Eurydice peeked back into the light and saw three shadowy figures- one an elderly man, the other two still older but not as much. “You wanna tell me why my boy and his girl were locked in the closet?” Hermes asked the room, exasperation oozing out into the air.

“My wife was acting juvenile once again,” Hades impossibly deep voice cut in.

“Shut it Hades!” she blurted hotly at her husband’s disapproval.

Flushed red with embarrassment from being caught in such a compromising position, the two young adults fully broke apart, scooting away to the opposite side on the confined closet. Eurydice felt her heart pounding in her throat as she sputtered about, trying to get some form of an explanation out in the air. “We, I mean, what happened was-”

Persephone laughed, her back bending forward from full-body chuckles, “we know what happened Songbird. You’re faces and necks are enough proof.”

Eurydice glanced over to Orpheus, his hair messily sticking up from where her fingers were threaded. Purple-red bite marks littered his neck and lipstick stains covered his flushed cheeks, lips bright pink and swollen. She placed her hands on her burning cheeks and neck, trying to cover where she was sure similar marks lingered.

Hermes swing the door open further, “you two come on outta there.” Orpheus and Eurydice stood to the feet and awkwardly marched out the closet, still too nervous to engage any form of contact. “Now, you two clean yourselves up, you look like you’re having a wrestling match in there.”

“They basically were…” Persephone muttered under her breath. Eurydice glared at her while Orpheus kept his eyes in every other direction.

Hermes paid his younger sister no attention, “just tidy yourselves up. And you,” he directed his focus to Orpheus, “you start in ten.”

“Oh yeah, your shows tonight,” Eurydice suddenly remembered.

Orpheus gave a quick nod, “will you stay and watch?” A hint of hesitancy detected in his voice.

A small, warm smile tugged at the ends of Eurydice’s mouth, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Orpheus gave her a cheeky grin, all traces of worry had melted away. He reached out and took her hand in his, intertwining his bony fingers with her plump ones.

“Well, we’ll leave you two to get fixed up,” Hermes said. “Come on, now,” he gestured to Hades and Persephone and the two followed him in succession down the winding stairs.

Orpheus and Eurydice headed to Orpheus’ room and straightened out their clothes and fixed their stray hairs. Orpheus tied his bandanna snuggly around his neck, hiding the numerous colorful marks in the process. “Well, I’ll see you downstairs,” Eurydice spoke while brushing down her bangs, turning to the door.

“Wait, hold on a second,” he chimed, lightly pulling her back. He snatched something off his dresser and handed it over to Eurydice: a spare bandanna. “I keep extras,” he shyly smiled, “I thought maybe you’d want something to cover up, you know.” He waved his hand over the area of her neck.

“Ahh, you don’t want people to see all your handy work, Orpheus?” she teased. Orpheus sputtered about, no words besides half-formed fragments and various sounds came tumbling out. Eurydice laughed, kisses his cheek and took the red bandanna from his hands. She folded it and wrapped it nicely around her neck, “there. Now we match.” She glanced at Orpheus, his mouth agape with a star-struck expression glued to his face. This felt intimate in a way neither had realized. Like they were connected, a true pair.

Eurydice took his hand once more and pulled him out the door and headed towards the stairs. She was heading towards a new battle, a fight she once thought she’d never be brave enough to face. But with Orpheus at her partner, maybe this battle would be worth the fight? Who knows, only the future could tell. But she prayed that her future included her dopey musician boyfriend close by her side.

[erintoknow]

this is nothing new

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

[Read here on AO3!]

Chapter: this is nothing new tw: death

[Same Old Blues]

You wake with a scream, tumbling off the couch, cracking your head against the edge of the coffee table with a ‘Thump!’ on your way down. Flashes of green before your eyes. Distantly aware of your heart pounding in your chest.

“Alex? Lord , Alex, are you okay?” The light flickers on as woman steps out of the bedroom, one hand shading her eyes as she winces against the light. Brushing back dirty blond hair, Chelsea tsks as she navigates the pile of clothes and library books that mark the corner of the apartment you’ve taken over.

Clutching your head, you pull yourself in. Try to make yourself as small as you can. Something… remembered something but what? It’s already gone. Doesn’t feel real, none of this does – already slipping out of your grasp, faster as you try to take hold. Why is Chelsea in Ortega’s apartment? Red and silver threads, something at your throat.

Hands find you and you strike out. Someone yells, “Ow!” the noise unheeded as panic renews; why did you do that? What are you thinking? You’re really in for it now – should know better. How many times do the same lessons need to be learned?

“Alex, Alex, it’s okay.” You tense, can feel the intention to touch incoming but it doesn’t – no hands come near you. “You’re safe. I promise you.” Notes of worry, directed towards – not you, can’t be you, has to be something else.

It’s a lie. One they love to tell. You’ll never be safe.

Have to… have to get out of here. Have to do something. Have to move. Get out. Escape. But there are hands, holding you down under white fluorescent lights, burning spots into your vision that cast of the crowd of onlookers in silhouette. Something is strapped over your head, while she looks down at you. Disappointment naked on her face, speaking with another woman’s voice. “Next time, I expect results forty-two.”

It’s the strobing flashes of red and blue that pull you out of it – a shot of adrenaline sets your hands shaking as you pull yourself out of the position you’d fallen into, laying half out of your bed.

You’re not back there , and you aren’t anywhere but here. Not Ortega’s, not Chelsea’s, not – not there. You’re in your own place. You have one of those now. An apartment. Remember?

Maybe not for long. Police lights? You clutch a hand to your aching head as you stretch out your awareness, take stock of the local minds, pick up the interlopers. Police. And… EMTs? Why? Dig deeper and your hands twist the bed sheet. Death. Someone’s dead. Footsteps in the hallway and nausea washes over you. It takes the sheer desperation of not wanting to spend a day cleaning out bedsheets, yet again , to tamper it down. Clothes stick to your skin in a cold sweat.

The apartment next door. On the left. Young man, lived with his girlfriend – her thoughts stand out, a barbed wire coil of grief. Was paying child support. Managed a convenience store. Didn’t smoke. Didn’t drink. Now he’s dead.

How? Why?

Try to press harder for the details only to immediately snap back. Shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have wondered. You’ve never been good at learning that lesson, no matter how many times, you come to regret it.

Holding into the bedside table for balance, you push yourself up, vision briefly blacking out before filling back in as you stand. Give yourself a moment to adjust. To think.

The door. Check the door.

Navigating the gloom you step around the traps and check the door lock, the chain, bolt, and bar. Everything is in place. You’re still safe. Moving to the window you check that next. Shatter-resistant glass, threaded with a steel wire reinforcement. Not much for looking, but no one’s getting through it any time soon. Not without making a lot of noise.

You brush your mind against the police again. No thoughts to you. Or your apartment.

You’re not in any immediate danger.

Stomach prods you with pangs of pain. What time is it? Too early to be awake. It’s – it’s absurd, right? To think it’s your fault. His death. You weren’t even awake to do anything .

Wait–

Shit!

Jane! You were Jane and you were doing something – what? What were you doing?

“Are you sure you are alright to be out today, mon amie?” Dr. Mortum eyes Jane worriedly from the other end of the booth, fiddling with the glass of sherry in her hands. New glasses? The gold of her frames stands out against the dark tone of her skin.

“Doc, please.” Jane sighs, slumping back in her chair. No fancy looks today. Whatever is going on between Jane and Dr. Mortum now, that particular game is over. Your puppet, your mirror image, is wearing slacks and a cardigan. Plain and unfashionable. But you don’t need her to perform today. Not like that. Faded bruises still peeking out from under her shirt collar. Memory of stiffness. “It’s been weeks, I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” The good doctor takes a sip of her drink, one hand on the table between them. Her expression grows darker, and Jane leans in too. Nerves on edge. “So it looks like your employer made quite the splash.”

“All thanks to your hard work.”

Mortum’s expression only darkens. Her eyes darting towards the side, down at Jane’s wrist. Eyes tracing something. Jane shifts her hand away, under the table. “I suppose there is a truth to that.” She sighs, looks up again to catch Jane’s eyes. “Have you… thought any more, about what I said?”

Oh. This again. Dr. Mortum’s always been happy to just take the money without questions before. Where is this sudden attack of conscience coming from?

“I can handle myself.” Jane’s smile gains an edge. “As I’m sure you remember.”

Mortum’s smile is polite, but her eyes betray amusement. “In vivid technicolor, mon amie.”

“Hah.” Jane snickers, “Don’t be such a nerd.”

Mortum keeps smiling. “Ah, but you recognized the reference. So who is the bigger nerd here?”

“Smart-ass.”

Can’t remember past that. But you just woke up so… you fell asleep, clearly. Did you fall asleep as Jane? Biting your lip you force yourself to lay down in bed, sheets still hanging half off. Close your eyes. Have to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.

Finding Jane is getting easier and easier these days. Like there’s a cord strung between you – follow the thread and you’ll find her at the end of it.

Sink in, and it’s always touch that comes first, after that everything else fills from the outside in. As if you’re water pouring into an empty vessel. Jane sits up, blinking with bleary eyes. Only the briefest sense of vertigo before her stomach settles.

The dull soreness of healing bruises floats into awareness. It’s dark, with warm fabric drawn over her lower body… She’s home at her apartment. Safe. Everything’s fine. You worried for nothing. Jane glances at the alarm clock. 4 AM. Now that the possibility of danger is brushed aside, you’re free to be frustrated at this whole situation.

Nothing for it now. You’re not going back to sleep if you can help it. Jane’s hand finds her cellphone, checking for any messages. Nothing new; just her last exchange with Ortega, asking about when they can meet up again.

Just thinking about it is enough to make Jane smile, a lightness in her chest, even as it leaves a bitter sting in your heart. Jane is dating Ortega. Not you. That’s the way things have to be. It’s for the best. For everyone.

Ortega…

She hasn’t even been released from the hospital yet and already she’s raring to get back into the thick of things. The fool idiot never knows when to slow down. Or when to quit. She’s taking the Ranger’s defeat at your debut more personally than you had anticipated.

Honestly, you went into that night fully expecting Ortega to kill you, instead she just… slowed you down at best. A wave breaking itself against a boulder, shattering to pieces. She’s losing her touch in her middle age. She’s only to get herself hurt even worse next time. Maybe you can get Jane to talk some sense into her? Just… at least slow down for a little bit? Take better care of herself.

Somehow has to do it.

It sure isn’t going to be you.

Can still see it in your head… standing in the floodlights, a bruised and bleeding Ortega laying prone below you…

Fuck.

fucking hell

piss

Jane staggers, fighting down the wave of revulsion, swallows the bile in the back of her throat. Shit. She’s usually better insulated from your attacks then that.

Well… don’t think you’re getting back to bed any time soon. If you’re going to be up this early you might as well do something productive with all that time.

“So now, I’m the one stuck sorting out this mess.” Spinning stories about how terrible your villain alter ego is as a boss has fast become your favorite way to bond with people as Jane. There’s something liberating in being able to just go to town on her and have people actually nod in agreement.

Jane sighs, staring down at the water bottle in her hand, sloshing the contents in a slow circle. “Honestly, it’s not my fault the last deal fell through like that.” She tugs at her jacket. Should enjoy the chill while you can. Once the sun’s up, the summer heat will be back in full force.

Jane’s companion, a latina woman who has clearly never skipped leg or arm day, takes a long drag from her cigarette, her back to Jane, against the tree. The two of them have stepped off the park path for privacy.

Honestly didn’t expect Rosie to answer Jane’s call. There’s been less and less time to be able to shoot the shit with her lately. A trend you expect to continue.

Even now Jane is technically doing business. Managing your villain career, building loyalty. But Rosie has been Jane’s oldest friend – or as close to it as she can have, and you’re finding it harder for Jane to let go of her than you’d expected.

“Sounds like a capital-class serving of BS to me, yeah.” Rosie stares off into the open field, chewing on thoughts your puppet isn’t privy to. “You tried looking into some of those old buildings up in the industrial park?”

Jane blinks, staring up at the tree branches above them both. “The… industrial park, huh. Hrm.”

“Yeah, like, I know you’re hoping to get somewhere more, like, central and shit, but there’s a lot of places that cleared out when the smog started getting bad. Bet you two-to-one you can find somewhere real cheap up that way.” She goes quiet then suddenly breaks into laughter. “And hey! That boss of yours is so paranoid anyway, right? Should be happy he gets somewhere no one in their right mind is going to go.”

Jane doesn’t respond right away. It could work. A cheaper asking price means more money free to invest back into gadgets, supplies, bribes. “Yeah, okay.” Jane “I’ll give it a look around. Thanks for the tip.”

Rosie winks, thumbs up. “Hey Janey, what are friends for?”

Jane finds herself returning the thumbs up. “Nothing legal, apparently.” That gets the barking laugh you were hoping for. Rosie slaps her leg. Jane clears her throat, gives Rosie a chance to compose herself. “Speaking of friends… You ready for another job yet?”

“You know me, I can always use more sin money.” She shuffles out another cigarette from her pack, eyes shifting between Jane and the lighter. “So… suppose I am. What'd ya got?”

Jane smiles. “I think you’ll find this one interesting.”

[bladekindeyewear]

Boots reads Homestuck Epilogue part... one..??

Alright, let’s do this.  As I’ve said, the page after this one is all I’ve seen, I’m diving in unspoiled.  Also I gather from some of the non-spoilery chatter I’ve heard from my friends -- one of which warned me this sort of thing was coming a couple weeks ago, and I believed them (but didn’t want to) -- that this first epilogue-upd8 may not be the only epilogue-upd8, which isn’t surprising either given how Andrew works.

Alright, let’s go.  Hope my stomach can take it!

So, Page 1, the mock-AO3 page that’s the only thing I’ve seen before posting this.  The content warning is EXCELLENT, and gives me hope that this will be the usual Hussie-caliber and more humorous than heartwrenching.  :)

It also makes some serious sense that there would be multiple epilogues; from the sound of the summary, this one might focus more on John and then leave ample opportunity to discuss the others.

Let’s click page 2 -- oh, or contents: “Prologue”, this being a chapter list for this is another way to do it.  Clicking Prologue.......

Okay wow, this is novel format for the moment.  Good chance it won’t stay that way.

These first two paragraphs are well-written and ominous, sure -- describing stuff we pretty much already knew was happening, in different words -- but even though the writing isn’t really pretentious, there’s still a good chance Andrew *views* it as pretentious enough to find cutting away to art-style instead hilarious.  Onto the third paragraph...

Music and Calliopes the other Calliope is conducting, yeah... Oh, there’s a garbage disposal reference.  In regards to a black hole.  Like the one I kind of pointed to during Dave’s intro sequence in the Third Scratch theory and stuff in all those big theories.  The ones I was, er, wrong about... ahem.  Moving on.

“Your name is John Egbert, and you have just had a terrible, deeply pretentious nightmare.”

Pfffffffff  :D

I love you Andrew Hussie.  Reading on...

YES I see chat colors. Chat colors!!! I need chat colors.  Reading reading reading let me get down to them let me

Absolutely nothing of note has ever happened here in the entire history of the planet, which you would know, because you created it.

Baahahahahah.  :D

Okay yes I’m at the phone-sterlog.

Uh oh.

I am reading elevated levels of angst compared to usual pesterlogs in this log.  Which is to say, virtually any at all, really.  THAT doesn’t bode well for the outcome/overall tone of this epilogue.  :X  --Not to say it isn’t *appropriate*, given they still haven’t fixed/resewn Paradox Space together, but... yeah, *future feels* are popping up on the radar, that’s what I’m worried about.  I loved the tone of the snapchats and the feeling that everything was going to be fine, especially given how the ending “not being what I expected” shook me a fair bit, but to look forward to when that may end... D:

Yeah, Rose having some serious visions about some unfinished business they need to get around to instead of just fucking around and living their lives makes sense.  :X  --or at least some timeline version of them.  I’m imagining they’re living varied, excellent lives in a whole TON of timelines of promise that commit our imaginings of their potential futures to virtual canon, really, with the main thread that ties off Caliborn’s stage play almost irrelevant in comparison... that was kind of the whole point of the Ending of homestuck earlier, of that final anime flash, the fact that the victory and planet and *lives* they won meant a whole lot more than whatever Lord English’s irrelevant machinations were.

So... returning to the tail end of that main thread and seeing how *serious* it might be....... yeah. Kinda mildly panic-inducing. :XXX

You move the phone away from your ear and assume an expression you haven’t practiced in years. It is the look of a man who actually has something to do.

Okay that was good.

Ah, he’s twenty-three now!

Let’s click the next link. ==>

Fuck let’s not recount Rose’s substance abuse.

Oh, cool. Er, “cool”. Rose is getting some of Rosejaspersprite^2′s awareness of all her alternate-timeline doomed selves and their lives.  No wonder she’s worried about the substance abuse she technically mostly *avoided* in this timeline.

Light explicitly relating to knowledge, good.  That’s a nice aspect tidbit to have reiterated.

ROSE: There’s a different scale I’ve come to understand. Another dichotomy that’s less... emotional, I guess? ROSE: Consider, instead of the word “good,” using the word “essential.” ROSE: And what exists at the opposite polarity from essential is... ROSE: Something that is best not to contemplate.

ooh.  oooooh. holy shit.

okay NO, BOOTS/BKEW.  DON’T GET FUCKING EXCITED.

DON’T get excited.

It only SOUNDS like she’s learned to recontextualize the whole adventure in the rich context of the classpect system, that’s just your wild fanfic-y theoryimagination talking.  Shoosh.  (Even though she IS very, very, *very* clearly referencing the Light/Void dichotomy with the above quote.)  Just... tamp down your hopes, Boots.  Leave it at MILD hope.  Like cool porridge.

Reading on.

Alright, yeah, this universe exists beyond the timespan of the Green Sun’s influence.  Unsurprising, since it was heavily implied.  And she doesn’t have access to her expanded Green Sun powerset while *in* such a universe, which was also heavily implied by alt!Calliope or her denizen or I forget the exact conversation where it said she’d have to make the final journey without Green Sun powers or whatever.  That’s cool.  (Though having it spelled out more explicitly than usual does make it more awkward to have her use her powers for humorous purposes on MXRP in the future.)

OOOH DAVE KARKAT AND JADE ARE IN A PERPLEXING SOCIAL ARRANGEMENT YESSSSS  :D

Best news.  Okay reading on.

ROSE: You will need to travel back into canon and defeat Lord English.

Yeah I guess.

Again, the way the ending sort of put it was that..... our heroes did have to defeat Lord English eventually?  Or set right some prior stuff like doing the stage play?  But that part of the point of this whole story -- the Ultimate Reward -- was that it didn’t really matter, because they had earned nigh-infinite branching timelines of promise in a brand new universe where they could go YEARS AND YEARS living their lives in many of the ways they wished, richly enjoying themselves and starting civilizations that would last billions of years, loving and living and experiencing, only “needing” to go finally check off these other responsibilities in a single timeline of promise at the end of an extended period of vacation they chose with no particular urgency.  Branching years-and-years of essentially heaven as long as they EVENTUALLY fulfilled that particular endpoint, and they knew it.  More or less.

Rose phrases it pretty explicitly, though.  John’s powers are the only thing that can warp people through canon like that without restriction, so he was always to be involved, but... *he* needs to defeat him?  Does that mean alone?

JOHN: yeah, i had a feeling that was going to come up again someday. ROSE: I’m sure we all did. That is, even those of us without visions. JOHN: i was doing my best not to think about it. i guess we can’t put it off any longer then? ROSE: Now is the time. We are rapidly approaching a point of no return. If the decision isn’t made soon, it will be too late. The issue will no longer matter. JOHN: when exactly is the point of no return? ROSE: Today. JOHN: wow. JOHN: ok then.

Ouch.

That’s slightly more abrupt than the picture of branching bliss I just painted.

JOHN: fine? ROSE: Of course everything is fine here. ROSE: We’re outside of canon now. JOHN: yeah, i know. what does that actually MEAN though? JOHN: are you saying this isn’t really happening? ROSE: Of course it’s happening. ROSE: Just because certain events take place outside of canon, it doesn’t mean those events are non-canon. JOHN: oh. ROSE: In other words, there is an important distinction between events which can be considered to occur inside canon, outside canon, and those which are not canon at all. ROSE: The day we went through that door and claimed our reward, we passed a threshold between continua marked by differing degrees of relevance, truth, and essentiality.

Well okay then.  I was wondering why she used the word “canon”.  They literally DID escape the narrative literally as *well* as figuratively with that Juju, then, Neverending Story style.

Also, Light being highly tied to canon and Rose having spent so much time outside of it... yeah, I can understand the headaches more, too.

Alright, reading on, it seems Andrew is using Rose to more explicitly explain how he intends all the non-canon stuff he’s presented to us to “matter”, for those who didn’t quite get or fully believe the implied explanation from context towards the end of the story.

Heh, so the idea is that the urgency comes from “it’s been too fucking long since the story ended, and this epilogue needs to come out when an epilogue would still matter to anyone”.  That’s kind of brilliant.

ROSE: As long as we live outside canon, everything that happens will technically be “real,” but only conditionally. ROSE: There are certain crucial events inside canon which must happen in order to continue to prop up the legitimacy of events here on Earth C. ROSE: And you specifically, John, have a responsibility to make sure those events take place.

Closing threads closing threads CLOSING THREADS :D !!!!!!

FUCK is this epilogue going to be mostly devoted to TYING UP LOOSE ENDS and clarifying stuff??? :D  Like the HUNDREDS OF LOOSE ENDS that were left unanswered because the ending tried to paint it all as sidelined/irrelevant regardless of the fact that they hadn’t been answered/fulfilled, which had previously pretty much traumatized me around Homestuck’s end because I was (1) so used to Andrew expertly tying up almost every loose end eventually and (2) was a theorycrafter with explicit investment in the idea that Classes, Aspects, and most of these loose ends actually DID matter???  :D

Sign me the fuck up!!!  :DDDD

...I know it’s doubtfully going to be anything close to all I hoped for, but still.  Answers, contextualization, and John tying up loose threads.  Like that final frog warped in front of Jade as a child.  That’s good, that’s VERY good.  I’m excited instead of nauseous.  :D

--and yeah, reading on, Rose makes more explicit what I said earlier that the justification Andrew’s painting for this is “we have to wrap up all these loose ends before everyone forgets about Homestuck.”  That is hilarious.

Okay, so the juju is a big plothole. Heheh.  We’ve heard it called that earlier.

...Oh.  Oh huh.

Rose is pretty much explicitly talking about the stage play consisting of a bunch of non-canon ALTERNATE VERSIONS of themselves that mean the original versions of them living happily in the new universe won’t actually die.  Holy shit.  I mean we theorized that for a TIME with some of them but THOSE loose ends (like Roxy still having her mask on) were closed up toward the end...  So instead, having it put THIS way (preserving our ideas of them living full lives post-victory), and not only that but having John DO all this stuff RIGHT NOW to fix things retroactively with some really well-written contextual clarification we’re bound to get to help with the closure... god DAMN.  This is really good.  This is going to make a LOT of people feel a whole lot better about Homestuck.  Like me.  :D

...Pff, some other girl is getting punched by John in the face again.  :D  Don’t worry, Rose isn’t saying that this is the Vriska punch at the beginning of the whole Retcon arc and that this epilogue somehow happened in the middle.  (I hope.)

...Yeah Rose implies heavily that John is gonna die his heroic death if he does this?  Or it’s meant to make us THINK she’s implying that.  Yeah.  And she feels pretty fucking horrible about what she’s asking John to go through regardless, so.  (Yeah, everyone looked pretty genuinely dead but a few at the end of the stage play, but it was pretty uncertain.)  Either way, she’s acting like John isn’t going to “come back”, even if he lives through this.

Stupid feels.

Clicking the next link.  ==>

Hiiii roxy and callie!!! :D

Yes how polite of them.

“Ultimate self”?  Yeah, a sort of synthesizing of all the offshoots of her Heart and Mind, pulling it all together and realizing the full person she is and sum of her whole experience across all timelines, pasts and futures.  Yeesh.  Pretty uncomfortable for someone who ain’t a hypersprite.

...Roxy and Rose aren’t as close?  Is it because of the substance abuse, because of the Light/Void dichotomy literally-or-metaphorically distancing them (with how disparaging Rose just was about anything that isn’t relevant), or something else?

Ah, Kanaya hogged her until she got “sick”, that explains some of it too.

A bell tower? (DOOONNNNGGG)

Fffff interpersonal relationship mildangst.  Fuck

You and all your friends have dispositions affected by your classes and aspects. You think you know what that means in your case. But what about her? You can only speculate. Void is a place where things sink and disappear. Where they linger forever, but cease to exist. You aren’t actually sure if your feelings for Roxy ever really faded, or if they just grew numb with time and distance. Is it the same for her?

Holy fucking shit.  What a big middle finger to everyone who told me aspects didn’t matter to their personalities.  :D

...Though, I think he has it kind of backwards, since he still doesn’t totally understand all this business.  It’s easy for those in canon, introduced to this subject, to think that the classes and aspects affect their dispositions, to an extent where the reality (at least I contend) is that it was their natural dispositions in the first place that the classes and aspects were actually describing.  The power that was latent in their very personalities and tendencies to action all along.

Reading... Ah, yeah, a choice.  Was pretty sure this terminology would be important earlier.  It depends on what SORT of choice this is though... see, so far, Rose hasn’t given John a lot of really EXPLICIT motivation to go through with this, other than some mumbo-jumbo that would supposedly be “bad”.  And it doesn’t even address the black hole in his nightmares.  And here, we have Roxy and others explicitly encouraging him with regard to the fact that he can choose NOT to do this if he wants to.

The main question it brings up (to the future of this epilogue, how it’s going to be considered afterward, etc) is if this is the sort of Choice that John would always say yes to -- in which case it’s more canon than anything else -- or if he will end up being on the fence enough for a Terezi-style Mind-split.  Because this would be the PERFECT out to have him “die” in canon.  See, if he’s on the fence ENOUGH about going, then he creates two timelines that even both potentially have promise within the confines of this universe (since universes hold more than one timeline of promise, according to one of the Calliopes I think)--  One where he lives here, happily ever after with everyone, and another where he completes his Heroic death in canon to fix everything.  It would let Andrew kill John in this epilogue while still letting him live out eternity with everyone else outside “canon”.

He’d get to have his John-death and keep him too!  Seems plausible enough.

Anyway. Reading... it looks like they know more about this decision that Rose has told them, including the consequences Rose might have been dreading.  And likely know that IF John might die doing this, that it won’t be in a way that he regrets.

Oh wow, that whole Meat or Candy sequence is GREAT.  Silly to the core, and yet perfectly emphasizing the debate that... well, I mean, think about what Andrew’s been telling us all along.

He keeps TRYING to tell us that non-canon stuff is fine.  Trying to use that huge ending sequence of Homestuck to try and tell us that the fact that everyone is FREE from this story and its confines, free for everyone to imagine COUNTLESS ways things played out afterward for ALL these lovable characters in carefree futures, is almost MORE important than any of these stupid loose ends.  But some of us were really cut by that ending, the insistence that the actual final battle “didn’t matter” and that this escaped-from-canon existence was the true victory.  But if Andrew just upped and drew a bunch of bonus pages to start explaining more story, THAT would cheapen the escape-from-canon ending he wanted even as it satisfied those of us who wanted ends tied up, who wanted questions answered.  He had to find a very careful, very well done way to give us BOTH.  To write out the real “ending” of “canon” for those of us who needed it, without compromising the ESCAPE from the very necessity of it that was the essential point he WANTED to make with Homestuck’s story from the very beginning.  To carefully keep the endless branches of post-victory possibility and play intact while still, separately and with explicit hedging and qualifications, give us the potential results of one last canon thread to tie up the lingering questions that he so dearly wants us to recognize still “don’t matter” as much in the vast scheme of things.

And he’s doing it.  And it’s WORKING.

Holy SHIT.

I am excited for Homestuck.  I am excited for Homestuck for the first time in years, and my nausea is gone.

I’m not going to start theorizing again; that’s over.  But I’m definitely going to keep reading as the new Epilogue chapters come out, and do so with a spring in my step.

To Be Continued.  :D

[goddessofthundathighs]

Chapter 3, Pt. 1

_____________________

Summary: An arrogant young disciple of Bastet is forced to spend lifetimes roaming the Earth in search of her soulmate, but what happens when she tries to run from destiny?

A/N: For those of you that have seen Fahrenheit 451, Abhimani is taking on the role of Clarisse McClellan.

_____________________

Draped in a loose fitting oversized threadbare sweater with some barely visible shorts underneath and roughed up motorcycle boots with a burlap backpack hanging off her left shoulder, Abhimani leaned against the technicolor glass bar peering at the sights around her.

Another time. Another life. Another chance to get out of this hellhole of a curse her Goddess had bestowed upon her.

It’s not that she wasn't thankful for Bast’s favor or even that she thought she was better than the Goddess herself. Mani simply didn't believe she had to continue to do what her own Mistress does not if she is supposed to be a holy extension. What was the point of this punishment? What lesson was she supposed to learn from failing to find this man over and over?

As the deep skinned beauty’s eyes scanned the room, she watched the mentally enslaved people play in their virtual reality, hands waving around. They were really into this Big Brother shit huh? Two figures emerge right in her line of sight and though she moves to a more secluded area, she can still hear their voices approaching.

“Don’t worry I’ll talk to her this time,” the slightly shorter of the two men blurts out his eyes focused ahead but not close enough for her to see what he looks like.

“Keep your dick in your pants and stand guard,” Captain Beatty says in the usual gruff tone he thinks is intimidating or seductive. She wasn't sure but it sounded like his throat needed some moisture.

He always seemed to bring the second man with him. Presumably for back up since he always skulked in the distance and was never in her eyes’ reach. He stood off behind a pillar while Beatty walked up to her a little too much in her personal space as per usual with these meetings.

“Well, well, well Mani. You better not be wasting my time tonight. Your last tip led me to boy scouts with pornos.” Rolling her eyes, Mani replies.

“Reactivate my fingers like you said you would.”

“Feed me scraps and I’ll delete your travel permit.”

Oh you caucus dick munch. I swear if I wasn’t on a totally different mission…

“That’s bullshit. You need me.”

Grabbing ahold of the hand that was clutching the thin leather strap of her bag, Beatty seemed to caress the slightly weathered skin in his fingers, holding it preciously in his palm.

Here he go again touching shit he don’t need to be. Somebody get this dude some proper sexual harassment parameters.

“How many years did we restrict you? 6?”

“With all the tips I gave you, I should be free.”

“A beautiful free rat.”

I know he did not just… Ok Bastet, you really trying me now.

Jerking her hand away, Mani switches her position from against the wall Beatty had her up against and grabs a small folded piece of parchment from her pocket holding it up for him to see.

“Take a year off my sentence and I’ll give you something you like.”

The increasingly annoying white beady eyed white man grabs hold of her hand yet again, snatching away the piece of paper.

Abhimani lets out a heavy sigh before adjusting the strap on her shoulder and turning to the left to see the bodyguard spying from a distance.

What is this dude’s deal always staring? Hopefully I can get past him without trying some silly shit.

She proceeds to make her way to leave the moody lit place but was stopped by a pair of glowing brown eyes and a slightly hukling body in her way.

“I didn't hear the captain say you could leave.”

And once again the might roar of her Goddess rang in her head and judging by the perplexed look that flashed on his face, he heard it too.

FUCK YES FINALLY!

“Oh? Then why does he always make you wait outside like a little dog, huh?”

However fine this “soulmate” was, she had things to do, places to go and she knew that now that they had officially seen each other, they would keep crossing paths. If only she’d known this was him the whole time the damn lesson would have been learned a while ago.

As she continues her exit, the man with the pretty eyes and beautifully plump lips grips her arm, but it didn't send the same shiver through her body like when Beatty touched her.

This was actually the first time her mate had touched her in all of the lifetimes they shared. It was…. Nice.

Of course she couldn't let him know he affected her so. She's met him now she can make him want her so she pretends to be almost disgusted by his forward advance.

“You’re just like Beatty,” Abhimani says with a condescending smile on her face.

That seemed to do the trick because he gently let go of her and his chest deflated a fraction.

“I’m not like Beatty.”

“Everyone has a master.”

“Not me.”

Oh we got an independent over here.

“You spy on me but you never do anything. You stand close enough to hear but far enough that I didn’t even know what you looked like till now. Can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Another gleam flashed in his eyes at her slight admission.

And not one word of it was a lie. He was absolutely gorgeous. She didn't ever get to look at her man the way she was now cause he was either too attached to someone else or shot to death for her to focus but my oh my.

Oh thank you my Lady for this wonderous blessing.

“You’re welcome, my child.”

“Why? Do I make you nervous?”

He looked down as he replied, “You don’t.”

“When I see you burning up eels’ lives you don’t look nervous.”

“That’s because I’m very good at my job.”

He was so close she could feel the heat from his body, the slight smell of kerosene and his cologne creating a dangerous aphrodisiac.

I got a couple jobs you would be good at with your fine ass.

“Mmm. You ever stop to think for one second why you do what you do?”

His brow furrowed.

“You should try reading before burning. See you around Montag.”

Flashing him a seductive smile, Mani turns her back and saunters out of the bar with a flip of her perfectly mussed curls leaving Guy all kinds of in his feelings and a hint of confusion as to where that roar came from. Unbeknownst to him, Beatty ,who had been watching the tail end of their interaction, comes up behind him and clasps a hand on his leather jacket clad shoulder.

“Hey. Off limits. Let’s go she recommended a spot.”

With that, the two firemen left and proceeded to do their jobs off the clock.

Mani walks into the seemingly dilapidated apartment building that was actually teeming with tenants and knocks on her neighbor’s door. The door opened to reveal a blonde woman with tired eyes holding her 5 month old big baby boy with a small mohawk like strip of brunette hair. Pulling the small glass bottle of milk from her jacket pocket, she hands it to the woman who lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of the thin creamy liquid.

“I haven't had milk in a week. Thanks but I couldn't find any cooking oil.”

“That’s ok.”

Mani had already turned to her apartment door to let herself in and as the lock turned over, the woman called to her.

“Mani, be careful what you’re selling. People are talking.”

Nodding her head, Abhimani ducks into her apartment, dropping all her stuff down and removing her shoes.

Now why she would land me in this dump of a decade I will never know. If this is the future, may all the Gods be with the mortals. This is absolute purgatory but praise Bast I found him!

“You seem to be in high spirits.”

Of course Anubis followed her through every single life and like her, his form didn't ever change. He always remained the same enchanting black feline friend whom she had actually come to cherish after so long.

“Well if you must know my terribly named kitty cat, I met him today.” “You mean the white devil who secretly not so secretly wishes to have you?”

“Oh Bast please not on his gray eyed life. No Nubi I mean him. He’s been with Beatty the entire time. I only just met him today.”

The bodacious woman flits around her small space to play a vinyl that she shouldn’t be playing on a record player she shouldn't be having and takes a seat at her tool table to fix the roll of a tape she was to deliver to this man who in trade has a place for her to tip the captain off for more “graffiti” for him and his team to burn.

As the smoke rises from her soldering gun, her mind wanders to privileged times spent in the dazzling night jungle running alongside the panthers of the past trying to beat the purple starry night.

Time Break

Guy stands head bowed under the warm running water of his shower dripping down his face. Hoping it would clear his frazzled mind.

He had just returned to the station from a strange graffiti burning with this old woman who seemed to only speak in graffiti. She said no actual words but gave a quote of some sort?

‘Play the man, Master Ridley. We shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.’

Of course he had no idea what the hell that meant but it was haunting him along with the word she said right after she lit the books and herself on fire.

��Omnis’

What is that?

He stepped out of the shower, dried off and got fully dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and an army green jacket. He was sure to retrieve the book he has stolen from the house from his locker and safely hid it underneath his jacket.

As he was making his way out, he caught the 9’s report of what they were now calling Beatty’s Barbeque. When they showed footage of the old woman burning, they replaced the word she actually said with a voice over ‘coward.’

Why would they cover that up?

Guy was simply getting more and more confused by the minute and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. He was anxious to get home so he could try to properly process the night’s events.

“Montag!”

Beatty walks up behind him with a stern look on his face.

“You hesitated tonight in front of the men.”

The shorter, more good looking of the two men was instantly transported back to the house they left only hours ago when the captain instructed him to remove the old woman from the house after the graffiti was laid out and kerosene poured, she refused to leave. Guy attempted to reason with her and asked the captain if they would just leave her which was a sign of weakness and insubordination. Placing a brave look on his handsome face, he retorts back.

“I know but it won’t happen again.”

“You know it’s my first time seeing a self burn too but as far as I’m concerned, it means we’re doing the right thing.”

Beatty was his friend. His captain. His father figure. Maybe he would be able to clear up some of this bafflement in his brain.

“What was that old lady talking about? Master Ridley play something.”

He was almost embarrassed that he couldn't remember the entire text.

“Well back when people still believed in God, the Brits burned alive two eels at the stake. Ridley and Latimer for praying to a different book than their queen did. Before us, people committed genocides over books while others blew themselves up killing innocent people. Insanity plus 100.

“But why did she burn herself for books?”

The stormy eyed man looked away from him briefly before giving his rebuttal.

“Well she tried to burn us all don’t you think?” “She didn't say coward. She said omnis. What is that?”

Breaking eye contact and turning about face, Beatty gives the information he actually wants to hear.

“Well the commissioner won’t say what the ministry knows but I guess we’re gonna have to find out.”

The captain moves to stand in front of him and hands him a silver square shaped lighter.

“Burn me.”

“John…”

“Go ahead.”

What is he trying to get from me?

Sensing Guy’s hesitation, the taller man urges him on.

Hurry up. I won’t ask twice.”

Immediately, he opens the lighter and flicks it on but doesn't hold it close enough for the lone flame to touch the other man’s hand and he looked back up to lock eyes with him.

“I know you’re different than the other men. I watched you grow up. And that’s how I know you feel the same inside as me. Closer.”

Lifting the lighter higher, the tip of the flame seems to disappear and fan out in his palm.

“I’ve been burned so many times, I don’t know where my scars end and my body begins.”

Guy lifts the lighter even higher, the flame all but gone into the captain’s hand as both men’s eyes stay locked in a vehement embrace. Finally Beatty grabs the lighter and extinguishes the flame with low pain filled groan stepping closer to him with an even more fierce gaze.

“There’s no way you’re gonna break. You’re the youngest cadet I ever accepted into the Youth Fire Brigade. I raised ya and one day you’ll be just like me son. You won’t feel anything when they burn you.”

_____________________

TAGS: @jozigrrl @itsangeludaku @thehomierobbstark @eriknutinthispoosy @hearteyes-for-killmonger @muse-of-mbaku @amethyst1993 @killmongersgurl @trevantesbrat @hdkween @iamrheaspeaks @princesskillmonger @ayellepea @vikkidc @laketaj24 @madamslayyy @allhailnjadaka @purple-apricots @thadelightfulone @theunsweetenedtruth @wakanda-inspired @panthergoddessbast @blackpantherismyish @yaachtynoboat711 @forbeautyandlife @bidibidibombaclaat @quietstorm-73 @youreadthatright

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 2 - Verlöschend con Adagio

Libelle Hall by George deValier

PART TWO Verlöschend con Adagio

.

Roderich could not move. Dozens of protestors stood outside the hall today, angrier and louder than previous demonstrations, shouting deafening words he could not make out. Roderich folded his arms to his chest, trying to make himself smaller as the crowd crushed in around him. The atmosphere was heavy and frantic; the workers behind the barrier kept their distance. The slogans the crowd shouted were not even about the hall anymore, but about the people, and the establishment, and other vague terms Roderich did not understand. It seemed, to them, this really was just an excuse to riot.

But to Roderich, this was more than an excuse. It was more than a political platform. This hall was important, yes; it had cultural value, certainly – but more than anything, this hall held an important part of Roderich's memory, and an intimate part of his heart. If he lost this, when this was all he had left to remember…

But Roderich could not think of that now. "Elizaveta, I think we should…" Roderich trailed into anxious silence when he realised Elizaveta was no longer beside him. He turned around frantically, scanning the crowd, but she was nowhere to be seen. The cold anxiety in his gut began to build. And Roderich realised, with a sick stab of fear, that he was trapped. He couldn't get out. A small group rushed the barrier, and that was it. The entire crowd rushed forward, a swarming tide that Roderich was helpless to fight against. He tried to back out, but the mob was like a brick wall behind him. He was pushed one way, then the other, then he stumbled and fell heavily to his knees. He could not get up. He could not breathe. Roderich's head turned light as one mad thought flashed bright and sharp through the rushing noise: he was going to die here.

The hand came from nowhere. Roderich felt it grip his arm, felt it pull him upwards and drag him through the crowd. Light and colour and noise swam around him; it all went so fast, and everything faded but that firm grip on his arm. It wasn't until he stood on the street curb, breathing the open air, that Roderich saw who had pulled him from the mob. His chest leapt and his jaw dropped. "You!"

The German narrowed his eyes and dusted off his hands. "You're welcome." He was dressed in his work uniform, complete with bright orange vest and pony-emblazoned hard hat. He also sent Roderich's already struggling emotions into overdrive.

Roderich's heart pounded furiously, and it wasn't from fear anymore. Despite his spinning head and his constricted lungs, Roderich could only remember the feel of this man's lips against his ear the night before. He quickly shook the unwelcome memory away. "Where did you…"

"What were you doing in there?" the German interrupted forcefully.

Roderich broke off at the words. Was this man actually… concerned? But that was ridiculous! "I've already told you why I'm here," Roderich managed to choke out. "To protect this hall…"

"Austrian, none of them are here for that reason." The German sounded exasperated, his expression plainly frustrated as he pointed at the protestors. "Look at them. They're just waiting for the riot police to turn up. They don't give a damn about this place."

Roderich looked at the mob shaking the barrier. "No." He lowered his eyes, all other emotions drowned by a sudden, crushing sadness. "It seems I am the only one who does."

Silence fell between them for a moment. Roderich's heart jumped when the German said his name. "Roderich..."

But he got no further, interrupted by wailing sirens and squealing tires. A fleet of police cars tore down the street, coming to a screeching halt beside the protestors. The first car door swung open and an officer with long, white hair emerged swiftly, a radio transmitter in his hand.

"Shit." The German turned his back, pulled his hard hat down, and glanced sideways at Roderich. Those red eyes blazed into him. "Get out of here, Austrian."

Roderich watched breathlessly as the demolition worker stalked away, as the officers surrounded the crowd, as too many thoughts raced through his head. Where was Elizaveta? What would happen to the hall now? And why on earth did he feel this way about that obnoxious German?

.

"He rescued you."

Roderich adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath through his nose. They'd already been through this about fifteen times. Now that the afternoon's nastiness was behind them, and he and Elizaveta sat safe and well on his bed in his dorm room, the whole situation seemed – well – quite ridiculous. Elizaveta's insistence on returning to the matter of the German demolition worker was, to say the least, frustrating.

"No," Roderich explained calmly. "He just took my arm, and… pulled me out of the crowd."

"Oh, Roderich." Elizaveta leant forward eagerly, a pillow clutched dramatically to her chest, her green eyes wide and shining. "He rescued you!"

"No, as I said, he…"

But Elizaveta wasn't listening. "He's your knight in shining armour!" she breathed, placing the back of her hand sarcastically to her forehead.

Roderich gritted his teeth. Elizaveta was enjoying this far too much. "Knight in a hard hat, maybe. But seriously…"

"Oh, oh Roderich," Elizaveta gasped, practically jumping on the bed. "Imagine if you fainted, and he had to give you mouth to mouth…"

A far too confusing beat skipped in Roderich's chest. Now, that was too far. He pointed a finger firmly. "No, stop! We don't like him, remember? You almost physically attacked the man."

Elizaveta gave a small nod of acknowledgment. "Would've smashed the bugger too, if his friends hadn't been there."

"Exactly. He is an arrogant, misogynistic, homophobic…"

"Oh, he's an arrogant bastard, I'll give you that. Misogynistic, without a doubt. But homophobic?" Elizaveta tilted her head, her gaze far too perceptive. "He was in a gay bar, darling."

Roderich ignored that insinuation. "I'm quite certain he was only there in order to ridicule me. The man detests me, that much is plainly evident."

Elizaveta's eyes sparkled playfully. "But he did rescue you, fair Roderich!"

Roderich shook his head, exasperated. "You really need to stop now. I am not nearly as delicate as you imagine, you know."

Elizaveta looked irritatingly doubtful of that. "But Roderich, darling…" She stifled a giggle. "You just got rescued by a tradesman."

That was quite enough. "I need to think." Roderich jumped from the bed and marched from the room, ignoring Elizaveta's laughing apology behind him.

.

Some people, when they need to think, listen to music. Others need silence. Roderich went grocery shopping. Somehow, after navigating the aisles and negotiating between seven different types of cheese, Roderich always had a clearer sense of the world. Today, though, his usual tactic did not seem to be working.

It wasn't like he actually liked the obnoxious German. Actually, that was a big part of the problem. He didn't like him at all, and yet whenever he thought of him… those red eyes, that deep voice, those wide shoulders… the way he'd dragged Roderich from that crowd so easily; the way he'd teased at the bar… "You beg so well…"

Roderich took a deep breath and steered his shopping cart into the cereal aisle. Best not to think too much on that right now. Despite the fact that he made Roderich's heart race, his skin flush, and his lungs burn, the German also infuriated him. He was arrogant, he was vulgar, he was… walking down the aisle towards him. Roderich froze, just as the German noticed him.

The German looked delighted as he caught Roderich's eye. He came to a grinning halt beside him, holding a full shopping basket, and rested his arm on Roderich's shopping cart handle. "All right, admit it. You're stalking me, aren't you?"

Roderich almost choked, his cheeks burning hot. "Excuse me?!"

"Why else do you keep showing up everywhere I go?"

"I…" Roderich panicked. "This is my local grocery store, how can I be expected to keep track of where you…"

The German shook his head, laughing. "Settle down, kid, it's called teasing. You're not very good at taking it, are you? Of course…" He leant closer and winked slowly. "I could teach you that."

It took Roderich a moment to decipher what the man meant. When he did, his breath caught with fury, shock… and something else. He could only turn his wide eyes away and push his cart swiftly down the aisle.

"Hey, wait."

Roderich had no idea why he stopped.

"You all right?" The German almost sounded apologetic.

Roderich felt his forehead furrow, his palms sweaty on the cart handle. He turned back in confusion.

The German looked slightly uncertain. He scratched the back of his neck before asking, "After yesterday. You all right?"

Roderich was lost in this conversation. Once again, he had to wonder - did this brute actually care? And why did everyone assume he was so darned breakable, anyway? He composed himself enough to answer. "I am perfectly fine."

"You're perfectly lucky you weren't crushed. You really need to learn some common crowd sense. You don't go to many music festivals, do you?"

Roderich straightened his shoulders, affronted. "I attend the Salzburg Classical Festival every year."

The German snorted. "My name's Gil."

Oh, Roderich was so lost. He blinked widely and adjusted his glasses. "Gil?"

"For God's s…" The German rolled his eyes. "Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Why was this man giving Roderich his name? He obviously hated him. But Roderich was nothing if not dignified. "Well. Pleased to meet you, properly, Gilbert. I believe I have already given you my name."

"Indeed. Roderich Edelstein, the student musician who likes to protest." Gilbert peered overtly into Roderich's shopping cart. "And is fond of cheese, apparently."

Roderich narrowed his eyes. Gilbert's basket contained a lot of beer, a lot of sausages, and not a lot of anything else. "Is it Oktoberfest already?" he asked flatly.

Gilbert grinned at that. "It's always Oktoberfest at Chez Beilschmidt."

Roderich was not impressed. "Oh? A party house?"

"Oh, yeah," Gilbert grinned, raised his chin, and pointed with some ridiculous gesture. "Twenty-four hour, baby."

And then Roderich had an unexpected reaction. He laughed. As soon as he did, he silently panicked, and again turned away. This German demolition worker already had him madly infuriated, hopelessly confused, and disturbingly aroused. He could not make him laugh, also. The feeling did not last long, however, as Gilbert's tone abruptly changed.

"We'll be knocking your hall down tomorrow. The cops are barricading the street."

The words were like a punch to the gut. Roderich actually gasped, his hand flying to his stomach. It took him a few moments to fully process what he had heard. When he did, he closed his eyes tightly. He should have expected this. He should have expected it, but all he felt was sick with pain. So Gilbert did not care after all – he just wanted to gloat.

"I am sorry."

Roderich ignored him. Sorry? What did that mean? What did any of this mean? This man was going to knock Libelle Hall down himself. Roderich was too hurt to feel confused. He was too confused to feel hurt. He did not even know. He just nodded slowly and walked towards the exit in a daze, leaving his cart behind him. He felt Gilbert's eyes on his back the entire way.

.

Yesterday, Gilbert was convinced Roderich was a pompous little fool. Today, Gilbert realised that Roderich was still a pompous little fool, but he was also sort of fascinating and really, really attractive, and damn it all why could Gilbert not stop thinking about him? He needed to forget these confusing, conflicting, and just damned insane emotions. Gilbert didn't do emotions. Hell, he was gonna do his best to forget, and he may as well be the best grandson ever and grace his family with his presence as he did it.

"Ja?"

"Hey, Opa!" Gilbert shouted cheerfully into the phone. "What are you up to? Besides breaking up student riots, of course, rough day, huh? But enough of that…" He looked down at his grocery shopping spread across his kitchen counter. "Because I've got a carton of Köstritzer Black, about fifty sausages, and this, like, Colosseum-sized pack of pretzels, and…"

"Not now, Gilbert," said Aldrich impatiently. "Your brother and I are going out."

Gilbert deflated slightly, but continued, "Okay, cool, where? I'll come."

"We're just going to dinner, Gilbert, you won't be interested."

"Where are you going?" Gilbert asked warily.

Aldrich took too long to answer. "Casa Vargas."

"The Italian restaurant?" Gilbert groaned and flopped forward onto the counter. "Shit, Opa, I've told you like ninety times, old man Vargas is straight. The guy has eight hundred grandchildren."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You need to be more careful, man. You were in the papers again. Even Antonio knows about it, and he doesn't know who the Prime Minister is."

"Here, speak to your brother."

"What, hey, wait..."

"Gilbert."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes when his brother spoke. "Ludwig. Casa Vargas, huh?"

"I like Italian food," said Ludwig flatly.

"Bullshit. How's Feli?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The line went dead. Gilbert muttered irritably as he tossed the phone down. "Hang up on me, you little shit…"

How goddamn rude. His own family bailing on him in his hour of need. Gilbert scowled at the phone. Screw them; new plan. Probably better to go out and get smashed, anyway.

Gilbert knocked heavily on the carved wooden door to the Patisserie de la Rose. Francis must have just closed - the smell of baking bread and chocolate still wafted from inside. After far too long, the door finally opened slightly, and Francis peeked out through the crack. Gilbert held up a six pack of Köstritzer and grinned. "Thirsty?"

"Er…" Francis quickly looked behind then back, his expression impatient. "This is not the best time, mon ami…"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes and tried to peer past him. "Why? You got a trick in there? Tell him you'll reschedule, I'm more important."

"Well, they are only in town for one night, you see…"

"They? One night? Why are you wearing a top hat?" Actually, where was that music coming from, and why did the place smell like powder… A peal of laughter filled the air as a cloud of pink feathers floated past. What the hell? "Francis, do you have the circus in there or something?"

Francis had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "Only the strongman, the trapeze artist, and the clown."

Gilbert's eyebrows shot up. "What?!"

A loud noise sounded suspiciously like a whip cracking, and a shout rang out. "Roll up, roll up boys!"

Francis bit his lip sheepishly. "The ringmaster may be involved."

"But Francis," Gilbert whined, wringing his hand in a pathetic attempt to invoke sympathy, "I need emotional support! I'm having feelings and stuff!"

"Oh, Gil." Francis looked briefly empathetic, patted Gilbert on the shoulder, and pressed something into his hand. "Have a cupcake." Then he shut the door.

Gilbert stared at the door, stared at the cupcake, fumed silently, then muttered to himself as he marched away. "What the hell? Who does everyone think they are? Better than me? I'm having issues, damn it, I deserve a bit of sympathy… circuses, really, what the… damn, this cupcake is awesome."

A few blocks later, Gilbert stormed into the Carriedo Dance Studio. Surely Antonio would join him on a boozy night out... the Spaniard never had anything else to do. Gilbert threw open the doors, charged into the main dance hall, and marched straight up to Antonio.

"We need to go out," Gilbert stated firmly, Köstritzers still in hand. "You're gonna have to change though, those tights are the stupidest thing I have ever seen."

Antonio blinked vacantly a few times, closed his mouth, and finally narrowed his eyes into an icy glare. "I am working."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Oh come on man, this isn't a real job."

Antonio took an exasperated breath through his teeth. "Gilbert…"

Gilbert stood his ground. "You're my last hope, man, my family is obsessed with Italians and Francis is currently fucking the entire Cirque du Soleil and I need to go out. I need to get blind drunk. I need to chat up a Swedish tourist, I need to eat a kebab at 3 a.m, and I need someone to make sure I get home with my pants on."

"Um. Gil." Antonio pointed behind Gilbert's shoulder. Gilbert turned slowly to find an entire class of ten year old dance students staring up at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

"Uh." Gilbert waved awkwardly. "Hi kids. Don't do drugs."

A kid with blond hair and massive eyebrows waved back, grinning. "That sounds awfully fun!" he cried in a British accent. "Can I come too?"

Gilbert only paused for a second. "Know a good kebab place?"

"No, but my dad's Swedish."

"Let's roll. Hey!"

Antonio gripped Gilbert by the ear and hauled him towards the door. "Peter, don't encourage him. Gilbert, get out!"

"Bye, kids. Stay in school!"

.

Gilbert lay sprawled on the couch in his messy one-room apartment, flicking through T.V. channels without actually watching anything. The vapid, monotonous drone of the television filled the empty flat. It was a slightly depressing thing to realise that he'd pretty much just approached everyone he knew. Gilbert snorted softly to himself as he remembered his earlier supermarket conversation with the Austrian. "Twenty-four hour, baby," he murmured with a bleak laugh.

With nothing to distract him, Gilbert's head swam with everything he'd spent the afternoon suppressing. He did not know how to control these thoughts; how to understand them. When he'd seen Roderich in that swarming crowd this morning, he had only one instinct: to jump the barrier and pull him to safety. What was with that? And then in the supermarket…

Gilbird flew across the room, settled on Gilbert's knee, and gave a tiny chirp.

"I don't know," Gilbert replied absently. "He's completely pompous, he wears a cravat for Christ's sake, and he seems to have no idea what the hell's going on around him. How has he even managed to survive in the world so far?"

Gilbird answered by pecking Gilbert's knee.

There were too many thoughts in Gilbert's head; there was too much to try and understand. And this silent, cluttered room was not helping in the slightest. Gilbert gently shooed Gilbird off his knee, stumbled off the couch, and retrieved his beer from the fridge.

There was only one place that might clear his conflicted head.

.

Even Chopin's Nocturne no. 20 in C-sharp minor wasn't lifting Roderich's mood. He stared out his window overlooking the college grounds, wishing the late afternoon skies would rain, and listening vacantly to the old recording. "Too fast," he muttered when the piece entered the first crescendo. He sighed and rested his elbows on the windowsill. What was the point? Everything he had worked towards for the last six months, everything he'd done to try and save Libelle Hall – it was all for nothing. No one listened, after all. No one even cared. And why had Gilbert…

"No," Roderich growled emphatically. There was only so much his overworked brain could take. He walked slowly to the dresser and looked sadly at the framed photograph that sat there. A regal old lady, dressed in a gown of blue silk with her white hair in an elegant knot, seated at her shining grand piano. Roderich sighed again, guilty and devastated. "I'm sorry, Aunt Maria."

The sky outside was starting to darken. This old Chopin record wasn't helping. Roderich's fingers ached. He felt empty, and he needed to feel the music in his bones. He thought of his piano in the classroom across campus; he glanced towards his violin in the corner. No, neither of those would be enough. Roderich turned away from the photograph, silenced his record player, and took his coat from its stand.

There was only one place that might soothe his conflicted heart.

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 27

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: None

A/N: Ahahaha! I’m a dirty liar. I couldn’t resist posting two chapters this week because, eh, maybe I feel bad that I’ve neglected them for Truth and I’m pretty ahead. You’ll still get another chapter on Friday. 

This is pretty fluffy, and a little cyclical, much like life, but I mean it’s pretty clear there’s other shit brewing here. Not like I’m being super coy about it. 

Love ya pumpkins! 

(OH! If you find any good Bucky gifs with quotes from Frankenstein on them can you send them my way? Or, idk if you’re a witch and you make that kind of thing. It would be the best Christmas gift!)

Tags are open!

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @saundrasays @breezy1415 @creepshowzombae @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @fairislesheets @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barness @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius @auskitty @babyimp1967 @katecolleen @handplucked @disagreetoagree @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito

Back in the room, Bucky plops down on his cushion. You take your place and try to hand him his coffee and pretzel but he’s not even really seeing you. Worry begins to settle in.

“Bucky?” Slowly he looks at you, an emotion in his eyes you can’t name, but he at least seems present. That’s probably a good sign. “I’m sorry about earlier I-“

He softly cuts you off and reaches overtaking your hand, “It’s nothing you did. Not you. Don’t… Don’t apologize.” The corners of his mouth ticked up just a bit. “I’m ok.” You guess it’s his turn to lie and he’s no more convincing than you had been earlier, but you’ll let it slide.  

You finish your work in silence your brain rolling what happened over and over in your head. Someone like him would be shaken by being caught off guard, hell you would have been too in any other situation. Not to mention if you were an exposed nerve after the events of the weekend it stood to reason he’d be no better.

Sighing you shelve your last book. You’d try to talk to him later, tell him why you felt disconnected earlier. Maybe if you could just be honest with one another when you weren’t ok you could actually help each other. It wasn’t like you could roll up to a therapist and who else would be able to understand what either of you went through. It wasn’t exactly a wide-reaching shared experience, and thank god for that.  

Bucky exists the back room carrying your cups, still with some coffee in them. A book under his arm.

“Finished?” Mr. Goldstein asks.

“For today,” you say taking your cup from Bucky.

“You take some books?”

“Just this for now,” you show him the copy of Frankenstein.

He nods smiling, “Good choice. ‘Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature.’ I always thought that line was profound.”

“That’s beautiful. I read it when I was a kid but I think I’ll appreciate it more now.”

“We understand the stories about monsters, even more, the older we get, and we are more terrified by them because we see the truth in them,” he looks pointedly at Bucky for some reason. “You’ll have to tell me what you learn. There’s always more to learn from a book you read a second time.” You smile, this man had to have been a teacher once, and he was probably a good one.

“I will.”

He looks to Bucky again, “Did you find anything to take with you.”

“Yeah, just more poetry,” he holds up a collection of English poets.

Mr. Goldstein smiles at this, “Poets heart this one has,” and he winks at you. “Will I see you again soon?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answers, “there’s still a couple of boxes. We can swing by later in the week if that��s ok?”

“Of course it is. I like having you both here.” You commit to cooking something for him next time.

Goodbyes given you both head out.

“I can go the market alone,” you say to Bucky once you’re outside not sure if he could handle being in public more than just the walk to his apartment. But groceries weren’t optional.

He shakes his head, “I can handle the market.” You try to slip your hand into his to reassure him, or maybe yourself, but he pulls away. Admittedly it stings a little but he’s on full alert, likely determined to not get caught off guard again.

Nothing else is said as you trek to the market. You follow him assuming he’ll go somewhere he knows and you don’t have a preference. The silence is fine though as it gives you time to let recipes roll through your head. Thankfully you always cooked by memory more than anything else, especially once you knew how to make something. All those old things coming back to you. He was right, it was like riding a bike.

Mental list taken care of you look to him before going in. That muscle in his jaw tightening and releasing as he looks around.

“Anything you’re picky about?”

“Huh?” He asks almost like he forgot you were there.

“Food-wise,” you flash him what you hope is a reassuring smile. “Is there anything you don’t like?”

“Oh,” he shoves his hands in his pockets, “no not really.”

“Alright. You ok with me leading the charge then?”

You’re happy to see a little light enter his expression, “Lead the way chef.”

Spices needed to happen, you refused to cook another meal with just salt and pepper at your disposal. You load up thinking about everything from curry to gumbo.

“I don’t think I know what half of those are,” he says looking into the basket.

“Well, you’ll learn,” you say tossing some turmeric in. Looking at him just in time to see him tense as a few people enter the aisle. “Come on,” you head away.

Coffee, meat, vegetables, and other various things procured you’re in the fruit section at his request. He must like sweets you think and wonder if you should grab something to bake too.

He’s rolling a green apple between his palms, gaze distant, “Can you make apple pie?” He asks looking at you with melancholy eyes.

How could such an innocuous question make your heartbreak? “Mhm,” you respond nodding. “Damn good one too.” He doesn’t say anything else, just looks past you, still rolling the apple. “Grab a few of those and I’ll make one tomorrow,” you rest your hand gently on his forearm and he jumps a touch.

“Yeah?” You just nod. “Ok.” He gathers the necessary apples and you both head back to the spices and get what you need to make the pie, including a tin.

Walking out of the market laden with a few days of food, plans for meals, all with someone you’re happy to be with almost makes you cry out in joy. You had never cherished little things like this in the past. 

Going to the store was a chore and while you loved cooking it could sometimes seem like just another thing you had to shove into a packed schedule of work and rehearsal. There’s a twinge of regret. No one thinks about how precious the littlest things in life are until they’re gone.

The market isn’t far and once back in his apartment a feeling of… safety hits you. Damn. Was this so foreign a thing to you now that it feels so strange, almost off-putting to not be afraid? You catalog this emotion for later, determined to examine it.

Bucky drops his bags in the kitchen by the refrigerator and you do the same. He rests his hands on the counter by the sink and leans his head against the upper cabinet, breathing hard, just like earlier the sounds of metal plates shifting, responding in some way to his tension. His whole body shakes. You aren’t sure why this raises your hackles but you feel your power tingle over your skin, ready just in case.

“Buck…” You begin to reach out to him.

Your hand is almost on his bicep when he says low, “Don’t.” Another tremor shakes him. He strides quickly toward the closet, “I have to go.”