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draconic-ichor · 3 years ago

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In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 11: Warmth in the Ashes

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, blood/gore, master kink, fingering, nipple play, penetrative sex, oral sex, biting

Summery: In wake of Sturm Heisenberg gets back to the grindstone with easier projects. Juniper on the other hand is always a distraction

Feedback appreciated. 18+

Rock music blared from the old speakers, radio static mixing into the chorus of sound. Heisenberg stood over a new soldat, pulling a rod free from a machine. The rod was connected to its holder by a thick wire. He deftly flipped a lever, the rod sparking to life.

Ropes of electricity arched around the metal end of the rod. The bright flash caused Heisenberg’s silhouette to become a black shape against the red light.

Juniper watched him through the doorway, worry keeping her from getting closer. She liked to watch him, especially in one of these moods. He was passionate and ever moving forward, even in the way of a glaring failure like the day prior.

He was like a Phoenix, she mused.

The music drowned out all extra thought, the task before him consuming his mind in the moment. He took the rod, the electricity alighting his shades, shoving it into the chest of the soldat.

The power jolted though the corpse, it’s form trembling.

He was the perfect picture of a mad scientist. Heisenberg extended his hand, the lever flipped back down without his touch. He pulled the rod free of the flesh, stepping back.

The soldat sat up, muscles twitching under its stitched skin. It’s core glowed warmly as its feet met the concrete floor.

“Yes.” Heisenberg smiled widely, “You’ll do just fine.” He patted the Soldat’s arm, leading it towards its holding area.

Juniper sighed with relief.

Heisenberg fiddled with another core, trying to rewire it to match his updated schematics.

“Hey Heis?” Juniper’s brows were in a knot, looking down at the necklace compass in her hands.

“Hm?” He pushed away from his desk to look at her.

She was sitting on an operating table, bare feet swinging off the edge. Her gaze was very intent.

“I don’t think this compass works.” Juniper frowned, “It always points in different ways.”

“Maybe you should stop moving around then.” He spoke matter-of-factly.

“I’m serious.”

“Let me see.” He stood, striding over to her.

He took the compass from her hands and looked it over for a second. He turned it over in his gloved palm, going as far to move it around himself in different directions.

“Nah, it’s fine.” He concluded, handing it back over.

Juniper pursed her lips as he sat back down.

Her pondering was shattered however when realization struck her like an arrow.

“Oh my god.”

“Yes?” Heisenberg didn’t look up from his work.

“It’s you!” She jumped to the floor, holding the compass out in front of her.

“It doesn’t point north at all!”

“Took you long enough to notice.” He pointed out cheekily.

“Sorry I’m not used to my men being magnetic.” She scoffed.

“What can I say,” he smirked, “I’m one of a kind, baby.”

As the evening grew on Heisenberg began to transcribe audio recordings into files. Juniper found herself in his lap, facing him and cuddled into his chest. He had his chin resting on her shoulder, writing away. Juniper’s face was buried in the crook of his neck, her breathing slow and peaceful.

Her warmth put a blanket of comfort over him, his free hand pulled her a bit closer. He had never sought out companionship, thinking himself ostracized.

Sighing heavily, he thought of all the times he tried to become unfeeling entirely. But then Juniper fell into his lap; an outsider that didn’t view him as unapproachable. Her compassionate understanding and endless affection started to buff away his rougher edges.

She made him realize he still had the ability to feel such things. Not only that, but he could also reciprocate them. That fact still baffled him.

He realized he had long stopped writing, looking down at the still pen as the recording droned on. He carefully reached out and pressed stop on the recorder, moving back more comfortably in the chair. He joined his now free hand with his other, folded in the small oh Juniper’s back.

Heisenberg let out a steady breath, just enjoying the moment.

His eyes grew heavy, lulled by the rhythm of Juniper’s tender snoring and the hum of machinery.

Hours passed by in a dreamless sleep. By the time he woke his muscles were stiff and sore, complaining about his choice of bed. Juniper had scrunched up more into his chest, hands tangled up in his coat. Feeling wetness he glanced down. She had drooled through his shirt.

He rubbed his face for a moment, trying to wake up more.

“Buttercup.” Heisenberg spoke loud enough to try to wake her.

“Huh?” Juniper’s head shot up, voice still thick with sleep. Her cheek was red and moist where her face had been plastered to his shirt.

“My legs are asleep.” He chuckled softly, patting her ass.

She looked down over him, trying to figure out exactly where she was. The grogginess eased as she pushed up into a more sitting position.

“Not the wetness I’m used to from you.” He smirked and looked down at his shirt. Juniper's cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

“Sorry.” She squeaked.

They made their way back to the apartment, Heisenberg stretching out his sore muscles as they went.

Juniper donned a thin nightdress, jumping into the bed on-top of Heisenberg. He grunted out at the impact, her falling into his bare chest.

She was a mess of giggles as she ran her hands down his bare sides.

Heisenberg tightened, squirming a bit under her.

Juniper’s lips widened into an evil smile, “Oh! Is his Lordship ticklish?”

“No.” He growled, trying to keep his composure. Juniper doubled down, sitting on his hips and fluttering her fingers down his sides.

He couldn’t hold it in, his chest heaving under her onslaught. He surged upwards, grabbing her and overpowering her quickly. He flipped her over, switching their positions.

Heisenberg went limp over her, pressing her into the bed, snickering.

Juniper squealed under him, the sound becoming a gasp.

“Karl! I’m dying!” She tried to wiggle, but he was too heavy over her. He could still hear the laughter in her voice, telling him she wasn’t in any real discomfort yet.

“No mercy.” He growled out playfully. Juniper tried to scramble out from under him as he started to laugh.

She finally admitted defeat. Heisenberg felt her muscles go slack under him. He lifted a bit, “Buttercup?”

“I died. You killed me.” She murmured, keeping her eyes shut.

His lips curled as he bent down, giving her a few kisses over her face, smiling wider as she tried not to giggle.

She blinked up at him sweetly, “Hey Heis?”

“Hm, love?”

“I’m hungry.”

“So?”

“Let’s make food!”

Heisenberg gave an exasperated sigh, knowing she wouldn’t let him rest until they made something.

They headed to the kitchen, Juniper instructing to get butter, bread and cheese. Heisenberg eagerly complied, happy that they weren’t making one of her ‘healthy’ meals.

Juniper started making something she called a ‘grilled cheese’. He was very used to eating bread and cheese, but mostly just ate them cold.

Juniper placed a plate down in front of him, resting upon it was a toasted sandwich.

Heisenberg picked it up. It was still warm and melty. He took a large experimental bite, crunching into the buttery exterior.

He swallowed, sitting the sandwich down and looking forward for a long moment. His eyes were glazed over and he looked almost astounded.

“You like it?” Juniper giggled as she made one for herself.

Heisenberg nodded slowly. He picked it back up and ate it in a few ravenous bites. “Can I have more?” He asked, voice muffled around his last bite.

“Sure.” She nodded happily.

Five grilled cheeses later Heisenberg was laying in the bed groaning out. Juniper rubbed his stomach softly, “Was six too many?”

He shook his head, “They were fucking great.”

She cuddled up to him, “God help you if I ever make pizza.”

Heisenberg sat at the steel workbench, attempting to finish transcribing the audio files from the day previously. He was having trouble concentrating however. His legs were widely spread, Juniper’s head slotted between his knees. She knelt under the desk, holding his legs open as she nuzzled into his clothed thigh.

Her eyes were alight with playfulness as she blinked up at him. He tried to ignore her, scribbling away with his pen.

That is until her hands drifted up his calves, fingernails scratching deliciously through his trousers.

He tapped his pen for a minute tensely, pressing stop on the recording. Juniper smiled up at him with mock innocence.

“It’s hard to think when you’re doing that, Doll.” He huffed.

Nuzzling deeper she purred, “You don’t need to think, all you’re doing is copying words.”

“I still have to concentrate.” He argued, feeling her cheek brush over his concealed groin.

“My apologies, my Lord.” She tried to say the last word seductively, and watched for a reaction.

He chuckled dismissively, “The ‘Lord’ bit doesn’t really do it for me. Reminds me too much of the stupid village girls.”

Juniper huffed hearing him start up the recording again. She thought for a moment before smiling deviously.

“Sir?” She chirped, when he didn’t respond she purred out, “Or….Master?”

Now that word went straight to his dick, and Juniper could instantly feel his reaction. She felt him throb through his trousers, the material tightening.

He clenched his free hand trying to continue writing evenly.

“There we go.” Juniper smiled with victory, her hands drifting up to his belt buckle. She undid his belt then moved to his pants, freeing them enough to slip his rapidly hardening cock.

“Let kitten be good for her Master?” She hummed. Her hot breath combined with that delectable word sent blood rushing to his member.

She gave a small giggle to his reaction, flicking her tongue out to lap at the tip.

He coiled above her, his muscles tense as his pen-work teetered on the erratic.

Being very mindful of her teeth she took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue. She heard the recording stop, and the sound of him changing out the tape. She gave a little moan as she pulled her lips free of his cock.

She glanced up to his pale eyes watching her, piercing and direct without the darkness of his shades.

She smiled up at him, his cock sending a shadow across her sweet face.

He squared his jaw, “Get up here.”

“Hm?”

“I said get your ass up here.”

“Yes, Master.” She couldn’t contain the victory shimmering in her eyes. He pushed the chair out, giving her room to rise. She bounced excitedly beside him, watching as he cleared up the more important papers from the desk.

Heisenberg leaned back in the chair, giving her a long tight look.

“Strip.” He commanded.

“Yes.” She nodded, and started to lift her dress.

He stopped her, “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.” She responded cheekily, taking her dress off. She took more time with her bra and panties, drawing the act out to rile him up.

She saw the muscle of his jaw twitch as she continued. She had lost her boots much earlier.

Now standing before him, naked save for her compass necklace, she waited patiently for her next direction.

Heisenberg began to pull his gloves off slowly, pointing to the desk once his hands were free, “Get on the desk.”

Juniper paced over, starting to sit onto the steel. He made a sound of displeasure, making her change her position. She leaned over the desk, pressing her breasts into the cold metal, looking back at him for approval.

He nodded, standing. He stripped his coat, placing it in the free chair, before closing the distance.

“You’ve been such a brat today.” He palmed the back of her head, gently forcing her face down against the desk. She murmured, wiggling her butt back towards him.

He chuckled a bit, seeing her so needy.

Instead of giving her what she was practically begging for, he smacked her ass. Her core clenched as she whimpered, him giving her another smack.

He continued until there was a pronounced red print on her pale ass. She was whimpering and trembling on the desk, her legs wobbling a bit to keep her supported.

“What was that kitten?” He leaned over her a bit.

“I-Im sorry.” She answered but quickly added, “I’m sorry, Master. I’ll be good.”

“Mhm.” He nodded, not at all convinced. His hand drifted down to her core, moisture dripping down her thigh. He traced the opening before plunging two fingers in, not giving her time to adjust.

She jumped under him, mewling out as he set a quick pace. His fingers quickly made obscene wet sounds from her arousal.

“You’re such a little whore.” His voice was low. He kept up the rough pace until he felt her start to clench and buck under his hands. He pulled away, a string of liquid connecting his fingers to her cunt.

She whined out at the loss of contact, earning her another smack to her, already tender, ass. She quieted down, putting her head back down dismissively.

Heisenberg lifted his fingers to his lips; sucking them free of her slick, groaning at the taste. His free hand loosened his trousers, they fell and bunched around his ankles.

He dove into her hot core, cock first. She cried out at the feeling, of him stretching her out. He gripped her hips, pulling out almost completely before snapping his hips forward burying back into her.

Juniper cried out with every thrust, trying to lift her hips to meet his. Heisenberg pushed her head back down, leaning over her and trapping her between his chest and the cold desk.

She was too caught up in the feeling to notice when Heisenberg pressed the record button on the small tabletop recorder.

His lips split his face in a devilish smile, seeing the small red blinking light on the machine.

He started to rut into her harder. Juniper mewled out, feeling the coil tighten in her stomach.

“Tell me what you want.” He growled, fingers digging into her hips.

“To, c-come…please!” She cried out, “Please master!”

He thrust into her like a piston, snaking a hand down her belly. His fingers found the sensitive bundle of flesh, teasing it in time with his thrusts.

The coil snapped, she wailed like a cat in heat.

Feeling her walls clench around him he growled, “That’s it, be a good little whore for me.”

He pulled out of her fully, watching her core tremble from the loss of his cock.

He lifted her, flipping her over into a sitting position on the desk, pulling her to the edge and filling her up again.

She cried out as he started bucking into her anew. Juniper grabbed his arms for support, her face a mess.

Heisenberg bent forward, taking one of her peaked nipples into his mouth. He sucked feverishly, keeping up a good tempo with his hips.

Juniper tangled her fingers into his coarse hair, her nails scratching his scalp. He groaned into her flesh.

He felt her legs tighten around him, promising another release. He bit into her soft breast just enough to break the skin and hear her mewl. He lapped away the blood, soothing the wound.

The pain mixed with the pleasure being all too much for her.

He pulled back enough to place his forehead against her own. He smiled at the glassiness of her eyes, watching her fall apart.

She clung onto him as she came.

The way her cunt was gripping him he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. His thrusts became erratic, breaths coming out in gasps.

His hips sputtered as he tried to speak, “Tell me w-where you want it.” He demanded, “Beg for it.”

Her vision was hazy with pleasure and words were foreign. She made a gurgling sound looking down. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes, holding her hip with his other hand.

“In me…p-please Master!” She cried out, begging him, “Fill me up!”

He groaned, hilting himself fully inside her. Juniper could feel his balls tighten as his cock jolted with his release.

Heisenberg huffed out hotly, her core milking his cock for everything he had. His legs wobbled a bit as he fell forward. He supported himself on his arms above her. Careful to check that she was too blissed out to notice, he quickly pressed stop on the recorder.

He smiled toothily, that tape would definitely come in handy later.

She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, little sweet breathes ghosting his skin. He dropped a kiss into her hair, gathering her up, his cock still fully hilted in her soaked folds.

“You are such a little tease.” He whispered, unable to hide the smile that tugged at his lips.

She murmured something, holding onto him.

“Hm?”

“I said, you love it.” Her voice was thick with tiredness. He patted her thigh, chuckling as he began to head back to the apartment.

As he rode the elevator up he complained halfheartedly, “How am I ever going to finish making those damn files with you acting like a bitch in heat?”

Juniper murmured something into his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“You could just ask me to work on it while you work on haulers.” She giggled slightly, “Didn’t think of that, did ya big boy?”

There was a long pause, before Heisenberg cursed under his breath, “…fuck.”

It caused Juniper to snicker into his shirt, and him to grumble.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg #in the steel steeds heart #heisenberg smut #resident evil

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

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Even The Grinch Needs A Sidekick

Summary- 4k Mike (Me from Playing It Cool) x You. You have been busy, and today is no different. A children's Christmas Party at the hospital where you work is taking up all your time. Mike calls in Scott for some culinary help so you can have a relaxing night. Mike also finds a new friend and brings him home. Fluff. I really don’t think there are any warnings, but if you all pick up on something, go ahead and let me know. The lovely divider made by @firefly-graphics Happy Holiday Everyone

A/N- This wasn’t what I had planned for this chapter. But you know what, sometimes the story just does what it wants, damned if the writer wants that. I do love it though.

Previous Chapter- Tonight It’s Scrooge McDuck

You tugged on your scrubs, having pulled out your favorite pair with The Grinch dressed as Santa Claus, Max with his single antler and little Cindy Lou Who with her red Christmas bauble. You hummed while grabbing your bell earrings when Mike came into the bedroom, glancing at you all dressed up for the hospital. “What's the occasion?” He questioned while turning you around and looking you up and down.

“A group of us are going down into the children's ward to hand out some presents. I know I'm not supposed to wear the decorated scrubs, but it's once a year. Tomorrow I will go back to those boring as fuck ones.” You leaned up to kiss him swiftly before stepping around him. “But I'm going to be late, and I have an order of cookies to pick up on my way to work.”

Mike followed you out, unlike you, he wasn't in a rush anywhere. It was a few days before Christmas and just as he had promised, he was about halfway done with Brian's script. The detective drama story line spoke to him a bit more than the rom-com scripts he was stuck with last time, and was finding it a hell of a lot easier to spend his day thinking about.

You were busy packing a bag with some stuff you had picked up for the kids, and Mike grabbed a bagel he wrapped earlier, toasted lightly with cream cheese as well as a to go mug of coffee, you were distracted and listing off your to-dos when he handed them to you. “Don't forget to eat, and I got dinner tonight.”

“Oh thank you, I know i have been all over the place the past week.” You paused when you saw what he had and took them to set the mug beside your bag, and pack away the bagel while continuing to talk to him. “You know… tonight is Chopped, and I shouldn’t be late tonight.” You bit your lip in a grin and turned to face him. “We might be able to beat our record.” Hinting at a bedroom game you two played, just for the hell of it.

Mike's eyes crinkled in the corner knowing well what you were playing at, reaching out to grab the front of your shirt and ease you forward into his arms, a grin softening his features as he wiggled his brows. “Think we will beat our time tonight. It's been awhile since we’ve messed around.” His hands slid down to cup your ass cheeks through your scrubs, making you arch into him, and you chuckled while easing your arms around his neck and tilting your head to press your lips to his, teasing darts of the tongue dragging against his bottom lip before pulling away, not letting the kiss get to that deep needing way. That has caused you to be late before and you weren’t going to let yourself be late today.

“That will have to wait till tonight Mike.” You wink at him as he groans as if waiting was not in his plan. “See you later tonight, and smile Baby, no being a Grinch just before Christmas.” You shouldered your bag and backed to the door to stay out of his reach, and slipped out the door with a grin. Mike snapped the door open as you were heading down the stairs.

“Love you to Y/N” He shouted, and you waved back at him before disappearing from sight. Mike closed the door behind him, and pulled out his phone to scroll through his contacts. Hitting Scott’s name, he pressed dial and waited through the rings before a groggy voice answered.

“What Man, it's 7 am, what in the hell do you already want Mike?” Scott snapped out and Mike grinned hearing his best friend.

“Good Morning to you to Scott, are you still up for helping me tonight?” Mike asked and Scott groaned out a yes before hanging up. Whistling Mike grabbed a piece of toast and went to his computer to get to work. A text came through a short time later, a grocery list for Mike to pick up.

Mike was coming back from the store with the ingredients Scott sent him a list of when he heard something shuffling in an alleyway he was passing. His head tilted when he heard the whimper that shifted into a scared woof, and Mike turned partially into the dirty alleyway, a particularly smelly dumpster half blocked it from sight and the light bright street seemed to grow into a darker ominous presence the further he stepped in, listening intently for that noise again. “Hello?” He asked cautiously, and all that filled his mind was somebody stashed behind the disgusting dumpster, and then he would be pulled into questioning by the cops…

I really gotta stop watching those dramas Y/N liked so much he thought to himself as he peered into the edge of the dumpster to see nothing then dirty black garbage bags that had been torn into. Nothing unusual. But under the dumpster came a whine, rather pathetic, and Mike looked down between his feet to see a black nose with streaked white fur peek out with a loud sniff against his shoe, and a tilt had it grabbing at his shoelaces that were half hanging loose. “Hey!” he exclaimed and backed up to see the nose disappear back under the dumpster.

“Here boy… or girl, whatever you are.” Mike called while shifting to a kneel while setting his groceries aside and landing carefully on his palms to lean down and peek under the dumpster. At first there was nothing to see, but then a puppy was trying to wriggle its way out the other side, on its belly with its back legs stretched out behind him.

Mike was quick to bolt around the dumpster to see the puppy almost out from underneath it. Covered in mud and who knows what else, his head much bigger than the rest of his body, Mike was able to nab the puppy on the nape of his neck and pick him up, which he hung there growling and barking, his hind end and tail curled up in the fetal position. “Okay little guy, just hold on. Promise not to bite me and I will quit holding you like this.” Mike folded his arm to cradle under the puppy’s backside, and let him lean against his chest. He weighed practically nothing, it seemed all his matted fur made him appear bigger then he actually was. Once he was supported, he quit squirming and studied the man. All while Mike studied him back, now unsure of what to do with him.

Big brown eyes started to droop as a wet black nose bopped against Mikes, and that sealed the deal. Sure there apartment didn't allow dogs but Mike couldn't just leave him there. “Guess you're coming home with me. I already know Y/N will be thrilled.” He grabbed his bag of groceries and made his way back to the apartment, sure to rush up the three flights of stairs and try to shift puppy, and groceries into one arm to get his keys. The puppy ended up wriggling in his arm and he set him down between his shoes to dig out his keys from his pants pocket while the wide eyed mutt peeked around his leg and bounded down the hallway, yipping. “No! Boy get back here.” Mike shoved the door open, along with the groceries before he sprinted after the fleeing canine to get him back. Scooping him up, he rushed back towards his door when the neighbor poked her head out. “Mike, what are you doing?”

“Uh nothing Mrs. Beatrix… Sorry to have bothered you.” He waved one handed over his shoulder while trying to contain the squirming pup in his arms. Once he dipped into the apartment, half tripping over the bag of groceries, Mike slammed the door shut and set the puppy down, who dropped nose to the floor and started weaving back and forth.

“Listen man… if this is gonna work out, you have to help out.” Mike said, kicking off his tennis shoes and grabbing the bag to bring to the kitchen, right behind him was the pitter patter of nails on linoleum and while he was emptying the bag of stuff for Scott, a pair of paws pressed against the back of his calves. A loud whine issued, and looking over his shoulder, he chuckled. “Hungry, arnt ya kiddo? Okay, lets see if Y/N has any ham left over from the night before.” He turned and searched the fridge, the puppy right there with his head stuck in it as well.

It was much later when Scott came over, Mike was working on his script as well as keeping an eye on the new house guest when his ears perked to Scott entering the apartment, his arms filled as well with a couple bags that he set down.

“Uuuh, are you babysitting someone's dog?” Scott asked curiously while his shoes were getting inspected. And Mike snapped his laptop shut to look over the edge of his desk at them.

“No, I found him wedged under a dumpster. I couldn’t leave him there.” Mike dropped his hand and gave a soft whistle, which the pup gave Scott one last sniff before barreling back to Mike which scooped him up into his lap, scratching behind his ears.

“What do you think Y/N will say?” Scott dropped his bags onto the counter and started to unpack and add his ingredients with the stuff Mike had picked up earlier.

“I think she will be secretly thrilled.” Mike ruffled the pups ears and then set him back down on the floor. He moved to a stand and crossed into the kitchen to scrub his hands clean. “She loves dogs and watch her insist we keep him.”

“Even when your landlord doesn't allow dogs here?” Scott was asking with a slight laugh while peeling open all the spices, and Mike took his time making faces down at the pup while drying his hands.

“Eh, hes hardly around and we will figure it out. Besides, I would like to get out of this building, nothing ever works. Last week the hot water was out for the hundredth time it seems. This block always loses power first and last to get it back. Time for an upgrade, Brian already has another script for me to work on after this one finishes. If I really work on it, I should be done right after Christmas.”

Scott grimaced a bit, but kept himself turned away from Mike while listening to him. “You know… a break afterwards might not be a bad thing, You’ve been writing steadily since before October. I know you're on a streak, but you have to come up for air sometime.”

Mike shrugged at Scott. “Hey, I gotta take the pieces where I can get them right? Money is good and getting my name known will help in the long run. It's nothing I can’t handle. I know I’ve been distant a bit with Y/N, why you are here today, teaching me how to roast a chicken.”

“I don’t know how you convinced me to do this. What person doesn't know how to cook a meal for their partner? You two have been dating for two years and this is the first time?” He scolded Mike while grabbing vegetables to give a rinse in the sink. The pup had planted himself between the two men, his ears perked while swinging his head back and forth to listen.

“Take out, out to dinner, breakfast? I don't know, it just hasn’t happened. But tonight my man, with your help, I’m changing that. Y/N has been working hard the last couple weeks, and I know this will make her feel special.” Mike rolled up his sleeves, preparing to help Scott with whatever he needed while winking at their guest. “And who better to help me then you? You and Neil took all those cooking classes together. So what is on the menu tonight?” Mike leaned in to look at a bag, which Scott shooed him out and reached in pulling out the last thing Mike expected, a whole chicken.

“Roast chicken, garlic baby red potatoes, a nice side salad, and rolls. You really can't get easier than that, and it speaks sophisticated.” Scott informed him while placing the chicken in the sink.

“Easy? Dude that's a whole damn bird.” Mike scoffed while coming around the counter. “What do you want me to do with it?”

Scott was already going through the kitchen, grabbing cooking pans and aluminum foil. “Well you can start with unwrapping the chicken and giving it a rinse.”

Mike gave the chicken a look and took a breath. “No big deal, right pupper?” Mike directed at the puppy, who yipped in excitement and tipped his head back to give a cheeky howl, making both the men laugh at his reaction.

The crash course into cooking had Mike's head spinning. Scott had him chopping, dicing, sprinkling seasonings, tossing stuff together and when he finally got the pans into the oven, he took a deep breath. “Okay what's next?” Mike was now on his toes, ready for the next project but Scott was busy washing his hands.

“Now you wait an hour, check it by popping one of the legs near the joint and seeing if the juices run clear. Also let it rest when you take it out for good, or else it will be dry as hell.” Scott informed while drying his hands. “Also you need to get cleaned up. And give the poor dog a bath.” Scott leaned down where the puppy scooted away from Mike and sniffed at his fingers, giving them a lick first and then a playful bite which Scott shook his finger loose from the tiny teeth. Mike watched a moment before checking his phone.

“Y/N will be home soon, so I will get on that. I bet he's a pretty cute pup under all that dirt.” Mike leaned down to pick him up, and Scott straightened, grabbing his reusable grocery bags and tucked them under his arm.

“Text me tomorrow to let me know how it came out and we on for Saturday at the bowling alley?” Scott approached the door and Mike followed, turning the pup around to wave his paw at Scott.

“Yes Uncle Scott.” Mike mimicked in a joking high pitched voice, leaving Scott rolling his eyes at his friend.

“Bite him would ya? You still got those sharp baby teeth.” Scott let himself out and Mike twisted the puppy once more to face him.

“What an ass huh?” Which rewarded him with a resounding woof in agreement and a nip at the end of his nose. “God damn it, you weren't supposed to listen to him.” Mike grumbled while retreating to the bathroom, knowing the timer would let him know when to check on the chicken. “Okay, what's safe to use on you?” he questioned while setting the pup down in the bathtub and pulled out his phone to google while starting to put warm water in the tub.

You trudged up the apartment's stairs, a few gift bags hanging off your arm from some of the long time residents at the hospital. You were exhausted and really looking forward to opening up that bottle of wine you’ve been saving and crashing on the couch with Mike.

Jingling keys from your coat pocket and letting yourself in, the first thing that you noticed was the smell of chicken and potatoes wafting in from the kitchen, making your stomach roll in hunger and your mouth water. Following your nose, you went to drop off your bags when you called out “Mike? Where you at?” You had expected him to be in front of his glowing computer screen, where he usually was when in the middle of writing a script, but not tonight.

“Will you stop it? I'M IN HERE.” You heard him call from down the hallway, and after you toed off your shoes, you started down to hear something whining and splashing.

“Mike… what's going on?” You question as you stop at the bathroom doorway to see something you never expected to see. Mike was kneeling next to the tub and hanging off the edge was soggy paws and a soapy puppy giving the most pitiful look up at him while wagging his tail, sending a trail of water and soap spreading all over the room.

“I said cut that out!” Mike wailed while reaching to catch the tail and squeeze out the excess water from it before letting it go, which just started the sloppy wagging again and a howl now while Mike attempted to rinse him off. “Welcome home Baby.”

You just melt at the scene, grabbing a towel off the counter and unfolding it while Mike moves to a stand, picking the soaked dripping pup with him and you go to wrap him up in the fluffy towel. “Mike, where did you find this sweet baby?” You croon as you go to gently rub him dry, cupping his face and smiling at him.

“Well… Under a dumpster a few blocks away.” Mike let you take the pup in your arms as your gently swaying him back and forth, still crooning and nuzzling him while hes giving licks to the tip of your nose. “I couldn't leave him there.”

“Absolutely not.” You turned to leave the bathroom, leaving Mike to drain and rinse the tub while you brought your new friend out to the living room. Having him still wrapped in a towel, you settled on the couch and started to unwrap him from the towel, seeing his little yawns as he curled up on your scrub clad thighs. “Who would just leave you out there all alone little baby?”

Mike finished up, taking a quick peek at his chicken, which had turned a deep golden brown, and the scent of sage and butter wafted from the open oven. Pulling it out, he listened to you talking to the puppy while setting it on the counter to let it sit before cutting into it.

“Wine?” He called out while pulling out your favorite glass, already knowing the answer when you resounded a yes from the other room. Pouring it, he went back in to sit down next to you, handing you the wine and tossing his arm over your shoulder to pull you in closer. Tucking in his side, you hummed softly while softly petting the snoring pup in your lap.

“We should think about what we're going to do with him.” You sigh a bit, scritching behind his ear while he twisted in your lap and went belly up, your fingers tickling along the pink of his belly.

Mike considered it, letting his own fingers trail along your shoulder. “Why not keep him? We only have a few months left of our lease. About time we move right? Maybe something bigger.”

You had never heard Mike talk like this, like in the future setting. He had always been in the moment, by the seat of your pants kind of man, and you were always a bit nervous to even bring up the future with him. You cleared your throat a bit while looking up at him, straightening a bit, which jostled the puppy just a bit and woke him up with a whining yawn, stretching in your lap. “You really want that Mike?” You searched his face and he shrugged, a tinge of pink along the top of his cheeks.

“Well I wouldn't mention it if I didn't Y/N.” He teased while reaching for the pup who started to wriggle around in your lap, and set him down on the floor before pushing himself to a stand. “Come, I actually made a real dinner and you still gotta tell me about work. Did that intern drive you crazy today?” He efficiently changed the subject, which you let him. Slipping into his hold, you went to help him in the kitchen. Leaning over the counter as he transferred the chicken, you inhaled deeply.

“You made this Mike?” you asked incredulously with an arched brow, waiting for him to confess that it was an order in and he made it look homemade, but he smirked at you while starting to carve.

“I will have you know I made this myself.”

You gave him the look, the one that demanded the ultimate truth.

“With Scotts help, okay. But I did the work.” Mike plucked a piece of chicken loose and held it to you, which you popped in your mouth, licking at your lip and grinning at how it tasted. Reaching for another piece and plucking a piece to give to the puppy waiting patiently at your foot. “Scott just instructed me on what to do.”

“His classes are paying off. Maybe he can become our free instructor.” You joked while going around the counter to finish helping Mike get stuff ready and for the first time in a while you two sat at the table instead of crashing in front of the tv with junk food. Soon plates were pushed aside, full from the excellent food and tired after the long day, you went to take a quick shower while Mike cleaned up the kitchen.

Coming back out dressed in sleep shorts and a tank, you found Mike laying on the couch with the puppy standing on his back legs, front paws on the couch trying to jump up. Mike scooped him up onto the couch with him, whispering to him. “Looks like your staying boy, what are we going to name you? Buster? You almost look like a Buster.” You approached the couch and Mike shifted enough so you could lay down along his side, half wedged on him and between the couch, laying your head on Mike's shoulder.

“Hmmm, what about Scout?” You wiggle your nose at the puppy, who efficiently ignored both names, proceeding to chew on Mike's shirt, the Christmas lights on the tree being the only glow in the room. You smiled and whispered out. “Hey Max… look at me.”

Which the brown and white puppy immediately perked up, and Mike shook his head. “Max? Why Max?”

You grinned while watching Max perk up every time Mike said his name, your giggle muffled against his shirt. “We needed a Christmas dog name.” Then you hummed out Your A Mean One Mr.Grinch. “Max can be your sidekick now Mr.Grinch.”

Mike gave a laugh, running his fingers along your hips, making you laugh out and trying to pull away. Max growled out, barreling against you and Mike to tug at Mikes hand, and you grasped the pup to set him aside gently so that you two rough housing didn’t end up getting him hurt.

“Seems like he is more your sidekick Baby.” Mike smirked as he pulled you in closer to him, flushing kisses against your neck and rubbing up and down your back. You settled back in against his chest. “Ready for bed?” He asked, calculating how many hours were left so he could write a bit after you fell asleep.

“Mmhh, it was such a nice evening, I hate to end it so soon.” You tilted your head up to press your lips to his and Mike pushed up to a sit.

“We will pick it up tomorrow. Besides, I should probably take the rugrat out to potty, now that it’s dark out.”

Your arms eased around his neck and you gave him a more passionate loving kiss in thank you, and eased up. “I will see you when you come back up Mike.” Max sat there watching the two of you and you ruffled Max’s ears, then headed to the bedroom. Mike watched you go down the hallway and then looked to see Max had ditched him to go check out the tree, sniffing excitedly when Mike's eyes sprang wide to see him pop a squat.

“Max! No!” Mike yelled, springing up to catch the pup.

#playing it cool au #holiday #holiday 2020 #amber writes #sweater writes #chris evans characters #me aka mike #mike x you #max comes to live with them #merry christmas

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

Note

Hi I dont know if you want jercy requests at the moment but i had an idea for one :

Dark percy murdering calligula as a revenge for jason

Hello angel! Whew this request was willldddddd and I had soo much fun with it. There isn't any jercy per se (in fact Annabeth and Percy are together in this) but Percy is furrrrrious about Jason and he exacts a very twisted sort of revenge for his friend's honour. Basically this was an excuse to write dark!percy and by gods I hope I delivered!

CW: revenge driven, grief, graphic depictions of violence

Burning Maze Spoilers

he used to be nice.

He used to be nice.

Percy had been digging around the weapons room when his name had been shrieked like a dying animal. He had been looking for protective gear to give to little demigods in his sword-fighting class, when a scream like broken bones cracked through his body. He had been starting another calm, routine-controlled day at camp half-blood when he heard the news that made him snap.

*Two hours earlier*

“Jackson,” Annabeth knocks at his cabin door. He hears her voice carry through the open windows, and over the continuous sound of the ocean. “Pers, we have breakfast in half an hour and you have a sword class to teach today.”

The event had been printed on her wall of “to-dos” so that neither of their adhd brains would have the chance to forget. But he groans at the reminder, not wanting to escape his warm bed, or the duvet that wraps around him like a hug, or the pillows that hold his head as if he is a god. Sometimes he wishes he was a Hypnos kid. Their whole thing is sleeping . The knock sounds again.

“Seaweed Brain, come on,” His girlfriend sighs, “You promised we’d talk to Chiron about the—"

The loud and obnoxious cry of a harpy sounds somewhere in the distance and whatever she says next is drowned out completely. He knows though. Knows what she’s going to say and what they have to do. So he drags himself out of bed, like the last sack of potatoes on the crate. Heavy and bruised and discarded for the most desperate of the lot.

“I’m up,” He manages to rasp. He doesn’t like talking to people till he’s brushed his teeth, and eaten something, and spent at least half an hour staring at an empty coffee cup. A New Yorker through and through he supposes.

“Okay,” He hears Annabeth call, “I’ll see you at the dining hall then.”

He makes a sound half way between a grunt and a yawn and hopes she understands because that’s the best she’s getting out of him. The morning routine is quick, even done at the speed of a stubborn toddler. Soon he is sitting at the Poseidon table, scarfing down eggs and toast, and washing it done with a second cup of coffee. The buzzing in his veins is completely normal. And he’s definitely not speaking at a thousand miles an hour. This is how he always talks. Why on earth they allow coffee in a camp full of adhd kids, he’ll never understand. But it works in his favour so he isn’t going to complain.

By the time him and Annabeth are done talking to Chiron about introducing therapy to the camp, he feels like his eyes are moving faster than his sensory receptors can process and his thoughts are moving faster than his ability to process at all. So when his girlfriend, smiling at him about something, stops outside their training room he looks at her with furrowed brows and asks, “What are we doing here? Are we training for something?”

She frowns, “How much coffee did you have this morning?”

“Only three cups.” He shrugs, and clenches his hands in his pockets as if she can see through the fabric to the shaking body underneath.

Her grey eyes widen as if she’s about to scold him, a petulant child being chided by their ever tired caregiver. It makes the part of him still attempting to function slightly wild. He squishes that part down with the force of a thousand ships. Someone calls Annabeth’s name so with a quick peck to the cheek she leaves him in front of the training room and jogs towards the middle of camp and out of sight.

He stares at the room, trying to get his brain to stop focusing on things he doesn’t need to focus on right now, like the three lines of a song he heard at the grocery store a week ago that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head.

He used to be nice.

Entering the training room he scans the schedule and sees he’s teaching a class of small people, campers younger than ten who are just learning the ropes but should disaster ever strike will be ushered to the Cabin 9 bunkers to wait out the storm. It is a rule that no-one under the age of twelve be subject to war if they need not be. And he will make damn sure the need never ever surfaces.

He gathers swords of various shapes and sizes, along with a few daggers, and the straw dummies that have seen better days. It boggles his mind that they’re at a camp for children of literal greek gods but somehow there’s no funding for basic necessities like extra cots in the Hermes cabin, and better dummies to stab.

Muttering to himself he moves aside metal and stacks of straw, trying to find protective gear in the pile dumped at the corner of the training room. When he doesn’t see any he lets out a long suffering sigh... he has to go to the weapons room, which is more of a broom closet with deadly devices than anything else.

The room smelt musty, and the reek of rust slams into his nostrils at dizzying speeds. It reminds him of blood, and it made his skin itch with the need to get out. But still he bends down and searches through the mess of celestial bronze, and gold and—

The scream cauterizes his happiness. He is panic and pain and death and everything brutal in a single awful instant.

“PERCY!” His name has never sounded so full of agony, each syllable holds the stages of grief.

He is running towards the anguish before he’s even fully realises what’s going on. But what he sees when he crests the hill is enough to make the warmth of his heart run burning cold.

Annabeth is curled on the ground, tears like rivers of woe streaming down her cheeks and a purple flag clutched tightly in her fists.

“What happened?” His voice is soft. If he hears himself too loudly he’s going to shatter.

Annabeth cries harder, her whole body shuddering. Grief is overwhelming. Grief is all consuming. Grief will make itself known like thorns in your thumb or bullets in your heart.

“What happened?” He repeats.

And someone, far away, right next to his ear, inside his head, says, “It’s Jason, Jason Grace. He’s dead.”

He used to be nice.

It takes him three days. Three days of non-stop travelling, by foot, and air, and sea, to reach Caligula’s home. A palace. A grave. It is three days too long. Too long for a murderer to be walking free as if there are no consequences to his vile actions. But still he is here now and he will see the fall of a great, and watch how he bleeds just like everyone else. Not gold, the colour of the emperor’s one true love, but red, the colour of his victims.

Percy's eyes are almost black with violence, green so dark it reflects the night sky. His hands clench and unfurl as if practicing to wrap around a throat and squeeze till the symphony of breathing plays its last note. His body is strung taut, a bow string waiting to release. He is murder. He is nothing. He is your worst nightmare.

“Caligula.” He scrapes. It is the exact sound of a sword sparking against stone. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Nothing but scared silence greets him. He can feel the fear coating the walls of this burial ground like a fresh coat of paint. He will make a playground of the blood he spills, will invite all manner of creatures to use it as a park. He will revel in the slaughter he is about to participate in.

“Caligula!” His voice is the sharp edge of a small knife. Unassuming but deadly. ‘“It is no use hiding. There is no place you could go where I couldn't find you.” He feels the earth sway underneath him, and he grins. Oh this is going to be fun.

“Fine Emperor, if this is how you want to do it.”

With a shrug, he flings out an arm and turns three columns to dust. He watches the stone crumble, feels the sand on his palm as if he was crumbling the columns in his hands like soft cheese. With a small stomp of his foot a crack rivaling the river Thames splits the marble floor in half. The entire structure shudders, creaks right above him. His grin only gets wider, more dangerous.

“I will level this place to the ground. I will erase it from history as if it had never been. You will not exist Caligula, because you will go with it. Will be crushed under the weight of your own wealth.”

“You’re a fool,” A voice, reedy and nasalled in a way that has his soul curdling, shouts from somewhere on the far side of the room. “You will crush us both."

Percy laughs. He laughs and the sound widens the cracks in the floor. It is deep, and wild, but in the way a wild thing is caged: snapping at it’s bars, hissing to be free. He laughs.

“You are a fool Caligula. A fool if you think i am not willing to die if it means you suffer. A bigger fool still if you think it will not give me great pleasure to spend my last moments watching the life leave your eyes,”

The distant sound of bubbling starts to fill the room. Percy wonders if he can make blood boil. His mother has certainly said so enough times.

“Leave now half-blood,” The Emperor spits. There is still something of arrogant, misplaced bravery in his voice. It amuses Percy. “Leave now and you will not face the consequences.”

“And pray tell,” He contemplates, “Who you think will deliver your consequences if i leave?”

A scoff that echoes into the pathways of his brain comes from the back of the room. “I do not need consequences dealt. I have done nothing to deserve them.”

The sound of bubbling is getting louder. He looks curiously at the cracks still spidering around the room. “Ah Emperor,” He tuts, “That is where you are wrong. People who deserve consequences hardly ever get them. It is those who don’t think they deserve them that become the unlucky bearers.”

“What are you going on about, boy?” He snarls.

The bubbling is loud enough now that Percy almost checks to see if a small brook has carved its way through the floor. There is nothing there except ever growing cracks, turning to rifts and canyons before his eyes.

He used to be nice.

“We can do this one of two ways Caligula.” He starts, honey bees with a sting a little too sharp to be defence. “You can apologise and I’ll kill you quickly, or…” His smile is sickening. “And this is my preferred method, I could watch you die slowly, watch the life drain from your body and into the soil of blood-crops that will grow here, and your dying words will be the mercy you will inevitably beg for.”

The bubbling spills over the cracks, leaking salty water onto the dying marble floor.

“Better choose soon oh dear Emperor,” He giggles, “I am the only thing holding this room together. As soon as I let go the floor will split like your loyalties. You will be crushed to death by your own greed. And if that doesn't happen you will surely drown.” To emphasise his point water starts gushing from the floor, no longer a bubbling stream but a raging river. His laughter is carried along the ripples that hit the walls, already leaking with the all encompassing ocean. “Wouldn’t it be a pity Caligula? To drown in your own home, surrounded by all the things you killed for, watching as they drown with you?”

“Shut up half-blood,” He screeches, “You do not have the power it takes to kill me. You are nothing compared to the centuries I have been alive.”

“Do you know who i am honouring Caligula?” He asks softly, a stark and terrifying contrast to his smile a moment before. “In all your centuries can you remember but one demigod, a dear friend of mine, but just another victim of yours?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, “They are all the same in the end. All bleed, and cry, and piss, and die the same.”

The grin Percy lets loose starts hurricanes. It is the absolute wrong thing to say. ‘“If it is all the same to you Emperor,” He becomes terror. “Then i think i’ll spill your blood at his altar.”

And before the doomed emperor could react an invisible hand wraps around his throat and he was being dragged to the middle of the room. His eyes wide, popping out of his head; hands clawing at his neck as if trying to remove the grip they cannot feel; feet flopping helplessly underneath him.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.” It is a command.

Caligula glares, attempting to spit at his feet.

Percy tilts his head and with a single crook of his finger he slams the emperor into the wall. The crack is deafening. It makes him grin.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.”

Caligula produces an ancient roman gesture, passed through time as if centuries cannot dismantle the insults of humans.

Percy twists his wrist and the emperor’s body contorts into something unrecognizable, bones snapping and shattering to fit their new mold.

“Apologise for killing my friend.”

“Fuck you,” He manages to choke out.

A wave of ocean water alarming in its beauty rises behind him. He is its god. And with a wink he shoves all of it down the emperor’s throat. The column of that pale neck bobs as if attempting to take the water down. He can see the body trying to retch it all up, unable to handle the sheer amount, the salt that comes with it.

“Watch Caligula,” He motions to the palace sinking under the weight of his ocean, “Watch as everything you have ever cared to love drowns.”

Percy grabs a shard of mirror, uncaring of the gash it sweeps across his palm. He holds it up to the ancient powerful Emperor, who is convulsing into nothing. “Watch.”

He used to be nice.

Sometime later when Percy Jackson walks up a hill, and into the fading sun there is nothing but content mania lining his features, and behind him where a grand home once stood, is a trickling river and a single spear carved with the words, “Neo Helios”. The only sign that Caligula, Emperor and murderer, ever existed,

He used to be nice.

Until someone killed his friends.

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[image id: printed text that reads, "I used to be nice." end id]

#Percy Jackson #Jason grace #Annabeth Chase #Caligula #PJJG fanfic #He used to be nice #Firerose requests #PJJG asks #burning maze spoilers #toa spoilers #trials of apollo spoilers

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wordynerdygurl · 5 years ago

Text

Best Laid Plans

Author's Note: I hope you all enjoy this one! Please post comments and feel free to share!

Summary: You plan a perfectly romantic night in with Loki, but even the best laid plans go awry.

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: SMUT, Masterbation, Denial, dom/sub in a committed relationship

"Ok! Ok... first things first. Music. Yes. Then food, then shower." You ran over your to do list, out loud, to no one but yourself. The plan was to have dinner on its way to ready in thirty minutes so that you could get changed and be gorgeous by the time Loki was expected home. Then, a romantic meal, some wine and if things went well, sexy time.

You felt a hot blush pink your cheeks. Just thinking about Loki in your bed made you flustered. It was distracting you from the pasta water and backing up your time line. "Get it together, girl.", you checked yourself.

Since you'd been planning this little evening for a week now you had already created a playlist for dinner music. Soft, sweet and sensual tunes to inspire hand holding by candlelight made up most of the mix. But for getting ready? No, you needed moving and shaking music. "80's pop. Yup yup!" And with a click The Cars started telling you about thier best friend's girlfriend.

Tomatoes, garlic, onions, herbs and cheese, the sauce was starting to smell amazing. Water was almost boiling, steamy tendrils rising from the surface, telling you that it was getting hot in there. Putting the garlic toast in the oven, you sighed.

"Now, to shower!"

The warm stream felt heavenly and you lingered a little longer than necessary under the calming spray. You were squeaky clean from your head to your shaved legs, smooth with exfoliators and moisturizing body wash, scented with vanilla and lavender by the time you shut off the faucet.

You wrapped your towel around your chest and added some mousse spray to your hair. Makeup and styling would be next to last on the finished list. But you brushed your teeth and gargled with mouthwash, even though it burned like fire.

Dinner is progressing nicely so you run to the bedroom. "Time check!" You sing this outloud, excitement growing at your possibility of actually pulling this plan of yours off. There's still plenty of time before Loki gets here.

Tearing into the paper shopping bag you remove your new emerald green push up bra. It has this edge of black lace and when you saw it all you could picture was Loki licking along the skin that would be exposed by the form fitting cups. You gulped hard and fastened the snaps happily.

The matching panties were, well, almost absurd. Technically it was two black string ties and a very, very narrow strip of green material, again, accented with lace. You could have worn nothing and felt less vulnerable but it was a matched set and you knew your mischief maker was going to enjoy taking it off of you.

There was a knock at your door which had you jumping out of your skin. "What in the world? It's too early to be Loki, right?" You slipped your thin robe over your underwear and moved towards the door. Peeping around the curtain you saw Loki standing on your stoop, bottle of wine in hand, smile on his face.

"You are early!" Swinging open the door, you flash him a frazzled grin as you pull your robe tighter and motion him inside. Before you can say anything else the smoke alarm starts to cry.

"SHIT!" Racing into the kitchen you can tell the garlic bread is cremated just from the smell. You curse again, flick off the oven and open it slowly as black smoke billows out. "Can you crack that window, babe?" Loki lifts the pane as you fan the air, trying desperately to clear the odor of burnt toast from the place.

"At least the pasta and sauce are ok." You're less enthusiastic than earlier. You're also almost shouting over Van Halen since you're 'getting ready' playlist was in full swing. Clicking the music off, your place is plunged into eerily silence.

Leaning on the kitchen island, already set for dinner, you gripe, "You're early. I'm not even dressed yet. And dinner... well. There's no bread now."

Cooly setting down the bottle he's carrying, Loki's been watching you with his side eyed stare. "Not that I mind in the least... but tell me darling, what are you up to?"

"I...I'm trying to seduce you." Throwing your hands in the air you flop into your kitchen chair, suddenly exhausted by all your efforts. Embarrassed and deflated, you hide your eyes, willing the welling tears not to fall.

Loki starts kneading your neck erasing the knots he finds there with firm pressure. His strong hands rub over your shoulders before saying, "Sorry to tell you this dearest, but I don't need you to seduce me." You felt your heart drop to your toes. "I find you so alluring already."

Sitting up, you start to turn towards him, but Loki's fantastic fingers hold you still. Your robe has slipped to puddle around your elbows. Those capable hands of his work the tendons connected to your collarbone from behind you. You sigh with contentment when they slide under the thin straps of your new bra.

"All of this for me? How romantic..." Loki's words are embers, his hands fire, igniting your body's desire. Under the fabric of your push up, his hands cup your breasts, palms pushing against your hardening nipples. Squeezing your full flesh roughly forces a moan out of you.

"Stand up, turn around. I want to see my seductress." You feel his grip leave your skin and do as he asks, rising without questioning his order, keen to have his hands on you once more.

"I think we can lose the robe, don't you?" Numbly you nod in agreement. Loki reaches for the belt knotted at your waist and yanks it free. With only gravity to help, the thin fabric pools on the kitchen floor.

Eyes widening, Loki drinks in your lingerie. You watch him nod, more to himself than anything else, and he husks at you, "Don't move."

"O...ok."

Loki is magic and you feel that truth through your lusty haze since you are now entirely under his spell. Your gaze follows him as he opens a couple of your drawers, looking and digging, until triumphantly brandishing your wine opener. With little work he pops the cork, red wine ready to pour. Next you hear him turning the knobs of your stove, closing the burners, and you start to protest.

"No. Never mind that. Bedroom. Now, please." Loki's orders are polite but firm and you pad to your room, nervous and a little aroused.

"Loki? I..." Shushing you, he commands, "Drink this." Placing a glass of wine to your lips, Loki tips the liquid down your throat, so close to you without touching. You feel a little dribble snake over your chin and drip onto your chest.

Loki licks its track from the crease of your mouth, down over your jaw. The spot above your bra line is where Loki sucks your skin free of the stain, leaving a beautiful merlot colored bruise there for tomorrow. Melding your mouths together, his tongue exploring you deeply, Loki pauses to tease, "Hmmm... a tasty vintage."

Loki's eyes never leave yours as he paces around you endlessly, scrutinizing you, surveying your barely concealed body. He's still fully dressed in that classical casual way of his. A black fitted t-shirt tucked into dark jeans. A jacket, also black, hugging his shoulders. Boots that make every step he takes sound important. Fully clothed, he's long and lethal while you're practically nude and naive.

"This outfit is quite revealing, my dove. What made you choose it?" Standing in front of you finally, he crosses his arms over his chest. His right hand stroking his chin, the way a judgemental professor might, ready to weigh your words.

Loki's dominance of the situation dampens the minuscule fabric running between your legs. Hadn't you wanted tonight to be about seduction, after all? About Loki and you coming undone together. Sure, it's not exactly what you had planned, but damn, is it sexy. There's nothing to be ashamed about here. You lift your eyes to his and square your shoulders.

"At first, the color. Your colors."

Arching an eyebrow, Loki prods, "At first?"

Swallowing roughly, voice soft but strong, you continue, "Yes. But then I thought about you taking it off of me and how happy that would make you. It does, right? Please you, I mean?"

"Sounds like it would be pleasing to you, dear. Be honest now, because I will know if you aren't." Stepping into your space, crowding you against the bed, Loki's voice was barely a whisper but it carried the promise of venom. "You wanted me to see you like this... barely covered by useless under garments, flushed in anticipation of my taking your body, eager to give yourself to me so that you could be pleasured. That was your plan all along, correct?"

You nod, agreeing, hypnotized by Loki's dark words and his deep cadence. Louder now, Loki chides, "I didn't hear you. Wasn't that your plan?"

"Yes... yes, Loki.", you stammer like a repentant child. He smiles that leviathan smile fully aware of the sway he has over you now.

Reaching for the front of your bra, Loki murmurs, "None of this is for me, is it?" And you gasp, scandalized, as he breaks the elasticized straps holding the emerald band in place. His rough hands roam over your silken skin shooting an electric charge through you. It creates liquid heat in the lowest part of your belly and you flex your thighs together to relieve the building tension.

"What a selfish slut you are... so needy, so desperate that you'll do whatever I say, whatever I want, to get your release. I'll bet those tiny knickers of yours are sodden, aren't they pet?"

Knowing now that he wants to hear your voice, you exhale gently and agree, "Yes. Yes, sir."

He's standing as close to you as possible without touching your enflamed skin. You can feel Loki's breath fan over you as he charges, "Give them to me."

You're unable to tear your eyes from Loki's. An out of control heat, cold blue, burns there ready to set your soul on fire. It's exhilarating and still scares the shit out of you.

Without looking away you hook the filmsy strings under your thumbs. You lift one leg, then the other, until the glorified scrap was balled in your fist. Mortified at the moisture you felt on the fabric, you dropped the small bundle into Loki's open hand.

"The top. Lose it." With shaking hands you unhook the ripped and ruined garment freeing your heavy breasts to the cool air. Reflexively your nipples pucker from exposure, something that is not lost on Loki. You watch him lick his bottom lip in hunger.

But he still hasn't put a hand on you yet.

"Look at you now, my would be seducer. Naked, whimpering in lust, wet and ready to do whatever you must in order to climax. If good women think only of their lover's desires then what does that make you?" Loki wraps spun silk words around you, just like a spider might.

"Bad... Selfish." It's an admission you made from guilt. He was right. You were very bad.

"Yes. Selfish. Thoughtless. Wanton and greedy. And you will pay for it." Each word was flung at you ferociously with a stinging bite.

Shoving you, Loki forces you down on top of your freshly made bed. The downy softness caresses your bare back, a comfort, as you aren't sure what Loki has in mind as a form of repayment.

Quietly Loki starts giving you directions. "Lie back all the way. Spread your legs... Wider." He watches you from the foot of your bed, eyes savoring the lewd display of your form, drinking in the details of your debasement.

Swallowing the remaining wine from your glass, Loki orders, "I want to see all of you, my pet." And you want to show Loki your dripping body, aching for his attention. You need him to see how far your knees will part, how open and available you are for him. It's his praise you are keen to earn. To be considered Loki's good girl, worthy of his love, that was what you had to prove.

"Touch yourself." There's no room for debate in his whispered edict. Nervous now, you search his eyes, hopeful of finding some understanding there. You see only Loki's crystalline blue depths as you hear a second command, edged in acid, at your delay. "I told you to touch youself."

"Wh... what?"

"Use your hands. Just like you would do in the deep dark of night, darling." Lowering his tone to a carnal croon, Loki added, "Make yourself cum... for me."

Loki watches you nod gently, chewing on your bottom lip, as your lacquered nails graze over your extended neck. Wishing it was the hands of your lover on you, you palmed your breasts before pinching your tightening nipples. A pleasant sigh floated out of you as you tugged and twisted on your hardened buds.

"Hmmm... tell me, dove, what are you thinking about?"

"You... your mouth, Loki... the way you suck on me until it hurts so good. Ah!" Fluttering closed, you shut your eyes against the rising pressure of pleasure inside you.

"You look so scrumptious. Like a saucy little cake just calling out to be devoured... hmm... keep going." Loki's voice, normally so fluid and formal, is dusky with desire. Uneven breaths punctuate his sentences and somehow that pushes your own flames higher.

Bucking your hips under your open palms, you try to touch every inch of skin available to you. You slow down over the satin of your thighs. Eagerly driven to bring yourself off, you battle internally, knowing full well Loki wants this to drag on as long as possible.

Your hands close in on your succulent center. Cupping over your core, the moan you release is ragged and raw. You drag a finger through your slick slit, gathering the evidence of your excitement and spreading it up over your clit.

Tipping your head back, you inhale sharply when you make contact with your straining bundle of nerves. The firm pad of your finger circles the sensitive skin and you shudder. Into the game of self pleasure now, your right hand continues what you were ordered to start, your left has found its way to your chest and your abandoned nipples.

"Loki... Ah... babe... I... I..." You could hardly form words around the swelling steam of your arousal. Feeling the velvet walls inside of you pulse, desperate for the filling pressure of Loki's body, your orgasm was close. Eyes shut, finger moving over your bud in frantic patterns, you were seconds away from shattering.

Loki, wrapping a capable hand around your ankle and one over your hip, pulled you to the edge of the bed with one jerk. For a moment you panicked, arms lifting off of your blushing body to grip the sheets, trying to hold onto the satisfaction that nearly was yours. Anticipating your movements, Loki lifted your knees to wrap around his waist, his throbbing member teasing at your inflamed entrance.

"Look at me, little dove. You've earned your gratification. Now I am going to take mine as well."

Groaning with the force of his thrust, Loki collapses into you, your well oiled body accepting him greedily. His heavy presence alone is enough to trip your bliss and he sees your eyes widen as pleasure spasms through you. Snapping your head back in a soundless scream, you feel your body gripping Loki's, pulling his release from him as your limbs tug him closer to you.

His left hand tightens around your exposed throat, his power over you complete, as his right clamps onto the swell of your hip. "Where shall I cum, darling? On your magnificent breasts?" He rakes his nails across those bouncing orbs of flesh in ownership. "Or maybe on your soft stomach?" Trailing his fingers over your abdomen and circling your bellybutton for emphasis. "Or shall I cum deep inside of you? Filling you until your body overflows?"

Barely recovered from your first orgasm, Loki's graphic language and savage intent have you moaning. Your body is already gathering the ingredients of another climax from your over sensitized sexual system. "Inside me, please Loki. I want to feel you!" It's desperate and deliciously wicked to admit, but it is also honest.

"My dulcet darling!" Loki snarls as he drops his forehead to yours and drives into you harder than ever. You respond with a delayed groan of pleasure, your peak pulling Loki deeper, as he ruts against your womb. True to his filthy words, Loki's release is long and bottomless. His mouth finds you in a hungry rush, his firm tongue twisting with yours as thoroughly as your bodies were entwined.

Tangling his hands in your hair, Loki kisses your brow then down your flushed cheek and across the bridge of your nose. "You're going to have to let go of me, dearest.", Loki chuckles softly in your ear.

"Oh god, I didn't realize..." Clinging to his hard body like a barnacle post coital, you unwrap your arms first, shaking the feeling back into your limp muscles. Loki continues to kiss down your torso until he's kneeling between your legs. Looking down at the mess he's made of you, Loki hums, "So beautiful... so sinful. So mine."

Smiling ruefully, you tell him, "This isn't how I thought tonight would go...I had it all planned. And I am mortified about dinner. Turns out I am not so good at seduction after all."

Lifting a brow Loki answers, "You are more seductive than your realize. It's what made tonight's... pleasure possible. And dinner is easy enough to manage."

Your doorbell rings, surprising you. Loki raises a hand saying, "Allow me." So smoothly, he slips on his pants, heading towards your front door. You can hear a soft exchange, words of thanks, then the clink of glasses.

"I didn't think I could love you anymore." It tumbles out of your mouth thoughtlessly at the amazing sight before you. Loki is holding the bottle of wine, two goblets and a freshly delivered pizza. You sit up in bed reaching for the box, suddenly famished. Loki pours out two glasses of wine before joining you in bed.

"Tonight has been spectacular!" Loki toasts you as he pulls out a slice for himself. "Thank the Gods you burned the garlic toast!"

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #loki fanfiction #hot loki #loki fanfic #loki odinson #mcu smut #mcu x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.22

Channeling his outer age instead of his inner, Lance let his manners go out the window somewhere after his third glass of wine. Each glass was technically two glasses, so now he had a nice pleasant buzz going on as he sat on his kitchen counter with Blue. He’d totally been a “Debby Downer”, and if he wasn’t kind of still having a slightly premature midlife crisis, he would have invited Hunk over to hang with him and Keith... Right. Like he could do that. What was he supposed to tell Hunk if he suddenly like sneezed and turned into a bat? God... What if he couldn’t jerk off anymore and what if he turned into a bat when he tried? Wait... when was the last time he tried to jerk off? Fuck... He couldn’t remember.

“Laaaaance? Are you even fucking listening?”

Keith looked grumpy, glaring at the pizza base before him. Keith wasn’t quite ready for the whole pizza from scratch experience, so Lance had grabbed a few bases much to the disgust of Hunk

“Sorry. I completely zoned out. What’s up?”

“I asked you what the hell I’m supposed to do with this thing?”

Keith had barely spread the sauce across the base. Trying to get the woodfired oven on had been the easiest part of the whole ordeal. Keith really loved setting shit on fire. Shiro was now in even deeper shit over the things he hadn’t taught his brother, and for apparently raising an anger loaf that was also a pyromaniac

“You want to put about twice the amount of sauce on the base. Then you put the cheese on. You gotta put the cheese on the bottom because it’s like the glue that sticks your toppings down”

Keith reached out, plucking the wine glass out of Lance’s hand

“No more until you’ve had dinner”

“But...”

“Nope. If I have to cook, you have to tell me what the fuck I’m doing”

Ugh. Stupid Keith. He was ruining Lance’s budding buzz. Scooching Blue away, Lance slid himself off the counter, to move behind Keith

“Now what are you doing?”

Rolling his eyes at the hunter, Lance grabbed the squeezie bottle of pizza sauce around him

“I told you. You need more sauce. Here, I’ll squeeze and you spread”

“Don’t day that again?”

“What? Squeeze and spread?”

Keith huffed at him in annoyance. This was probably the closest they’d been in their human forms. Keith was between his arms, his heart was racing, as Lance teased him by standing right behind him

“That. You’re supposed to be the mature one here”

“Ah, young grasshopper. I’m slightly, a bit, maybe, tipsy. And I may also sound like a douche right now, but Shiro should have taught you how to make pizza. How do you live in Rome, and not know how to make a damn pizza? I feel like someone in Italy just died”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Yep. But you asked what to do. Spread he sauce across the base, then add the cheese”

Squeezing the bottle too hard, the lid popped off, sauce going pretty much everywhere in the immediate radius

“You did that on purpose?! Can’t you just be normal?!”

Keith saw red, Lance stepping out of his personal space with his hands up in surrender

“I swear that wasn’t on purpose. Take your shirt off, I’ll put it in to soak”

“There’s washing machine...”

That there was. But Lance hadn’t said to strip and chuck his shirt in the wash

“I know that. That’s why I said I’d put it in to soak”

“I know how to soak a shirt. Whatever. This is pointless.. You can’t even take this seriously”

Lance’s mood began to fall. He hadn’t meant to piss Keith off. He’d honestly squeezed too hard by accident... Now he felt like a dick. Drunk Lance was a tad obnoxious

“You’re right. I can’t even control how hard I squeeze a plastic bottle, how am I supposed to teach you anything when I’m like this? Go put your shirt in to soak, I’ll clean this up”

“What... but...”

“You don’t have to pretend Keith. It’s fine. For the foreseeable future it’s your home too. You don’t have to go along with the things I say. I thought it might be fun, but I messed it up. I’ll be in my office for the rest of the night. Make sure you eat. Don’t worry about the mess... I’ll deal with it when I’ve calmed down”

Whatever that was, Keith was kind of sure he’d been the one who’d messed up. He’d thought Lance was genuinely mocking him when he stood behind all weirdly, and popped the bottle of pizza sauce everywhere. He’d made pizzas with Shiro before, but those had the sauce and cheese already on the base, and he wasn’t actually that keen on pizzas that seemed to swim in sauce. He wasn’t even really that mad about his shirt, considering it was black. They’d kind of had a moment where he thought things might be okay. He’d noticed Lance frowning at his wine glass, and thought dragging him out of his thoughts was the right thing to do. Now he’s gone and fucked up. Lance had fled from him.

Staring at the sauce, Keith nodded to himself. Lance might think he hated him, and he didn’t want that... not that he liked Lance, but they were stuck together and the man seemed pretty high strung, despite the way he was acting. He could totally make pizza for dinner... Alone. Unsupervised. He wasn’t some kid who knew nothing. The toaster had totally eaten his toast and was to blame went it went up in flames. He could do this. He was going to do this and Lance was going to eat pizza because fuck him and his overdramatic arse.

Scraping the sauce onto another base, Keith left a trail of mess as he figured things out. He didn’t know what herbs went on pizza, yet he didn’t have to when the herb jars came labelled and one conveniently said “Pizza Herbs”. Herbs were spilt, Blue leapt up to eat the cheese and diced ham that went the same way as the herbs. He didn’t know how Lance felt about garlic, but a few cloves wound up on both their pizzas all the same. Yeah. He could totally do this. His skill left much to be desired, but Keith was quietly proud as he slid both pizzas into the oven... both way too loaded, with toppings that’d slid into the middle as he moved them.

Waiting until it looked done, Keith had nothing else to do but play with Blue. She was cute, and she didn’t seem to have the same attitude as her owner. Licking sauce off her paw, her little tongue poked out as Keith interrupted her grooming by wiping his hand over the crumbs on the bench, knocking some onto the floor in his attempt to “clean up”. Maybe he should get a pet? Something to wait for him when he got home... He wouldn’t mind a cat like Blue, secretly feeling black cats were the best despite what people might say with their silly superstitions. Distracted by Blue and the crumbs, Keith swore as he smelt something burning, Blue jumping off the counter and running out the kitchen as if he’d insulted everything she’d held dear by semi-yelling “fuck!”.

The pizzas weren’t cremated. Slightly black around the edges, with the cheese in the middle kind of weirdly unmelted but golden enough to pass as done. He didn’t need Lance to tell him what to do. He’d done it all by himself, like the 26 year old man he was. Now all he had to do was plate up... after he reclaimed his pizzas from the oven. Shiro always did them in a normal oven, pulling the pizza out by the side of the crust, having pushed them further back, Keith didn’t fancy getting burned on the flat metal trays built into the wood oven. His go to were tongs... succeeding in ripping the crust, meaning he had to try pull them out by hand... burning his fingertips as he did. That didn’t matter. He’d proved Lance wrong by creating two edible pizzas and he was pretty damn proud. Keith wanted to try out his new camera to photograph his kitchen triumph, but he also wanted to wait until after dinner when he could crash out on the lounge and explore its features properly...

Keith came to a stop, realising what he’d been thinking. He was... first he called this place “home”, now he was making plans to spend the evening binging horror movies as he played with his camera... He was far too comfortable here... What would Lance think if he made himself at home? Would be happy? Or would he be interrupting Lance’s night by taking over the TV? Lance wasn’t in a great place... Crap. What if he’d turned back into a bat? Would he be mad if Keith ate his pizza? Maybe if he cut them up and served them on two plates in the living room, it wouldn’t be weird for Keith to eat Lance’s share? If he was a bat, he could sit on the coffee table and nibble around the edges... Shit... The hunter’s hand itched to grab his phone out so he could call Shiro for help... Buuuuut... Shiro would be cranky if he called him over the best way to casually rub Lance’s face in the fact he’d made dinner. His brother might not even believe he’d been the one who cooked... Fuck. Okay. He could do this. It was pizza night with Shiro, only Lance was Shiro, and he wasn’t that great of a stand in... but the principle of the night was the same. Beer, pizza, horror movies...

Setting up things in the living room, Keith pulled up Netflix, leaving the remote conveniently close. He’d moved Lance’s glass of red wine and blood next to one of the pizzas, and uncapped his beer beside his own. Trying to cut through the slices with the pizza cutter hadn’t worked, just like those stupid wheels never worked the other hundred times he’d tried. Running his fingers through his hair, he felt king of nervous. He wanted to do a nice thing, kind of... Plus he hadn’t destroyed Lance’s kitchen in the process, so that definitely earned him extra brownie points. Now he just had to disturb Lance and hope he wasn’t about to be attacked for doing so.

Knocking on Lance’s office door, the vampire didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Slightly miffed that Lance was being so petty, he threw it open and succeeding in scare the crap out of him. Leaning back in his chair, Lance had some weird green goo covering his face, his ears covered with headphones... or rather, that’d been the way it’d been before he’d scared Lance badly enough he’d fallen out of his chair

“Jesus! What the hell, man?!”

Stifling a laugh, Keith sucked in his lips, Lance collecting himself up as he slid his headphones down. It was time to drop that bomb

“I made dinner”

Lance pursed his lips, brow wrinkled as he paused pushing himself up

“You should come grab something to eat. We’re having dinner in front of the TV”

Lance tilted his head to the left. The position he was in didn’t look comfortable

“You made dinner?”

“You don’t need to sound so shocked”

“But I messed things up”

“Not everything revolves around your actions. Whatever. You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to”

“What? No. Dude. I mean... I didn’t think... You cooked?”

Lance didn’t seem as impressed as Keith had hoped, he seemed more dubious over the quality of the food. Now Keith felt kind of annoyed he’d mentally made a big deal of it

“Pizza, beer, and movies... Shiro and I tried to do it when we could”

“You and Shiro cooked?”

Keith wished he had something he could throw at Lance. He didn’t need to sound so damn shocked. Cross his arms, the hunter’s voice held the strong tone of a pout

“We’re not useless. It’s not that hard to put some stuff on a pizza and bake it. If you’re going to keep making a deal of it, then you can make your own dinner”

“I didn’t say you were useless. I’m surprised seeing I was a total dick”

“You weren’t a dick. I thought you were making fun of me until I remembered that you can’t actually control your strength that well at the moment, not that the wine helped. I’m heading back to the living room, you do whatever you want”

“Dude, I’m totally there. Give me a tick to wash this stuff off, then I’ll be all good to go”

That right there was why he couldn’t keep up with Lance. That sudden change in upward mood wasn’t something he was used to. Most hunters had seen too much shit to be that happy, ever. Now his whole damn face was lit up, like Keith had given him some great gift. Fucked if Keith knew what it was meant to be, and fucked if he was going to waste brain power figuring it out.

Heading back to the living room, Keith flopped down on the sofa with a satisfied groan. Blue watching it his every move judgmentally from her spot on the tv cabinet as Keith forced himself up to retrieve his pizza and his beer, slumping back then noticing the remote laying on the table, the bastard out of reach. Keith rubbed at his face with his right hand, before leaning forward again to snag the remote. There wasn’t anything in particular he had in mind, more after background noise so fill in the gaps when Lance clammed up. Keith could see it now. He’d ask, Lance would say “after dinner”, then the chance to talk would slip away. Sliding out a piece of ham, Blue came flying, straight up into Keith’s lap with both paws on his leg as she craned upwards for the tasty treat

“Don’t tell you father”

“Don’t tell me what? Blue, are you conning food out again?”

Blue was on her third tiny square of ham as Lance shuffled in, he’d changed into his pyjamas, slippers scuffing on the wooden floor

“What was that?”

“I heard you telling her not to tell”

“Oh. She’s allowed ham, isn’t she?”

Keith couldn’t remember if it was cats or dogs who weren’t supposed to have ham

“Just a little bit. Wow, it looks good”

Keith went with the topic change, it was best to let Lance think he had his guard down

“Of course it does, I made it myself”

“You must have had a great teacher. What are we watching?”

“I was thinking something horror. Shiro and I like to point out everything they got wrong”

“Now you sound like Pidge. We only watch the b-grade stuff because Hunk gets scared”

Lance sidestepped his way between Keith and the coffee table, Keith realising he hadn’t put much space between them as he’d given his new camera a whole cushion space to itself

“Does Hunk gets scared often?”

“He has a healthy fear of everything that he needs to. He’s the biggest ball of warm feels in existence”

Lance sat himself down carefully, avoiding dropping down and causing Keith’s pizza to slide

“No one can be that nice”

“Hunk is. He would have come home tonight with me if I’d let him. He’s like chronically stuck in care bear mode. No one can be mad at Hunk, it’s like physically impossible”

Keith didn’t buy it. Everyone had that point they reached when all that was left was anger

“There had to be a time he got mad...”

Lance nodded as he leaned forward to grab his plate of pizza and what was left of his wine

“Yeah. But never without good reason, and he always faces his fears. He’s not too bad with spooky movies, but when you get into in the TV shows, he gets jumpy. Out of respect, we don’t watch a lot of squeamish things, you know, those movies they make filled with bloody scenes purely to have bloody scenes. I have so much respect for him”

Lance truly loved his friends. Keith could hear it in his words as plainly as he could see it on his face

“And Pidge?”

“She’d set the world on fire with a smile if you messed with her or anyone she loved. She’s fierce, but amazing. She’s like a super hacker, and she’s never met a piece of tech she hasn’t been able to make her bitch”

It must be nice to have friends like that. Friends that had your back for no reason other than the fact you were friends. Keith couldn’t say he knew that feeling, always feeling on the outside as everyone else moved on without him. He’d worked with other hunters, and had classes and training with other hunters, yet still felt insignificant. It scared him to think about what they’d say about him.

Lance settled back, elbowing him playfully as he did

“This really does look good. I didn’t mean to get sauce everywhere. I kind of lost it for a bit when I got back to my office. Now, if we’re watching some bad horror movie, please don’t pick anything with vampires. They always get it wrong”

“You’re not bloodsucking monsters that turn to ash in the sun?”

“Nope. Some of us are. I don’t”

Keith raised an eyebrow

“You don’t, what?”

“Turn into ash. I can see my reflection. I think maybe a stake to heart might kill me off, but I’m not 100 percent sure”

“You can walk around in the sun?”

“I can sun bake and everything. Plus, no sparkles bitches”

God’s love was found in the light. Vampires were supposed to be turn to dust because God had turned his back on them. Keith was a little dubious over the whole thing, but exorcists did exist, so there had to be something there

“I thought you’d love to be all sparkly”

“Nah. It’d draw too much attention. Younger me, maybe. Current me, not so much”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m old and cranky. I want to live as normally as possible. I don’t want to turn into a damn disco ball when all I want to do is enjoy a little bit of sun”

This guy had to be an idiot. Keith forcing himself not to gape. He wanted information on vampires, and now Lance had turned off his filter completely

“What else did they get wrong?”

“I firmly believed the whole “bat thing” was wrong until I went and turned into one. Garlic doesn’t really do much. I can eat human foods, but after about half an hour I need to use the bathroom. Blood... bags are good. I mean, I prefer them over anything fresh. As far as I know we don’t survive being burned to death, I know there’s a myth about turning into a bat and grave soil, but I’ve never tried it. Wounds we give ourselves sometimes take much longer to heal than something like being stabbed. Being immortal sucks arse. They got the rage and ego bit right. Silver’s not terrible. I show up on camera... I have super human senses, and can move faster than you’d think... I don’t know. I don’t think I want to know either”

Keith did. He wanted to know everything when it came to a human who’d been turned. He wanted to understand what Adam had been through in his final hours

“I do”

Lance raised his eyebrow at him, Keith wondering he’d been sprung for pushing him to talk

“I think you’d know more about being a vampire than I would. I was never one for clans and covens. I’ve met other vampires and honestly, they scared me. The first time I saw a vampire feed on a human pet, I threw up. The way they treated people... I couldn’t do it. Vampires have egos. Feeding that ego is a dangerous game. I know I’m probably not the only one who’s trying to live as normally as possible, but it makes it hard to reach out to anyone when they’re mostly douches. Werewolves are kind of the same, except it’s all about how strong they are. There’s pack leaders, but that’s only because that’s a human concept. There’s no alpha leader, instead there’s a pack leader. Some dick that always thinks they’re the greatest thing since the invention of the wheel. It’s fucked up and enough to drive you mad if you spend too long in that world”

Krolia had spent years in that world. Keith hadn’t even known what a legacy was when Shiro showed up in his life. He’d been a burden all his life since the death of his father. Shiro had opened a whole new world to him, had given him a home and a purpose to exist. They might not be biological brothers, but being biologically related to someone didn’t necessarily make them family. Family was something you built, sometimes from absolutely nothing at all. He didn’t know how to talk to his mother any more than he knew how to talk to Lance. For Krolia her duty always came first...

“Can I ask you something?”

“I thought we were past that”

“How did you get turned?”

Lance sighed heavily

“That’s not a great topic of conversation”

“I imagine it’s not... but...”

“You want to understand what happened to Adam. What he went through. I can’t tell you that. Only that he’s in a better place”

“He’s dead”

Nothing happened why you died... Keith couldn’t say he was convinced over this heaven and hell stuff...

“I’d rather be dead than risking the lives of those I love. Turning... it brings up a lot of memories that won’t leave me alone. Some humans take the turn willingly and I can’t for the life of me think why. Maybe if they had a kind sire, and you know, they had like absolutely no choice and I don’t know... but... it’s hard to talk about. Ten out of Ten would not recommend. I guess that makes me like that 1 dentist that never recommends shit”

Keith groaned deeply, dropping his head back and staring at Lance

“Why do you always do that? Deflect like that to humour?”

“Because some things are so fucked up thay if you don’t laugh you’re gonna fucking cry. It’s my unhealthy coping mechanism, like some people have smoking”

“It’s annoying. It makes it hard to like you”

Lance beamed at him, Keith had the feeling he was being mocked again

“Aw man, you like me!”

“Go fuck yourself”

“Eh, too much like effort. Who needs sex when you’ve got pizza. Thanks for this. I think I needed it”

“You’re welcome, but you can still go fuck yourself”

Lance had the nerve to wink at him

“Only if you go first”

Keith blushed red, spluttering some kind of loud squeak before promptly shutting up. Lance could suck his metaphorical dick.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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centuryofdean · 5 years ago

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Of Food and Comfort - Part 7

Author Note:: So I don’t think my tagging methods are working! Not sure what I’m doing wrong :[ I copied and pasted them on one chapter, was informed it didn’t work sadly. So on the last chapter I manually wrote them out, and was told it still didn’t work! I can hover over the names and it shows that they are linked to blogs. So if someone knows what I am doing wrong, please let me know how to make it work!

Author Disclaimer:: Marvel and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. Instead I claim the maybe not so great plot, writing and characteristics of the reader insert character. I am not a die hard Marvel fan, I haven’t read all the comics, but have watched the movies. I may get some things wrong, so please don’t hate me. I also have been incorporating Old Norse as terms of endearment.

Summary:: You worked for Tony Stark as a…mechanic of sorts. Anything around the Avengers compound that needed a technicians touch, you handled. With working and living there, you had grown to be friendly with the super heroes. Of course you had grown to have feelings for one of them. The muscled Thunder God to be exact.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+.

Pairing:: Thor x Reader

You didn’t wake once through the night, but in the morning you did wake refreshed. There was no warm body settled next to you unfortunately, instead there was just blankets and pillows. They were foreign blankets and pillows, ones you don’t have in your room. This thought alone brought a smile to your face knowing that last night, was not a dream.

Thoughts soon trailed off into thinking of how rough and perfect Thor’s prickly mustache and beard felt against your skin while he kissed you. Especially on your neck.

Excited for what the day was to bring, you hurried over to the closet and saw all the clothes that were provided for you. Most of the clothing were dresses, each different, none were too extravagant or plain. Vast varieties of shoes were placed at the bottom, ranging from boots to flats. Your bag that you brought from home was also sitting on the bottom.

Digging out Thor’s gifts, you pulled out the dress and necklace, hurrying over to the bathroom to change. Since there was no mirror, you did your best to brush out your hair and braid it off to the side and over your shoulder. Was wearing the necklace too bold of a move to make? It was extremely bold for him to gift you his Mother’s necklace without you knowing his intentions or feelings.

You decided to throw caution to the wind and wear it anyway. Choosing the flats at the bottom of the closet you went over to the balcony to see the gorgeous view of the city below. The sun was just rising and casting an orange hue over all the architecture. It stabbed at your heart in the best way possible. Soon you would get to explore all of Asgard and the wonders it offers.

A knock at your door startled you enough to clear your throat and offer a welcome. “Come in!”

The tumble of blonde hair that flowed in before the rest of a familiar form brought warmth to you. “Good morning Thor,” you made your way to him.

He looked back after shutting the door behind him and stopped mid step. His eyes roved your form, taking in every aspect of you from your feet, to the long loose sleeves of your dress, and resting on the hollow of your throat. “Drotting,” his voice was a little thick, “you look glorious. I think you spoil me with the look of Asgard on you.” A blush painted your cheeks, the heat welcome.

“Thank you,” you laughed, taking in his form as well. His jeans and Earth attire you normally saw him in were replaced with simpler clothes. His pants were thick it appeared, but black and loose. The shirt he wore was an off white and had strings around his collar. Not to mention his hair was perfectly groomed, half pulled up into a bun behind his head.

Thor’s large arms opened and pulled you into his chest again. Instead of tucking your head into his chest like you normally would, you rose on your tip toes to press your lips to his. It wasn’t hot and passionate as it was last night, still keeping you yearning for more but still causing butterflies to erupt into your middle. You were squeezed perfectly as he responded. As you pulled away he smiled, strong and harder than you have ever seen him smile.

“Are you hungry? I am excited to treat you to Asgardian food,” he smiled.

Taking your hand and threading each of your fingers, Thor lead you from your room and down the hallway. He murmured softly about what each of the rooms were, or where different hallways went. His voice so soft and comforting you couldn’t help but smile the whole time.

He led you to another bigger balcony. A table and chairs were set near the railed edge to get a better view of the city below. The table held different jugs and a few cups, plates and silverware. With much enthusiasm, he sat you into one chair and pulled the other right next to it.

“We have a few different teas, juices and flavored waters for you to choose from,” he whispered softly pouring one into a cup and placing it in front of you. “Do you want a light breakfast, sweet, hearty or do you—”

Just the thought of him going through all this trouble to do something sweet and thoughtful for you—it made you feel ecstatic. Everything seemed to be falling into place. The man you had been harboring feelings for ages was now yours. He was yours and sitting across from you with such glee in his eyes to share something with you. Was it too soon to say you were in love with him?

“Thor,” you giggled, “slow down. You said we will be here for a while so we can try something new every morning. What is your favorite breakfast? I want to try that.”

A slow smirk worked its way over his face. “Those sweet rolls you made yesterday morning,” he murmured. “I should like to taste the frosting from your lips instead of your cheek next time.

Red painted your cheeks while you smiled, “Asgardian breakfast.”

He smirked and nodded, getting up and leaving to speak to someone we had passed on our way to the balcony. After he returned, he grasped your fingers between his. He began to talk softly, telling more some of the different foods from Asgard he thought you would enjoy, things that aren’t on Earth. While he spoke you looked off into the city, drawn to its beauty in the morning sunlight. It was warm enough to be comfortable without a coat or a cloak. The deep timber of his voice was so soothing it was almost enough to have you close your eyes and go to sleep.

“—later I will show you the gardens,” he smiled ruefully. “My mother took care of it every day. The fruit grown there is the best in all of Asgard.”

Someone showed up with a plates of food, setting them around the table for you both. There were fruits, different breads that appeared toasted. Meats and cheeses. There was something you suspected were potatoes. Thor put a little of everything on a plate and sat it before you, watching eagerly as you tasted a little of everything. There was not one thing you didn’t like. You especially enjoyed one of the berries he had you try.

“I think this is the best thing to ever have touched my lips,” you murmured amazed as you took another berry into your mouth. The way it burst with flavor as you pierced its skin was slightly sweet and dry oddly.

Thor grunted in a cute annoyed fashion, leaning one arm on the table while the other came up and grasped the back of your head. Startled, you glanced at him, laughing. It quickly died as his lips descended onto yours. This kiss was just as heart stopping as the one he bestowed on you last night. Just as you were about to moan at the feeling of his tongue tracing your lips, he pulled away. “Still the best thing to have ever touched your lips,” he sounded a little hoarse.

Suddenly you were laughing, grasping him to hold yourself upright while you wiped tears out of the corners of your eyes. The man was a fierce warrior God, but he could be playful. This sort of ease and intimacy was something you thrived for in a relationship.

“Thor.”

His name was spoken loudly by a deep commanding voice. It rose the hair on the back of your neck and brought your spine straight. Turning slightly, you found an older man, dressed in marvelous golds and reds. A dark black patch covered his left eye.

“Father,” Thor said suddenly, jumping to stand at attention.

This was Odin?

Shocked, you rose to your feet clumsily as you bowed your head slightly, trying to look out of the corner of your eye at the King of Asgard. Thor had mentioned how unhappy his father would be if you were here in Asgard.

“We have already had this discussion, and I am disappointed that we have to have it again. I thought I made it clear last time—you are not to bring Midgardian women to Asgard,” Odin said as he walked closer to where you both were seated.

Trying not to take the comment to heart, you still stood next to Thor quietly.

Thor had told you about what happened when he brought Jane. It was devastating, how his Mother died protecting Jane. The only reason she was brought was because of the dark ether that wormed its way into her body.

Just behind him another man started to approach. He was tall, but not as tall as Thor. Almost as if the opposite of your favorite hero. Long black hair, sharp facial features and bold green eyes that matched the loose green tunic he was wearing. Something about the small smirk and light steps he took told you he enjoyed Thor’s reprimand.

“Father it isn’t—”

“Like last time,” his father asked, interrupting. “Last time you also brought an onslaught of Dark Elves that—”

“I brought her here for a reason!”

Thor’s voice rose slightly, cutting off his father. Both of them were becoming red in the face with anger. The man behind Odin strode forward, picking around at the food that Thor had laid out for you both. “You told him she was here,” Thor rounded on the black haired man.

“He also told me you spent the night in the room you set up for her, the one I was not to know about,” Odin scoffed.

“Damnit Loki,” Thor thundered, glowering at the other man.

Feeling a little uncomfortable for the family squabble you were thrown into the middle of, you slowly started edge your way out of the line of vision.

“Loki,” Odin sighed angerly, “will you please escort her to her room to pack her things? I will send someone shortly to take her to the Bifrost.”

Thor growled in frustration, reaching his hand out with purpose. In moments his hammer glided into his grip. Odin rolled his eyes as he muttered, “You can’t just grab the hammer to—”

His words stopped as Thor pressed the hammer into your hands. You stood there quietly, holding it in your like a sword. Loki even paused and turned his attention fully on what was happening. Still self-conscious, you slowly lowered the hammer to hang softly at your side with a one-handed grip. “As I said,” Thor grumbled annoyed, “I brought her here for a reason.”

Odin stepped forward and held out his hand. Thinking he wanted the hammer, you lifted it and set it in his hands. He looked over the hammer, tilting it every which way. Then he sat it on the ground before your feet. “Call for it child,” he ordered sternly.

“Erm,” you furrowed your brow in confusion and questioned, “how do I do that?”

Thor wrapped an arm around your shoulders and held out his hand palm down. Slowly you raised your own arm to mimic his position. “Now,” he murmured in your ear, “urge Mjölnir into your palm. Feel the magnetic connection between you and it; envision it flying into your grasp.”

Doing just that, you concentrated on that hammer, feeling your hand warm as you pictured coming up into it. You even flicked your wrist slightly, imagining the weight of it as it would have when slamming into your grasp.

Just as you envisioned it, the hammer flew up into your hand handle first. If Thor had not been holding you, the force of it would have knocked you backwards into the table. None the less you had the hammer in your grasp, looking up at Odin almost fearfully. Quietly the man took a few steps forward, fingers reaching forward to trace at the necklace around your throat.

He probably realized it was his late wife’s necklace.

“We have much to talk about Thor,” he finally said. “Loki, please entertain Miss—”

“Y/N,” Thor grumbled as he gently took the hammer from you. “Lady Y/N.”

Odin looked at his son with a calculated look, “Please entertain Lady Y/N for a while. Come Thor.”

With those words Odin turned and left. Thor grasped your hands in his and looked down at you with a smile. “I will come find you as soon as we are done conversing,” he murmured before bringing his mouth down to yours. The moment his lips graced yours, butterflies filled your stomach once more. Goosebumps erupted over your skin as he slowly pulled away. “Later,” he whispered.

As soon as Thor and Odin were out of sight, you turned to the black-haired man you heard so much about. Loki. The God of Mischief. The adopted son of Odin and raised as a brother to Thor. This is the man that brought wrath on New York, but even so Thor talked highly of him. Ever the trickster and even straying for a moment on the path of not-exactly-good, Thor still saw Loki as a brother and quite the fighter.

“Come along,” he glanced at my necklace for a long moment as he spoke. “I will give you a tour of the palace.”

With that he turned on his feet and started to walk away. You had to take longer strides and jog a bit to keep up with him.

Throughout each hallway, Loki simply pointed to things and called out what they were. Clearly, he was bored with the task he was given. Even so, everything you saw was magnificent golden hues and beautiful engravings. Soon you became so distracted with some of the artwork that lined the halls, when you turned around Loki was gone. A little panicked you turned around every which way to see if you could find him. No luck.

Trying to remain calm you finally just started to call out his name softly. Turning a corner, you found a set of large double doors, one slightly ajar.

You pushed the door open fully, calling out louder than before, “Loki?”

Inside there were shelves upon shelves of books. Some shelves appeared to be two stories tall. Some of the closer books to you were thicker than your thigh. They were in all sorts of different colors—blue, red, black and even a few white bindings. The engravings on the books were in gold, white, black and blue letterings. None of it appeared to be English, though the letters on them were familiar to you.

There were a few windows that were large, taking up the whole wall, illuminating the library before you. Some of the them had pictures depicted in numerous colored glass. The sense of being lost and scared from before disappeared entirely. Instead inspiration and longing coursed through your veins as you took steps to the nearest shelf and grabbed the first book you could find.

It was heavy and green with gold lettering on the front. Opening it in your hands, your eyes took in the harsh lettering that almost seemed like runes. There were no illustrations, but still you looked over the words and lightly traced your fingers over the black ink. Hand-written it seemed.

Eventually you looked up to find a smaller couch over toward the back of the room. It looked comfortable and inviting enough. Just as you were settling in and adjusting your dress, Loki popped up in front of you.

“There you are,” he said.

“Here I am,” you replied in the same uninterested tone of voice he had used, trying to remain calm. He literally just popped up in front of you. For some reason you felt if you showed him fear, he would use it to taunt you.

He huffed a bit, “You can’t even read that.”

Looking up to give him your full attention, your eyes raked over him in calculation. Not very polite, was he?

He glanced around the library, eyes finally landing on you, “Can I trust you not to wander and remain here? I will tell Thor where to find you when he is free.” Were you too boring for him to waste his time on or something? What was wrong with exploring without someone anyway? Somewhat annoyed yourself, you nodded and started to look through the foreign book in front of you while he walked away.

Over time you picked up one book and traded for another, trying to remember where each came from. Some had drawings that you vaguely could make out, but overall you were entirely confused. Not sure how long you were in there looking through almost nonsense, so you were surprised when you felt your joints ache after a while.

Finally, Thor appeared before you as you were dosing between books.

“I apologize for being so long,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to you. Perking up a bit, you accepted his hand and let him guide you to your feet. “You’ve been reading this whole time?”

“If you could call it that,” you scoffed, “I have been through dozens of books and I haven’t found one written in English.”

Thor’s brows furrowed when he picked up the closest book to you both, flicking it open with one hand while his eyes roamed the ink. “Ah, of course,” he sighed, shutting the book and sitting it back on the couch. “Written in Old Norse. Almost everything here is.”

“But alas,” you teased, poking him in the side as you slid closer, “the secrets of Asgard remain hidden to me. Simply by foreign words.”

Thor’s blue iris’s almost twinkled when he smiled slowly, one large arm raising across your back to grasp your shoulder, pulling you into his body as his lips descended to your forehead. “Maybe sometime soon I will bring you back and read some to you,” he murmured, starting to guide you both out the door.

Previous Chapter << Part 6: Christmas Dinner

Next Chapter >> Part 8: Citrus

@jumpingmanatee @thorfanficwriter @lancsnerd @captainamericasbeard @jennie22feona

#thor x reader #thor fanficiton #thor fanfic #thor x you #thor x y/n #reader insert #marvel fanfics #marvel fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #of food and comfort

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lovelylogans · 5 years ago

Note

I just came up with just like the worst prompt for a sideshire file: adult, sensible, reasonable Virgil finding out MCR is back and flipping out

the black parade

we’ll carry on, we’ll carry onand though you’re dead and gone, believe meyour memory will carry onwe’ll carry on

-welcome to the black parade, my chemical romance

part of the wyliwf verse.

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, remus mentions, grief mentions, cryptid mentions, emotionally dealing with a deceased parent, let me know if i missed anything!

pairings: logince, moxiety

words: 4,824

notes: how dare you call this absolute gem of a prompt “the worst” also did i schedule this to come out on the day of the concert YES!!! the timeline is kinda hand-wavey on this one, so let’s just say it happens shortly after the main storyline and it makes sense for mcr to announce that news on that date and for it to fit in with the narrative i’m telling here, okay? okay! (the song roman is listening to is “bombastic” by bonnie mckee, and honestly sub in any mcr instrumentals for any song virgil is mentioned to be listening to this oneshot.)

patton first hears about it, surprisingly, from his son.

though logan isn’t quite as in tune (well, patton thinks it’s funny!) with the music scene as the sanders’ significant others—roman with pop and musicals, and virgil with his more eclectic taste—he is, of course, the most in tune with the news.

the mcr reunion certainly qualifies as news.

when patton opens the link his son has texted him, he stares at it for a few seconds, and says aloud, “ah.”

so, virgil is probably going absolutely feral.

back when patton had first gotten to know virgil, his interest in music had been surprising—the diner usually played soft music, jazz or old-timey songs or instrumentals, non-offensive songs that usually everyone could tolerate and talk over without noticing it very much, playlists swapping up so that employees on the same shift wouldn’t want to plug their ears if they ever heard buddy holly again.

now he knows that virgil doesn’t that over into his personal life, and that he mostly plays that music because it’s the kind of music his parents played when they ran the diner. when patton first sees virgil’s music collection, he was surprised, and then he thought about it more and it made sense. why else would he always be listening to music on his headphones, even when it was just the two of them?

now, it’s weird to even think that he’d thought virgil’s taste was ever, well. tame, he supposes. mainstream.

patton checks the time. it’s probably early enough that he can pass this off as a coffee break, and not to check that virgil has passed out in the midst of the diner.

patton’s trying to formulate the best way to ask “so, have you heard the news?” question in case patton is somehow the one to break it to him, but when he walks into the diner and listens to the music for a couple seconds, he doesn’t even need to bother asking. it speaks for itself.

to virgil’s credit, he isn’t blaring the entire mcr discography.

he is, however, blaring instrumental covers of what seems like the entire mcr discography.

or at least, the diner is—virgil’s nowhere in sight. patton just kind of assumes that he’s back in the kitchen, so he goes to sit at the counter, waiting for him to emerge with a tray or a rag, maybe not grinning, except for maybe that soft secretive smile he does sometimes, but probably humming along.

he doesn’t come out for a while—that’s pretty normal, this time of day, it is the early dinner rush—but then patton puts in an order for hot cocoa/coffee.

and he actually gets it. and he can smell that it’s not decaf. which means—

patton leans over the counter, and smiles at jean. “where’s v?”

“kitchen,” jean says.

“and he actually gave me something caffeinated at this time of day? are we sure this is virgil?”

jean laughs. “i guess he’s in a good mood, then.”

patton smiles down at his mug, tracing his pinky around its rim. “guess so.”

patton sips his way through about two-thirds of his mug before virgil emerges from the kitchen, towel swept over his shoulder, a carafe of coffee in each hand. which is mostly normal.

except he’s humming, and grinning, and instead of his usual purple flannel or hoodie, he’s wearing all black. there’s the flash of a band tee underneath the black hoodie he’s got on. patton hides his grin behind his mug.

“oh, hey,” virgil says, snapping out of his haze.

“so i guess i’m not about to break the news to you, huh?” patton teases.

“nah, you’re not,” virgil says, smiling still as he replaces the coffee carafes before he leans on the counter. the other servers, used to this, scoot around him in their quest to deliver food back and forth.

“we could time a visit to chris to go, if you want,” patton says. “since he lives in california.”

virgil looks incredibly tempted, before he says, “let’s think on it?”

patton nods and leans over the counter to kiss virgil on the cheek—a new thing he’s been doing lately, now that they’re dating—virgil ducks his head, flushing, like he does every time. patton can’t help the smile that springs onto his face, every time.

“i’m happy you’re happy about it, darling,” patton says.

“you’re ruining my street cred,” virgil mutters, blushing still.

patton fights his own grin. yeah, virgil’s street cred, his reputation rife with hoisting kids into his arms so they could better see the pastry display, and well-known for opening his door to anyone who had a last-minute stitching or alteration emergency, including a number of teary-eyed brides who’d invite him to their wedding on the spot, regularly slipping extra tips to his workers who were struggling, would definitely be harmed by his boyfriend—partner?—kissing him on the cheek.

what he says instead of any of that is, “you’re marathoning punk rock in the diner right now, honey, i don’t think your rep’s gonna get harmed from anything i do.”

virgil tilts his head, acknowledging this point. “you sticking around for dinner?”

“should be,” patton says. “i’ll text logan that i’m here.”

“mkay,” virgil says, and digs around in his pocket, fishing out his notepad and pen with a flourish. “wanna order now or later?”

patton probably shouldn’t use virgil’s good mood for his own benefit. he really, really shouldn’t. but he’s got a real craving, so…

“refill of hot cocoa/coffee, cheeseburger, fries?” patton tries, keeping his voice extra blasé.

a soft hum of acknowledgement as virgil scrawls it all down, and says, “cheddar cheese, right, or do you want colby jack?”

patton smiles. “cheddar cheese, please. oh, and some french silk pie?”

virgil tilts his head at patton with a look, fond and irked, and patton gives him a sheepish grin.

virgil sighs. “and french silk pie,” he grumbles, adding it on, and patton nearly crows with victory. he loses that battle when he can’t contain a soft “ha!” as virgil tops off his mug.

virgil rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile clinging around the edges of his mouth as he disappears back into the kitchen.

patton digs out his phone. get to virgil’s he’s just given me junk food AND caffeine AND a dessert!!!!!!!!!

He added vegetables, surely?

NONE!!!!!!!!!!!

a pause. I’ll be there shortly.

patton grins and tucks his phone back into his pocket. even if logan was better with nutrition than he was, logan was still weak for a good, artery-clogging meal once in a while. virgil handing them out on a silver platter? a rarity that practically demanded to be taken advantage of.

when his phone buzzes, and the bell jangles, patton turns to see logan and roman filing into the diner. patton picks up his mug of hot cocoa/coffee, and heads back to join roman and logan in a booth, sitting across from them.

“hi, roman,” patton says.

“i heard virgil is handing out junk food like it’s candy,” roman says excitedly. “i want to see if i can talk him into giving me endless soda refills, for once.”

“he’s refilled my hot cocoa/coffee,” patton says, gleeful. “my caffeinated hot cocoa/coffee.”

“chances are good!” roman practically cheers. “i wanna get, ooh, um—um, breakfast for dinner! like a platter of breakfast for dinner!”

“it’s worth a shot,” patton says. “logan?”

“me too,” logan decides. “i want pancakes.”

“trade you bites of french toast for bites of pancake?”

“deal.”

roman and logan fall into discussing the latest happenings around the town—stories about the little kids in dance classes, the latest courant goofs, the hottest pieces of old-lady gossip—and by the time virgil re-emerges from the kitchen, patton gets to watch him blink, bemused and a little startled, at the absence of patton at the counter.

biting back a giggle, patton leans out of the booth so virgil can see him more clearly, and virgil nods, maybe saying “ahhh” under his breath, and emerges from behind the counter.

“hey, what can i get—“

a moment, a brief moment, one that patton isn’t sure that roman or logan even notice—when they both turn, roman grinning and logan… looking polite, at least—virgil falters, eyes widening, and he swallows, eyes flashing with… something. and then—

“—you two?”

“hot cocoa/coffee and a stack of pancakes,” logan says, looking at virgil sidelong, and virgil nods, eyes wide and… strangely attentive? not that virgil isn’t usually attentive, it’s just that virgil looks like… well, virgil looks like something’s struck him and he’s realized Something and he’s paying even closer attention. or something.

“how many?”

“um,” logan says, and glances at patton, who mouths go for it so logan says, “five?”

“five pancakes, hot cocoa/coffee, got it,” virgil says, absent, and then he swallows again. “roman?” he says gruffly.

“i want the breakfast combo with bacon, and french toast, and waffles, and hashbrowns, and instead of the regular toast side thing can i do biscuits and gravy?”

“bacon, french toast, waffles, hash browns, biscuits and gravy instead of toast, got it,” virgil says, staring at him still. “drink?”

“cherry coke?”

“yeah, of course,” virgil says, strangely choked, and then he just kind of—does something weird? even by virgil standards. wait, especially by virgil standards.

virgil awkwardly puts a hand on roman’s shoulder, removes it, and then puts it back on his shoulder again, and when roman looks up at him with a bemused kind of smile, virgil leans in, halting and jerking, and then just kind of—hugs him?

it might actually be generous to call it a hug. he sort of wraps roman up in his arms, and his arms just kind of end up circling roman’s head, because he’s standing and roman’s sitting, and roman, bewildered, manages to reach up and pat virgil’s shoulder, and virgil pats roman’s hair in a reciprocal moment of oddness before he lets go of him and says “um, right, okay, i’ll put those orders in and get someone to bring out your drinks” and speedwalks away from any semblance of a lingering awkward moment.

“um,” roman says, and flicks his hand to correct his hair from where virgil mussed it up. “that was… kind of weird? that was weird, right?”

“that was strange,” logan agrees, at the same time patton says, “yep, definitely weird.”

the conversation moves forward slowly, and jean ends up dropping off their drinks (and! giving! patton! a! third!!! refill!) and then jean ends up… bringing out their food, too? with no healthy alterations, which is good. virgil even gives him some ice cream with his pie, so that patton can combine it in a slightly disgusting but very delicious mess.

and by the time the check comes, virgil hasn’t re-emerged from the kitchen. which. okay. it’s dinner rush. sure.

but usually, he at least comes out to say goodbye.

so patton digs out his phone, and sends him a you’re free to drop by the house once you close up! text.

and then he ends up walking home with logan and roman. or, well.

“um,” logan says, when they’re about fifteen feet from the prince’s studio and apartment, “dad?”

“huh?” patton says, distracted, before the look that roman and logan exchange clicks, and the whole “walking someone home” thing clicks, and his own teenage experiences, and he says, “oh! oh, right! right, right, right.”

“dad,” logan groans.

“you wanna get me out of the way so you two can do cute couple-y teenager things, right, i get you,” patton says, grinning still, backing away slowly. “your old man’s still hip, you know.”

“dad.”

“don’t mind me, i’m just gonna,” patton says, grinning still, and waves a hand vaguely. “i’m just gonna stare real closely at the, um, the town decorations over there, and, uh, you can come and tap me on the shoulder when you’re ready to keep walking home, yeah?”

patton turns his back at the same time logan makes a strangled, embarrassed noise, and roman giggles, and he hears logan say “i’m sorry about—that” and roman giggle and say “don’t be. you’re cute when you get all huffy, you know” and then patton’s out of earshot and stares very intently at the wreaths and garlands dotting the town.

his baby has a boyfriend. it’s cute. it’s puppy love. it’s the kind of tooth-achingly sweet first relationship and the subsequent milestones that patton could have ever hoped for his son, even if the concept of “logan” and “dating” were still two very strange concepts to combine. it also provides patton his lifetime quota of “good-natured teasing of my child” that was bestowed upon him the moment he became a dad.

there’s a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to see logan, who’s blushing, just a little bit.

“we really need to coordinate our walks home so this never happens again,” logan grumbles, already walking past him, and patton picks up the pace.

“aw, hon, don’t be embarrassed,” patton says. “it’s perfectly natural to—”

“no,” logan complains, and patton laughs even as he starts to croon, “logan and roman, sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s—”

“dad!”

⁂

patton’s humming quietly to himself by the time he hears his front door open, and he smiles.

“hey,” he calls, setting aside the book he’d been reading. well. attempting to read.

stomp, stomp, stomp, virgil clearing his boots of any lingering wetness that might track onto patton’s carpet. the susurrus of virgil taking off his bulky winter coat and tucking it in with the others in the coat closet. a kiss dropped on the top of patton’s head.

“hey,” virgil murmurs, and patton shuffles aside, tugging up his blanket, so that virgil has space to settle in beside patton, as most of the other spaces in the living room are taken up by laundry or books. this way, patton can cuddle him. patton may have plotted a little bit to ensure this development happened.

patton sighs happily as he tosses the blanket over virgil and snuggles into virgil’s side.

“rest of the shift go okay?” he asks, voice soft.

“yeah, it’s fine,” virgil murmurs, adjusting a little so that his arm settles soundly over patton’s shoulders.

“good,” patton murmurs, rests his head on virgil’s shoulder and fights off a yawn. the yawn is afforded a narrow victory. “that’s good.”

“you haven’t been staying up for me, have you?”

“nuh-uh,” patton fibs, and then, “okay, yes, but i got your text and i didn’t wanna be rude by just being asleep when you got here.”

“i wouldn’t have been offended by you being well-rested,” virgil murmurs.

“you’re gonna say that i should—”

“—get ready for bed, yeah,” virgil finishes, sounding amused. “you know, i bet you’re so tired because—”

“don’t say it,” patton complains, even as virgil’s standing and tugging patton to his feet.

“—because of caffeine crash,” virgil finishes triumphantly. “you got way more caffeine than you’re used to this time of day, and—”

patton groans as he stamps up the stairs, even though he’s holding virgil’s hand the whole way, pulling him all the way into his bed.

“stay here,” patton commands. “i’m gonna do what you want.”

“you say that like i’m not just asking you put on your pajamas and brush your teeth,” virgil says, amused, and patton rolls his eyes even as he bends to kiss virgil.

“the next one will be minty-fresh,” patton informs him, before he flounces off to the bathroom. the last thing he sees is virgil sitting on his bed and bending to remove his boots, a smile playing about his lips.

when he comes back, virgil’s tugging on a t-shirt, one he’d left the last time he spent the night, and patton flops happily onto his bed, watching as virgil smooths down the hem. virgil turns, and patton pats the other side of the bed.

“minty-fresh, huh?” virgil asks, as he lifts the covers and slides into place.

patton grins at him. “shameless,” he teases, before he leans in to kiss virgil, and patton can taste that virgil had brushed his teeth, too, probably before he’d even come over, the kiss soft and sleepy, and patton smiles as they pull back.

“love you,” patton says, and presses a kiss to virgil’s shoulder for emphasis.

“i love you too,” virgil says. “lamp off?”

“yeah, sure,” patton says, and virgil leans up. the room’s doused in darkness. patton reaches for virgil and settles his head onto virgil’s chest.

“your shift was really okay, though?” patton asks, shifting in place to get comfy.

“yeah, ‘course,” virgil says, and adjusts slightly himself, settling his hand on patton’s shoulder blade.

“you sure?”

“why wouldn’t i be sure?”

“because,” patton says, “and, no pressure whatever you decide, but you got kinda weird with roman, and i’m wondering if it was just a momentary fluke of weirdness or something that you maybe wanted to talk about.”

virgil freezes. patton feels him tense.

“oh,” virgil says quietly. “that.”

“yeah,” patton says softly, and leans a little so that he can try to see virgil’s face with the slivers of light slanting through his blinds from the half-moon tonight.

virgil chews his lip for a few seconds, before he blurts out, “remus liked mcr.”

oh. roman’s dad.

patton had met him once, one time, if you could even call it meeting—he’d accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation between virgil and remus, and that’s how he’d known that remus was going to become a father. patton had asked virgil about him, after, and virgil had said he was an old friend, promised to introduce patton to him, maybe introduce remus’ kid to logan, once he was out of the womb.

and then he’d died. and virgil hadn’t talked about him very much since.

“yeah?” patton prompts, voice gentle and soft.

“yeah,” virgil says, a little rough, and he clears his throat, squirming a little. “uh—he mostly liked stuff that most people… didn’t really like, i guess. stuff outside of the norm. he had the biggest cd collection of anyone i knew. metal, punk rock, screamo, witch house.” a flicker of a smile. “medieval folk rock.”

“medieval folk rock?” patton says, voice edged in a laugh.

“if it was weird, he liked it,” virgil says. “god, the things he’d play on the radio, sometimes… we’d be going to egg someone’s house or something, and he’d be blaring slavic polka or ectofolk or just—” virgil snorts, “—one time, he just kept playing it’s a small world. for a week. i could’ve strangled him.”

“he sounds like he was funny,” patton offers.

“you’d have to have a very specific sense of humor to find him funny,” virgil says.

“did you?” patton says. “find him funny, i mean.”

“mm. sometimes. some things he said, i thought he was funny. others… others kind of scared me,” virgil says. he clears his throat. “remus didn’t particularly have a filter when it came to gross, taboo ideas, and he wasn’t shy about sharing them. doing them, sometimes. he was voted most likely to go to prison when he graduated from sideshire high.”

patton doesn’t really know what to say to that. so he just says, “ah.”

“i’m not sure if you would have liked each other,” virgil says.

“hey,” patton says, frowning.

“oh, you would have tried,” virgil says. “remus would have seen you were trying. he’d say something as a test, something you’d get uncomfortable with. you’d be polite about it and try to change the subject. but remus probably would have seen that you were uncomfortable with the stuff he said, and he would have delighted in grossing you out even more.”

patton considers this, before he says, “like boys on the playground who chase people with a worm on a stick to get everyone to squeal, or something?”

virgil huffs out a laugh. “sure,” he says. “that’s a good enough way to put it. tame, when it’s applied to remus, but… yeah. that’s the gist of it.”

“so,” patton says. “mcr.”

“and seeing roman, sitting there…” virgil says, and exhales a huge, gusting sigh. “face-wise, he looks so much like his dad.”

“face-wise?”

“remus was taller,” virgil says. “i know roman’s not done growing yet, so they might even out, but—but remus had a longer torso, shorter legs. different ears. remus always had dark under-eye circles. there’s something about the hands, too, i think. he was clumsier. had a less muscular build. remus wasn’t much of a dancer—well, he could lift isadora, but that’s about it, and i think that’s mostly because she’s tiny.”

“got it.”

“plus, i mean, remus was white, and since isadora's mexican, roman clearly isn't white, but—but roman’s face… i mean, slap a mustache on there and a white streak in his hair, and put that plotting look on his face that he gets sometimes, and i don’t think i’d be able to tell them apart.”

“like the plotting look like he had at dinner tonight,” patton realizes quietly.

“yeah,” virgil says, then, again, a little choked up. “yeah.”

patton wiggles closer and hugs virgil tighter.

“you could tell him about him,” patton suggests quietly. “roman about remus, i mean. i bet he’d love to know.”

“maybe,” virgil says. “i spent most of shift thinking about it. i just—you know.”

“miss him?”

“yeah.”

patton isn’t very familiar with grief; his grandparents, barring his granny lorelai, all died either before he was born or when he was a baby. the handful of funerals he went to were for people that he didn’t know very well—relatives he’d seen three times before, old “family friends” that his parents had fallen out of touch with, a couple business partners of his father’s—and so the only part he’s familiar with is this part. the comforting part.

“i’m sorry,” patton says quietly. “is there anything i can do?”

virgil let out a shaky exhale, and his grip tightens. “this is good.”

“okay,” patton says, and holds him tighter. “okay.”

⁂

i came to win, win, win, better show me what you goti came to bring the fire ‘cause you know i like it hotgonna win, win, win, ‘cause i’m full of tiger bloodi’m vicious like a viper and i’m ready to turn it on!

roman bops his head absentmindedly, headphones soundly on his ears, focus… maybe not quite so sound, but he’s at least holding a pencil and looking at his homework, so he thinks that counts as an attempt at focus on this stupid homework. like, who even needs proofs in real life?

so when a cup that looks like it’s full of soda is set in front of him, roman’s eager to hit pause and set down his pencil, looking up at his deliverer.

“uh, hey,” virgil says. “you busy?”

“not really,” roman lies brightly, pushing aside his homework. virgil’s eyes narrow when he sees it.

“you’re doing homework.”

“it can wait,” roman says, putting down his pencil. “seriously, it can wait. i want it to wait.”

“yeah, kid, that’s half the problem,” virgil retorts, tilting the textbook a little so that he can read, and his brow furrows. “geometry proofs?”

“like i said,” roman says, shoving his papers into the textbook before he closes it, “it can wait.”

“yeah, i guess,” virgil says, and he slides into the seat across from roman, holding onto his own beverage—a mug, probably with decaf coffee, or something—which he’s tap-tap-tapping his fingernails against. “uh. still not a math person?”

“yeah, archi-melancholy, because most people going into dance and theater and the fine arts are so well-known to be math people,” roman quips, and virgil smiles, just a little.

“archimedes joke?”

“i tried,” roman says. “again. not a math person.”

he takes a sip. cherry coke. the actual good kind with caffeine and full sugar and everything. which means that either virgil’s good mood has lasted two days—doubtful, considering he’s fidgeting with his mug—or he’s about to attempt a vague Emotional Talk, or something. he’s pretty sure he picked up the habit of giving people food they like as a special treat whenever there’s the possibility of upset from patton. or maybe it started with patton. who knows.

“so, uh,” virgil says. “what’re you listening to?”

“pop song,” roman says. “after your time. i think it’s too young for you. and it’s also, like, slightly cheerful and confidence-boosting.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you’ve been sneak-playing mcr for the past two days,” roman says accusingly.

“they’re a good band,” virgil protests, and then, with an affected, forceful casualness, “your dad liked them too.”

roman pauses. hearing about his dad is kind of like… well, honestly, it’s kind of like hearing about bigfoot, or mothman, or yetis, or some other kind of cryptid. sure, people might have seen him. roman never had. sure, people had interacted with him. roman hadn’t. sure, people had stories about him. roman didn’t. sure, people might have blurry, strange pictures that roman had touched, stared at, seen his whole life. roman didn’t have one with him, not even his dad holding him as a baby. remus duke is almost a larger-than-life, obscure piece of sideshire mythology. remus duke, the famous horror author, with the tragic death, who’d once been the mysterious partner in crime with local loner virgil, who’d bravely volunteered to co-parent with the fearsome isadora prince. people might have seen him. believed in him.

roman feels like a cryptid hunter, sometimes. like he’s doomed to always be questing out into the mysterious unknown, searching for some evidence, some form of personal connection, some story that’s his. he’s almost always come up empty.

doesn’t stop him from turning back for another quest.

he takes another sip. and, in an affected, forcefully casual tone, he says, “did he?”

virgil clears his throat. “yeah. uh—yeah.”

“that’s… cool,” roman says.

“i kind of—“ virgil coughs. “i mean, i, uh. sorry for the whole awkward… hugging thing. i just—you know. i think he would have been happy. to hear they were back together.”

roman swallows and looks down into his cup. “oh.”

he would have been happy. roman hears that sometimes. apparently, his dad would have been happy that he turned out dancing like his mom. apparently, his dad would have been happy that he had once tackled a mean kid at sideshire for calling logan annoying. apparently, his dad would have been happy that my chemical romance reunited.

it’s not like roman would know.

roman taps his fingernails against the cup and looks back up at virgil, before he says, “were they his favorite?”

“huh?”

“my chemical romance,” roman elaborates. “were they my dad’s favorite band?”

“ah, no,” virgil says. “no. he, uh—he liked a lot of bands. his favorites changed a lot. but he liked, um—he liked the residents, and captain beefheart and the magic band. oh, and rockbitch.”

roman’s lip twitches. “captain beefheart?”

“it was a band from the sixties,” virgil says. “lots of experimental stuff. he liked everything as long as it was weird.”

“yeah, i’ve heard,” roman says.

virgil hesitates, before he says, “once, he just played it’s a small world on loop for a week.”

roman cringes at the very idea. virgil laughs.

“yeah, i think that reaction was half the reason,” he says. “i think i, um. i think i’ve still got his cd collection in some boxes, stored away. he had the biggest music collection of anyone i’d ever met. i think the idea of spotify or music streaming the way we’ve got now would’ve given him heart palpitations.”

“of stress?”

“of excitement,” virgil corrects, and his lips twitch up in a bittersweet kind of smile. “he would have hacked the diner playlist and stuffed it full of rickrolling and a ten-hour gregorian chant remix and cotton eye joe and peanut butter jelly time and some pirate shanties, with, like, jesus take the wheel and that one song about christmas shoes thrown in for color.”

roman laughs, and virgil looks relieved.

“but, i figured,” virgil says, and shrugs. “i think you like music even more than him, maybe. so if you’ve got a stereo somewhere, you could—you could take any cd you want from it. i’m sure your mom would be thrilled to hear the dulcet tones of tuvan throat singing blaring in the apartment again.”

“okay,” roman says, and his voice comes out more eager than he means it to. “i—yeah, okay. i’d like that.”

“yeah?” virgil says.

“yeah,” roman says.

“uh, virgil?” jean calls. “the oven’s doing the smoking thing again!”

virgil curses under his breath, getting to his feet, before he taps his fingers against the table. “just—let me know when, yeah? i can show you the mcr album he doodled all over. practically gave it new cover art.”

“okay,” roman says.

“and do your homework!” virgil shouts over the din of concerned customers, even as he’s heading for the kitchen.

roman sighs, but tugs his textbook closer and opens it again.

the smile reappears on his face when, a couple songs later, a g-note rings throughout the diner.

#the sideshire files #ask #my fic #anonymous #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides

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illyrianwingspans · 4 years ago

Text

Do No Go Gentle: Donna

Link to song: Donna by the Lumineers

Synopsis: In which Feyre has a business meeting with a potential employer.

TW: Vague mentions of self-harm and abuse.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 21: Donna

Rhys

Like fucking clockwork, I woke with the rising sun.

It took less than five minutes to peel out of my sheets and pull some clothes on. Two minutes to down the shot of espresso and munch through an apple in the kitchen. One minute to creep back up the stairs quietly and open that door, just the tiniest slit—

Her figure was slumped to the side, arm dangling off the ledge of the bed. But I could see it, that steady up and down of her chest. Alive. Breathing. Peaceful.

Striking.

It was the only confirmation I needed before peeling back down the stairs and throwing on a pair of sneakers. As the pink clouds began to fade, my feet slammed against the pavement. The sun was still a blip on the horizon, Prythian wiping away the night’s remaining darkness, and with each song drowning out the noise in my ears more cars began to appear on the road as the rest of the city awoke. Soon enough, I was washed in the rays of sunshine. Sweat soaked through my thin long-sleeve, but I didn’t care. I just kept pushing.

It’d been three weeks since I ran. But this morning, I felt wired. Like my mind hadn’t turned off last night in its slumber. How could it? Not after what happened yesterday. Not after what Feyre told me last night.

I’d never felt anything like it before. It was a physical, throbbing ache in my chest, like my heart had truly cleaved in half and spilled all its venomous ichor into my body.

For some reason, it was worse than watching her perched on the ledge of the roof. Knowing that she’d been so miserable, for far longer than I could’ve imagined—

It struck something within me. Like a pianist crescendoing to the climax of a song only to play the wrong chord.

And I had no idea how to help her.

That’s what scared me the most out of all of this—despite my best efforts, Feyre’s condition was beyond my abilities. I’d done all I could out of my own personal experience to try and assuage the difficulties she’d experienced in the last three weeks, but this…

Last night, I felt completely and utterly useless. That was the worst part, I thought, about seeing someone you care about struggle with mental health issues—knowing that there is very little you can do to help. All I had were my words, carefully chosen to goad her into speaking as much as she comfortably would, and gentle enough to tell her that I was there for her, that I would support her. But all I wanted to do, all my instincts roared at me to do, was hold her. Hug her against me. Tell her that I was there, that I cared about her.

Those feelings pounding within my heart flared up again, and my foot faltered on its next step.

I stopped in my tracks. The rap music was still blaring in my ears. I ripped my earphones out, letting them dangle along my neck, and strode over to a nearby bench as I tried to shove some air into my lungs.

Fuck, I thought, I’m so out of shape.

My fingers were already dashing across the screen. Plenty of articles came up after the search, and I scrolled through them, taking screenshots of things that caught my eye. If I didn’t know how to help her, the least I could do was arm myself with some information. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a starting point.

When the steely pincers of anxiety finally unclamped themselves from my fried nerves, I was off again. There were so many other pieces of the story that seemed to root themselves in my mind, no matter how fast or hard I pushed my body, they never seemed to shake away.

I was in a car accident two years ago.

I killed someone.

It couldn’t have been her. No, I refused to hold onto that piece of illogical information my brain was trying to latch itself to. So I blasted my music up higher, and kept running.

***

Feyre

The only thing I knew how to cook was scrambled eggs.

Dad taught me how. When I was in high school, usually Elain made breakfast so I could have something in the mornings, but no one ever made me lunch. I relied on the lunch service the school provided for the ‘less fortunate’—but I couldn’t use it too often. No, if I went there every day, then the school got suspicious and started asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer. So, once or twice a week I’d go to the Home Ec room and take the cheese sandwich, apple and juice box—it was better than nothing. The counsellor would smile at me, I’d fake a story about sleeping in, missing the bus, anything but the truth that gnawed at the back of my mind.

We didn’t have money. We lived in a shitty two bedroom condo, bought with the remnants of money my dad had after mom died, and could barely pay for weekly groceries. Utilities, other household bills, dad paid when he was sober enough to read. But groceries came out of my pocket and the penance of a salary I earned as an administrative aid at school. It was only an hour or two after school, and it paid alright, but all the money went towards food.

My sisters didn’t bat an eye at the effort. They kept on their usual business, attending college on their scholarships. I sure as hell wasn’t smart enough to get a scholarship, but the financial aid department took one look at my level of income and offered to pay a hefty percentage, while the rest was covered by student loans. I thought I’d have to work those off for years.

Until he came along and paid them without even batting an eye. That, and any other outstanding debt my sisters or father had. And, and—I couldn’t leave out the wondrous house he’d bought on the other side of the city. The one we’d both helped my father move the boxes to, the one Nesta and Elain had definitely never visited after they’d moved out.

I couldn’t help but think about my dad. I wondered what he was doing right now, across the city, by himself. And the first thing that came to my mind was the bottle of whiskey sitting on the floor by his chair. He was always slumped in that chair with a faraway smile on his face. Sometimes I would sit next to him on the second hand couch and we’d watch TV together. Most of the time, I’d take one look at him and storm off to my room to imagine another life where none of it happened. Where mom didn’t die, where we weren’t flat broke, and I wasn’t miserable.

How I’d gone from the two bedroom condo to this townhouse, I didn’t want to think about. All I knew was that I’d never have to go back there again.

Because of him.

The front door opened and closed quietly, shaking me from my thoughts. I focused once again on my eggs, dividing both of them into two plates before setting four slices of bread in the toaster. When the footsteps got closer, I turned and saw Rhys there, sweat dripping down his face, rap musing blaring from his earphones. He hadn’t spotted me yet in the kitchen, his eyes on his phone. From where I stood between the stove and the kitchen island, I had a clear view of his hand reaching down to clutch his t-shirt and pull it over his head in one swift movement, ripping the earphones away as well.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t stare at his chest. Defined and smooth, pure muscle was glistening in the light from the bay windows at the front of the living room. His stomach was hardened, toned yet still soft where the tan skin heaved from his panting. And on his chest, down his biceps—

Tattoos. Beautiful, midnight blue tattoos swirling down his skin in inky swirls, contrasting his tanner colouring. I’d seen them, a peek of them that night at Rita’s, but glancing at them now, I couldn’t help but appreciate the craftsmanship behind such beauty. Art in all forms were difficult to master—but when your canvas was human flesh, it made it all the more impressive.

And on him, it looked breathtaking.

“Something smells burnt,” he smirked at me, wiping the sweat on his face with his t-shirt.

I gasped, jumping out of my stupor as I turned to the toaster. Of course, the four slices staring back at me were black. Burnt to a mother-fucking crisp.

I sighed. Of course out of the two components of this meal, I’d burn the most idiot-proof one. At least I had a reasonable excuse for it standing in the living room.

“Like what you see, darling?” Rhys called as he clambered up the stairs.

“Oh, go jump in the shower. I could smell you from down the block.”

I stared angrily down my plate as I shovelled the eggs into my mouth. The new round of toast was grilling, the toaster on a much lower setting this time, and it popped up by the time Rhys’s footsteps hit the ground level once again. How he’d managed to pull himself together so quickly—tux, gelled hair and shaven face, I had no clue, but I’d be lying to myself if I said he didn’t look immaculate. Nonetheless, I tried my best to ignore his presence after that spout before.

He grinned as he took me in sitting at the counter.

“Don’t give me that look.”

His brows shot up, but that playful, mischievous glint in his eyes remained. “What look?”

“Like a cat just caught a fucking mouse. I have half a mind to dump your breakfast in the garbage.”

“At least it’ll keep that pitiful toast you chucked away from getting lonely.” Nonetheless, he took the four slices from the toaster, deposited two of them on my plate, and dug into his meal perched on the edge of the counter.

“There’s no need to deny that you find me attractive, Feyre. Just try not to ogle me so openly next time. It was very objectifying, to be quite honest.”

My cheeks heated, and I said around my mouthful of buttery bread, “Just when I thought your level self-esteem couldn’t get any higher. You’ll probably be replaying that moment in your mind all day.”

“Got a busy day, darling. Meetings in the morning at the office and a very important lunch date that I simply cannot miss. But I will try to squeeze in some daydreaming.” He pointed at me with his fork, his plate already scraped clean despite starting after me. “Cassian’s coming by to hang out with you after.”

I rolled my eyes. “A babysitter? Seriously?”

Rhys looked over his shoulder from where he stood perching a travel mug beneath this spout of his Nespresso machine. “Not a babysitter, Feyre. A friend. Some company. Someone other than me to talk to.”

“Sending Cassian is like sending a carbon copy of yourself but with more muscle.”

“Firstly, he misses you and wanted to spend some time together. And secondly, ouch. You ogle me, then you insult me?” He twisted the cap onto his mug and fished his keys out of the dish by the edge of the counter, making his way towards the door.

“I’ll make sure to tell the chef to poison you today at lunch!” I called down the townhouse’s main corridor.

“And I’ll tell Cassian you’ve been dying to try his new CrossFit exercises!”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled to myself nonetheless after the door shut quietly behind him.

As I gathered the dishes to be washed in the sink, my mind wandered to last night. The two of us hunched in that tub speaking quietly to each other, me unveiling the darkest thoughts curled into the back of my mind.

I’d never said those words out loud before. With him, we just ignored that it was there in the first place. Lucien and Ianthe only found out because of that one incident at a charity dinner, when Ianthe picked a dress for me without thinking twice about it, and my scars were on display for anyone who got within five feet of me. I outright refused to show up to the stupid thing, but everyone insisted I made an appearance. Once Tamlin saw why, he made an excuse. Those who asked him—because it was impolite to ask me to my face—believed they were scars from the accident.

We all knew it was a lie. Lucien tried talking about it a few times with me, but I pushed him away. How the hell was I supposed to explain that I got so furious with my own mind that I intentionally hurt myself? Every time I tried, there was this burning sensation within my chest. Shame. Shame and crushing embarrassment.

But last night seemed so…easy. I didn’t know what it was about Rhys. I just always felt the need to tell him the truth. Whether it was because he’d seen me at my worst, or because he seemed to understand me like nobody else ever had. It was so…weird. To have somebody to listen to you after so long spent trapped in the silence.

Weird, and absolutely terrifying.

But there was also that festering guilt, and shame—immense shame, for those few moments when I looked at him in the living room. When I… enjoyed looking at him.

When I enjoyed our quiet dinner together last night.

I shook my head as I scrubbed the plate, the memory dissolving in my mind.

***

After Cassian treated me to a gruelling workout at his gym, I found myself back at the house, showered and prepped for Rhys and I’s lunch. Cassian had lingered downstairs to drive me over because Rhys was still caught up in a meeting.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I wondered as Cassian and I weaved through streets downtown. Today the city was bright, ripe with activity and flurries of people. The air was slowly getting warmer. Soon I wouldn’t have to wear a jacket anymore.

“I’ve worked enough over the past two months to take a day off every now and then. Plus, I don’t think my boss cares too much,” Cassian said with a wink.

True. It was a constant reminder that though these people were his family, he technically pulled rank over them at work, with the investigation. But when they were just together, hanging out, it completely slipped my mind.

“Are the rest of them at the office, then?”

“Azriel’s pretty much stuck to his computer monitoring any possible anomalies in Hybern’s movements. He’s got someone following him just to be safe, but so far nothing much has happened. Amren’s combing through old files and investigations affiliated with him to see if she can catch anything and researching possible loopholes to prevent him from making the sale for that land. ” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Mor’s just trying to keep calm in the building and helping Rhys out as much as she can, but things are starting to get a little chaotic.”

“How do you guys do it all?” I asked, eyes trailing upon the buildings, which seemed to get smaller and smaller as we neared the outskirts of the city.

He shrugged and said, “We’re fighting together for something we all believe in. You don’t really need much else.”

I looked over at Cassian, his hands gripping the wheel, his face passive and calm as he slowed the car to a stop before a red light. I said, “It’s nice that you all found each other. That you all have each other.”

“And now you’ve got us as well, Archeron. And we’ve got you.”

My eyes burned as I looked out the window once more.

***

I looked up to the restaurant’s blue sign. Sevenda’s.

No other buildings stood nearby. We were about fifteen minutes out of town, and Cassian had already turned back to Prythian. I was left standing here in the parking lot, clad in my best black knee length dress, staring at a diner.

Before I could take another step, the front door opened, and there was his smiling face.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?”

“We’ll each have your special with some bannock on the side please,” Rhys said without even glancing at the menu. I shifted in the black leather booth, gazing between him and the middle aged, brown skinned woman before us. Her stark black hair was tied back in a braid that fell down past her waist line, nearly catching on the stained apron lining her body.

“It’s been too long, Rhysand. I almost didn’t recognize you when you walked in.” She reached over and ruffled his hair, as though he weren’t the CEO of a major Prythian powerhouse corporation. Her smile was warm and teasing, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners.

Rhys rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “You’re embarrassing me in front of a business partner, Sevenda.”

“What? She’s not your date?”

My cheeks heated. I took a sip of my water, watching Rhys expectantly, wondering how this entire debacle was going to go.

“A potential employee,” he corrected her smoothly, shooting a glance my way. “Feyre keeps declining my advances, unfortunately.”

“I’ll go on a date with you the day you wear something besides black or navy.” I said, jutting my chin out at the dark suit he wore. He must’ve had hundreds of them in his closet.

“That’s my girl. Don’t be afraid to put this boy in his place, Gods know he needs it.” Sevenda turned towards the kitchen.

“Believe me, she does.” Rhys smirked as our gazes met. His eyes shifted over me appreciatively. “Did I mention you look exquisite today Feyre?”

I replied with an eye roll, “That’s the third time you’ve told me in ten minutes.”

“Just making sure you know how delicious you look in that dress.”

“Do you have any sense of self-control?”

“Of course, but it tends to fade away when a beautiful woman looks at me like that.” He tilted his head towards me and the snarl that lined my lips.

“Be glad I’m not your employee yet, I think I’d have to file a sexual harassment claim.”

“Yet?” Rhys’s eyes glinted.

“Well, if you’d get on with your proposition, I could finally make up my mind.”

He cleared his throat. “Night Industries would like to offer you a temporary full-time position as a secretary for yours truly.” I watched as he carefully took a sip of his water, his eyes trained on me the entire time. “Mor usually does a lot of that work for me, but I need her focus on the Hybern investigation right now, and I’m spread out too thin at the moment to try and look for candidates that I know and trust to do the job well. You have some experience in an office. You’ve worked in a cafe for a year now and you know what working under pressure is like. I need that kind of person right now on my team.”

Just as he opened his mouth again, Sevenda burst from the back of the restaurant with a tray perched on her shoulder holding steaming food. Immediately, a rich, aromatic scent filled the quiet space, and my mouth watered.

Swiftly, as though she’d done this for years, Sevenda slid two plates on the table filled half with rice, half with an orange, creamy stew that made my stomach gargle. She set down two extra plates with what seemed like two round flat buns that were golden and crispy.

“Enjoy!” She chirped after refilling our glasses.

I didn’t hesitate as I took my first mouthful. Creamy, warm, sweet, salty—spicy. Not overly so, but just enough for my mouth to heat. The meat was gamey, and the vegetables tasted glorious in the saturated juices.

“Why is there nobody in this restaurant?” I demanded after swallowing my first bite.

Rhys said, “Well, we’re near the reserve. They mostly only have local regulars and travellers passing through."

I shook my head. “But this is delicious.”

Rhys was beaming. He took one of his flatbreads, bannock I was guessing, and dipped it into the stew. I did so as well, and nearly groaned at the delightful taste.

Rhys said after swallowing, “I’ve been coming here since I was a child. Restaurants like this don’t really exist in Prythian, and I sure as hell don’t know how to cook this well.”

After another bite, I added quietly, “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He only watched me with that intent stare of his, then wondered, “What do you think of my proposal?”

My fork paused halfway down to the plate. “My office experience was limited, and most probably completely different from what working with you will be like.” My lips parted to add something else, And I don’t know if I can handle the humiliation of learning simple tasks. Not quite able to meet his gaze, I said instead, “I need to know that you’ll be patient with my learning process.”

“Your first twenty hours of work will be purely training, and should you ever have questions, you never hesitate to ask. We’re a team. We all help each other out.”

“Okay.” I made a gesture in my hand, and he took it as the cue to carry on.

“Your baseline job is mainly answering phone calls and emails, manning the elevator, scheduling appointments and running other errands for me should I need them. I’ll also probably have other projects on the side concerning the Hybern investigation, like the meeting we’ve got set with the Bone Carver, but those are optional. I understand you may be uncomfortable with those.”

He looked up to me for confirmation, but I said nothing. We were both quiet for a few minutes as we ate our meal, and finally Rhys wiped his mouth with a napkin, took a sip of his water, and laid both of his palms flat on the table.

“It’s a nine to five job. It’s not necessarily difficult work, but it’s still good work. Something to get you back on your feet. I’m offering it as temporary, but say the word, and we’ll sign you on for good.” He reached into his leather messenger bag and pulled out a leather portfolio case, then slid it over to me. I tentatively opened it up, eyes darting across the document before me.

“Take the time to read it if you want. It’s legal jargon, but believe me, you’re the last person I’d screw over with fine print bullshit.”

But I wasn’t hearing him, because my eyes had trailed down to the number listed at the top of the second paragraph. It was difficult to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.

150 000$ starting salary.

“I can’t accept that.”

He sighed. “I knew you would say that.”

I’d never seen a sum like that in my life, nevertheless in my name.

“Rhys,” I said, “it’s too much.”

“I am paying you in accordance of your work responsibilities, as well as the confidentiality of the information you’re handling. You’ll have control of files and information that could put me under should anything be leaked or spread to the mainstream media. It’s a lot to expect of someone.”

I couldn’t say anything. I could just stare at that contract, unable to meet the eyes of the man who’d veritably given me a new life. No strings attached.

Just out of the pure kindness of his heart. A friend looking out for a friend.

There was that part of the back of my mind that was blaring, this is a red flag. This is him all over again.

But he never offered me the anything. He never gave me time, or space, or options, or a way out. He dictated our lives. He had it all laid out for the two of us, the way he wanted it, whether I liked it or not.

Rhys was giving me a choice. One that I could deny, and continue living under his roof until Gods-know when I got another job, and feel like a pathetic, miserable leech.

Or I could accept his kindness. I could use this as an opportunity. Maybe not permanent—maybe work that would dress up my CV. A stepping stone.

I didn’t know what was next, what else the universe had in store for me. But I knew that this job came with a team, my friends, and as Cassian told me earlier in that car, a purpose. I was lacking that, these days.

So I finally looked Rhys straight in the eyes and said, “Do you have a pen?”

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belladonnaandulriched · 4 years ago

Text

the artist | chapter thirty-four

Even with the shadows growing long, and my knowing that Chris was going to be there that evening, I still could not fend off the pain in my lower back.

I tried to hoist myself up into an upright position in bed, but it was useless: it continued to ache like all hell, and I knew for a fact I would be even more sore come the morning and the following days. There was a wooden dowel I used to lift up the window to let in some of the breeze from outside given the room always got too stuffy if I was in there for too long. I had my hope that I would be alone come the slumber party, but I wasn't.

My parents were in the next room by the time I heard a tap on the windowpane come nightfall.

“Come on in, Chris,” I beckoned him in a soft airy voice as if I was calling my prince. His fingers slid under the edge of the window itself and he pushed it upward. I watched him climb up the outside wall and put one foot over the windowsill.

“Please be careful,” I told him.

“I'm trying—” He hoisted himself up onto the sill and hesitated for a second. I swore he was stuck in place, so I cleared my throat.

“Can you make it?”

“I think—I think I can—” I had no idea where his other leg was on the other side of the wall, but it was either fall onto my desk or onto the floor.

“You got it?” I asked him.

“Yes?” He set his other foot on top of the sill.

“You got it?” I repeated.

“No—!” He lost his balance and fell onto the floor; he missed my desk by about an inch.

“Careful!” I said in a hushed voice.

“Holly?” my mom called from down the hall.

“Get in the closet!” I told Chris. He picked himself up and scrambled into the closet; he left the door open by about an inch. I lay my head back down on the pillow and folded my hands over my chest to make it look as though I was merely daydreaming. There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called out, and she poked her head into the room.

“What was that thump?” she asked me.

“I didn't hear anything,” I said with a shake of my head.

“Huh. I swear I heard something fall over in here. Anyways, that boy Joey is here right now.”

“Oh, he is?” I raised my eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. He's getting something to eat, though—poor thing said he was starving. He'll come in here in a couple of minutes.”

“Okay!”

She bowed back out to leave me in silence.

“Is it okay to come out yet?” Chris whispered from inside the closet.

“Yeah, come on.” He crawled out of the closet and made his way over to the side of my bed so he was eye to eye with me.

“There's not a lot we can do, though, Chris,” I pointed out to him.

He turned his head towards me for a second, and then he eyed the little tray which held my laptop and my drawing pad.

“There is one thing we can do, though,” he started.

“And what would that be?”

“You know how I was always wanting to come on over and have you draw for me?”

“Yeah—” I hesitated, and then I squinted my eyes at him.

He was about to say something when laughter erupted on the other side of the house. He turned his head towards the door, and stray tendrils of black curls spread over his shoulder like a blanket.

“Hang tight for a second,” he told me with his eyebrows knitted together and a finger raised. He climbed up onto his knees and shuffled towards the door. He was taking a big risk doing that given my parents were right there in the next room, but he ducked out of the room and into the hallway for a second. Faint shadows danced about the door panel for a few seconds, and then he returned to the room, that time up on his feet.

“This came,” he said, and Joey limped the room behind him with a bouquet of sunflowers in one arm.

“Joey!” I lifted myself up on the pillows so I could better face him. Chris hung back near my desk.

“An' summa the flowers courtesy of Dave,” Joey declared as he handed me the bouquet. Hollywood sunflowers, after having come in full bloom with the neon embedded underneath the seeds. “Also, I have this—” He reached into his pocket for a little black velvet box.

“Holy shit,” Chris blurted out with a hurt look on his face.

“It's not what ya think,” Joey assured him with a chuckle. “No way, man!” He opened it for me and showed me a little silver butterfly pendant with black opal wings. I gasped at the sight of it.

“Oh my God, Joey—” I whispered as he took a seat on the edge of the bed next to me.

“Do you like it?”

“It's beautiful!”

“Here—” He set the box on the nightstand and took the pendant out of its spot. He winced from the pain in his arm, but he managed to put the chain around my neck; he brought his face close to mine as a result.

“Lift yer head,” he whispered to me, and I did for him. I could smell the soft cologne on his neck and shoulders, and the coffee on those dark lips of his. He slid the clasp of the chain around the back of my neck so he could better close it for me. He lay the clasp down on my collar bone so he could better examine the pendant and his cheekbones filled out with the smile. So full and kissable.

“Just gorgeous,” he remarked in a low voice. He then cleared his throat and reached into his pocket for something.

“An' this is from Lars. He wanted to come but he needed to do some other things, though.”

He took out a black weave bracelet with a silver button in the middle and put it around my wrist. As he fastened it atop my wrist, I caught the sound of a quiet grumble from him and I remembered what my mom had said before then.

“Was that your tummy?” I asked him with a chuckle.

He leaned back and patted his stomach.

“You better eat somethin' then,” Chris teased him.

“I'm waitin' on a li'l Reuben sandwich at the moment,” Joey scoffed. “Li'l Reuben with some fries—there's one comin' for darlin' Hahllywood here, too.”

“Oh boy,” I declared as I reached for his stomach. He lurched back: I reached for him again but I was met with a surge of pain up my back. I caught myself in an almost upright position and lay back down on the bed in agony. I was going to be so sore in a few days time; but I had Joey and Chris there with me, the former of whom leaned over me to kiss me on the cheek.

“After I've eaten, I'll let ya rub my tummy,” he said to me, “sump'n big like a Reuben always fill me up. Get some more after that like French fries an' I'm all yours.”

“Rub his full belly like you're making a wish,” Chris cracked, to which Joey laughed. But I noticed a rather thoughtful look on Chris' face as he said that.

“Nah—we ain't makin' wishes,” he pointed, “I ain't big enough yet.” Once he had lifted himself back up, he shook his wrist about to ease the pain.

“By the way, how's Stoney doin'?” I asked Joey as he brought his wrist to his stomach.

“Who?”

“Stoney. Stone.”

“Oh!” Joey raised his eyebrows at me. “Oh, he's fine. Dave picked him up this mornin' an' he's back at the place they're bunkin' in restin'. He didn't have the virus but he did eat sump'n pretty awful, though.”

“Oh, jeez.”

“Yeah, apparently he tried to guzzle it down with a bit'a hooch, too. Did naht work to say in the least.”

“There's a reason Stoney don't drink too much,” Chris pointed out, “he can't carry his liquor.”

“Yeah, that's what Dave said. Oh! I forgot ta tell ya this, too—and apparently Lars wants to do another art show with ya, Hahlly.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah, that's what he said to me, too!” Chris joined in as he inched closer to us. “Completely forgot about that, too, so thank you for mentioning it, Joey. It's the whole thing about how when artists are damaged in some way, people get drawn into them more than ever. And I guess word got out that Hollywood Sherman was injured in a bike accident and now everyone's going crazy over your work.”

“Huh. Wow.”

Joey then turned to me with his wrist clutched to his chest and a twinkle in his eye.

“Chris oughta pose for ya after we eat,” he proclaimed.

“Funny, when you showed up, he and I were just discussing that,” I recalled.

“By the way, how'd ya get in?” Joey asked Chris, “'cause her mom didn't say anythin' 'bout anyone else bein' here.” To which he gestured to the window, and Joey burst out laughing.

There was a knock on the door and Joey shot up to answer it for me.

“Homemade Reuben sandwiches,” I heard my mom say; Chris had ducked back into the closet when Joey's back was turned. So close.

Joey handed me my plate of sandwich and fries and then he took his.

“By the way, leave your door open,” she said.

“Why, 'cause I'm with a boy?” I joked.

She didn't answer but I knew that was the case. Indeed, Joey left the door ajar as he limped back to the edge of the bed. My room soon filled with that warm combined aroma of roast beef, Swiss cheese, toasted bread, and French fries.

“Would you like a bite, Chris?” I offered once he returned back out of the closet.

“I actually ate before coming here, but thank you, though.” He eyed the side of my plate with the fries, these big fat fries that looked as though they came from a diner. Joey was more than eager to eat up his sandwich with his uninjured hand: there was something lovely about a skinny guy who could eat to his heart's desire and every part of what lay on his plate. Come to think of it, each of us were starving. All of us trying to pick ourselves up from the bottom of the barrel in the wake of the pandemic; and yet as I ate at my own sandwich and fries, and I watched Joey stick his tongue out to catch some of the mayo and the beef, I couldn't help but picture him doing that to me. Running his tongue along my own lips and licking up my own mayo.

The way in which he held each of the fries made me think of him touching my nipples.

Even though I nursed my own food, there was something erotic to him. I pictured Lars eating that same sandwich in the same fashion and it was hard to concentrate on my own.

I watched him make love to that sandwich, such that as he got fuller and fuller, he grew more and more relaxed and more like clay in the palm of my hand. Paints came from clay...

Joey managed to swallow down the fries, one by one; at one point, he tilted back his head and showed off his neck to me. He took in the last one and set the plate on the foot of the bed so he could lean back. I raised my legs up so he could lay down.

“Phew, stick a fork in me,” he remarked as he set his hands on his stomach.

“Nah, I'd rather draw that little body of yours,” I told him, and it was then I had an idea. Fill all the boys full and then draw their bodies when they're feeling all warm and soft and relaxed. I could envision them right then: all the more sensual than the initial paintings I had made in the speakeasy. I would have to do it once I healed up because I couldn't imagine explaining to my parents why more and more boys were coming and going from the house in the midst of a returning pandemic. I ate more fries before I turned to Chris again.

“You sure you don't want any?” I asked him.

“Positive. It does smell really good in here, though.” He then turned to Joey, who lay there on his back down by my feet.

“You got anything appropriate for a slumber party?”

“Me?” Joey asked him as he raised his head up to show off the delirious look on his face.

“Yeah.”

“I didn't know we were havin' a li'l party,” he confessed.

“Well, I figure 'cause you're as full as the moon, you oughta relax here with Holly and myself.”

“Yeah, Joey, I'll let you guys sleep in my bed with me,” I told him, and I could feel myself grow moist at the thought of cuddling with Joey's warm little body.

“Two boys in your bed,” he cracked. “I see how you are. I do have a blanket in the back of the car, though, Chris.”

“So you want me to climb out the window and fetch your blanket?” Chris asked him, mortified.

“I'll cover for ya, though,” Joey pointed out. “Y'know—I'll make it look like I'm goin' back ta my car ta get sump'n.”

“Yeah, seeing as you actually climbed through my window to get in,” I added as I took another bite of sandwich. Chris shrugged at that.

“Alright, that makes sense. But when we come back, I wanna be painted.”

“Of course, of course,” I promised him and I reached to the right to switch on my laptop. Joey groaned as he sat up and climbed to his feet. He ran the fingers on his injured hand through his hair and then he stepped out of the room; Chris climbed back out the window, which left me alone in the room. I caught the sound of singing outside.

I knew that voice, even it being completely off-key over the guitar playing. It was my assaulter. Sitting there across the street with an acoustic guitar and singing off-key to some song I had never heard of. A terrible voice to go with a terrible person, and yet I was the one bed ridden.

“YOU SUCK!” Chris and Joey shouted in unison out there in the street, which brought a laugh out of me.

*******************************

shoutout to xana for the “stoney can't carry his liquor” reference 🔥

#the artist #the artist fanfic #the artist chapters #chapter 34 #fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #chris cornell fanfic #joey belladonna #joey belladonna fanfic #chris cornell #fan writing #writing #sci fi writing #love in the time of corona #also on ao3 #dark romance #text

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softyhyunjin · 6 years ago

Text

first ⌲ bang chan

Description: You always come first.

⇥ genre: bestfriend au, college au, love triangle, angst, fluff

⇥ pairing: chan x reader

⇥ word count: 9.7k

a/n: @changbeanie are you happy now lmao

“Hey, remember how we met in English?”

The campus was semi lifeless and you were both late to class. It was a bad idea to get ice cream during the passing period because Thursday was the busiest day of the week for the both of you. You had just came out from your chemistry lecture while Minho had just finished his contemporary dance lecture. You met him at the usual spot: the ice cream truck by the bell tower in the middle of campus.

Knowing Minho, he would want to get ice cream right after he got out of dance, and make you wait in line with him. You guess it wasn’t too bad since you wanted some too…

“How can I take the time to remember how we met when we’re late for class? You could’ve waited to get ice cream after we finish math,” you stressed, taking another bite of your vanilla ice cream.

“Says the one who’s almost done with their ice cream,” Minho chuckled, nodding over to your ugly bitten waffle cone.

Actually, you could recall your first encounter with Minho. You remembered bumping into him on the first day of class last year, but it was his fault for not paying attention. Minho had his schedule in one hand and the campus map in the other. You were prepared for your classes because you took a look around campus a couple days prior to when the term began. Minho just liked to do things very last minute.

Minho happily licked the creamy pink swirl in his sugar cone, taking his sweet time to indulge the milky strawberry flavor. He chose to prioritize food over changing into clean clothes. His outfit wasn’t bad. It was just a black t-shirt along with a pair of black sweatpants, but there was no point in carrying a duffle bag filled with clean clothes if he wasn’t going to change into them.

You noticed how the beads of sweat on the sides of his face were slowly making its way down to his jawline. Your attention was suddenly on his neck. When Minho spoke, you watched how his adam’s apple would bob up and down. How insanely attractive, and he’s a dance major, you thought, eyes widening once you realized what had just happened.

Those kinds of thoughts never came to your mind, and they shouldn’t at all.

“Something on my face?” He questioned, pointing at himself. Bothered with what had just happened, you pulled out the napkin you were saving in your pocket for later but gave it to Minho instead.

“Just wipe your stupid face.”

ii.

“Have you ever tried fried chicken with vegemite?”

“Just because I’m Australian doesn’t mean I put vegemite on everything, Y/N,” Chan stretched from his seat, “I think it’s time for a study break.”

“Can you-“

“Yes, I’m going to order chicken in a minute. Just let me grab my phone and we can have it with Sprite, okay?” He chuckled at your eagerness.

Your brain was fried from all that studying. Chemistry is no joke. The midterm was coming up, and you couldn’t take the chance of putting off your academics till last minute. When you were feeling lazy, you realized how lucky you were to be stuck with Chan for another four years so that he could push you to do work. Also, he’s always hard working and on top of his shit. That means you could always go to him when you needed help, and he could never refuse when it came to you.

“Okay,” he said after getting off his phone, “They said it would take up to forty minutes, and I ordered extra radish cubes too.”

Bringing your palms to your cheeks, you pressed them and stared at Chan with so much adoration in your eyes. “Thank you, Chan,” you whispered.

Grimacing, he said with disgust written all over his face, “Don’t do that, it’s gross.”

You scowled at your best friend. When your stomach growled loudly, Chan laughed at how pitiful you looked. “Chan, what do we do for forty more minutes?” You pouted.

“What else, Y/N? Study, duh.”

You pretended to not hear that, asking again, “Huh? What should we do for forty more minutes?”

Chan placed his hands on his hips and gave you a hard eye roll. Then, he waddled into the kitchen and came back with a miniature sized jar known to be the most despicable spread on earth. “Why don’t you spread some vegemite on toast and just eat it?”

You crossed your arms, refusing to look at him and the jar of vegemite, “You’re disgusting, get that away from me!”

“You’ve never even tried it. Stop basing its taste off of shitty reviews from Youtubers. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes.”

A light bulb lit in Chan’s head. He snickered at the creative idea he came up with, “I’ll put the spread on different foods in my fridge and pantry. Then, you guess what I combined the vegemite with. How’s that?”

That was actually not a bad idea. It’s either studying until the chicken comes or fool around, and you really did not want to look at chemical equations anymore.

“Fine, but don’t go easy on me,” you grinned.

“Don’t count on it.”

For the next half hour, you both took turns blindfolding each other. You regret going too easy on him with the combination of chocolate and vegemite, apples with vegemite, and kimchi with vegemite. On the other hand, Chan had no mercy when it came to feeding you his disturbing concoctions. He was having the time of his life when he combined the spread with a slab of American cheese, a dried anchovy, and a banana.

They weren’t even paired separately, he combined them all at once.

“You’re lucky I didn’t get sick from your disgusting combinations,” you said angrily with a mouthful of chicken.

“If you didn’t feel well, I could’ve had this all to myself,” he waved a piece of chicken that was shaped like a fat boot.

“Hey, can you do me a solid?”

Taking a huge gulp from the Sprite bottle, Chan cocked an eyebrow. “What is it this time?”

“Can you help my friend and I study? We’re a little rusty with calculus, but I promise you that it won’t be as tiring as it is with chemistry.”

“Do I get paid?”

“I’ll get you a whole fried chicken, all yours Chan. How’s that?” You know for a fact that he could not say no. A whole fried chicken was on the line and free of charge. An addict like him would do anything for chicken, even if it meant suffering for a couple hours with you. Licking off the grease and crumbs on the edges of his lips, Chan hummed. You knew he caved in the moment you mentioned something free.

“You really know how to do business. Throw in some radish cubes and it’s a deal,” Chan raised his hand to shake, but you swatted it away because it was oily and covered in crumbs.

“Deal.”

iii.

“I thought I was going to get some hot chick’s digits by the end of this study session, but I guess not.”

Snorting over Chan’s disappointment, you propped your chin on the table with your palm. Today was different. It was different because Minho joined the study session. Minho was waiting in line to order while you and Chan were gossiping in the corner booth of the coffee shop. People would assume the place would be packed at this time since it was only a ten-minute walk from campus, but it was surprisingly not. “Did you really think I would introduce you to a girl?”

“Why not? You’re passing chemistry because of me,” he shrugged, rummaging his backpack for his agenda and laptop to take a look at his due dates for the week.

“No. I’m passing because I’m staying focused and working hard.”

“Yeah, due to the study sessions you insist on having with me. Y/N, just admit it. Your success will be credited to me,” Chan smugly boasted. Taking a look around the coffee shop, your eyes were drawn to the hipster neon sign behind Minho.

You giggled at Chan while reading the neon purple font, ‘wake up and smell the coffee’. Turning around as if on cue, Minho made eye contact with you, raising his brows, then, playfully sticking his tongue out before turning back to move forward in line. That definitely caught you off guard. Even Chan noticed when he saw your smile falter after looking away from Minho’s backside.

Minho’s small, playful gesture made you feel uncontrollably giddy. When he came back to the booth, you had trouble maintaining eye contact when he asked you a question. Recently, it was more difficult to converse with him than usual since you were bothered by the thought of him being more attractive. As cheesy as it sounds, your heart was pounding against your chest, and it felt more powerful than usual.

When Chan said something that seemed amusing to Minho, Minho would lightly chuckle and glance at you from the corner of his eye. As you thought about it more and more, you’ve come to a realization that Minho was definitely cuter than before. When he gently shook your wrist to ask a question, a fluttery feeling sprouted in your stomach. It was hard to concentrate on your work because his smile was distracting.

There were several moments where Chan caught you staring at Minho. You were more quiet than usual and he knew something was up. Chan recognized your symptoms, and you were starting to as well. While you were in denial, Minho excused himself to use the restroom, leaving you with a fully aware Chan sitting across from you. Before you could admit to what you were thinking of, Chan had already beat you to it.

“Someone’s developing a crush,” he teased softly while surfing the web.

iv.

Several weeks have passed since Minho’s joined your study group. Surprisingly, Chan and Minho got along with each other just fine. In the beginning, you were actually a little worried since it took some time for Minho to get comfortable with you back then. Luckily, those two shared common interests in video games and dance.

“Let’s call it a night. I think we’ve studied enough,” Chan yawned, closing his laptop afterward. He’s developed some dark circles from staying up all night over these past couple of days. Thanks to him, you and Minho are fully prepared and ready to take the math final.

Blinking slowly, Chan decided to cross his arms on the table, using it to cushion his head. You packed your laptop and notebooks, stretching when you got off the chair. You nudged his elbow, “Chan, go brush your teeth and wash your face. You can sleep on your bed after.” Chan mumbled something incoherent before getting up to use the washroom. You and Minho said goodbye, and you reminded Chan to lock the door.

It was almost 4 am, and you still had to walk back to your apartment. Thank god Minho lived a block away from you or else you would have to walk back by yourself. It was tempting to sleep over at Chan’s, but you didn’t want Minho to feel left out since he wasn’t as close to Chan like how you were. You didn’t mind walking back with Minho either. It just meant you had fifteen minutes with him all to yourself.

Even though it was extremely cold outside, you both walked slowly. Minho and you were both wearing black windbreakers over hoodies. He cupped his hands, blowing warm air into them and rubbing intensely to heat his cold fingers. Then, Minho used the hood from his gray Thrasher hoodie from underneath the windbreaker to cover his head. You silently watched, amusing yourself by breathing out a small cloud in the cold air.

“Can I ask you a question?” Minho suddenly asked.

You chuckled, giving him a look, “You’re asking one right now, aren’t you?”

He shook his head lightly, chuckling at your smartass response. “Yeah, and I’m going to ask another one.”

“Hit me,” you raised your eyebrows.

Minho cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you like anyone?”

Your stomach dropped because you didn’t know how to respond. Yes, you did like someone. Were you willing to tell him though? No, because he was the person you liked. “No, does it seem like I do?” You cooly responded.

Minho rolled his eyes, “If you didn’t, do you think I would’ve even asked?”

“Yeah, because you’re nosy!” You joked.

“Are you sure you don’t?” He asked again.

“Who do you think I like then?”

Minho shrugged with puppy eyes, “Dunno, maybe you like Chan?”

You laughed at the mention of Chan. No way, you could never. You didn’t see him in that way, and you don’t think you could ever. Although you and Chan were very close, you never saw him romantically. “No, never. He’s only a friend, always.”

“Hmmmmm, that’s what they always say.” Minho teased, leaning in to show you his wiggling eyebrows.

You nervously gulped at the unfamiliar close proximity with Minho. As you leaned away, he leaned in further to mess with you. Losing your balance, your left foot slipped on the wet pavement, causing you to grab a hold of Minho’s arm. You yelped, grabbing onto him tightly. His hand caught the small of your back, and you were suffering. You were lucky that he was unaware of your crush on him.

Minho broke into a grin, helping you get back on your feet, “I’ve cracked the Da Vinci code haven’t I?”

“I don’t like him,” you said. Flustered with what had just happened, you walked ahead, leaving a laughing Minho behind you. Just a block away from your apartment, and that was it.

“I swear I won’t tell him, Y/N!” He yelled at you. You picked up your pace, leaving him behind even more.

“DON’T EVEN BOTHER.”

“Why do you keep smiling creepily on your phone? Are you dealing with the Black Market or something?” Chan looked from the television screen with a confused expression.

“Mhmmm,” you brushed him off, finishing your text to press send.

He rolled his eyes, “She’s not even listening.”

You immediately got up from the couch while keeping your eyes on the screen of your phone. Chan stared at you with wide eyes. Something was odd and you were starting to scare him. “You’re not meeting with a client, right?” He asked.

“I have to go home and get ready. Chan! He asked if I wanted to get food with him,” you paced back and forth between the couch and coffee table.

“Ahhh, I get it now. She sold herself in the Black Market. Who would want to buy that?” Chan shivered at the image of you providing escort services. He was only joking though, he wanted to see how long it took you to actually start listening to him.

“You’re so annoying, I did not sell myself on the Black Market. I’m selling you,” you whacked Chan with the nearest pillow you could grab. “But… I need to go home and get ready because I’m going out soon.”

Chan flinched and grabbed the pillow from you, “Are you out of your mind? It’s Christmas Eve right now, there’s nothing opened at this time. It’s 10.”

“I’m sure at least one place is still opened around this time. Now, take me home, please. I need to get ready,” you were quick on your feet, approaching the door in a second.

Sluggishly removing himself from the couch and trudging past the counter to grab the car keys, Chan groaned as he passed by you. While slipping his sneakers on, he complained, “It’s Christmas Eve, Y/N. I just wanted to stay in and watch Christmas movies.”

“You didn’t even have any in mind,” you rolled your eyes, following him shortly after putting on your shoes.

You both walked in the hallway, and the sound of his keys jingled as he spun them around his finger. He turned back and said, “I had A Christmas Story in mind.”

“Boring, I’ll pass.”

Chan shook his head and pressed the button for the elevator once you two reached the end of the hall. He yawned while hitting the parking lot button with his index finger. When you arrived at the parking lot, Chan aimed his keys at the white 2015 Mercedes Benz SL550 at the corner of the parking lot garage. After hearing the car beep, you rushed to the car and hopped in the passenger seat.

During the drive, you bumped up the Christmas playlist Chan made on his Spotify account. As you jammed out on Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You, he interrupted you. “Who are you going out with so late?” He asked.

You turned down the volume and sheepishly smiled at him, “Mmmmmm… Minho?”

“Ohhhh boy,” he rolled his eyes, “So how's this crush going? Do you like him a lot?”

You thought about it for a moment before telling Chan your honest feelings. “At first, I didn’t want to like him, and I was in complete denial. But eventually, I guess I finally accepted it. The more I spend time with him, the more I grow to like him even more. I feel comfortable around him,” you blushed, feeling embarrassed to tell Chan these kinds of things.

“I guess,” Chan shrugged and then put on a salty face to scold you, “Don’t stay out too late, and Merry Early Christmas since you wanted to be with Lee Minho instead!”

He pulled over to the sidewalk in front of your apartment. You shook his arm roughly, laughing at him for being such a child. “Merry Early Christmas Chan! I’ll see you around.”

“See you around Y/N.”

vi.

“Ugh, there’s nothing opened at this time. Not even McDonalds is open,” you pouted as Minho drove away from the fast food restaurant, staring at it more longingly than you’ve ever done in your whole life.

“Hey,” he teased, “You’re the hungry one, not me. You were the one who insisted that we go out at this time.”

You sighed in defeat. He wasn’t wrong though, you were the one to suggest going out at this time. As your mind wandered to the idea of binge eating hot tteokbokki and kimbap, your mouth was slowly watering. Frowning over your disappointment, you mumbled, “Tch, you offered.”

“You’re lucky I did some grocery shopping yesterday. Do you want to come over to my place?” Minho asked.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. It wasn’t like it was your first time coming over, you’ve been there countless times. But the thought of spending Christmas Eve with him had this romantic mood to it. Honestly, it was just you overthinking the scenario and you needed to stop yourself. You were fully aware of how much you had just over thought this situation and toned it down by 99 percent.

“Okay.”

Luckily, the drive back to Minho’s place didn’t take too long. As you punched in the digits, 1004, you slightly cringed at your friend. You’d understand if his passcode was his birthday: 1025, but 1004? Angel my ass, you thought. His features were blessed to look like an angel’s, but he sure did not act like one.

You walked in before he did and took off your shoes. The first thing that came to your mind was finding yourself something to eat, and if you couldn’t, no problem. You would make Minho cook you something up.

“Oh, hey! I have some instant tteokbokki. Want me to make that for you and add cheese and sausage with it?” Minho held up a frozen pack of rice cakes after fishing in his freezer.

Your mouth went agape and you nodded excitedly. Minho chuckled at your reaction, thinking it was pretty cute for a moment. Then, he began to take out the other ingredients as you stood there looking at the nutrition facts on the back of the package. “It’s worth two servings, are you going to eat it with me?”

“If I don’t, then something is obviously wrong with me,” he cocked an eyebrow.

Minho just loves food. Nothing could ever get between him and his love for food. Throughout this semester, it was pretty much a routine to treat yourselves out by the end of the week. Most of the time, Minho was the one suggesting new places to try out while you almost always greed since you weren’t much of a picky eater. His favorite foods consist of jjamppong, tteokbokki, and buldak. Literally, anything spicy was his go-to option.

Your face scrunched in a teasing manner, “Who knows? Maybe you don’t want to get fat.”

Minho turned around with wide eyes and scoffed, “Who am I making food for at 11 again, and you’re calling me fat? Y/N, me? Fat? Have you seen this face? Maybe you’re the fat one.”

You grabbed the roll of paper towels on the counter, pretending to threaten to hit him with it if anything else came out of his mouth. Minho flinch and pretended to be very scared at your sudden change of movement. You lightly tapped the roll on his head and he grabbed your wrist to secure you from bopping his head with it again. When he took the paper towel roll from your hand with his free one, he placed it back on the counter.

Minho grabbed your other wrist, pulling you in closer to him. “Now you’re threatening me in my household? You have some guts, Y/N,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as you blinked at him like a fool.

Your flustered self would’ve been done for if you two were any closer to each other, but your stomach saved the day by loudly growling out loud. Minho broke eye contact by looking at your stomach. He let go of your wrists, letting them drop to your sides and laughed.

“Alright, let’s make some tteokbokki.”

Cooking with Minho was probably one of the most annoying things you have ever done with this man. He was so picky when it came to preparing foods, especially if directions were written on the package. You have to follow everything it says, or else it wouldn’t taste good.

“Finally! We can eat,” you peeked over to Minho for a thumbs up.

He shook his head, “Nuh uh, not yet. I need to add the garnishes.” Grabbing the small shaker on the kitchen table, he sprinkled some roasted sesame seeds on top of the tteokbokki. “Okay, now we can eat,” he chuckled.

You didn’t know what it was, but instant tteokbokki somehow tasted better than before. As you kept struggling to pick up the rice cakes with chopsticks, the corners of Minho’s lips quirked upward. It was hard to notice since they were covered in sauce. Minho easily stabbed a rice cake, bringing it up to your mouth. “Maybe you need training chopsticks, Y/N,” he cooed, mouthing at you to open your mouth wide.

You glared at Minho but leaned in for the rice cake since it was already in front of you. You slowly chewed at the glutinous rice cake covered in that the thick, spicy sauce Minho loved. Your eyes watered at the spice level, but Minho was totally fine. “I have strawberry milk in the fridge,” he nodded towards the fridge.

“I’ll drink it once we finish, can’t be a pussy now, can I?” You huffed.

“Certainly not, oh! Five more minutes till Christmas,” Minho said while scrolling through his phone. When you peeked over, he was on Snapchat and responding to his streaks.

“What’s Jisung doing?” You asked about his best friend.

“Making cookies with his girlfriend. I told him to add walnuts in there.”

“Isn’t he allergic to walnuts?”

“Mhmmm,” Minho nodded.

Minho received another notification from Jisung on Snapchat. When he pressed on the red square icon, it was a picture of Jisung flipping him off, saying ‘hope you fucking eat ass once you give Y/N her gift’. Minho sighed, remembering to slap the shit out of Jisung the next time he ran into him in the cafeteria. You looked at Minho, blinking in shock. “What the hell did you get me?”

“Nothing,” he laughed nervously, but you weren’t buying it at all, “Okay, fine. Wait here.”

Minho came back with a small, gold gift bag that was filled to the brim with tissue paper. Placing it on the table, he slowly slid the present to you, nervously anticipating your reaction. The bag was no larger than a bag of regular sized chips and was very lightweight. You removed the tissue paper, enjoying the crisp ruffling sounds it made. When you reached into the bag, you felt something hard and roughly textured with bumps. Once you pulled out the mystery gift from the bag, you were ready to use it to smack this man in the face.

“Thanks for the rubber drumstick dog toy, I’ll be sure to put it to good use,” you said, pretending to inspect the chew toy by holding it near your face.

Minho smirked and chuckled at your reaction. He just loved to mess with you, and he did the trick by buying a plastic dog toy from the dollar store. Minho knew you were going to throw it at him soon, so he reached into his pockets.

Bringing out a small, flat square box, Minho slid your actual present onto the table this time. The white gift box tied sealed with red ribbons didn’t really make you hope for much. If it was a shock toy, you wouldn’t be surprised.

As you slowly undone the tiny ribbon star, Minho impatiently drummed his fingers against the table. “You’re so slow,” he mocked.

“Let me be,” you huffed, “Besides, it’s going to be another gag gift anyways.”

“That’s what you think,” he mumbled.

When you finally removed the lid, Minho couldn’t help but smile when you gasped at the gift. It was a simple necklace with a thin silver chain and small, aquamarine gemstone pendant. To think he was even capable of thinking of getting you something like that was truly shocking. “Wow,” you said, startled.

“Do you like it?” Minho subtly rubbed the side of his neck. Although he was satisfied with your reaction, he was worried that you might reject his gift. He had trouble finding a gift for you, but he stumbled across this necklace. There was a meaning behind the necklace, but Minho wouldn’t bring it up unless you did. It was too cheesy for him, but it seemed to fit you, and he just stuck with it.

“Y-yeah, I do,” you stuttered.

When the clock struck 12, it was finally Christmas. Several fireworks went off and both of your phones were buzzing with notifications from friends and family. Minho sighed in relief when you said you liked the necklace. When he was going to reach for the necklace, you beat him to it and easily put it on yourself without the help of a mirror or him. Great, because it would be weird if he was the one who put it on you.

The little gemstone drop represented the little things in life. Little things included studying together, going to the movies, staying up late to Skype each other, having drinking contests at parties, and pigging out after a long week are the memories that always made him smile when he thought of you. To Minho, little moments like this mattered to him the most.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

vii.

“Chan, I left my wallet at home,” you whined.

Chan shrugged, laughing at your bad luck, “Guess you’re not eating today.”

“No! Buy me food, I’ll buy you chicken tonight.”

“A whole chicken?”

“A whole chicken is expensive, so no.”

“Sorry, I guess I don’t have enough for you,” he scratched the back of his head.

You slapped his shoulder and Chan hissed at the annoying pain. While Chan rubbed his shoulder, you began to accidentally eavesdrop when you recognized a familiar voice, two familiar voices actually.

“Hey, is that her?” One said.

“Yeah,” Minho said.

You turned around and spotted Minho walking towards you with Jisung beside him. When you made eye contact with him, he waved to you and picked up his pace. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you blushed.

Chan frowned at your unusual feminine side and began to cough obnoxiously, “Oof, I think I’m getting sick Y/N.”

You ignored Chan and continued your little conversation with Minho and Jisung. Jisung recently lost a bet with Minho so he had to treat Minho out for the whole day. Knowing the ridiculous amount Minho can eat in one sitting, Jisung’s wallet would be nearly empty by the end of the day. Poor kid, this is why you never make bets with Minho.

“Y/N, we’re next,” Chan interrupted the conversation. You said goodbye and went to order your meal with Chan.

“See you later.”

Chan ordered a burger combo whereas you ordered a chicken sandwich combo. Once you two found a spot to sit, he remembered to grill you into buying him a whole fried chicken for tonight. Normally you would say no and tell him to suck it up, but you were distracted this time. You kept glancing over to Minho unaware that you agreed with Chan. Your body was physically present with your best friend, but your mind was not.

Minho sat on the other side of the cafeteria, facing you. When Jisung said something hilarious, Minho’s eyes morphed into crescents, bringing out his cute eye smile. From time to time, Minho would make eye contact with you, pretending to taunt you by nodding his head and mouthing ‘wanna fight’. Jisung would stop midway into his conversation with Minho and turn around to see the culprit distracting his friend, you.

“Your crush on Minho is so obvious,” Chan rolled his eyes.

“Don’t say his name out loud, we’re in public.”

“Y/N, he’s all the way across the cafeteria. You’re overthinking it,” he rolled his eyes again.

“It’s not obvious. You just think it is because you know,” you glared at him.

“No, it’s because you never act that way around me or anyone else. That’s how I know it’s obvious,” Chan said, getting a little annoyed.

“How would you know?”

“Because I just do, it’s not hard Y/N.”

viii.

“I’m so full! Thanks for the meal,” Chan burped.

You whacked the back of his head but linked your arm with his shortly after. Chan was unfazed by your sudden skinship because you always did this during the coldest days of the winter. He usually complains and shakes your arm off, but this time he didn’t.

“You’re eating my wallet, you fatass,” you stuck your tongue out to tease him.

“What’s the point of saving money when its purpose is solely used for spending?” Chan wisely said.

“Spending money on you is the worst. You literally eat my wallet like a garbage shoot.”

Chan chuckled at your insult and offered to buy you a hot chocolate. You were unable to refuse his offer because he was actually paying for once. You excitedly jumped up and down while holding his arm, causing Chan to be shaken back and forth repeatedly. “If you don’t stop that, the offer will cease to exist,” he blinked hard after feeling a little dizzy from your rough movements.

“Okay. Let’s go to Cha Cha Cafe, I really like their peppermint hot cocoa.”

In order to get to Cha Cha Cafe, you had to walk one more block further and cross on your left. Chan was ranting to you about his lab partner and how she pretty much screwed him over the other day. When he spoke, the fog breathed out looked like dragon’s breath. Oh my god, he was so angry.

“Why don’t you tell your TA?” You suggested.

“You know what? Maybe I just might do that.”

When you spotted the cafe, you groaned at the line inside. Luckily, it wasn’t too packed inside. You quickly crossed the street, dragging Chan like a raggedy doll, and walked into the cafe. Once you stepped foot inside, the aroma of roasted coffee beans went into your nostrils. It smelled really good and the thought of hot cocoa on a cold Saturday night made you excited.

“Hey, isn’t that Minho?” Chan pointed to the corner of the room.

You followed the direction of his finger and spotted Minho talking to an unfamiliar person. “Yeah?”

Minho briefly made eye contact with you and looked away. Usually, he would come over to say hi, but he didn’t. You were curious and snapped out of it when Chan tugged on your sleeve. It was your guys’ turn to order. After Chan paid, you both waited by the pickup counter since all the seats were filled.

“Who’s he with?” Chan asked, peeking at the person sitting across from Minho. You were confused and became more nosy the longer you stared.

When you looked over, a girl with a chocolate brown shoulder-length bob giggled at something Minho said. She wore a red chiffon long sleeve blouse and dark see-through leggings under her black shorts. It’s freezing around this time of the year, wow, just wow. As your eyes trailed down her legs, you eyed the black patent leather ankle boots that must have costed a fortune.

You looked at your own wardrobe choice, suddenly feeling self-conscious at your denim jacket, distressed jeans, and worn out Vans. You never dress up.

“Order 165!”

You unlink your arm from Chan’s and grabbed your peppermint cocoa. Chan looked up to see if there were any free spots, but still no luck. When you two were about to walk away, Minho called you over. “Y/N!”

You saw him walking towards you with the unfamiliar girl. Eyeing at you from head to toe, she tried to subtly link arms with Minho but obviously failed when both you and Chan glanced at her at the same time. “Hey,” you said slowly.

“We were just about to leave, you can take our seats,” Minho offered.

You looked at the stranger beside him and reached a hand out to her, “Hi, I’m Minho’s friend, Y/N. And that’s Chan.”

She glanced at Minho before going in the handshake, finally introducing herself which satiated the bubbling curiosity in your system, “Yeri, nice to meet you.”

“How do you know Minho?” Chan asked, beating you to it. You were glad though, you didn’t want to ask, it seemed too much out of your way to do so. Minho sighed, a little embarrassed but laughed at the question. He was finally caught red-handed by you and he couldn’t lie. He unlinked Yeri’s arm from his and entwined his fingers with hers.

Giving her a soft smile before he looked over to you, he said, “She’s actually my girlfriend.”

The way she tightly held his hand and intensely eyed for your reaction seemed like she was taunting you.

What the fuck.

Chan was fully aware of your feelings towards Minho so the atmosphere was suddenly uncomfortable for himself and you. You were speechless and tried your best to keep a poker face. “Since when?” You asked. “I mean, congrats. But since when? You never told me.”

“Mmmm,” Minho looked at the ceiling, thinking to when Yeri became his girlfriend.

“Two weeks ago,” Yeri laughed. Minho’s eyes widened as he nodded at her.

“That’s right,” he agreed, “Long story, but it’s getting late. I have to get Yeri home, but we should meet up later this week.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you guys around then?” He waved, “Have fun on your date!”

“Nice meeting you guys!” Yeri said.

You watched as they left, feeling more frustrated when you replayed the whole scene in your head over and over again. Once you felt the tingling sensation from your nose, you closed your eyes to try fighting back tears from forming in your eyes. Chan noticed and led you away from the cafe.

There was a park nearby and it was completely empty at this time of the night. You walked to the swings and seated yourself on one and Chan sat on the other. You gently kicked the sand and stared at it as it fell into a small pile in front of you. You didn’t care if your shoes were ruined with sand all over them. You didn’t care if they seeped into the holes and cracks of your sneakers.

Tightly gripping onto the swing’s chain, you felt a hot tear roll down your cheek. Soon, you were sniffling. Chan stayed quiet and watched the whole time. He sighed in frustration, still bothered by the situation just as much as you were.

The ringtone notification went off. After buzzing in your pocket multiple times, you patted your denim jacket, removing your phone from one of your inside pockets. Quickly wiping away your fresh tears, you saw a couple notifications from Minho.

What was supposed to come out as a sigh came out as a whimper from you. Chan abandoned his swing and came over. He grabbed your phone, quickly skimming through Minho’s texts and then put it in his pockets. His arms wrapped around you, and he rubbed your back to soothe your heartbroken state.

Minho: sorry if telling you to have fun on your date with chan made you both feel uncomfortable

Minho: yeri gets super jealous easily

Minho: if she knew you were single, she’d suspect that you like me or something

Minho: LMFAOOOO that’s funny and I always talk about you to her

Minho: but I know you’re mad because I didn’t tell you right away but I’ll make it up to you with whatever you want to eat and tell you everything from the start

Minho: okay?? Pls don’t be too mad Y/N ): I’m sorry

Nothing made sense to you anymore. You really had your hopes up for Minho. To think that you were the only girl he was close to was absolutely your the biggest downfall when it came to liking him.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “Just let it out, it’s okay.”

You cried and leaned in to hug his torso. When Chan felt your tight grip on his jacket, he hugged you closer with one hand on your back and the other behind your head. Chan began to caress your hair to try calming you. Once he gained enough confidence, he gently placed his chin on top of your head. By the time you started sobbing, the center of Chan’s white shirt was wet, covered in your hot tears and fresh snot.

“It’s okay,” he said softly.

An unusual feeling began to stir inside of Chan. It’s happened before. There’s no denying that, but it always went away. This time, it really hit a home run. As you cried, burying your face deeper into his stomach, Chan felt his heart aching yet uncontrollably pounding against his chest.

ix.

Minho: what’s up?

Minho: Y/N

Y/N: What?

Minho: you’re being off

Y/N: Wdym

Minho: you’re ignoring me

You paused and stared at your phone’s screen. It wasn’t like you were fully avoiding him. Even though you didn’t have any classes with him this time, you still met up at your usual spot when he asked. Maybe he noticed when you kept rejecting his offer to hang out.

You weren’t lying, you were actually busy. Well, you were finding ways to busy yourself.

Y/N: No I’m not

Minho: let’s hang out on saturday then

Minho: sound good?

Y/N: I have to help Chan go grocery shopping

Y/N: sorry

Minho: i know you’re lying y/n, i literally ran into him at the market the other day

Minho: tell me why you’re being like this

Minho: is this about not telling you about yeri first?

Minho: i told you i was sorry many times but i still need to make it up to you and tell you everything

Y/N: It’s not that Minho

Minho: then what is it???

You sucked in a deep breath, burying your face into your pillow before screaming into it. Out of all the people you had to develop feelings for, it just had to be him, but you needed to get over him.

The last time you cried about Minho was the other day. You planned to meet Chan in the cafeteria and bumped into Minho and Yeri. They both passed by and Minho made brief eye contact with you. You walked slower, expecting him to do the same and say hi, but he didn’t. He acted as if he never saw you, walking away hand in hand with his girlfriend.

That night, you were forced to stay at Chan’s. He didn’t want you to stay at your place because he knew you would cry in bed. You’re really lucky to have him around though. Chan kept you occupied with whatever he could think of and persisted when you said you weren’t feeling like doing anything.

You were too tired to cry now.

Minho: y/n

Y/N: I’m not acting like that because I want to, Minho. It’s just hard to be around you lately

Y/N: I don’t hate you and I’m certainly not mad at you. I’m just upset and sad

Minho: is this because of yeri? that’s why i wanted to hang out with you and explain everything

Minho: i’ve apologized countless times, what more do i have to do? i really do mean it

Y/N: I like you and I found out you were dating someone out of the blue

Y/N: That’s why I find it so hard to be around you lately

Y/N: I don’t want it to get in the way of our friendship, so I’m putting these feelings aside and going to forget about them. I’ll get over it, so please give me some time. I’ll be fine by next week

*incoming call*

You swiped the call button to answer Minho’s call.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I-I wasn’t thinking straight enough,” he stuttered on the other line.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” you said feeling a slight ache in your chest.

“I had no idea… I literally had no idea, I’m so sorry. I’m so-” Minho whispered dejectedly, but you cut him off before he could apologize again.

“Don’t Minho, I’ll get over it soon.”

After that night, your relationship with Minho was never the same.

You began to distance yourself in the span of a couple of weeks. At first, it was difficult. You didn’t want to make it obvious and hurt Minho’s feelings. It’s something you had to do in order to help resolve your feelings. You believed it would benefit you while you were getting over him.

In the beginning, it seemed out of place to not have him around anymore, but it worked out in the end. Minho was more occupied with Yeri nowadays and seemed to have forgotten about you. Instead of spending your Friday nights with Minho, you treated it like a resting day, spending the day to focus on your wellbeing and beauty routine. Lately, you were with Chan most of the time.

“Stop it! It tickles!”

Chan laughed as you struggled to get out of his choke hold. He knows your neck is sensitive, so it was funnier to him. Although he was less rough on you today, you still wanted to knee him in the groin for being so annoying.

“No,” he cackled at your misery once again.

“I’ll smash and throw away that useless keyboard in your room,” you threatened.

Chan let go and frowned, “It’s not useless, I actually use it to make songs during my free time.”

“Do you even have any songs for me to listen to?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Y/N, they’re still in the making. Please,” he defended himself.

You stifled a laugh because you know that wasn’t true at all, but Chan only scowled at you. When you laughed at his face, he broke into a grin. You both continued walking from the campus’ food courts to get to the parking lot.

On the way, Minho instantly recognized you once he saw your familiar neon orange Hydro Flask peeking out the side of your backpack. “Hey Y/N!” He greeted you, breaking eye contact the moment you looked at him.

You gave him a small smile and watched as he walked away with Yeri. Chan nudged your arm with his elbow, “You okay?”

“Actually… I’m getting there Chan, slowly, but I’m getting there.”

Chan raised his hand slowly, closing his fingers out of hesitation. Today was different though. You didn’t stare at Minho’s backside as he walked away with Yeri, and Chan didn’t have to snap you out of it. Instead, you were scrolling through IHOP's online menu and daydreaming about their chicken and waffles.

Chan thought to himself, Fuck it, before gently ruffling your hair. When he stopped, you raised an eyebrow, but all he did was give you a cute smile. Pouting at Chan’s soft gesture, you ruffled his hair in return. You were making progress and doing more than well.

“Let’s go, I’m hungry.”

“I’m thinking about breaking up with Yeri.”

Startled by Minho’s abrupt confession, you choked on your jasmine green tea. Minho was spilling his tea, but you were choking on yours. His eyes widened and he repeatedly pat your back to help you settle down. “You okay?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine. What made you think of that all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know… “ He feigned a smile, “I don’t think I would be happy if I stayed with her.”

You frowned, “Then why did you get with her in the first place?”

“Please refrain from hitting me,” he chuckled.

“I won’t,” you said seriously. You only hit someone when you liked them.

“I actually liked Yeri’s friend, Irene, but she transferred out this year. But Yeri asked me out, and I thought, why not? She seemed cool and she’s a good person, but I don’t know anymore.”

You placed your drink on the step below the one you were sitting on and rubbed your hands to warm them. After listening to his story, you sighed deeply. “If you don’t see yourself growing with her, then don’t stay with her. You’ll just be unhappy and lead her on in the process. I mean… Do you love her?”

“No, I don’t. I’m just so frustrated at this point,” he groaned, combing his bangs with his fingers.

You checked the time, and it was almost 9:00. Shoot! You had to be back at Chan’s place by 10 because you had promised to drop by to pick up your laptop and backpack. You can’t believe you left it there the other day, all of your homework was just sitting at his apartment. “Let’s start heading to the train station? I have to be back soon, but we can still talk,” You stood up from your spot, stretching your arms and legs after sitting down for so long.

As the two of you approached the train station, finishing your homework was on your mind. On the other hand, Minho’s unsatisfying relationship with Yeri was on his. The train was unusually packed tonight, and you groaned the minute the train doors opened. Barely five people exited the cart which meant you had to squeeze in with Minho.

The ride was rocky and uncomfortable. For several stops, you could smell a hobo’s body odor from the other side of the cart. As more people kept trailing in, there was less space for you and Minho. At some point, your chest was only an inch away from his. If Minho was tired, he could’ve rested his head on top of yours.

The closer you were getting to Chan’s, the slower Minho walked. During the walk back, he didn’t talk much. From time to time, he would give you a chuckle or smile if you commented on something random. When you mentioned something about his relationship with Yeri, he only replied with short responses.

You were worried because he seemed so dejected. You wanted to help, but it was up to him to make his own choices. You didn’t want to dictate anything, but you knew for sure that if he wasn’t happy with his relationship, then it was time to say goodbye.

When you finally arrived in front of Chan’s apartment, Minho asked for a hug. Back then, you would’ve initiated the hug because you liked him, but now you’re over him. He tugged on the sleeve of your hoodie, pulling you in for a tight embrace. “To be honest with you…” He mumbled, “I’ve been thinking about breaking up with Yeri for a while now.”

He pulled away to scan your face for a reaction, but you just blinked at him with tired eyes. Minho nervously sighed, preparing himself to say the douchiest thing ever. “After you confessed, I realized that I like you and I have since we first met, but you’re over me now. Aren’t you?”

As ridiculous as it seems, you knew you were over Minho but a small part of you wanted to say no.

Little did you know, Chan was listening to the conversation this whole time. He went to pick up his mail because he forgot to check the mailbox after unloading groceries from earlier. By the time Minho finished confessing, Chan was fuming. After closing his mailbox shut which resulted in a loud bang, he stepped out to intervene. Gripping tightly on the monthly advertisements and statements he received, he almost crushed them in his hands.

“I-” You said, but Chan cut you off.

“Don’t Y/N, because you goddamn know that you’re not a second choice.”

xi.

“I’m going to be super mad if you drop your phone on my face.”

Chan chuckled at your cute comment. After you said that, he purposely hovered his phone over your face. His couch wasn’t big enough for the two of you to lay down, so you made him sit. That way, you could lay your head on his lap. His legs were very hard and muscular from swimming, but that didn’t stop you from using them as a pillow. Chan was still playing Trivia Crack, but it wasn’t fair for you. He’s been beating you in every round, but he still insists on challenging you to another one.

After he acquired another category, the familiar theme played in the background and you groaned. “I don’t want to play this game anymore.”

“What do you want to play then?” He asked.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, just not that stupid game.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“Just talk,” you blinked.

“We’ve been talking,” Chan teased.

“You know what? I don’t want to talk anymore,” you huffed childishly.

“Get out of my house then,” he retorted.

You slapped his chest, breaking into small fits of laughter because you knew he would never kick you out. Chan’s threats were always lighthearted, and he knew it too. He laughed along, helping you sit up as you removed your head from his lap.

Lately, your growing feelings for Bang Chan scared you.

In the process of getting over Minho, you didn’t want to admit your growing feelings towards Chan. You knew you weren’t fully over him yet, but you were afraid of making it seem like you were using Chan to get over Minho. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, because you genuinely liked him.

At some point, Chan was scared too.

He used to be scared shitless at the thought of developing feelings for you, but nowadays, he could care less. Ever since that night where you discovered Minho’s relationship, Chan knew he liked you. It’s been really tiring to deny afterward, and he had no intention of hiding it anymore. Ever since senior year of high school, he’s been putting his feelings to the side.

Tiring, wasn’t it?

Chan teased you even more and you tried smacking him again. He always found you predictable, catching your wrist in his hand before yours could come in contact with his chest. “I don’t think so,” he leaned in, laughing at your struggling state.

“Not fair, you’re way stronger than I am,” you whined as he got a hold of your other wrist.

As he held both of your wrists in his hands, you leaned your head onto his shoulder. Chan looked down, feeling nervous yet happy at the close proximity while you were a queasy mess. It was nice to be physically and emotionally closer to someone. Whether it was giving you a comforting hug or holding on to your wrists to keep yourself from attacking him, Chan always wished for one thing: he wished it lasted longer. When you pulled away, he gently let go, feeling a little disappointed.

“Y/N, can I ask you something?” Chan asked.

You nodded, “Go for it.”

“Do you still have feelings for Minho?”

Startled by his question, you sat up, bringing your knees up to hug. “I wouldn’t know, Chan. As of now, I feel like I’m over him completely, but you never know. I can’t guarantee anything.”

After Minho confessed that one night, you told him how you felt the next day. You knew he was only confused, and it would never work out with him. It took you long enough to realize, but you finally did it. You knew you were better off with someone else, and Chan was right.

You are never a second choice.

“Ah, I see,” he said, suddenly becoming quiet.

“I just can't see myself liking him all over again, I’m happy at where I am right now. I don’t want any more emotional baggage, really.”

“That’s good.”

You sheepishly smiled, “I also like someone else too, so … Yeah.”

Chan’s heart raced. He felt all sorts of emotions at the moment. He felt hopeful, surprised, and disappointed, all at the same time.

He was hopeful that your crush could be him since you’ve been spending most of your time with him nowadays.

He was also surprised because it meant you were doing well, and most likely over Minho.

Lastly, Chan felt disappointed at the scenario that played in his head: you being with someone who wasn’t and most definitely better than him.

“Who?”

You shook your head, giving him a teasing smile. “Only time will tell.”

“Because I like someone too.”

“Who?”

“If you paid attention, time would tell you,” he laughed, combing the waves of his hair with his fingers. Your face scrunched in confusion as you were still unaware of what he was trying to tell you. “Time?” You asked.

“Time,” he nodded.

xii.

And time most certainly did.

One moment you were sitting on Chan’s couch. The next, you were on his bed, straddling his lap during a heated kiss. Chan parted his lips slightly, slowly increasing the pressure to deepen the kiss. He was the first to pull away, chuckling at the sight of your swollen lips. While maintaining eye contact, he dominantly flipped you over, changing his and your positions, causing you to squeal. Chan placed a knee between your legs as he gripped on your waist to keep himself up.

While biting your lower lip, you flirtatiously glanced down at Chan’s. His lips were smudged and swollen with your favorite lip balm tint. He leaned in, gently cupping your cheek in his hand. His hands were soft and warm. You didn’t want him to feel unreciprocated from your lack of contact, so you wrapped an arm around his neck and placed your other hand onto his chest.

Chan missed the feeling of kissing you and leaned in to capture your lips once more. He took over, using his tongue to part your mouth slowly, then playfully caressing yours with his. You pulled him closer to you, enjoying the churning feeling that was growing inside of your stomach. When you stopped feeling his chest and moved your hands to run through his dark waves, Chan used less tongue and began to tease you. While catching your bottom lip between his teeth, he gently nibbled, finishing off the kiss with a long tug.

He plopped down beside you, feeling more lighthearted than ever. You both breathed heavily from making out, chests heaving and eyes on the ceiling. Your heart pounded against your chest, and Chan combed a hand through his hair before sighing in content. When he turned to face you, you turned your head and smiled.

Bang Chan was cute when he was smiling because his eye smile was more prominent. They formed into crescents, making you want to hug and kiss him even more. He took one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his face. After rubbing circles, Chan kissed the back of your hand. It was your turn to cup his cheek, and you poked the center of his chest.

You flicked his nose with your finger, laughing when he fell for your prank.

“I think it’s time for me to go home,” you suggested.

Chan sighed but didn’t object since it was getting late. He would love for you to stay and cuddle till you both fell asleep, but it was his little sister’s birthday tomorrow. He had already planned to go home tonight and surprise Hannah in the morning.

When Chan pulled up in front of your place, he neatly parallel parked and exited the car at the same time as you. Even if it meant walking five flight of stairs because the elevator was out of service for maintenance, he still wanted to walk you all the way to your door.

When you arrived at your door, Chan promised to bring cake after Hannah’s birthday party finished. You didn’t believe him, so he cutely reached for your fingers, giving you a pinky promise. You grew soft at his gesture and said goodnight to him.

But not without giving a quick peck on his cheek.

“Y/N,” he called out, giving you a lingering kiss on the lips before letting you go. “Goodnight.”

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years ago

Note

> also bring a nerf gun just in case - will you do stony for this one? i've seen those facebook posts with one person leaving the other a nerf gun with a cute note that says 'come find me. winner makes dinner', maybe you can incorporate that, too?

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

I’ve seen posts like that, too! I hope this is what you had in mind! Oh, & I changed the ‘a’ in the line to ‘the’, just so you know :P

The day had been dreadful – Steve couldn’t remember the last time a patrol went so poorly. Between the ship locking them out and the mishap with Barton missing his target and blowing up a big part of a 100-story building, he was feeling on edge. There hadn’t even been a threat – in the end, they were chasing after something that didn’t even exist.

His stop in the armory was quick, he didn’t want to be around anyone that wanted to engage in small talk. There’d been too many close calls for no reason to be in the mood to be friendly to people he just didn’t like at the moment. With his shield settled in its spot against the wall, Steve got changed and quickly made his way to the elevator. One of the best parts of living in the penthouse meant he didn’t have to share the ride up – the elevator he stood in was the only one that made the direct trek to the penthouse and the penthouse alone.

It was a bit surprising, finding the place empty. Tony usually let him know if he was spending the entire day in the lab – they came to that agreement when Tony stopped answering his texts after being in the lab for 72 hours straight; walking in to find him passed out cold just didn’t sit right with Steve. He let out a sigh and ventured further into the apartment.

Entering the kitchen, Steve tilted his head when he noticed a toy gun sitting on the counter. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a nerf gun with a few extra piles of foam bullets surrounding it. A smirk slipped across his lips, the piece of paper that was taped to the counter catching his eye, Tony’s distinct scrawl registering immediately.

Steve –

The penthouse is now a war zone. Nowhere is safe. Come find me – also, bring the nerf gun just in case. First one to the get the other makes dinner.

Bring it on.

Tony

Steve bit into his bottom lip, a huge smile threatening to split his cheeks. After the day he had, this small gesture felt monumental. Pocketing the note, Steve examined the gun for a second before figuring out how it worked and how he could load the ammo into it. He kept an extra set of foam bullets in his hand and put the rest in his hoodie pocket.

Ever the solider, Steve took a tactical approach to looking around the apartment. It was obvious that the kitchen wasn’t occupied. He’d been standing there with his back turned for several minutes. There was enough open space in the room to hear the echo of steps or the slightest puff of breath. The serum afforded him many things, an advancement in his hearing luckily one of them. Taking a few long strides, Steve exited the kitchen and made his way down the hall towards their bedroom.

All of the doors were open, which meant Tony went through the entire place just to throw him off. Steve shook his head, a throb of fondness washing over him – Tony was surprisingly adorable, small gestures like this unlimited so far in the duration of their relationship. Pushing that thought away for a moment, Steve looked through the two guest rooms at the front of the hall, both of them empty, the furniture in them not even touched.

He stopped in the hallway, his ears prickling. The floorboards gave the slightest of creaks, his feet already pointing him towards the source of the noise. Steve kept the smile that’d been threatened to slip across his face in control, his brain telling him very directly that the mission was not over – and honestly, the thought of cooking dinner made his skin prickle a little. He could still burn toast in the fancy appliances Tony kept in the kitchen.

Hitting the door with his foot as he walked in to throw Tony off a little, Steve walked into the room, his eyes scanning. The bed was rumpled, but they made it that way earlier that very morning. He kept his footsteps light as he walked into the ginormous bathroom – the clear shower stall empty; the only place left to look was the closet. He needed to talk to Tony about his battle strategy if getting himself pinned to a corner was his tact.

Suddenly, the man in question came barreling out of the closet. He was wearing a white tank top, black slacks, and a red bandana tied around his head. The sight was distracting, but Steve’s reflexes were fast – he managed to bring the nerf gun up and fire at Tony right around the time his boyfriend did the same. Tucking tightly against the wall, Steve managed to dodge the bullets – but so did Tony.

In the couple of seconds it took Steve to process what was happening, Tony slipped out the door. The grin broke through the surface, Steve finding himself giggling like a child as he ran out of the room, giving chase to Tony, who was moving faster than he’d ever done in the past. He caught up to him in the living room, the two of them circling the big L-couch. Steve deftly refilled the little chamber in the gun, the foam bullets way more finnicky than necessary.

“There’s not really anywhere else to go, Tony,” Steve mentioned, his eyes watching Tony excitedly. No matter what happened, this was the thing he needed to just let go of the shit part of the day. It was funny – how easy Tony could get him to forget the worries that just twenty minutes ago felt like world enders.

Tony snorted, his eyes flashing behind the dark purple tinted glasses he wore on his face. “Who’s to say that I didn’t lead you here on purpose?” Tony retorted, his gun coming up, a smirk slipping across his lips. Without much fanfare, Tony ducked down, his body hitting the floor with a thump.

Thinking quickly, Steve climbed onto the cushions of the couch, his feet sinking in slightly. He managed to get a step on the back of it before he felt the foam bullet hit his bicep. Tony slide across the floor and hit him before Steve could even think to shoot. Letting out an exaggerated sigh of anguish, Steve dropped down on the couch, his body sinking into the cushions of it.

“Alright. Good play, Tones,” Steve admitted, his face completely overtaken by the smile he didn’t even want to control. The exhilaration of the random bout of childish fun enough to sooth any sort of ache that losing might have brought. The weight that situated itself across his lap a couple minutes later didn’t hurt, either.

Tony cupped his face in both hands, fingers eagerly sinking into the thick sides of his beard. “I heard about patrol. Thought maybe you could use a little fun,” he mumbled before leaning close enough for just the slightest touch of lip on lip. Steve let a soft moan leave his lips, his hands wrapping around Tony’s hips to pull him a little closer.

Steve let his fingers brush under the edge of Tony’s tank top, the feeling of his warm skin against his hands a certain comfort in and of itself. He tilted his head and deepened Tony’s tease of a kiss, his brain swimming for a moment. “It was fun – thank you.” Steve pulled away just enough to brush his nose against the side of Tony’s cheek.

When he sat back against the couch, Tony settled himself more fully against his thighs. Steve kept his hands where they were, the two of them sharing a smile.

“Hey, FRIDAY, will you order a large cheese pizza from Sal’s? It’s my turn to cook.”

#stony #ironshield #ask prompts #prompts #au prompts #cute things #fluff #anonymous #nonnie

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lore-of-the-silvereyes-rwby · 5 years ago

Text

Remnants Silver Legends

Chapter 8

The West Valley road/ Rananore fields/ Endemar

Rananore; vast fields, and tall grass. Fertile farmland, and the Great Valley road passing through. Truely a peaceful land where the work is honest, and people live in safety. Quiet fields with the wind breezing through. But a small tremor disrupts this tranquil land.

Not a natural one born from nature. But one forged by the heels of thousands. Thousands running for the safety of home. Each at a different pace. Some fast, and quick others slow, and tired. Most of them were wounded, and dying. One of the many knights within this legion falls down to their knees. Weak and tired with blood dripping down their arm. Another knight hurries to his aid.

“Are you all right,” the knight asked as he dropped to his knees to aid his comrade.

“I ...I ...may have ...lost more blood than I ...than I thought,” he claimed in a very faint voice, as his breath grew shorter.

“You’re going to be fine alright, we're almost home,” he said, trying to comfort him.

“Hey, hey you two, over here,” he called out to a pair of youngbloods to help him.

The two hurried over to answer his needs. The knight has one go find anyone who knows medicine. He knew he was asking too much. Especially since he knew most of the knights, or dames who were trained to be field doctors were either dead, or missing. As that one left, he had the other one help him lift the wounded knight back on his feet.

The knight takes the right side, and the remaining youngblood takes the left. The two keep in mind his damaged right arm. As they lift him up his arm from its socket falls down to the ground. They all look in shock, and surprise.

“Something tells me ...I’m not ...getting that back ...am I?”

“No...no you are not.”

“We’re almost there,” cried the voice of someone on horseback! “Keep moving, They’re bound to send help if we’re close enough for them to see us!” The rider then noticed the trio. He got off his horse, and offered it to the wounded. “Take this, you need it more than I do,” the rider offered.

The three of them got the wounded knight on the horse. After they secured him on it, they then had the youngblood saddle up on the horse. He would ride while it carried the wounded knight. Soon after they sent them off hoping that by the time they reached the gates they would be open. Hopefully aid will come to them, he thought. That’s more than he can say for the rest of them.

He feels helpless as he knows he can’t save them all. His mind was clouded by grief. He hangs his head in defeat looking down as he continues to walk down the path. Then all of a sudden a loud horn was heard. He raises his head to see the gates of Sinda open. Carriages, carts, and caravans began to exit the city. Escorted by the Ostirio wall garrison. They ride faster than the wind to aid them.

“We’re saved,” the knight beside him asked as he exclaimed in joy,”...Right?”

“Yes, yes we are,” he answered

With renewed hope, they began to move in haste. The former rider stands alone to the side avoiding the raging stampede of hopeful souls. He noticed the severed arm of the wounded knight who he gave his horse to. He picks it up and removes the metal bracer which was in good condition. He tossed the lifeless limb into the nearby fields, so that it won’t block the way of his troops as they rush for aid.

He had begun to walk down the path to the city. He then started to reflect on the events that led him here, as well as the tenets he was tasked to uphold. As the legions Marshal he swore an oath to those responsibilities. In his mind he failed them all.

Mahtale tole/Silirin/ Endemar

“What do you think that horn was,” Ezer asked?

“It came from Sinda so it was probably a drill or something,” Ithiel answered.

“Something is off,” Lucius implored. “There were no drills scheduled today.”

“Probably a surprise performance inspection then,” Ithiel said.

Three friends argue, and discuss the reasons behind the sound they heard. They’re also not the only ones either. The people around them, and throughout the city wonder the same thing. In their own thoughts they hope it was nothing to be concerned with. Strange days are ahead, but are they for the better or for the worst. But for now friends will wine and dine.

“Which one of you ordered the ale and honey biscuits?”

“Here,” Lucius said, raising his hand. The server gave him his order, and began to drink.

“Okay and the salted fish with cheese bread, and Poitin.”

"That be mine," claimed Ezer.

“Alright and I guess you’re the one who wanted the strawberry tart, and port wine, I take it.”

“A personal favorite to the end I’m afraid,” Ithiel acknowledged as he smiled in delight. “Gratias tibi,” he said to her.

After she finished serving their food, she proceeded to the next table. The three friends share a toast, and drink. Sometime had passed before the three began their conversation anew.

“So anybody got something interesting going on,” queried Ezer?

“Nothing much going on in my life. Probably going to return to my studies,” Lucius answered

“Let me rephrase that,” asserted Ezer. “Anyone besides mixed-eyes here got something to say,” he bellowed.

That earned a scornful stare from Lucius. Ithiel couldn’t help but feel disappointed in Ezer. As a fellow Arhon he at least thought that all of them were like minded for the better. Guess he was wrong. But there's still hope for them yet. Best to change the subject before things escalate.

“To answer your question Ezer,” he said, hoping to avoid conflict. “I’ll be leaving the city soon if you're curious.”

That seemed to have nulled the tension between the two. Petty spite turned to surprise.

“Seriously you’re leaving,” Ezer inquired?

“Where to,” Lucius asked?

They continue to ask, pressuring him for an answer.

“Calm down, calm down,” Ithiel urged, gesturing to them to keep it down. “Ok, I don’t know where I’ll be traveling yet, nor do I know anything about it. But I do know it's a place not many have ever been to.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Lucius stated.

“Sadly that's true,” Ezer agreed.

“Wait, is that why you seem to be off today, because you're leaving,” Lucius asked?

“Mostly,” he lied.

“Well look on the bright side,” exclaimed Ezer. “You’ve been outside of the city more times than I have.” He then took another drink. “You want to know the first thing I’m gonna do when I leave,” he said as he began to boast.

“Let me guess, hunt down the Druwil,” Lucius divulged.

“Who asked you,” Ezer challenged Lucius?

“The Druwil,” Ithiel inquired?

“It’s nothing, just some Grimm fable. Legends say that they're older than The Fall of Dor-nest, and that there is only one left,” Lucius told him.

“And I’m gonna hunt it down and kill it,” bragged Ezer.

“Sure you are,” Lucius sighed.

As they continued their conversation a new patron entered the tavern they were in. The foreign stranger approached the counter then began to converse with the owner. Lucius spotted and took note of this stranger's appearance.

His eyes were light blue, so obviously human. He had short black hair and his face bare. His skin was fair, but tan marks were prominent but not noticable. His attire was blue and grey with leather armor, and a dark cloak adorned on his shoulders. An explorer maybe? But from where he thought. He then began to cross off potential points of origin.

Eregost; too pale.

Irestia; too stern, and rough looking.

Nuel; not the romantic type.

Rawmaite; too short to hail from any of those islands.

Anarsta; he may need a second opinion.

“Hey Ithiel you’re familiar with the northern people right?”

“I know of them. Why do you ask?”

Lucius pointed to the foreign figure at the counter.

“Any idea where he’s from?”

He took a look at him to see if he can answer Lucius’s question.

“I only know of the major cities, and trade centers, but if I had to make a guest he’s most likely from Nenlant or near it, he answered.”

“Any idea of his profession?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.

“Entschuldigen Sie, entschuldigen Sie meine Herren, an unknown voice spoke to them.” They were cut off guard as the stranger they were talking about was all of a sudden standing right in front of them. “Is it okay if I bull up ein chair, he asked?” They both nodded in acknowledgement and gave him the go ahead. “Vielen Dank, meine Herren, he said.”

“If you don’t mind, may I ask what is your purpose here, Ithiel asked?”

“It is ein long schtory, put in schort I am here unter contract py zomeone vo visches ein Hautience vith zee City Lord, und zee ovner of zis blace tells me vu can help me vith zat, he surmised,” as he pointed at Ithiel.

He was stunned by what he said.

“Why me,” he Inquired?

Zee ovner told me zat vu vould tell me vy zo vo are vu?

“That depends who wants to meet him,” Ithiel asked?

“Unfortunately I can’t discloze zat Hinformazion,” he said. “Zo can vu help me or not?”

Ithiel pondered in thought. Trying to see the strangers intentions. He didn’t seem like a dishonest person. Maybe a little rough around the edges, but someone who wanted his intentions known.

“It must be important that this person sees him isn’t it,” he added as he took a drink of wine.

The stranger’s integrity began to weaken. He grew annoyed at the silberäugig man. But he had to keep his composure. At least until his task was over. He asked again.

“Can vu help me or not?”

After some thought Ithiel gave into his demands. What's the worst that can happen he thought. This was of course his city, and home, with people that stand up for each other.

“As his son I think I can help your friend meet my father,” he alleged. “Do you have a name?”

The revelation that he was the son of the man he was looking for, still had the stranger in awe.

“It’s Isa, Isa of Nenarta,” he answered.

“I was close,” said Lucius as he took another sip.

“Nice to meet you Isa,” Ithiel greated as he stood to shake his hand.

There was a noticeable height difference between the two. He stood a head taller than him. Isa felt a little intimidated.

“Nice to meet you too, um . . . sorry I didn’t catch your name.” he said as he shook his hand.

“Ithiel, Ithiel of the House of Ilsalos,” he said. “So shall we leave?”

“Sicher.”

As they began to walk, Isa noticed the other two.

“Vait vat apout zem,” he asked?

Ezer may have had one too many drinks, and Lucius sat there in annoyance. This wasn’t the first time his cousin was in this state. But he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that they share blood. He turned his gaze to Ithiel.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll get him home as soon as I can,” sighed Lucius. “Take care of yourself though Ithiel.”

Ithiel acknowledged what he said and continued on his way with Isa. The two left the tavern and proceeded to where the client was. It was about a half an hours’ walk to their destination. He made sure to keep his guard up, for he is unsure if this was genuine cause or a trap. But who benefits from it. They arrived in an alley where a tall figure in red and grey waits. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and his head rises to see the pair approaching him.

“Who’s this guy,” he asked?

“Zir may I brezent Iziel, zee zon of Zilirin’s city Lord,” Isa answered.

“It’s Ithiel,”he said, trying to correct Isa's accent.

“Your Lord Herod’s,” he asked flabbergasted?

“Yes I am, and I’m here in good faith that this is an important matter,” stated Ithiel. “As such may I ask both the reasons for your secrecy and who you are that warrants an audience with my father?”

Surprised by his good fortune he relented. He stopped leaning against the wall and approached them. He was just a couple feet opposite of Ithiel. Silver eyes, met silver eyes. But they have never met before, until now as he began to bow to Ithiel.

“My name is Wyn, son of Aneirin of Gadronma,” He revealed. “ It is urgent that I meet Lord Herod, if Silirin, and the rest of Numen are to avoid the same fate as my homeland.”

NOTES

Sorry for the long wait, life got in the way. Also I’m trying to make these longer. Hopefully the next one won’t take 5 months

#rwby #the silver eyed warriors #world of remnant #rwby oc #rwby fanfiction #rwby ruby rose #rwby ruby #rwby maria #rwby summer rose #rwby summer

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