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leossmoonn · 4 years ago

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Temptation

masterlist

pairing - silas x forbes,fem!reader

type - fluffy smut, angst

note / request - “can i request a silas fic where the reader is Caroline's lil sis and Silas likes to annoy her, and he likes her a lot. Then Care and Damon are always into protective sibling modes where silas is around y/n. So one day they catch y/n making out w him, and then theres a lot of banter again” this was really fun to write! im not gonna rewrite background info lol so make sure to read the request. also the timeline of events is a little fuzzy so i apologise if i make a mistake. enjoy :)

summary - damon and caroline find you making out with the enemy, who just happens to be silas

warnings / includes - language, sibling fighting, steamy make out, sexual tension heheh, you’re in your senior year of high school, suggestive

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*gif isn't mine*

“Hello, doll face,” Silas greeted behind you.

You jumped at his voice, but quickly settled down. “Hey, Silas,” you said dully.

“Why the long face, princess?” Silas asked.

“Because you’re here,” you said. “Oh, that’s so mean. You’ve hurt my feelings,” Silas pouted.

“Well, I’m not supposed to be talking to you anyways,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“Ugh, you are such a goody two shoes. It’s cute, but annoying. Why not break the rules? I know you want to,” Silas said, leaning over the top of the couch, his face going right next to your’s.

You inhaled deeply, your heart pounding against your chest. You were attracted to him, no doubt about that, but if you even considered shaking his hand, Caroline and Damon would kill you. And you definitely didn’t want that.

“I can read your mind, Y/n. I know you want to kiss me, so go ahead,” he whispered.

You didn’t turn your head, but your eyes wandered to the left. You got a good view of his lips, which made butterflies flutter in your stomach. It was so tempting to close the gap between you two, but you knew better than that. You turned your head the other way, standing up from the couch. You packed up your school work, deciding to leave the Salvatore house and go to your own.

You were at the Salvatore house because Damon had offered to help you with your history homework. You took the offer and you two had been studying for a few hours. He had left you for 30 minutes to go and get you two lunch. In those 30 minutes, Silas had wandered into the house, looking for you.

You pulled out your phone, texting Damon to go to your house instead of back to his.

“Where are ya going?” Silas asked.

“Home,” you mumbled, keeping your head down and walking to the front door.

Silas stood in front of the door, making you look up at him with an annoyed frown.

“Please let me go,” you said.

“No, I’d rather see you beg,” Silas smirked. You rolled your eyes. “Please. Damon is waiting for me at my house with food.”

“Oh! Well, why don’t I just go with you, then? I’d love to see Damon.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you chuckled. “Why not? I can just pretend to be his brother! I’ve fooled lots of people already,” Silas smiled.

“I think Damon will notice. Especially if I’m there,” you said. “I’ll just sneak in then,” Silas suggested.

“No, Silas! I just want to go home alone. Leave me alone,” you said sternly, looking him straight in the eyes. You went to push him out of the way, but his hands grabbed ahold of your wrists. His strong grip made goosebumps rush up your forearms.

Silas couldn’t help but smirk. You rarely ever had outbursts. He thought it was incredibly sexy and cute when you put your foot down. Especially when it pertained to him.

“You are so adorable when you’re mad. You're so small, too. I can’t help but not take you seriously,” Silas chuckled.

Your eyes went wide and you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You masked your embarrassment by groaning and running your fingers through your hair in frustration. “Just let me go! Please. I’m hungry and tired and really need to study for my test.”

“What is your test over, anyways? History? Cause if so, I could help you out. I bet I know more than Damon,” Silas said.

“No thanks, bro, she’s all taken care of,” Damon said from behind Silas.

“You tattled that I was here! So naughty of you,” Silas glared at you playfully.

“Step out of the way, Silas. Otherwise I will snap your neck,” Damon sneered.

Silas sighed. “Fine! I’m only obeying because I want to kiss you before I die.”

“Fat chance of that. C’mon, Y/n. I got you a burger and those onion rings you like,” Damon said.

“Thanks, Damon,” you smiled gratefully at him.

“See you later, doll face!” Silas called out as you walked to your car.

“I’m sorry about him. I should make you the owner of the house,” Damon said.

You shrugged, “It’s alright. He would never actually hurt me.”

“Well, we don’t know that,” Damon said.

“Yes, we do. Sure, he might threaten to kill me sometimes, but his liking for me trumps any chance of him killing me. I don’t fear him, he’s just extremely annoying,” you said, getting in your car.

“Agreed,” Damon said.

You two drove to your house, eating lunch and studying for a few more hours. Caroline and Elena then came home, talking to you and Damon about a party at the Grill.

“Can I come?” You asked.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Caroline nodded.

You smiled excitedly. You barley went to any of these parties. You usually were at home studying or hiding away in your house because Caroline and Damon were always worried for you, but Caroline figured that since she and Damon and everyone else would be there, they would be able to protect you.

So you took a quick shower and got ready for the night. You put on ripped jeans and a black, spaghetti-strapped top with a jean jacket. You put on heeled boots and put on some silver jewellery, as well as lined your eyes with eyeliner and painted your lips red with lipstick.

“Oh, you look so cute!” Elena exclaimed as you walked out of your room.

“Thanks, Elena,” you smiled at her.

“No, go change,” Caroline said. “Why?” You frowned.

“Because Silas could be there and that outfit would tempt him even more,” Damon explained.

You rolled your eyes. “So when Klaus was here, Caroline could wear anything, but I guess since I’m younger and a human, I can’t? That’s so unfair.”

“She’s right, guys. I hate Silas as much as you two, but let her dress how she wants. We’ll be there to protect her. Plus, if Silas thinks she’s hot, then good for her. She is,” Elena agreed with you.

You smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

“Ugh, fine! But no drinking, okay?” Caroline said.

“Ay, ay captain,” you said. You four went out to Elena’s SUV, driving to the Grill.

Loud music blasted into your ears as soon as you stepped inside. You smiled as you saw everything dancing and having the time of their life.

“Shots?” Caroline suggested.

“Hell yeah!” Elena squealed.

“Iced tea for you, Y/n?” Caroline asked. “Yes, please,” you nodded.

“Alright, you guys go to the pool table. I’ll be back,” Caroline said.

“Where is Stefan?” You asked, looking around the bar and walking to the pool table that was conveniently empty.

“Right here!”

You turned around, smiling once you saw Stefan in a grey shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. You went to hug him, but Damon stopped you.

“Ah, ah, ah. How do we know it isn’t Silas?” Damon asked.

Stefan rolled his eyes. He pulled out a blood bag from his pocket, taking it and drinking it quickly.

“Alright, alright, we know it’s you. Cool it on the blood, brother. Don’t want to go into a bloodlust,” Damon said, taking the empty bag and throwing it in the trash.

“Well, I don’t really know how else to prove I’m not Silas,” Stefan sighed. “Can I get that hug now?”

You smiled and nodded, wrapping your arms around him.

Between everyone else, Damon and Stefan were your best friends. They were like the brothers you’ve never had, protecting you and teasing you whenever they felt like it was necessary. You hadn’t seen Stefan in a while since he was found in the safe, but you were glad to see he was okay.

“Glad to see you’re okay, Stef,” you said, pulling back.

“And I’m glad to see you haven’t fallen victim to my doppelgänger,” Stefan smiled.

Caroline came back with shots, pleasantly surprised to see Stefan.

“Stefan! You’re here! Oh, my God the whole gang is here!” She squealed, putting down the shots and engulfing Stefan is a big hug.

“I’m excited to be here, too. This is the first time I’ve really gone out for fun. I hope nothing goes wrong,” Stefan joked.

“Well, if any of you spot Silas, make sure to not let him get close to Y/n. We don’t know what he could do to her,” Caroline said.

You rolled your eyes at her concern, but didn’t say anything. You knew it would end up with you two arguing and that was the last thing anything wanted. Forbes were very controlling and heated when they got angry.

You took your tea and sipped on it as Damon downed the first shot.

“Wait, are we playing in teams?” You asked.

“Yeah, which one do you wanna be one? Damon and I’s?” Stefan asked.

“Definitely yours,” you said. “Oh, what! You know I win all the time,” Damon said.

“Yeah, but when you lose you get so mad. It’s hilarious,” you giggled.

“True, it is cute,” Elena smirked.

Damon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You two are so annoying.”

You smiled and played with your friends for a little while. It came to a time where everyone was too tipsy to where they could barely walk, so you were in charge of getting the drinks. Damon and Caroline, despite being pretty much drunk, stayed close behind you.

“Hey, Matt,” you smiled at the boy working behind the bar. “Hey, Y/n! Let me guess, more shots and another iced tea?” He asked.

“You guessed right,” you chuckled.

“So, how is school?” He asked.

“Pretty good. History is kicking my ass, per usual. It’s weird because I’m surrounded by history buffs,” you said.

“Well, I know you have Damon helping you, but Stefan is a lot better at tutoring, in my opinion. I know he’s been having a rough time, though,” Matt said.

“He has, which is why I should be your tutor,” Silas smirked next to you.

You jumped slightly, surprised to see him there. You looked at him, seeing him wearing a dark navy shirt and jeans. Your eyes stared at his biceps and his strong, broad shoulders. Once you noticed him smirking at you, you looked back to the drinks Matt was filling.

“Now I get the silent treatment? C’mon, not fair,” Silas whined.

“You shouldn’t be here, man,” Matt said.

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about, it huh?” Silas taunted, looking at Matt with narrow, menacing eyes.

Matt rolled his eyes, putting the tequila shots and your drink on a tray and handing them to you.

“Thanks, Matt,” you smiled.

You took the tray, ready to turn around and walk away from Silas. He put his arm up, planning to grab your arm to stop you, but Caroline and Damon used their vamp speed to push him back.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Caroline sneered. Veins were circulating under her eyes and she bared her fangs.

Silas smirked, not at all fazed. “Oh, please, I could kill both of you so fast, you couldn’t have chance to say bye to Y/n. Now, let me go, Damon.”

Damon’s grip on Silas’s arms tightened. “Not a chance. We’re going outside and I’m gonna make sure you are far away from here.”

Damon then took Silas to the exit, Silas looking back at you and giving you a wink. Caroline groaned in disgust and took the tray away from you.

“You okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine, Care! He wasn’t going to hurt me,” you glared at her.

“You don’t know that! Why are you defending him? Doesn't he annoy you?” Caroline asked.

“Yeah, he does,” you said, your voice trailing off at the end, alluding to something else.

Caroline stared at you intensely, gasping once she put the pieces together. “You… You like him? Ugh, why! He’s a monster.”

“I don’t like him! God, why is that always your first assumption?” You asked.

“Because you obviously are having physical reactions to him. We all see the way you look down in shyness when he flirts with you, and we can hear your heart racing. We just hoped you wouldn’t give in,” Caroline sighed.

“I’m not! I don’t like him in any way, okay? Just because I defend someone doesn’t mean I automatically like them!”

“That’s what you always say! You need to get rid of those feelings, Y/n. He’s not a good person.”

You closed your eyes in frustration, sighing roughly. “I’m going to the bathroom to cool down. When I come out, you better not say anything else about me liking Silas.”

You spun on your heels, storming off to the bathroom. You washed your hands, putting them to your forehead to cool yourself down.

“Feelings for Silas, please,” you scoffed to yourself.

“She’s right. I know it, you know it. Everyone does.”

You looked in the mirror, jumping once you saw Silas behind you. You turned around quickly.

“H-How did you get in here?” You asked.

“I knocked Damon out,” he shrugged.

“What?! Is he okay?” You asked. “Yes, he’s fine. I know that you would hate me if I killed one of your friends,” he said.

You sighed, “I have to go. They’re waiting for me.” You went to the door, but Silas once again blocked the entrance.

“You gotta be quicker, Y/n. Someday you might find yourself in real trouble,” Silas smiled down at you.

“You are real trouble,” you retorted.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true. If I was then you’d be screaming for your life. But you’re just standing there, looking so incredibly kissable,” Silas said, shamelessly looking at your lips.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you looked down to hide your face. “No, I just don’t want to make a scene,” you mumbled.

Silas put his hand on your chin, making your eyes meet his. “While that is true, you also having feelings for me.”

You stepped away from him, his hand falling to his side. “I don’t. You’re evil and cheated on your girlfriend. No girl wants to be with a guy like that.”

“Elena practically cheated on Stefan emotionally, you’re still friends with her,” Silas stated.

You furrowed your brows, not sure what to say back. He was correct, but you knew that wasn’t the point. You needed to get out of there otherwise Caroline and Damon would freak out.

Silas walked towards you slowly, like you were his prey that he was stalking. You turned around, not wanting to look at him. Silas grinned, seeing as his plan would work out even better now that you were facing the mirrors.

He put his hand on your bare arm, dragging his fingertips up your skin.

“I’m so glad you took off the leather jacket. Your outfit looks so much better without it,” he murmured.

You immediately froze. Your eyes were glued to the two of you in the mirror. You watched as his hand went up to your shoulders, pressing down lightly on your muscles.

“Shouldn’t you be running, Y/n?” Silas asked, moving. your hair out of the way so he could get a better view of your neck.

You knew you should, but his touch felt so good. It weirdly calmed your nerves down, but also made you flustered as hell. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to stay in this bathroom and let him take you. Silas smiled at your thoughts, lowering his lips down to your shoulder.

“I can totally take you right here if you want,” he whispered, his lips making contact with your skin.

You inhaled sharply, finding yourself stumbling back into his chest. His other arm went around your waist, holding you close to him.

“Your skin is so soft, doll face,” he said while kissing up your neck.

You watched him in the mirror, your stomach doing flips. Your legs felt weak and heat gathered in between your thighs. You had honestly wanted to kiss him this whole time. You decided a few more minutes in the bathroom couldn’t hurt.

So you turned around, crashing your lips onto his. Silas smiled as you kissed him, his hands trailing down to your legs. He lifted you up with ease, taking you to the sink and placing you on the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands running themselves through his hair.

“Silas,” you breathed out as you felt his hands on your thighs, going higher and higher.

“You like that, princess?” He hummed, his fingers going higher until they reached your clothed entrance. He pulled away, grinning and looking you in the eyes.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, pulling his face close to yours roughly.

Your lips collided again, your heart and brain exploding. Kissing him felt like heaven.

Silas mirrored your neediness and put his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You pressed your chest up to him more, your hands going down from his head to the bottom of his shirt. You lifted it up, Silas pulling away so you could pull it off of him. You sat back and admired his abs and muscles, excitement growing in between your thighs.

You dove down to his neck, kissing and sucking lightly. Your hands explored his chest, tracing along his prominate abs. Silas breathed heavily into your ear, groaning as you found his sweet spot.

“Oh, Y/n,” he panted.

You smirked against his skin. Before you could put your hands on his belt, the bathroom door burst open. You saw Caroline and Damon standing, eyes huge and mouths agape.

“What the hell!” Caroline shrieked.

Your eyes widened and you pushed Silas away from you, getting off the counter.

“Really, Y/n? You pick him to make out with in the bathroom?” Damon groaned.

“It is just happened,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“Yeah, she’s a really good kisser,” Silas smirked. “I never would have expected it since she’s shy and all, but man, she is wil-”

“You shut the hell up. And you,” Caroline pointed to you. “Are going home. now.”

“He wasn’t hurting me, Care,” you said.

Caroline looked at you two incredulously. “You’re making her say this! You pressured her, didn’t you!” She pointed to Silas.

“He’s not! I was the one who kissed him first,” you admitted. “Yeah, but I helped a little,” Silas smirked.

Caroline made her vampire face and lunged at Silas, to which Damon pulled her back.

“Alright, blondie, why don’t you take Y/n home and I’ll deal with Silas, okay?” Damon said.

Caroline huffed and nodded, grabbing you by the arm roughly.

“We’ll continue another time, doll face!” Silas exclaimed.

“No, you will not,” Damon glared.

————

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sunshineseguin · 4 years ago

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take me back to the night we met || mat barzal

pairing: mathew barzal x fem!reader

summary: months after the end of your relationship, mathew still struggles to come to terms with losing you. he sees you everywhere and in everything he does. what sticks with him the most is the night you met.

warnings: break-up angst, alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety & a near panic attack, swearing, mentions of sex (nothing graphic), possible grammatical errors, flashbacks are in italics!!

word count: 6,371

author’s note: i wrote this fic inspired by the song ‘the night we met’ by lord huron so i definitely recommend listening while reading! i wrote this fic as a standalone and don’t plan on writing a second part. feedback is always appreciated, i read everything even if you put it in the tags.

check out my players list & prompt list if you’d like!

Mathew knew it wasn’t a good idea to go out, especially on a Sunday night with an early practice in the morning. The season was about to start and he knew he had every reason to be just as amped up about it as his teammates. He should be cheering with them and drinking beers carelessly like he wouldn’t regret it in the morning. Yet, he couldn’t. The regret that he was already carrying on his shoulders was enough to last him a lifetime. Instead, he was gulping down whiskey on the rocks like it was water and he was stranded in the Sahara Desert, wallowing in his own self pity as he had been for months.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and glanced up at Anthony who gave it a squeeze. The blonde smiled, but it was one of sympathy, his bright blue eyes swimming with concern for his best friend. Mathew almost scoffs.

“How ya doin’, man?” Anthony asks and glances towards Anders who’s watching them both closely.

The raven haired male simply shrugged half heartedly in response. He knew his captain was worried about him, the whole team was for that matter. He hadn’t been right for a while and nearly closed himself off completely. He didn’t join in on the playful chirps at morning skate or reply to Anthony’s invites of golf with the boys. He didn’t go to the team cookouts. He barely mustered a reply when Trotz was ripping into him for being so unfocused. The guys were starting to realize they only ever saw him on the ice or drowning himself in the hard stuff at the bar. He was a walking shell of the man he had been a year ago.

“What happened, Barzy?” Anthony sighed, moving to stand in front of his friend so that he could meet his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Mathew saw a notification pop up on his phone that his Uber was approaching, giving himself the perfect opportunity to get out of his best friend’s inevitable interrogation. He knew the team was only going to let this go on for so much longer before sitting him down and making him talk about his feelings. He was already dreading all of the things Anders had to say but hadn’t yet. He tossed back the last of the amber liquid in his glass, not even feeling it burn its way down his throat with the amount he’d already consumed that night. He stood from his stool, a bit unsteady on his feet as he pats Anthony on the shoulder leaves him with few words before heading out.

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t help me.”

The bar was definitely over what capacity should allow that night. The bar was swarmed as people shouted their drink orders at the poor bartenders who were scurrying around like mice. Patrons were spilling out onto the dance floor, packed in like sardines to the point that you could hardly move. You pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering worthless apologies to people who weren’t even listening as you desperately searched for your friends. You’d lost them over twenty minutes ago and had lost all hope in finding them.

You were starting to feel claustrophobic amidst the sweaty bodies pressed against you, chest growing tight the longer you spent in the crowd. It felt like the walls were beginning to close in on you as your head grew fuzzy. The Long Island Iced Teas you’d been consuming since you got there three hours ago certainly didn’t help. You forced your way through the crowd and to the exit of the bar, shoving people who wouldn’t move as you tried to get air into your lungs.

You stumbled out of the doors to the bar, ignoring the odd looks people heading inside sent you. Your knees felt weak as you braced yourself against the wall. Hand shaking, you pressed it to your chest to feel that your heart was rapidly pounding away. You closed your eyes and did all you could to focus on your breathing and get yourself to calm down. You hadn’t had a panic attack in some time, sophomore year of college the last you could recall, having learned what triggered them and how to keep the panic from overcoming you.

Mathew was standing farther down, away from the never ending flow of people coming and going from the bar’s entrance. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he stared out at the street with a scowl. He and Anthony were supposed to be leaving together, walking back to their shared apartment building a few blocks away. The blonde male had been busy when Mat stepped out, chatting away with some pretty redhead who’d caught his eye early in the night. He was about ready to make the walk by himself if his friend didn’t show himself in the next five minutes.

He saw you out of the corner of his eye, alone and trembling without so much as a jacket. He looked around to see if anyone you might know was near, but no one was paying you any mind. He was overcome with a sense of worry as he stared at you, not knowing if some sleazebag slipped something in your drink or if you had some kind of medical condition. He found himself moving closer to you and asking, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” you stated breathlessly, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, “I just need a second.”

You stood there for another moment until you had yourself composed, finally standing up straight when it didn’t feel like your knees would give out anymore. You weren’t expecting to open your eyes and find the person attached to the voice that just spoke to you still standing there. His hazel eyes were filled with worry as they flickered over your frame. You were too busy gawking to notice his genuine concern.

“Did something happen in there? Do you need me to call someone?” the handsome stranger asked, his gaze finally settling on yours.

“N-No,” you stuttered sheepishly, clearing your throat and blinking quickly as if that would make the nervousness go away. “It’s lame, actually, I lost my friends and… The crowd was a bit much.”

Mathew’s shoulders visibly relaxed when he knew something traumatic hadn’t happened and a laugh passed through his lips. He offered you a smile and replied, “Yeah, that is kind of lame.”

You scoffed playfully and rolled your eyes, feeling your face heat up slightly. He laughed again and shook his head a bit, saying, “I kid, I kid. This place does get pretty rowdy on the weekends.”

“Not to be completely cheesy but, I take it you come here often?” you asked with a smile, wrapping your arms around your middle as the cool New York air started to seep into your skin. The adrenaline from your near panic attack had kept you from realizing how cold it was out and you’d left your jacket inside at your table. Hopefully one of your friends would grab it despite the drunken escapades they were partaking in.

“Pretty often, yeah,” Mathew grinned at the question. He was sure you hadn’t intended to use it as a pickup line, yet he found himself hoping there was genuine interest laced behind your words.

He shrugged off his black bomber jacket when he noticed you shivering and held it out to you. As you opened your mouth to protest, the look on his face told you that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. So you took the item from his hands and slipped in on with a gracious ‘thank you’ once you were swallowed in its warmth.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Mat,” he replied while shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

It was silent for a moment between you, neither knowing exactly what to say. Mathew didn’t know if you were intending to head back inside and enjoy your night. While he was more than ready to go home ten minutes ago, he was now enamored by you, and wanted to do anything to stay in your presence. Usually, he was quick witted and able to charm a girl with a few simple words. In front of you he was drawing a blank, afraid of saying the wrong thing and scaring you off.

Seeing you shyly toy with the ends of his sleeve, a nervous smile curling on your lips as you looked at his feet had a surge of confidence flowing through him. He offered, “Would you want to grab a coffee? I know a place that makes the best homemade crepes.”

The memory hit Mathew like a freight train as he stepped out of the doors of the bar. He was left staring at the wall, at the very spot he spoke to you for the first time. He couldn’t feel the dull ache in his chest, having numbed himself with whiskey that was far too expensive. He turned to walk down to the street to wait for his Uber, but stopped short as he caught a glimpse of a woman walking by.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared after her. It was as if time slowed down, everything moving in slow motion but her. Everything was as he remembered from that night. The way her hair was styled, the dress that stopped halfway down her thighs, the heels that echoed in his head with each step she took. What shook him to his core the most was the jacket sported on her shoulders. From the night he first gave it to her, she would always steal it, claiming it looked better with most of her outfits than his own. He never argued, because he agreed, and he would never turn down a chance to see her in his clothes. It was you — unmistakably you.

Mathew’s feet started moving on their own accord behind you. It was like you were running away, until he realized it was him who was moving in slow motion with the people around him. The streets were bustling with people of all likes, experiencing the enticing New York nightlife. He was weaving through the crowd, calling out your name, desperate, broken and begging you to put back together the pieces of his broken heart.

You kept walking and Mathew was trying his hardest to catch up, but was like with each step he took his feet were growing heavier and heavier. He let out a strangled, frustrated cry as he yelled out your name once more. Suddenly, he was knocked to the side, stumbling over his own feet and nearly falling into the street. He turned to look at the man who just rammed into him carelessly.

“Watch where you’re going, you prick!” he shouted after the man who paid him no mind, receiving a few dirty looks from others.

It was then that he realized everyone was moving in real time again. His breath hitched in his throat as he spun to search for you in the crowd. You were gone. Deep down, he knew you had never been there in the first place. His mind was playing another dirty little trick on him, as it did so often the last few months. His guilty subconscious tormented him with images of you, making him watch you slip away time and time again. The hollow feeling deep within him only grew with every hallucination.

He turned his attention to the building he’d found himself in front of, and if the visions of you weren’t already torture enough, the universe had just thrown something else into the mix. Yet, he found himself making his way up to the door, the bell chiming above his head as he entered the quant diner. He takes a glance around, seeing an old couple at a table on one side of the building and a man by himself at the bartop, a laptop open and headphones in as he had a quiet conversation on what Mathew assumed was a Zoom or FaceTime call. He drops his head and walks to the familiar corner booth then slides into the seat and cancels his Uber.

A moment later, the waitress approaches the table. Mathew meets her eyes and embarrassment floods through him as he takes note of her sympathetic smile. He’s seen the smile a thousand times now from anyone who had an inkling of what he’d been going through.

“Coffee?” she asked softly, knowing the answer before he could even muster a nod.

You slide into the booth, sighing in content as the warmth from the building seeps into your bones. Mathew slides in across from you and the two of you share a shy smile as you meet eyes. Never before had he been so nervous to take a girl out. Maybe it was because you weren’t like the others. You hadn’t thrown yourself at him the first chance you got. You didn’t seem to know who he was or his status in the social hierarchy of the people in Long Island. It was refreshing and terrifying all at the same time.

You both look up as the waitress walks over with a bright smile on her face and asks what you’d like to drink. “Coffee,” the two of you say at the same time. Mathew’s face visibly turns a light shade of pink, and in turn you feel a rush of heat traveling up your own neck. The waitress smiles knowingly.

“Cream, please,” you add.

As the waitress turns to Mathew he says, “Black is fine.”

It’s silent for a moment as you both wait for the waitress to return with your drinks. Your eyes are floating around the diner, taking in some of the unique decor and 80’s flare with a modern twist. Mathew watches you closely and decides he quite likes the way your eyes shine under the glow of the baby blue neon lights. He takes it upon himself to start pointing out some of the historical decor in the building. It’s your turn to admire him and how his eyes light up when he talks about something he finds exceptionally appealing. His lips are curled into a smile as he spouts off facts to you about each item he points out.

He pauses his rant about people not appreciating The Beatles enough when he sees you grinning at him. He smiles sheepishly and diverts his gaze to the steam rising out of the coffee mug just placed in front of him, asking, “What?”

“Nothin’,” you replied with a small shrug, smile never leaving your face. You stirred a splash of cream into your own coffee and quizzed, “I take it as you come here often too?”

Mathew felt his ears grow hot but he still managed to muster up a confident smirk and lifted his eyes to meet yours, “I said best homemade crepes didn’t I?”

“That you did.”

“I usually end up here after a night at the bar and I need to sober up. People say coffee doesn’t work but it sure feels like it,” he explained, “Plus, they serve breakfast twenty four hours.”

The way your eyes lit up when Mathew said that had butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He listened as you went on a rant about how breakfast was underrated and you’d kill for pancakes for dinner over a steak most nights. From there, the conversation between the two of you flowed effortlessly. You learned how the other liked their eggs cooked and what your drink of choice was. Your favorite colors and favorite scent of body wash. Being with Mathew made you feel as if you’d been sleeping all of these years and were just waking up. Never had you felt so drawn to someone in the way that you were to him, and him the same. Any other night, if he had met a girl in the fashion that he’d met you, he would have had you in and out of his apartment long ago. He wouldn’t be on his third coffee refill with a plate of perfectly cooked strawberry crepes in front of him.

Mathew learned that you hadn’t been in New York long. You’d moved about two months ago and had a fashion design internship with some fancy company he’d never heard of. You were looking to build your own empire in the business. With the way you exuded yourself now that you were comfortable with him and talked with so much passion about your dreams, he didn’t think you’d have any trouble. The drive you had to build a future for yourself wasn’t something he was used to hearing from the women he surrounded himself with.

The famous athlete, something you learned about him in between bites of food, was used to women throwing themselves at him and his teammates. Some of them were just looking to brag that they slept with an Islander, others had more devious intentions. They were after the money Mathew tried his hardest not to spend recklessly - the gifts he could potentially buy. Some wanted his last name, to be in with the WAGs and flaunt their relationship all over social media; to rub it in the face of others that she got what they so desperately wanted. It was part of the reason that he never exclusively dated, too afraid that there were ulterior motives behind sultry whispers and sly smirks.

The diner that had previously been significantly busy when the two of you got there had now cleared out completely. You and Mathew hadn’t realized how long you’d actually been there until you took note of the empty tables. Your waitress was standing in the corner against the wall, looking like she was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram while she waited for you to leave. You and the Centerman had been so lost in each other that you hadn’t realized hours had passed and it was nearly two in the morning.

“I guess we should get out of here, huh?” you asked, hoping the gorgeous man in front of you picked up on the suggestive tone of your voice.

It didn’t seem like he did though with the way his shoulders slumped and he mumbled, “Yeah, I guess we should.”

As Mathew fished his wallet out, he felt you gaze burning into him. You weren’t ready for the night to end and you were hoping he was thinking the same. He looked up and locked eyes with you, holding the stare as you raised a singular eyebrow and a coy smile curled on your lips. Realization crossed the chiselled features of his face and he gave you a smirk before throwing down a good amount of cash on the table. He slid out of the booth and held his hand out to you, giving you a small bow as if you were royalty.

“M’lady?”

Mathew chokes on the very breath in his lungs, his eyes burning as he stared down at the cold, untouched mug of coffee in front of him. It’s no longer black, now a light chestnut color but the splash of cream he’d subconsciously added to it. He had picked that up from you because ‘only psychopaths drink black coffee, babe’. He switched back of course. This was the first time he let himself slip up and fall back into a habit that used to be so comfortable with you.

He swallows thickly and stuffs a generous amount of cash into the black checkbook, far more than what the coffee was worth. He pushes himself out of the booth and avoids the waitress’ eyes as she comes over to collect the payment. He can’t even muster a smile as he mumbles out a ‘thank you’ and exits the diner. Lori, the woman who always gave you the best service there, is left to sadly stare after him. She knows better than to ask what happened to the sweet girl who always used to accompany him.

Mathew walks a couple blocks down to his apartment building, trying not to remember how you’d clung to his arm. How your giggles echoed down the empty streets and your perfume swirled around him. When he closed his eyes he thought he could almost smell it, wondering if traces of you were lingering on the jacket hanging heavy on his shoulders. He still remembers how it felt to have your hands wrapped around his bicep and your hip bumping his as you walked pressed to his side. He enters his building and the feeling is gone as quickly as it came.

He walks into his dark apartment and thinks that it feels colder and colder every night that he comes home alone. He can’t help but take note of your missing pile of shoes by the door that he always used to chirp you for. He hangs his keys on the hook and his eyes linger on the empty spot beside it. He walks past the couch on the way to the bedroom and tries not to think about how bare it looks without the hoodies you used to steal from him littered about.

He strips into his boxers after brushing his teeth and climbs under the chilly sheets. He’s turned on his side, staring at the vacant spot beside him. He can see you there, messy hair splayed out around you and your face smiling back at him. He reaches out and grabs the pillow that used to be deemed yours, pulling it into his chest tightly. Your scent is long gone from the pillowcase, yet he still buries his nose into it and squeezes his eyes shut as if that will bring you back.

As he begins to drift off to sleep, his mind once again tortures him with visions of you. How you stumbled into his apartment the night you met as a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. You undressed each other on the way to the bedroom, clothes scattered across the floor. Your skin was hot against his as he laid you on his bed for the first time and worshiped every inch of your skin. He remembers your breathy moans in his ear as he filled you up and rocked into you, slow and deep. Your limbs were tangled as you came down from your highs, your head on his sticky chest as he ran his hand over the tangled hair on your head.

He remembers whispering, “I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” and you replying, “You’re something special, Mathew Barzal.” The two of you fell asleep like that, with Mathew thinking he could spend forever with you wrapped in his arms.

Mathew awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and a weight sitting heavy in his chest. He’s still clutching his pillow as he turns over and looks for you instinctively. When he’s once again faced with the empty space beside him, his heart drops. He flips onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. It’s the same everyday that he wakes up, replaying the day everything changed like a broken record in his head.

Your whirlwind romance with Mathew happened unexpectedly. While the two of you did click instantly, you certainly weren’t expecting it to be so serious so fast. He was a famous hockey player who was on the road most of the year. You thought, at most, you would be someone he called when he was home in New York because you were convenient. Instead, you got the fancy dinner dates and spontaneous trips to Philly when he played the Flyers. You got a bouquet of flowers at your door when he was off on a roadie. You got to meet Anthony and enjoy quiet nights in just drinking beers and mocking shitty reality TV. You had moved into his apartment almost completely after only four months without either of you really realizing — yet neither of you stopped it.

The relationship you had with Mathew was unique. It was something people dreamed of and hoped to find. You were Twin Flames; two halves of one soul that united. You fell for each other so hard and so fast it made you dizzy. Before you knew it, a year had passed. You’d completed your internship and your boyfriend was a rising star. You had built a strong foundation in New York and it was potentially where you could put down your roots and live out the rest of your life, yet you had bigger dreams and plans for yourself. Something you hadn’t been completely honest with Mathew about.

You were scared. Scared of the unknown complications and challenges you could face. The two of you had moved so fast you were having trouble differentiating between fantasy and reality — if this is really what you wanted. What if you settled down in New York and Mathew was traded to a different team across the country? What if he decided he didn’t want you anymore in a few weeks time, leaving you high and dry? What if you didn’t really love him and you were just convincing yourself that you did? These questions had been plaguing you for weeks, especially when he was away, and it was becoming too much. So you did the cowardly thing and you ran from it.

It was nearing the Stanley Cup playoffs and the Islanders were well on their way to securing a spot, so most of Mathew’s focus had been on hockey. It never bothered you because it was his career. It’s what he did for a living and what he loved, so how could you fault him for that? The roadies seemed to fall closer together and last a little longer. Mathew now knows that’s why he didn’t notice your things slowly disappearing from the apartment then, and he still beats himself up for not realizing that you were slipping away.

He’d been on one of those seemingly long roadies and his flight came in early that morning from Tampa Bay. While they came out victorious, the games had been rough and Mathew was sore. He couldn’t wait to decompress and cuddle up with you for the few days he had off until the next home game. As the Uber pulled up outside the building, he felt exhaustion overcoming him and wanted to sleep the rest of the day away.

He walked through the door, lugging his duffel bag and suitcase, a sigh leaving his lips at the fact that he was finally home again. The ease he felt was quickly replaced with panic and confusion when his eyes landed on the suitcases in the foyer. His blood ran cold in his veins as he dropped his bags and called out your name with a panicked tone. The apartment remains silent so he quickly makes his way to the bedroom, pushing the door open to find you sitting on the edge of the bed and staring out the window. His own rapid heartbeat is pounding in his ears as he pulls at his tie and moves towards you.

He drops to his knees on the floor in front of you, his eyes full of concern as he meets your tear filled ones. The pads of his fingers are rough and warm as he takes your hand in his own and whispers, “Why are your bags by the door, baby? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” your voice breaks as you reply, bottom lip wobbling before a sob wracks your body.

Mathew quickly pulls you into his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head as you cry into his game day suit. Dread fills his body, having never seen you so upset. His heart is in his throat and he feels as if he’s going to be physically ill. He holds you like that, kissing the side of your head and whispering words of affirmation until you can compose yourself. You pull back from him and wipe your wet cheeks but he keeps one hand on the side of your head and the other on your waist.

Then you drop the bomb on him.

You explain that your internship was never a permanent plan to stay in New York. You have a flight in four hours that leaves for Paris. A one way ticket taking you to the fashion capital of the world to start your career. You found a job opportunity so perfect that you’d be stupid to pass up. Mathew wants to be happy for you. He wants to jump for joy and celebrate with you, but you hid this from him. You did exactly what he was afraid of and shared with you within hours of your first meeting. He’s filled with disbelief and anger instead.

“This was your plan the whole time? You hid this from me the last year we’ve been together?” he exasperates, moving to his feet as he starts to pace the room and tug at his hair.

“Everything was so good with us I didn’t want to ruin it. I was going to tell you, Mat, I swear.”

“When?!” he shouts, feeling guilty for a moment when he sees you flinch, but the anger overpowers it. “Because it looks like to me you were just going to leave without so much as a goodbye!”

You shake your head, and squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes as the tears start to well again. You argue, “I knew when your flight was coming in. I wouldn’t just leave you like that.”

“But you are. You are leaving me like that. You clearly have your mind made up about this and didn’t bother telling me,” he rebuttals, “You let me believe for a year that you were in this. I’ve given you one hundred percent, despite the hardships. What did you give me, huh? Fifty at best?”

You’re quiet, not wanting to admit that you hadn’t been all in on the relationship like him, even though you acted like it. Really, you’d had one foot out the door the whole time. Mathew’s voice shakes as he stares at you from across the room and says, “I love you. I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

A choked sob wracks through your body at his words and you cover your face with your hands. You knew he was in love with you, even the blind could see how head over heels Mathew Barzal was for you. He starts desperately rambling about how the two of you can make it work. Yes, long distance is hard, but he believes it’s worth it — believes you can love him like he loves you if you’ll take the risk. Why else would you have spent a year with him if some part of you didn’t think so? You put up with his relentless hockey schedule when you had every reason to walk away and live your life like the other twenty somethings you surround yourself with.

You disagree though. Long distance would only complicate things further. The different timezones would be unforgiving to your conflicting work schedules. Mathew often didn’t get long enough breaks to be able to fly out and see you and it be worth it. Plus, an international flight once a month, maybe more? It sounded like a good idea but eventually his wallet would suffer. You certainly couldn’t do it with the salary you were starting at, nor would you risk losing your job by unimportant travel to see a man. It was a negative and closed off way of looking at it on your part, but for both of your sake, it was best that way.

“It’s impossible…”

“It’s not impossible, you just don’t want to try!” Mathew yells, unable to care that his neighbors have more than likely heard every word of your argument.

“Mat, I have had the best year of my life here in New York. I’ve made memories that I could never in a million years forget. You are a part of that. I love you, God, do I fucking love you, but admit it. This was never meant to be long term. Not with the paths our lives are taking. We were never meant to last forever,” you stand from the bed and stare at him across the room, pleading with him to look at it from your perspective. You wanted to leave this in a good place, friends possibly, if he could accept what this was at face value. Two people who loved each other very much, but weren’t meant to be. The cliche ‘right people, wrong time’.

Mathew couldn’t though, he wouldn’t. He was blinded by a rage that he had never felt before. You had wasted his time — a year that he could’ve spent entertaining pretty girls who threw themselves at him for a quick fuck. Partying with his teammates and friends and reveling in his success that was only growing with every game he played. He finds himself wishing he had left you alone that night outside of the bar and just gone home. He lets the fury coursing through his veins take over, and with his fists shaking at his sides, he grits out in a low voice, “Get out.”

His words don’t shock you. You don’t know what other outcome you hoped would come from this. It doesn’t stop the stabbing pain that shoots through the center of your chest though. He won’t even look at you, hard gaze concentrated at your feet with his jaw set tight. You fight the urge to go to him. Wrap your arms around him and take it all back. Promise him you’ll stay even though you’d be sacrificing everything. It wasn’t fair to you, so you force your feet to carry you out of the bedroom and out of his front door for the last time. The sobs come once you’re in the elevator, then again in your friend’s (who was nice enough to give you a ride to the airport) car while they held you.

A few seconds after Mathew hears the front door shut, he’s tugging at his dark hair and letting out an agonizing shout. His breathing is ragged as he paces the room and debates running after you, but what would he say? The argument seemed final. You were set in your plan to take off to France and he couldn’t change your mind — he couldn’t make you stay. So he sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. He squeezes his eyes shut and allows himself to feel the heartbreak, a guttural sob passing his lips.

Mathew closes his eyes and sucks a deep breath into his lungs as the memory fades. His heart is heavy in his chest as he reaches over and retrieves his phone from the bedside table. There’s a text from Anthony sent in the early hours of the morning, asking if he’d made it home safely. He doesn’t reply, instead opening the Instagram app and pulling up your profile.

His breath catches in his throat as he looks at your most recent picture. You changed your hair, a slightly different cut and a different color, but you’re just as breathtaking as he always thought you were. You’re sitting at a cafe with a cup of some fancy brew in front of you and the caption is in French, something about dreams coming true. Though, he’s not focused on some silly caption when he can’t take his eyes off of you. You look happy, wearing a smile he used to see when Anthony or one of your friends would sneak a picture of the two of you. Regret floods his body, the memory of the day you left still fresh in his mind. He thinks about liking the post just to tell you that he still loves you and he hasn’t forgotten about you. He exits out of the app before he allows himself to succumb to that urge.

He forces himself out of bed and into the shower before he’s late for practice. He mulls over in his head whether he should text you or not. He knows you more than likely won’t reply with how things ended all those months ago — now that you’ve moved on and you’re happy without him. He wishes he could too, yet he carries so much guilt for the things he said and allowing himself to have his heartbroken in the first place. He misses you like hell and the never ending visions of you plaguing his mind only makes it intensify.

Mathew heads to the rink in silence. He doesn’t speak to his teammates in the locker room and goes through the motions of practice in a daze. He’s not there completely and everyone can see it in his eyes. Anders is planning to pull him aside, Trotz insisting they have a talk and threatening to bench number thirteen until he gets his shit together. Mathew can tell. No one has tried to speak to him and Anthony keeps throwing him a side glance every few minutes. He prepares himself in the brief post-practice shower.

“Barzy, mind hanging back for a sec?” his captain asks as the other guys begin to filter out of the room.

He huffs out a sound of agreement while fishing his phone out of his duffel bag. His mom usually texts him a few times a week so he needs to let her know that he’ll give her a call later. He nearly drops the device as his eyes hone in on one message. Anders is talking but his heart is pounding so loudly in his ears he can’t hear him. He clicks on your name and feels every nerve in his body ignite at what the text message says.

I miss you. I’m coming home.

tagging the gc bc I love them @bricksatlandyswindow @butgilinsky @barzysthighs @babytkachuks @dmonchld @anxietyandtacos @sortagaysortahigh

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starlightinhumanform · 5 years ago

Text

Midas

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Loceit, Background Platonic Logincality

Summary: Greek myth tells of King Midas who could turn anything he touched to gold. Damian hates New Years but when his friends drag him to a party, he meets a man makes everything around him just a little better.

Warnings (in order of strength): A lot of drinking/alcohol mentions/partying (none underage), Mild language throughout, (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Fluff, Mild Angst with a happy ending, Human (college) AU

A/N: Deceit’s name is Damian in this fic :) ALSO I know there’s quite a few younger kids in this fandom and if you’re reading this (first of all, hi I love you) please please PLEASE do not take this fic as an inspiration to abuse alcohol. Underaged drinking/partying can be extremely dangerous. Ok enough being serious!! I hope you enjoy! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Link Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Damian wasn’t a fan of New Years. It shouldn’t mean anything- he knew that. It was just another random day; the fact that people liked to put special significance on it didn’t actually do anything.

But all the talk of new times got into his head, made him think. It made him think about how many things had changed- the friends he had lost, the goals he had once held dear now thrown away. It made him think about how little he had grown- the bitterness he held onto, the stagnation that had settled across him. He was in his third year of grad-school; soon he would be shoved out into the real world with no academic purpose to shelter him.

“New Year, New Me.” Damian didn’t even know who he was.

If there was one thing he hated more than New Years, it was New Years parties. He would go so far as to say the things were the bane of his existence. The music was bad, people got loud and overly exuberant, and strobe lights were used were used far more than ever reasonable. Alcohol always floated around with disturbing prevalence. He hated how fuzzy it made his head- throwing off his balance and slowing his thoughts- but at least it made the party easier to handle.

Damian threw back a shot of cheap, bight blue tequila and winced as it hit the back of his throat. Disgusting. Just because he was trying to get drunk didn’t mean he lacked class.

He set the glass down on a table behind him so he could pretend he hadn’t touched the repulsive thing. He was sitting on a sofa tucked against the back corner of a living room in a house he had never been to before. Next to him, someone was already passed out. They would be starting their new year with a killer hangover.

Across the room, he could see the friends who had dragged him to the houseparty. Roman and Patton were dancing in a crowd of other students, broad grins painted across both of their faces. At least they were happy.

A young man weaved his way through the crowd and threw himself onto the sofa next to Damian with a mixture of disdain and defeat. Damian had seen him around a few times; they had a philosophy class together the last semester. What was his name? Lucas? Landon? Bradon?

“Hey,” Lu-nd-on elbowed him in the side, “You want some champagne?”

Damian raised an eyebrow as he turned to face the man, “Excuse me?”

He pulled a bottle of champagne from somewhere in his coat. The gold foil at the top was already ripped away and he popped the cork off with ease, taking a swig before offering it.

Damian tried not to stare incredulously, but it was a difficult task when his brain was short-circuiting, “Did you just drink out of a champagne bottle like it was a beer?”

“Sure. Why not.”

Damian reached out hesitantly to take the bottle. He was beginning to doubt that this actually was the guy he had shared a class with. That one looked like the type who wouldn’t have been caught dead at a party. The only similarity was the way they dressed- round wireframe glasses, a corduroy jacket over a black button down, and black skinny jeans. His hair- dark brown and pulled into a long ponytail- was the same too.

“Did- did we have a class together?” He took a drink. It was good- expensively good.

“Historical philosophy. You probably don’t remember me- my name’s Logan. You’re Damian, right?”

“Yep. I hear I’m kind of hard to forget,” Damian waved his hand at the dark red birthmark that stretched messily across the left side of his face.

“No. Well, yes. That is, I remember you for a different reason.”

Logan stared at him like he was supposed to understand what that meant. Damian stared back, hoping to convey the fact that he, in no way, understood what was going on.

“So, uh,” Damian searched for something to keep the conversation going, “can I ask about the champagne?”

“You’re asking why I have it?”

Damian nodded, “I am, yeah. Also why you pulled it out of your jacket?”

“As for the first question: people seem to have made a tradition out of getting wasted on New Years Eve and I decided to join them this year.”

Damian had never heard someone speak so matter of factly about getting drunk. He shook his head, laughing, “So you bought an entire bottle of champagne? There are easier methods, you know that right?”

“If you’re referring to the blue monstrosity everyone keeps offering, please know that I’m not a heathen.”

“Oh, so you tried one of those awful things too?”

Logan rolled his eyes with a ruthful smile, “I may have made that mistake.”

Damian handed the bottle back to Logan who took another drink before locking his gaze on Damian’s eyes. He stared like there was a problem in them and he just couldn’t figure out how to solve it. Damian was used to people staring, but not like this. Usually, they would take one look at him and their eyes would glaze over. Whatever the conversation might be, they would always be partially focused on the splatters some god had painted on his face long before he had a say in the matter. It wasn’t that Damian disliked his birthmark. He just hated the way people always saw it instead of him.

But Logan. He was looking at him. Into him, through him. He had no idea what to do with that.

Damian laughed nervously, “What are you looking at?”

Logan cleared his throat and stared out into the crowd, “Anyways I had it in my jacket because these people are all animals and I’d prefer they didn’t rob me of my 35 dollar champagne.”

Logan had handed him the bottle back and Damian choked on the mouthful he had been trying to drink, “I’m sorry, what? So let me get this right: you bought a champagne bottle which is worth more than I usually spend on food for a week. And now you are sharing it with me of all people?”

“Why not you of all people?”

Logan was staring at him again like answers to all of these riddles were obvious.

Damian blinked back, feeling more lost than he had in years. Even that stupid Advanced Geometry course he had decided to take in his freshman year hadn’t screwed him over this badly. Maybe the alcohol was finally getting to him. It would explain why he couldn’t hold a single coherent thought and why he was so hypnotized by the pale freckles that dusted Logan’s nose and cheekbones. They were so light they nearly melted into his skin and seemed to be phasing in and out off existence as the dim lighting played against Logan’s face. He had never noticed them before. Then again, he had never gotten this close before. It was a shame; Logan was mesmerizing. Damian wished he could get closer.

“So what are you going to do after we get out of here?”

It took Damian a moment to realize Logan was asking about a career and not what he would be doing after the party once they left- apparently together. That would have been strange; it was weird his brain even jumped to that conclusion. Maybe he should stop drinking that damn champagne.

He sighed as his mind returned to the actual question. He wanted to make something up, hide behind a lie of certainty and determination. But it was too much work to weave that fabrication together. Especially on the spot. Especially with how his head was feeling. Especially in front of Logan. He hung his head, “Honestly I have no clue. I’ve always been interested in social sciences but beyond that... no plan, no clue.”

A beat of silence played out between them.

“So what about you?” The forced brightness in his voice tasted fake and bitter in his mouth.

“I want to teach sciences,” Logan’s eyes glittered.

“A college professor, huh? I could definitely see it,” Logan handed him the bottle and Damian threw yet another swallow back. Didn’t he say he was going to stop?

“High school level, actually.”

“Really? That doesn’t seem-“ Damian pointed at the champagne bottle in an attempt to remind Logan of what a bougie, extra bitch he was, “ -sophisticated enough for you.”

Logan shrugged, “I kind of have a fascination with high schoolers-“

“Ok, that’s creepy.”

“Not like that! I mean the culture, the slang, the way it’s its own little society interacting within a larger one!” Logan’s face had split into a grin as he talked, waving his hands excitedly.

Damian didn’t even resist urge to smile back. Seeing Logan like this, well, there was something contagious about it. He couldn’t help but feel slightly in awe of the passion he saw in Logan, “You really like this stuff, don’t you?”

Logan nodded vigorously, “Do you know the new word high schoolers today have invented and are using?”

“Hmm?” Damian prompted. Anything to keep Logan talking like this. Damian wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep Logan talking. It had something to do with the way warmth was spreading out from his core in a way that was far gentler than anything drinks could do.

“Yeet.”

In the adjoining room Damian could see two groups standing on opposite tables chanting “Yeet, Yeet, Yeet, Yeet” as they tossed a smaller student (who looked like they were having the time of their life) back and forth.

“Uhh, I think college kids use that too,” Damian didn’t want to burst Logan’s bubble but he felt like he was losing his mind. At any moment he was going to start cackling.

Logan paused, giving him a pointed stare, “Maybe you do.”

Damian broke. He collapsed forward, glad he had handed the bottle back as he wrapped his arms around his shaking body. He could hardly breathe but he couldn’t stop laughing either. His head was light and buzzing warmly. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but as tears started streaming out of his eyes, he knew he was officially drunk. Who gave a shit? That had been his goal, right?

He fell all the way down, letting his head land on Logan’s knee. He still couldn’t stop laughing even though it had developed solely into wheezes at that point.

Damian felt a hesitant hand tap on his back before actually settling there, “Are you ok?”

Damian sat up and wiped away the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes, “Bro, you’re so judgmental.”

Logan’s face shifted from concern into a scowl, “Oh. Sorry.”

The heavy bass of whatever song was playing took over the space between them. Damian kept thinking about destroying that gap. All he would have to do would be lean over, rest himself against Logan, maybe fall asleep. Maybe it was the overpriced buzz in his head talking, but he felt safe around Logan.

Out of the blue, Logan stood up, adjusting the hem of his jacket as he turned to face Damian, “Well, I won’t be bothering you anymore. Maybe I’ll see you around campus sometime. You can finish that if you want.”

Damian looked down by his feet where Logan was pointing to the champagne bottle, “Wait, I don’t understand. You’re leaving? Where?”

Logan glanced around, looking anywhere but Damian’s face. Damian was used to that but this felt different. Logan was different. At least under usual circumstances, he knew why people so adamantly refused to acknowledge his existence. He made them uncomfortable; he didn’t like it, but he got it. Here, he was absolutely clueless.

Logan finally managed to make eye contact. He was trying for a smile but as an expert liar, Damian could see straight through to the grimace beneath, “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find someone else who will tolerate my presence for a few moments.”

“Hey,” Damian acted on impulse. After all, Logan’s hand was just hanging there. It was far too empty. And at the moment, reaching forward to grab Logan’s wrist was Damian’s only way to insure that Logan wouldn’t walk away. He knew Logan was a smart guy and would probably see his honeyed whines as deception, but he had to try, “You’re really just going to get me drunk and then ditch me? Who knows what could happen?”

Logan’s eyebrows creased but he didn’t say anything. He looked like he was in pain, eyes sharp and teeth clenched behind a grimace. It was enough to make Damian drop his hand.

“Logan, it’s entirely your choice but if you would like to stay with me, I would enjoy that very much,” Truth wasn’t his strong suit, but he figured it was worth a try.

Logan squinted at him, confused or at least doubtful, “I thought you disliked my judgmental attitude.”

Damian groaned, “Dude... I didn’t mean it like that. I thought it was funny. I think you’re funny.”

“Oh,” Logan looked like he was having a hard time processing Damian’s words. It made him wonder just how many of those tequila shots Logan had thrown back before walking over. He had to be drunk. It was the only way to explain why he was acting so strange.

Damian reached out again and slowly pulled Logan back. He was hesitant but didn’t resist. Logan sat down next to Damian as if he didn’t understand his own actions. His eyes picked Damian apart like he was looking for the fine print.

“You’re sure you don’t mind me?” Logan’s expression was completely open. He was looking for the truth and Damian didn’t think he’d be able to lie if he wanted to. It was a good thing he didn’t need to.

He smiled, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Oh. Ok,” Logan settled back into the couch but his eyebrows were still weaved together. Apparently his programs finished running because he suddenly turned to Damian, grinning brightly, “I’m glad.”

Damian smiled back. He was happy to see Logan with that sparkle back, if a little confused as to how he had caused it, “You’re glad... I don’t mind you?”

Logan nodded, “Some people think I’m a little strange.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Damian winced and tried to rush out his next words, “Not, like, I think you’re strange- I think you’re really cool. I just mean people think I’m strange too.”

Damian swore he could map constellations in the stars floating in Logan’s eyes, “You think I’m cool?”

He shrugged, “I mean, yeah. You always seem to have it all together and you have determination and goals and it’s so obvious that you’re going to reach them. That passion is rare to see any more. I mean, I don’t have any of that. You don’t know how much I looked up to you in that class.”

Logan blinked at him like a deer in headlights for a moment before he began frowning, “But you’re incorrect.”

Damian looked up from where had been trying to see how much champagne was left in the bottle, “What do you mean?”

“You obviously have passion. You always had points to bring up during discussions and it was clear you had deep interest in the topics. You don’t know how in awe of you I was. You always found the least likely angle to take and still managed to make a convincing argument,” Logan took the bottle out of Damian’s frozen hands and took a drink, “It was art.”

Damian opened his mouth but all memory of speech had escape him. He looked away, trying to find something safe to stare at while he tried to gather his thoughts. His head was full of fragments, dulled glass shards that floated through fog and bumped against the edges of his mind. It hurt to try to put them all back together into one piece.

So Logan had noticed him in that class. And had remembered him; quite clearly it seemed. Except the way he was talking... nobody had ever spoken to Damian that way before. He was tempted to ask Logan if he had mistaken him for someone else.

He found his eyes wandering down to the space between them. More accurately, he was staring at how little space there was between them. When Logan had sat down the second time, he had done so right next to Damian. Like, right next to him. Now their legs were pressed together, hips and knees bumping together every time one of them shifted. Damian marveled at the fact that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Damian?” He looked up into Logan’s concerned face. God, they were so close, “Are you ok? Your eyes kinda glazed over.”

Damian laughed. It sounded breathy and far away, “Yeah, I’m good.”

From another room, someone started yelling, “LAST 15 MINUTES OF THE YEAR!!”

Logan squinted down at his watch before glaring in the direction of the voice, “There’s only five minutes left.”

Damian chuckled, watching the lines of Logan’s frown as he grimaced at the sea of people around them. There was something endearing about the blunt disdain Logan had for the idiots around them. It was nice to know he didn’t fit into that group, that he had- by some miracle- managed to fit into Logan’s bubble.

“So... you usually celebrate New Years like this?” Logan had suddenly become quite fidgety, wringing his hands in his lap. Damian tried to ignore it. He was having a hard enough time working on his own thoughts; he couldn’t even begin picking apart Logan’s thoughts.

Damian shook his head, “You mean a party? Nah, I usually don’t even celebrate. What about you?”

“Same. I don’t generally go to parties at all.”

Ah, so Damian’s original impression had been correct, “So what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Logan deftly avoided the question with a smirk. Damn, he was good at this.

Damian rolled his eyes, “Some friends dragged me here. Now you tell me what a straight-laced nerd like you is doing in a place like this.”

Logan snorted, “Don’t remember the last time anyone described me as straight- anything.”

“What?”

Damian wanted to shake his head like a dog getting out of water. Maybe then, the pieces would fall into some sort of pattern he could recognize. So Logan wasn’t straight. Why did that make him so happy?

He ran his hands through his hair and tried to gain some composure, “Ok, so what is someone like you doing in a place like this?”

Logan looked out across the crowd, his mouth a tight line. On the other side of the room someone took a running start and flung themselves on a pool table that had currently been in use. The thing cracked in half.

“I was-,” Logan paused, hands tapping quickly against his leg, “-convinced.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, “I’ve never heard someone talk so ominously about going to a party; what is that even supposed to mean?”

Logan winced. His hands were doing full cardio now, clenching into fists over and over again, “I was told someone was going to be here. I just really wanted the chance to talk to him again.”

“But you’ve only talked to me.”

“Yes,” Logan gave him that stare again like Come on, dude, the puzzle pieces are right there- just put them together. He rubbed his eyes in his hands, “Maybe this was a mistake. I didn’t mean to get you drunk. I thought you’d still be able to figure out-“

Click.

Damian’s mouth fell, “Wait, I’m the one you wanted to talk to?”

Logan gave him a small smile. It was the first time Damian had seen him look unsure of himself, “Well, yeah.”

“Oh,” Damian’s head was swimming. He could have blamed it on the champagne or how late it was or the way the lighting had began strobing, flickering between bright neon shades. But he knew that wasn’t it. He couldn’t lie this time- not even to himself.

Logan’s eyes were wide, staring into Damian. Not into his eyes- him. It was unnerving in the best way possible. The shifting light played across his irises, making them every colour of the rainbow.

“Is that ok?”

Logan’s voice startled him back to the present. He had leaned forward, supposedly to be heard above the shouting that had started. Amongst all of the raised voices, Logan’s had only gotten lower. His breath played against Damian’s ear.

Damian looked up, startled slightly but smiling, “Yeah, yeah, that’s good. That’s great.”

Logan smiled, “Yeah? Great?”

He was definitely leaning forward.

Damian huffed out a sigh but smiled even wider, “Shut up. I’m pretty sure you’re drunk.”

Logan scoffed, “And you’re not? You’re a total lightweight.”

“Shut up.”

“TEN!”

The entire house shook as the ridiculous number of students began screaming in unison

“You know, it’s also tradition to kiss someone on New Years,” Logan looked infuriatingly smug.

“NINE!”

Damian usually hated this part, everyone around him creating one huge voice- everyone but him.

Damian raised an eyebrow, “Are you asking to kiss me?”

“EIGHT!”

What he always hated most was the way the entire world seemed to be celebrating- without him. The whole damn planet filled with joy for one tiny moment and he could never figure out why.

Logan smiled like the Cheshire Cat- except the Cheshire Cat had just won the lottery, “Maybe.”

“SEVEN!”

At this point, his heart rate usually would have been spiking, feeling the pressure of “new opportunities” pressing all their expectant eyes on him.

Damian laughed, “Did you come over to talk to me just so you could get a kiss tonight?”

“SIX!”

There was always a part of Damian that would scorn him for not being happy, question why he had turned out to be such a sad, useless lump while everyone else was happily looking forward to the future.

“No,” Logan set his jaw like a stubborn toddler, “I came over here to talk to you so I could get a kiss from you tonight.”

“FIVE!”

No matter what he did, the New Year would plague him. His whole apartment complex would rattle as chanting counted down. The first hours of the year would often find Damian wandering through empty streets, desperate to escape the celebration.

Logan slid his hand onto Damian’s knee, “So can I? Kiss you?”

“FOUR!”

The whole event was just one monstrous reminder. It was an ugly mar on the calendar that whispered Look at all the things you’ve ruined. Look at how far you’ve fallen. Look at how little your future holds.

Damian nodded dumbly. His heart was pounding in his ears.

“THREE!”

New Year made him think of his parents. He always put on a bright mask for them, feeding them lies of empty aspirations and opportunities that didn’t exist. How would they feel to know their son was barreling headfirst into a dead end?

Damian was learning he didn’t need alcohol; Logan was intoxicating enough. The shine in his eyes, the self-satisfied tug to his lips, the way he kept getting closer and closer- it made Damian’s thoughts slow to a halt and everything around him lose focus.

“TWO!”

Every year, the day after would be exactly like the day before. Everyone else seemed to be determined to make themselves better. As much as he searched, Damian could never find the ways to change. New Years was usually taunting, reminding him that he would always be broken and would never be able to fix himself.

Logan’s hands played across his chest, smoothed over his shoulder, ran through his hair. His eyes found Damian’s soul. Damian couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“ONE!!”

Damian had always hated New Years.

Logan leaned all the way forward and his lips were on Damian’s. It was deeper than Damian was expecting, both of their mouths slightly open. Logan kept surging forward with his whole body, destroying the few inches left between them. Damian happily followed his lead, mindlessly falling into synchronous rhythm as Logan kept moving his lips. Except it wasn’t just his lips; Logan kissed with his whole body. He leaned against Damian and his hands were always roaming, leaving little touches as they danced over Damian’s body.

Sure, Damian had kissed other guys before. But he was pretty sure this was the first time anyone had kissed him.

One of Logan’s hands found its way to Damian’s face. His fingers tapped lightly across his birthmark. Damian remembered the kids who stared without shame, the eyes that would dart away as soon as they saw him, the way he could never hold a conversation without his birthmark joining as an unwanted guest star. Logan hadn’t done any of that. Damian had no words to describe what that man was but he liked it.

Damian broke away, completely out of breath. He had no idea how long they had been kissing- it could have been hours for all he knew- but his lungs didn’t have the same luxury of losing track.

Logan’s chest was heaving as it pressed against Damian’s side. His eyes were wide and glazed, staring a million miles away.

“Hey, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes regained their sharp focus. He smiled brightly, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

“You’re a dork. But really,” Damian sighed, “thank you.”

Logan gave him a puzzled smile, “What for?”

“I’m pretty sure this is the first New Year I’ve ever actually enjoyed,” Damian snuggled himself closer to Logan, smiling when he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders.

Logan spoke with measured, careful words, “If you like, we could, you know, make our own New Years tradition out of this.”

Damian could feel his eyelids falling and rising every time he blinked like the great velvet currents of a theatre. They were heavy and he was warm and his head was a vague haze. He yawned widely and wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist, “I don’t think we have to wait until New Year to do this again.”

He fell asleep listening to Logan stuttering out some happy response. Maybe New Years wasn’t so bad.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist just send me an ask or reply to this post :p

~ @phan-fander @abi-beehive ~

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is0gild · 4 years ago

Text

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 23

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 11,552

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"Sorry, did I miss a point back there where my car transformed into a submarine to cross the Atlantic Ocean?"

I turned my head towards Lea, knitting my eyebrows together. "Pardon?"

"Well I just don't see how else we would have ended up at freaking Buckingham Palace," he muttered, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while the other tipped his aviators forward for a better look at the mansion at the end of the long, extravagant driveway he was currently cruising his car down. He gave a low whistle, "Shit, all it's missing are those dudes in the highschool band uniforms and big fuzzy hats."

Rolling my eyes, I snorted softly. "Oh come now, it's not that big."

He scoffed, "'Not that big' is something girlfriends say about their exes to protect their insecure boyfriends' fragile male egos. It's not what you say about the Taj Ma-fucking-hal here."

The dreaded weekend was upon us at last.

You know. The Weekend. Capital T, capital W.

Aka, the visit with my parents.

Operation Boyfriend But Shh Not Really was about to be tested to the extreme limits.

The chateau in question (maybe villa would be a better word? Or manor, perhaps? Really, it wasn't big at all, Lea was just exaggerating) belonged to my parents. This was the home I'd grown up in. It was weird coming back here now after all that had happened. Was still in the process happening, I suppose. My fingers fidgeted with my braid as the mansion loomed ever higher the closer we got.

Actually… now that we were more up close and I was really seeing it again… oh gosh, it was rather enormous, wasn't it?

...had it somehow grown in size since last I-?

Shush, now, don't be ridiculous. That was just the anxiety talking.

Of which I was in no short supply of. I still had no clue what was in store for this weekend. Anna seemed almost just as much in the dark as I was, which was strange seeing as how she still lived here. Then again, I was pretty sure she'd been spending a lot less time around home lately in favor of staying over at her new boyfriend's place. A man I still surprisingly knew absolute zilch about, but I was hoping Anna had invited him to join us for this weekend as well. That way, I'd get to meet him and maybe even have a little of the attention taken off me. Long shot, I know, considering he was only Anna's still relatively new beau whereas I'd skipped out on my own wedding and shamed my whole family (apparently), so this guy was kind of small potatoes by comparison. But hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

It was actually Friday evening right now, so we were going to be in for more of a long weekend - in every sense of the word. Lea and I had both worked early shifts today before going to our respective homes, getting changed, packing bags for staying over for two nights and then finally heading up. Not knowing what this weekend was going to entail was wreaking no small amount of havoc on my nerves. That said, it could have been worse. Pretty sure I'd actually been more nervous for the audition a couple days ago than I was for this. Maybe that was because the audition had just been so last minute, whereas I'd been preparing for this little get-together for a couple weeks now. Even I had to admit that Lea and I made a pretty convincing couple at this point. Sure, I still got a bit awkward with PDAs, but I was no longer anywhere near as bad as I had been the day I'd seen father at my old condo.

...then again, doing the whole relationship act around the mall for the past couple weeks was one thing. Trying to pull off the same charade in front of my parents now, not to mention the Duke as well? Probably was going to be a lot more complicated.

I really had no idea what was going to happen the moment we passed through those ornate double doors leading into my parent's home.

But I was about to find out.

Whether I liked it or not.

"Alright, we made it," Lea announced as he parked the car next to the big fountain in the middle of the circle driveway, shutting off his engine. He shot me a grin, "You ready for this, my lil sötnos?"

I blinked over at him, then narrowed my eyes. "Do I even want to know?"

"It's a Swedish term of endearment. Its literal translation is sweet nose. And if yours ain't the sweetest, I dunno what is," his grin twitched wider as he reached over to tweak said nose.

"Sweet n-" I groaned, swatting his hand away. "Veto."

"Aw c'mon, I thought that one was cute!" he gave a little whine. I just drooped my eyelids at him and he sighed, stretching over to open his glove compartment and pull a black marker from it. "Guess America's just not ready for the sweet nose," he grumbled, pulling the cap off with his teeth and marking something off on his palm.

I frowned. "...what are you doing?"

"Regrettably giving up on what is arguably the greatest pet name of all time, that's what."

"No, I meant with your hand." I snatched his in both mine, yanking it over in front of my face to discover a small list written on the inside of his palm, located at the top of which was sötnos with a line struck through it. "...are these... more terms of endearment for me?"

He smirked as he leaned in closer to stare down at his palm alongside me. "Yup! Since the big weekend's here, figured I'd best come prepared. This is important stuff we gotta nail down!"

I squinted at the words before me, reading, "Kruzynko…?"

"It means breadcrumb."

Scrunching up my nose, I stole the marker from him and crossed that one off. "No. Bogárkám?"

"My little bug," Lea supplied, sounding more confident in this one.

A snerk. "Nope," I popped the P. And another one bites the dust. My tongue tripped uncertainly over the next one, "Blodyn tatws?"

"Heh… potato flowers?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh wow, I love that one."

He perked up, "Really?"

"Absolutely... not," I said flatly, looking him dead in the eye as I drew a line across it as well.

"Aw man, not cool!" He pouted, then pursed his lips to one side. "Hey, is now really the best time to be doing this? We, uh…" he chuckled sheepishly, holding up his second hand to reveal a whole other list scrawled on that one too, "...might end up being here all day."

I stared blankly at him. "Just how many more of those do you have?"

"I'd show ya, but that'd require me going a lil more half monty than you'd probably prefer I'd get in your parent's driveway."

My brow furrowed and I leaned away slightly, eyeing him up and down. "...where…?"

He waggled his eyebrows at me, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

I let his hand drop from my grasp, "I'm good, thanks." As he snickered, I looked away, rubbing my fingertips over one of my (now brought to a low simmer) cheeks. "Can't you just stick to El? It's simple. Nice… I like El."

"You do?" I heard him ask and I directed a furtive sideways glance in his direction. A slow smile was curling his lips, "Alright… El it is." But then he was peeking down at his palm again. "...and also krúttið mitt."

Biting back a grin, I swat his shoulder. "How would you like it if I kept calling you some weird pet name in a foreign language all the time?"

Lea beamed, "I'd like it very much actually."

"Really? Fine," I took up his hand again, scrutinizing his palm, "...mo chuisle it is then."

His eyes lit up, "Ooo, that one's spicy!"

Oh dear, why had I thought this was a good idea again?

"...what's it mean?"

He bent towards me, eyes hooded as he purred, "You just called me your pulse."

I've made a grave error this day.

"Ah-ah!" he chirped, pressing a finger to my lips as they began to part. "Too late! No take-backsies!"

I huffed, unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me.

Lea looked far too smug as he climbed out himself, retrieving both our bags from the backseat of the car on his way out and slinging them over his shoulder. He removed his aviators, hooking them into the collar of his black, fitted v-neck shirt as his eyes took in the mansion before us once again. He'd reclaimed his leather jacket to wear for this, accompanied by snug jeans tastefully ripped at just one knee and a pair a black, heavy, steel-toed boots. He'd blinged out a bit as well, sporting a small sun medallion that hung from a chain down to his mid-chest, along a few strappy leather bracelets and a couple of rings decorating his fingers. His winged guyliner was somehow even darker and bolder than usual and his hair had been pulled back into a half-tail.

Not going to lie, my traitorous fingers practically itched to pet that little red tuft at the back of his head.

Instead, I settled for fussing with the necklace that rested against my skin just above my collarbone. The pendant was formed of three blue, almond-shaped gemstones gathered together at one point. A present from Rayne to wish me luck on this trip. I was a much bigger fan of her good luck charm than I had been of the one Lea had "gifted" me with for the musical tryouts. I wore the small charm with a classic little wrap dress in a soft lilac. Off the shoulder of course - it was me we were talking about here, so you can probably guess it before I even say it at this point - and with the hem of the skirt flaring out around the knees.

Needless to say, looking at him and me side-by-side right now, it was clear one of us was either severely over or underdressed. Considering it was my parents' door we were about to knock on, one guess as to who was what.

"Try not to scratch the paint, chief!" Lea chipperly called out as he was suddenly tossing his keys at one of the staff under my parents' employ who just so happened to be walking past us in that second.

Eyes widening, the man fumbled to catch them. As Lea turned to head towards the front door, I followed, quirking my eyebrow at him. "What was that?"

"I'm blending in," he flashed a cheeky smile, shoving a hand into one pocket of his jacket. "Whatcha think, do I sound like a rich asshole or what?"

I tipped my head to one side. "...actually, you kind of sounded like my ex."

A snort escaped through his nose. "I'll take that as a yes then."

We walked a couple steps in silence. Then, "That wasn't a valet, by the way."

He froze midstep, looking at me sharply. "What?"

"That was a gardener. My parents don't even have a valet."

"Oh." Lea glanced back over his shoulder, frowning. "...maybe I should go get my keys back then."

I hid a small grin behind my fingers. "Maybe you should."

Waiting politely, I watched him jog back towards the worker to do just that, along with offering what looked to be quite the humble apology. "Got 'em!" he declared once he'd rejoined me, flinging them up into the air before catching them again to slip into his pocket. "So even a proper gent like your old man feels the need to prove what a hot, young stud he still is, eh? Wouldn't of thought him the type."

"What?" I blinked a couple times. Where'd that come from?

He tossed his chin back towards his vehicle. More specifically, at the few other cars he'd parked next to. "I recognize Anna's Porsche over there, but that blue Ferrari reeks of midlife crisis."

"...that's my car." Then I grimaced and amended, "Rather, was my car."

"Huh?" he looked taken aback. "You drive? Since when?"

I gave a small shrug, "Since always."

"Then why're you always having me n' your roomies chauffeur you around? Not that I mind..."

"I don't have a car or the funds to purchase one." He wordlessly jerked his thumb back towards the Ferrari, face blank. I sighed, "My parents bought me that. It didn't feel right keeping it after… everything. Not with me trying to separate myself from them and make it on my own. No, I plan to buy my own once I've saved up enough."

"Shit, still shoulda kept it," Lea said and I gave him a dull look. He hastily waved a hand in front of him, "Even if ya didn't want it, you coulda sold it and made bank before giving all that munny away to charity. Ya know, just so you could really stick it to your folks."

Shaking my head with a soft chuckle, I started walking towards the entrance again. "Let's just get on with this."

"Aye aye, Capitaine," he gave me a two-fingered salute, catching up to me with his long strides.

Feeling my chest start to constrict as we drew nearer to those doors, I blew out a soft, slow breath. "I hope we're not late. I shouldn't have let you talk me into that salon visit after we got off work."

"What, you needed something to help ya relax and a quick spa day was just the ticket! 'Sides, I wanted to make myself all pretty for this! Whaddya think?" He stretched his arm out before us both, fingers wiggling to show off his fresh coat of black nail polish. "If this doesn't impress your folks and tell 'em what a man of sophisticated tastes I am, I dunno what will!"

I snorted. "I think my father is more of a mauve man himself."

"Really? Crap, you shoulda said something! I'd have asked for a matching color so he and I could be twinsies! Shucks," he snapped his fingers, "missed opportunity."

Coming to a stop on the doorstep, I reached for the bell, but my fingers hesitated.

This was so strange. I'd lived here. Spent my childhood here. I'd never had to use the doorbell before.

...why did the idea of doing so now seem so hard?

A sudden warmth enveloped my other hand. I looked down to discover Lea was holding it. He gave it a small squeeze as he said softly, "Hey. Whatever happens in there, just know I'm here for you."

I felt a small stutter in my chest as a tiny smile tugged at my lips. "...thank you," I murmured, squeezing back before looking to the doorbell once more. Taking a deep, calming breath, I pushed the button at last and a heavy chime could be heard within.

While we waited, a glimmer of something at Lea's waist caught my eye and I turned to see what it was. A crease formed between my eyebrows. "...is that… a wallet chain?"

How had I missed that thing until now?

"Hm?" he followed my gaze. "Oh! Yup! Heh, thought it might really pull the whole look together! Do I look like a punkass bad boy now or what?"

"Or what," I fixed him with a deadpan stare. "You look ridiculous."

He splayed a hand against his chest in mock offense. "Rude. Can't believe you'd talk to your pulse like that."

Face warming, I hung my head. "...I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?"

"Nope!" he grinned wickedly.

"Would you just take that silly thing off?"

"No can do, sweetcheeks! Boys like to accessorize too, ya know," he sniggered, giving the chain a little twirl. "Just be grateful I left the spiked choker in the glove compartment."

"Spi-?!" I spluttered over the word before managing a scoff and crossing my arms. "Oh, trust me, I am. The point is to get my parents to back off, not to send them into cardiac arrest!"

...huh… Lea in a spiked choker…

"You're trynta imagine what I'd look like wearing it now, aren't ya?" he'd hunched down beside me to whisper into my ear with a smirk.

My cheeks burned so hot, you could have roasted marshmallows on the damn things.

"...am not."

I was almost grateful when the door swung open just then. And also a little surprised, because the face that greeted me wasn't that of my parents' house maid Gerda.

No, instead it was that of a pale, wide-eyed, huffing and puffing Anna.

(With Gerda right behind her, looking quite harried and put out by the fact that my sister had stolen her job.)

"Elsa!" she cried out in relief. "Finally! What took you so long?!"

Furrowing my brow, I began, "Anna? What-?"

"No time! Get." She lunged towards me. "In here." Her hands seized my shoulders. "Now!" I was forcibly yanked inside.

I heard the door booming shut behind me and could only hope that Lea had managed to slip in himself in time as well. Gripping my sister's arms, I tried again, "What's going on? We couldn't be more than a few minutes la-"

Her hand suddenly shot out to squeeze my cheeks together between her thumb and fingers, squishing my face and effectively silencing me. "Shush! No talkie! Only listen! Oh, it's bad, Sis. Really, really bad! It's him! He's here! Like, here here! Right friggin' now!"

"Who's here?" I asked, tugging my face free of her vice-like grip and working my jaw. I knit my eyebrows together at Gerda, who was frantically circling us as she kept trying and failing to get a word in edgewise. "The Duke? I already knew-"

"No! Not the Duke! Of course not, he won't be here until tomorrow! Gah! You know, Sis, sometimes you can be really-" Anna cut herself off in a tiny snarl, fingers curling in front of her to strangle empty air. "Ugh! Anyway, it's- I didn't- It was just- Out of nowhere- Mom and Dad, they- He- His-"

"I think she's trying to tell us something. What is it, Lassie? Timmy trapped in the well again?" Lea snerked as he let our luggage fall to the foyer floor beside his boots.

Ignoring him, I gently rubbed my hands up and down Anna's arms. "Breathe. Calm down. Take a minute to gather your thoughts."

"People!" she suddenly blurted out, startling me a bit. "Lots of them! Loads of them! So many people!"

I frowned. "People? Where? You mean here, now?"

She shook her head rapidly, "No, no, no, no! Not now people! Future people! Tomorrow people! And… and caterers! And musicians! And decorators and, and, and him! He's- Right now, he's- just down the hall, he's- he's-"

"Who, Anna? Who?" I insisted.

Her hands violently shook me, "Him!"

Right. Thanks, Sis. Big help you are.

Why was she like this?

The maid finally managed to pipe in, "What Miss is trying to tell you is that your-"

"Got it, Gerda, thanks!" Anna huffed out with a tiny scowl. Then she took in a deep breath, preparing to say something.

"Crap, I think that dude just robbed us," Lea chimed in first.

Holding a finger up to Anna, I whipped my head around to see what he was talking about: an older gentleman in a black suit walking briskly away with our bags. "Oh, that's just Kai."

Lea cocked an eyebrow at me, "The robber's name is Kai?"

"No, the butler's name is Kai."

"Why would the butler rob us?"

"He's not robbing us, he's just taking our things up to our room." I blanched. "Rooms." Plural. As in more than one. My parents would never, not in a million years, have put Lea and me in the same room under their roof… right? Oh gosh, why was the possibility only just now occurring to me? "He's, uh… he's p-putting them where we'll be staying. Separately. As in, not together. Completely and one hundred percent apart," I (overly) clarified, fighting that blush I felt creeping up my neck now.

Anna suddenly grabbed my head with both hands and forced me to look at her again, grounding out through her teeth, "You're. Not. Listening to me!" Then with a grumbling sigh, she snagged my hand in hers and started dragging me down one of the many corridors that branched off from the foyer. "Come on, we better hurry, they're probably wondering what's taking so long."

Gerda squeaked and scurried after us. "Right this way, please, and I'll see you to the Marigold Room where your hosts await your presence!" she awkwardly trilled, trying to maintain some semblance of performing her duties despite Anna's continued interference.

A whistle from Lea confirmed he was following as well. "Lemme guess. The Duke in the conservatory with the candlestick."

"Wha-?" my voice faltered as my feet tripped trying keep up with Anna, only barely managing to keep myself upright.

He grinned down at me as he strode along, shrugging. "This whole place is a legit, life-sized Clue board. Just trynta play the game here."

I stumbled again. "Ow, Anna! Not so hard. What is the rush?"

Not slowing down, she glanced back at me over her shoulder. "Come on, Elsa, think! What day is it?"

"Uh…" Was this a trick question? "...Friday?"

A low, agitated noise emitted from her throat. "No, what day?"

I squinted up at the ceiling in thought. "...the seventh?"

"Yes!" she spun around to tap her nose excitedly, her feet still moving backwards. "Which would make tomorrow…?"

"The eighth." Lost by this line of questioning? I know I was.

"Of?" she pressed. "What month, Elsa?"

"The eighth of… oh!" It finally clicked and I staggered again, my eyes growing round. "...oh no. It's his birthday. Oh gosh, he's here?! Right now?!"

"Yes! Finally! Thank you!" Anna cried out in exasperation.

"Who?" Lea asked, both eyebrows shooting up his forehead at my sudden change of attitude.

"It's-" I began, but that one word was all I got out before Anna took a sudden sharp turn, yanking me into the Marigold Room with her and bringing us face to face with-

"Grandfather!" I breathed, feet faltering as Anna brought us both to a sudden and jerky stop before him.

He cut an imposing figure, my grandfather. Tall, like father, and with the same red hair too that had been passed down to Anna. His however bore prominent streaks of grey at his temples - really the only sign of him getting on in years as he otherwise looked remarkably good for a man of his age. Still fit as a fiddle, barrel-chested, with a strong, square jaw and a sharp, piercing gaze.

A gaze that was so cold right now that I didn't know how I wasn't frozen into solid ice on the spot.

Anna had been wrong.

This wasn't bad.

This was catastrophic.

Because my grandfather? Not exactly the nicest person. Remember what my father had been like? Well, just think - he'd had to learn it from somewhere. And next to Grandfather, my father seemed warm and cuddly. Like sunshine and rainbows. Heck, Father was as friggin' teletubby by comparison to the man who'd raised him. Grandfather was cut from the same cloth as his brother, the Duke. The epitome of old fashioned and proper etiquette. The thing was, where the Duke was all bluster and tantrums, Grandfather just got quiet when he was angry. Like... really, really quiet. An ominous kind of quiet. A bone-chilling kind of quiet. Whenever Grandfather stopped talking, that's when I really got scared of the man.

No, scratch that. That was when I got petrified of the man.

So the fact that he was just staring down his nose at me right now, eyes narrowed, lips set into a grim, disapproving line, and not uttering a single word? Would have been enough to turn my hair stark white if it weren't pretty damn close already.

And to make matters worse? Mother and Father stood not five feet behind him looking rather unamused with me themselves.

Oh gosh, this wasn't going to be some pleasant, little family gathering.

This was going to be an execution. Mine, to be exact.

Gerda suddenly appeared off to one side, panting to catch her breath and making a hasty curtsy towards my parents and grandfather before announcing, "Elsa and her guest have arrived."

...thanks, Gerda. I think they figured that out already.

I watched as she turned and hurried to make her exit before reluctantly returning my gaze to Grandfather. Still, he said nothing. Just arched one bushy eyebrow at me and waited.

Oh fudge, he wanted me to be the first one to speak? Where do I even begin? What do I even say? Could I even talk right now? I don't think I could, not with how heavy my tongue suddenly felt, like it had turned into solid lead. What was I supposed to do here? How-

Suddenly, I felt it. A hand. Lea's hand, slipping across the small of my back and coming to rest on my hip, pulling me gently into his side. "Aren'tcha gonna introduce me, babe?" he asked, voice low and sugary-sweet as he grinned and pressed a kiss to my temple.

Grandfather's thick mustache gave a little twitch.

That's all it took for me to know. Not thirty seconds into this and there was absolutely zero doubt in my mind.

Before this weekend was out, Grandfather was going to murder Lea.

Inhaling and exhaling, I wrung my hands together and somehow figured out how to do this thing called 'talking' once again. "F-Father, you've already had the, uh… the pleasure, but Grandfather, Mother… this… this is…" I screwed my eyes shut, trying to steel myself.

Come on, Elsa, you can do this. Just one word. Just one measly, little word.

"This is my boooooo-" What was this? What was I doing here? "-oooooooooooooooo-" Why was I stretching the syllable out so friggin' long? What, had I gotten stuck? "-oooooooooooooo-" Dear god, how was there this much oxygen in my lungs? "-oooooooooo-" I didn't think there was even this much oxygen on the whole planet, much less inside my lungs. "-oooyyyyyyy-" Oh good. Progress. At this rate, I'd complete the word sometime this century. "-yyyyyyyyy-"

Anna, my divine saviour and blessed angel of mercy, jabbed her elbow into my gut.

"-friend!" I finished at last with a cough. "Boyfriend. This is my...my boyfriend. Yes. This is he. He is this." A beat. Then, "Lea! By the way. His name, that is. Yup. Lea the Boyfriend. My boyfriend. That's right, Lea is my boyfriend. My boyfriend is-"

"I think they get it, Sis," Anna hissed quietly out of the corner of her plastered-on smile.

Gee, I was getting so good at this whole lying thing, wasn't I?

"Pleased to meet ya, Gramps," Lea stretched out a hand towards him.

Grandfather didn't take it. Instead, he just stared long and hard at it. At the black nail polish and rings adorning it. Finally, he lifted his chin with a sniff and straightened his already ramrod posture even further. "That'll be Sir to you, young man."

"Oo, how formal. Whatever you say," he retracted his hand with a smirk, "Sir Gramps."

This had been a mistake, using Lea as my rent-a-boyfriend.

Actually… no, mistake would be an understatement. This was a powder keg and Lea was a goddamn burning match.

Pushing past my now rigidly stiff grandfather, Lea approached my parents next. "Pops, always a pleasure. Ma'am," he took my mother's hand in his to politely press his lips to the back of it, "lovely to make your acquaintance."

She looked slightly taken aback, blue eyes widening. However, Mother recovered quickly, delicately plucking her fingers from his grip to smooth at the tight bun her brown hair was currently up in before primly folding her hands together just below her waist. When she smiled, it was gracious but tight. "As it is yours," there was a briefest of pauses before she tacked on a hesitant, "Lea. Please, take a seat. Dinner should be ready shortly, but would anyone like a drink prepared while we wait?"

I was relieved to hear Lea answer with, "I'm good, thanks." Because a return of Wine Tipsy Lea was by far the very last thing this situation needed right now. As I declined as well, a quick look around brought to my attention the fact that we were the only two not partaking as it seemed the others had already started before we'd gotten here. Mother and Father were sipping at what looked to be some sort of dark red cabernet, while Anna retrieved her own glass and moved towards the mini bar to refill it - most likely with something sweet, fruity and potent enough to bring down an elephant, knowing her. On the low table around which all the seats gathered was a sturdy glass full of ice and an amber liquid. Probably Grandfather's. Probably bourbon.

I shifted over towards the sofa opposite the table from my parents and all three of us took a seat at the same time. Lea joined me soon after, slipping his arm around my shoulders as he flumped down into the cushions beside me. Grandfather, however, hadn't budged from where he stood since we'd entered the room. Not one inch. "Father," was all my father said to him - partially warning, partially pleading.

Grandfather's mustache twitched again and his left eye ticked. But then he moved to sit down in the armchair in front of the bourbon, snatching up the glass and sullenly nursing it.

Dear lord, this was a nightmare. No, this was Hell. That had to be it - I'd died and was now in my own little corner of the Underworld specifically designed and crafted to torture me in the cruelest way possible. I could already feel the stress burning an ulcer into my stomach and no amount of Lea's fingers lightly trailing up and down my arm would calm me down.

There was no point in putting it off, right? I should just do it now. Bring up the thing that was on all of our minds but no one was talking about. You know, the thing. The wedding thing… or rather, the whole lack of the wedding thing. I should just get this over with. Rip the bandaid off. Getting it all out in the open now had to be better than this. Anything had to be better than this… right?

Hands fidgeting furiously in my lap and this close to dislocating a finger, I licked my dry lips and managed to find my voice. "Perhaps now… we should discuss what exactly h-happened on… on my-"

"That is a topic that would be best saved for later," Father talked over me, his stern voice cutting me off. "Let us speak of other things right now."

My head rocked back at that, my forehead wrinkling. I flicked my gaze over to Grandfather briefly - who was still stewing quietly over his drink - then back to my parents. "But I thought-"

"Now's not the time, Elsa," Mother insisted firmly. "This is not a discussion that will be brief, nor will it be suitable to have over dinner. Besides, your father and I will have our hands full preparing for the party tomorrow evening, so this is a conversation that will just have to wait until the day after."

A frown tugged at my lips. "You're hosting a party?"

"For Grandfather's birthday," Anna plopped down onto the sofa beside me, freshened drink in hand. "Since, ya know, it's such a huge one. The big seven-oh. The whole family is going to be there to celebrate. And I mean, the whole family," she shot me a pointed look over the rim of her glass as she took a swig.

Oh. So that's what she'd meant earlier by "tomorrow people."

Why couldn't she have been this articulate when she'd greeted me at the door?

Mother added, "You are, of course, invited to attend the celebration as well, Lea. I know Father would be thrilled for you to join us."

Uh-huh. Sure. Grandfather looked positively pleased as punch over there at the very prospect.

"Sounds like a blast, count me in," Lea grinned.

Alright so… the birthday soirée would be tomorrow, then The Talk™ would be the day after. Roughly two days… forty-eight hours of waiting and worrying and dreading and- oh dear, I had to wonder what the world record for longest sustained panic attack might be. Start the timer, I was about to shatter that sucker.

A hush fell over the room, with the only sound coming from the clinking of the ice in Grandfather's drink accompanied by the ticking of the ancient but well-kept longcase clock in the corner. The ticking seemed to get louder with each passing second.

After one painfully long minute, Mother was finally the one to break the silence. "So Lea," she began, her eyes intent on him, "please… tell us a little about yourself."

"Where to even begin? Lessee here." Uh oh. I didn't like that little gleam he had in his eye as he rubbed a curled finger over his chin. "Well, I guess ya could say I had the kinda childhood every lil tyke dreams about: full of joy and love and the foster system." It was probably a good thing I hadn't gotten a drink because I'd probably be choking on it right now just like my parents were with theirs. "But I mean, with a druggie dad who bought the farm and a druggie mom who split outta my life first chance she got, where else was I s'posed to go?

"As for the rest after that, let's just give ya the highlights." Now he started ticking off his fingers, "College dropout. Ride a motorcycle. In a hardcore death metal band. Smoke ten packs a day." For the love of… he did remember the part about not giving my parents a heart attack, right? "Just got my thirty-day chip from AA - hey, fifth times a charm, right? Oh, I'm also a wanted felon in three different states. Wait…" he squinted one eye, pursing his lips to the left, "...make that four. Always forget about Connecticut. Which reminds me, I need to check in with my parole officer."

"He's joking!" I said quickly with a tiny, nervous laugh.

"Or am I?" he leaned forward in his seat to whisper conspiratorially, eyebrows bouncing. I pinched his arm, forcing a soft tch from him. "But let's not forget the most important thing ya need to know about me: how completely," he kissed my pinky, "and totally," another one for my ring finger, "head over heels," three more, one for each word and each remaining finger, "I am for your daughter."

Alright, you need to cool your jets, cheeks. This was all just part of the show, after all.

A show that was possibly being performed a bit too well. Grandfather's knuckles had gone so white around his glass, I was surprised the poor thing hadn't shattered into a million pieces yet.

Lea tapped his index to his lips now, "Hmmm, what else? Oh! Got a pretty cool story about this gnarly scar my half-brother gave me with a-"

"Anna!" I suddenly burst out, turning towards her at the same time I snagged Lea's hand, keeping him from lifting the hem of his shirt. She froze mid-sip, glancing at me out of the corner of her eyes. "What about you? What's new with you? You have that new boyfriend of yours, right? What about him, will he be joining us this weekend?"

Who me? Trying to change the subject? Psh, I would never!

She winced, averting her gaze and lowering her drink as she traced a finger around the rim. "Oh jeez, my…? Well... he, er… he was going to make it for dinner tonight but… something… unfortunately came up! But he should definitely be here in time for the party tomorrow, so… don't worry! Heh… I- oo, little cheeses!" she cried out excitedly as Gerda abruptly appeared once more to place a small platter of hors d'oeuvres on the coffee table. Anna immediately proceeded to stuff her face with them before pointing at her bulging cheeks and shaking her head, signaling she could no longer talk.

A crease formed between my eyebrows.

Huh… was it just me or was Anna acting kind of weird?

Maybe the tension around the room just had us all on edge, even her. Yeah, that was probably all it was.

"And you, Elsa?" Father's cool tone snapped my attention back to him. Each word that followed was slow and measured, as if he were picking them very carefully, "Tell us how you have been keeping yourself occupied during these past several weeks."

"Oh!" I gnawed on my lower lip, my fingers already tugging at my braid before I'd even realized it. "Well, I've… reconnected with an old friend - you remember Rayne from when I went to summer camp? Well she's married now with a baby on the way, can you imagine? And… and I've gotten myself a place to live and have found a job and-"

-and auditioned for a musical.

That was what I'd been about to tell them. However when I tried, the words got caught in my throat.

I knew they'd disapprove. That they'd probably scoff and wonder why I was still wasting my time on such childish, useless things. But it wasn't childish or useless, at least not to me. To me, the audition had been so important, had brought me so much happiness. I didn't want to give my parents the chance to belittle and ridicule it. I didn't want them to take this thing that was so special away from me.

So instead I released my braid and folded my hands in my lap, sitting up a little straighter as I simply said, "...and that's it really."

I could sense Lea's eyes on me. I think he knew what I'd purposely omitted. Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut about it.

"So… Lea…" Grandfather spoke up suddenly, his voice dangerously low and making me flinch. "I hear you're in the…" his lip curled in a slight sneer, "...pizza business? Is that right?"

Smirking back, he slouched a bit more comfortably into his seat. "That's right. I sling dough at a lil pizza joint in the local mall food court. Great place by the name of Pizza Planet… you ever been?"

His jaw clenched ever so slightly. "No, can't say that I have. But this... Pizza Planet," he said it like those were the two most offensive words in the english language, "...is that where you see yourself working for the rest of your life?"

Lea chuckled, his hand batting the air, "Nah, that'd just be silly! No, I won't be selling pizza forever." His mouth curved into a cheshire grin, "Instead I'll be selling ice cream."

"He plans to own his own business, Grandfather," I hastily clarified.

"His own business… selling ice cream," he growled, pointer finger incessantly tapping against his glass now. "And this is how you would plan to provide for and take care of my granddaughter."

"Pardon me, Sir Gramps," there was a hint of an edge to Lea's voice now, despite his unwavering smile, "but I was under the impression that your granddaughter was her own person fully capable of taking care of herself."

You know that chilling, goosebump-inducing, hackles-raising energy you can feel crackling in the air right before a devastating storm strikes and ravages the land?

That was exactly how it felt right now in the space between Grandfather and Lea.

Luckily, Gerda appeared in the nick of time to divert the tempest by announcing, "Dinner is ready!"

"Thank you, Gerda," Mother had stood in the blink of an eye and was already making her way over to Grandfather. "If you would be so kind as to escort me, Father?"

His hard, unblinking gaze was still on Lea and for a second it seemed like he hadn't even heard her. But at last he tore his eyes away with a harrumph and put his drink back down on the table with a sharp, audible clink. "Of course, my dear," he said evenly as he rose from his own chair, offering her his arm and leading her out of the room.

I turned to Anna, but before I could say anything she'd already bolted up and around the table to grab both of Father's hands in hers. "C'mon, Dad! Walk me to dinner too!" she yanked him up, startling a soft grunt out of him as he staggered to his feet. Then she was hooking her arm through his elbow and all but dragging him out of the room with her.

What the…?

...maybe Anna was just super hungry?

"I think that went really well!" Lea chirped, giving me a thumbs up.

I merely drooped my eyelids at him and said nothing.

Later that night found me in my old bedroom. I'd deduced this was where I was expected to sleep, seeing as how this was where Kai had deposited my luggage. As suspected, Lea had been set up in one of the guest rooms further down the hall, so it was just me alone in here now.

It felt odd being back in this room. Just like it'd felt odd returning to my parent's home or going back to my old condo. I don't know, I guess I just didn't feel like I... belonged here anymore. Like I was some piece that everyone else was trying to force into the wrong puzzle, even though my edges didn't fit and the picture didn't match at all.

Sighing, I shifted in my chair to face the mirror on my vanity once more - this one a lot nicer than the one we'd scrounged up for my room back at the apartment I shared with Rayne and Riku, as you might imagine. Having just finished combing out my hair, I set my brush aside and my fingers idly went to work on rebraiding as my thoughts began to wander.

Dinner had ended up just being the sequel to drinks in the Marigold Room. My parents had continued to try and maintain some semblance of being hospitable hosts while keeping up strained conversation. Grandfather had continued to be a seething ball of barely-held-in-check fury and I don't think he'd said more than two words for the rest of the evening. Lea had continued to… well, be Lea. And as for my sister…

I quite honestly had no idea what was going on with her. Maybe it was just my imagination but it seemed every time I'd tried to talk to her, something else had always gotten in the way. Like I'd open my mouth to speak but before I could so much as make a peep, she'd already engaged Mother or Father in some new topic. Or I'd ask her a question only to have her look at me, lips pursed shut against a mouth full of food and shoulders shrugging. There was even one time where all I'd said was her name before she'd accidentally knocked over her drink. At least, I thought it'd been accidental… unless...

Could it be that she was... purposely avoiding talking to me? Had I done something to upset her? I couldn't even begin to think what. Last I'd seen her a week ago, she'd been fine. Everything had been normal between us. What could have possibly changed since?

...maybe I was just reading too much into it. It was probably just a lot of coincidence and poor timing. In fact-

There was a knock at my door just then.

Ha! Bet you that was her now. See? Nothing to worry about, I'd just been overthinking it all. Tying off my completed braid, I rose to answer the door.

And indeed, it was a redhead that I found waiting in the corridor on the other side.

Just not the redhead I'd been expecting.

"Lea?" I frowned, both my eyebrows rising.

He snerked, "Yeesh, don't act too excited to see me."

"What? No, I'm- You're just not who I-" I pressed my lips shut, heaving a small sigh through my nose. "...nevermind. What brings you here?"

"Brought ya something," he grinned and for the first time, I realized he was hiding his hands behind his back. "May I come in?"

My head tipped to the right. "Uh...sure," I opened the door wider, my bare feet stepping off to one side as I absently smoothed at my dress - the same one from dinner. Lea had arrived just before I'd been about to change for bed.

He was still in his earlier clothes as well, though he'd left behind his boots and jacket. I couldn't help but notice he hadn't taken that cute little half-tail out of his hair yet. I also couldn't help but notice the way he carefully managed to keep whatever he had behind him out of sight, even as he walked past me into the room. I closed the door and when I faced him, he hunched down to my eye level, "Ya ready?"

I crossed one hand over my abdomen and gestured with the other for him to continue.

"Ta-da!" he brought one hand forward now, revealing a little black strip lined with sharp, metal points dangling from the clasp pinched between his fingertips.

That's right. It was the spiked collar.

...whatever I'd been expecting, it hadn't been this.

My eyes blinked once. Then twice. "...you were serious? You actually have one of those?"

"Course! What, didja think I was lying? I'm offended, madame," he hmphed, putting his free hand to his breast.

I snorted with a roll of my eyes, "Well no, not lying, but more so just joking."

"I never joke about studded leather," he waggled his eyebrows at me.

Nose crinkling, I delicately poked a finger into one of the spikes. "Alright, so why exactly are you showing me this?"

Lea smirked and shrugged. "Your curiosity just seemed so piqued when I mentioned it earlier."

I gave him a flat look. "It was not piqued."

"Keep telling yourself that," he chuckled then paused, eyes crinkling. "...so you wanted to know what it looked like on me, right?"

Cheeks lightly toasted now, I scowled, "I never said-"

He wrapped the thing around his neck, holding it in place with a hand instead of fastening the tiny buckle in back.

Oh.

Oh, I see.

...it was, um… hrm, it was… interesting.

Damn it, face, be cool. That goes double for you, heart! Don't go thinking I can't hear that racket you're making down there!

"Well, I guess that's one mystery solved," was all I said as I glanced away, hand coming up to cover one cheek in a vain attempt to hide the growing blush.

"Glad I could be of service," he murmured as he (mercifully) removed the collar from his throat once more.

"...why do you even own one?" I asked, hesitantly reaching for the accessory now.

He let me take it from him. "Just a relic from my pissed-off, rebellious juvenile delinquent days that I managed to dig up again recently. What a punkass lil poser I was back then, huh?" he hummed a tiny laugh as he looked down at his feet, lightly scuffing one against the carpet.

Intrigued by it now, I turned it over in my hands as he spoke before taking it over to the mirror on my vanity. "I suppose we all try to find different ways to express ourselves when we're young. Just a part of growing up and figuring out who we are," I said distractedly as I watched my reflection bring the choker up to encircle her neck, tilting her head slightly to the left with a thoughtful frown.

"Well I guess that'd make me a-" whatever quip he'd had locked and loaded was forever lost as he made a sudden strangled, choking noise.

I looked over at him sharply, brow furrowing as I lowered the spiked collar once more. "You okay? What happened?"

His fist thumped his chest as he fought for breath, which was making his face red. "N-nothing," he wheezed, rapidly shaking his head. "Just oxygen, man. That shit'll kill ya, am I right? Heh."

I squinted at him dubiously.

Lea was such a weirdo sometimes.

He averted his gaze now, rubbing at the back of his neck. "You, uh… that choker looked good on ya. Like really, really good."

"You think so?" I frowned down at where it rested in my palm before holding it out to him, "I'll just have to take your word for it."

"Keep it," he grinned, pushing my hand back towards me. "Ya never know when you'll need one for an impromptu angry goth phase."

I smiled at that, "I think I'm in the clear. Isn't that more of a teenager thing?"

"Please. Angry goth isn't an age, it's a state of mind."

"If you say so," I snorted, but put the choker down on my vanity. I had to wonder what my parents might say if they ever discovered it in here with the rest of my things.

"So," he piped up once more, pulling my attention back to him, "this is the bedroom that sweet lil El grew up in, huh?"

As I watched Lea take a few steps further in now, it suddenly occurred to me... this was the first time a boy had ever been in my bedroom. And not just any boy - this was my crush.

Wow… it felt so highschool when I put it that way.

To be fair though, this wasn't an experience I'd ever got to have while I was actually in highschool.

Better late than never, I suppose?

I only wish it didn't make me want to squirm so much as his eyes roved over everything in here, from the big, purple, gauzy canopy bed to the embellished, oversized wardrobe and matching dresser set. From the cushy, inset bench beneath a grand window in the unique shape of a triangle to the tall, antique shelves of neatly arranged novels and DVD cases of old musicals and plays. From the small sitting area in one corner furnished with plush red chairs to the vintage Broadway posters hanging from the walls in expensive frames.

The room was not small by any means, but him being in it somehow seemed to make it shrink. Like here was this big guy that had somehow found his way into a cutesy little dollhouse room. The comparison did not make me want to fidget any less.

Trying to take my mind off it, I began, "So… earlier at drinks and dinner, did you really have to be so…" I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to find the right word. "...just so, ah…"

"So much of a grade-A jackass?" he suggested brightly. Not exactly the word I would have used, but still, I gave a slow nod and he laughed. "Remember, the whole point was for me to be a total hooligan so they didn't just think me some pushover they could boss around or scare off. Think they got that message loud and clear. 'Sides, pushing every last button of the girlfriend's folks is kinda a hallmark of being a classic bad boy."

My fingers found their way to my braid, running up and down it. "But there's a big difference between pushing a few buttons and having a deathwish."

"Aw, how sweet, you worried about lil ol' me, El?" He paused briefly in his casual perusal of my room to glance my way, flashing me that cursed dimple of his, "I'm so flattered."

I shook my head, "I just think you didn't have to go to such extremes or be quite so-"

"Gotta question for ya," he interjected, coming over to stand in front of me. "Say I had showed up on my very best behavior. The perfect gentleman, minded all my P's and Q's and was just the saintliest boyfriend to ever saint. Do you think your family would be singing my praises right about now?"

My eyes shifted about and I tried weakly, "...well… maybe if-"

"Do you truly, honestly believe that your family would ever accept a white trash lil nobody like me dating their precious princess of a daughter?" he pressed quietly yet firmly.

I tucked in my lower lip, hesitating for a long moment before a tiny grimace twisted my face and I mumbled, "Probably not, no."

Lea gave a little smile that almost seemed a touch sad before he turned away once more, returning his attention to exploring the bedroom. "Thought so. I was screwed the second I so much as dared to breathe the same air as your gramps. So if they're all gonna hate my guts whether I play the part of boy scout or hoodlum, might as well go with door numeros dos and at least have some fun while I'm at it," he chuckled.

"Fine, I see your point," I crossed my arms with a frown. "But still, you might want to tone it back just a smidge. Grandfather has munny and connections. He can seriously make you disappear."

A snerk. "I'd like to see him try. I'm one tough son of a bitch to get rid of," he muttered as he neared my bed now, reaching out a hand to poke some of the draping aside as he peeked in, "Trust me, no one axes me that easily, got it memorized? He's in for one rude awakening if he thinks he can just- gah!" he stumbled back in surprise, blinking a couple times before shifting the canopy again for a second look. "The fuck is that ugly lil bastard?!"

I rushed over, snatching up the stuffed plushie sitting atop my neatly made bed and hugging it close as I glared at Lea. "It's a snowman and shush, he's cute! Cuter than you anyway!"

His horrified gaze darted from me to the doll and back. "Dear god, I hope not!"

Sitting down on my mattress, I spun the little guy around in my lap for a better look at him - it'd probably been at least four-some-odd years since I'd last seen the plush, after all. And okay, sure, I could admit he probably wouldn't be winning any beauty contests any time soon, but give the poor, stuffed snowman a break! I had had him since I was a baby and he had had to endure more than one stitch repair job, especially with what a destructive little toddler Anna had been. Despite all that, I still thought him rather handsome with a unique, quirky charm to him.

Giving Lea a flat look and hitching my chin, I said dryly, "My statement stands."

"Wow, guess it's true what they say, beauty really is in the eye of the beholder," he grumbled, narrowing his gaze on the plushie as I snuggled it close to me once more. But then one corner of his lips quirked up and he bowed down to look me in the eye, tipping his head to one side as he murmured, "Hope I at least rate a close second."

Resident cheeks be advised: flash fire warnings are now in effect.

I held my tongue and just glanced away.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he straightened back up and shoved his hands into his pockets. "So… about that big party tomorrow…"

Thank goodness, a new topic! "What about it?"

Shrugging, Lea said, "Just wanna know what to expect."

My fingers idly stroked at the snowman's head - the fabric still felt soft after all these years, even if it had taken on more of a dull gray color by now as opposed to its original pristine, snowy white. "Well… it'll probably be held in our ballroom-"

"This small palace has a freaking ballroom too?" He shook his head with a snort, "I was kidding before, but this place really is just one big damn Clue board."

Rolling my eyes, I continued, "And it'll probably be packed with all our relatives. Believe me, there are a lot of us on both sides of the family. Acquaintances too. Honestly, it'll most likely all be rather boring. Just a whole lot of mingling, maybe a speech or two, and an over abundance of food accompanied by music."

"Music…" he repeated, frowning up at the ceiling now as one hand went to the nape of his neck, tugging at the little hairs there. "So that mean there'll be dancing? Like… the fancy kind?"

I cocked my head at him. "Are you worried about having to waltz?" Resting my stuffed doll against my pillows, I stood up, "I can teach you if you'd like."

He blinked at me, expression unreadable. Then, "Alright."

I stepped over to stand before him. Now that I got close, I was reminded of just how freakishly tall the man was. My stomach did a little somersault at that and I was already regretting this decision. But it was too late to turn back now. Beating the blush back, locking it up and throwing away the key, I schooled my face into seriousness.

I was going to handle this like a professional, damnit!

"It's fairly simple really, and you've probably seen more than your fair share of it in those sappy movies you like so much. Our hands come together, like this," I joined my right with his left, holding them up to one side. "While your other hand goes…" gingerly taking his wrist in my grasp, I tentatively guided his palm to rest on my hip, hoping the action didn't seem as awkward as it had felt, "...right there." Finally, I settled my left hand on his shoulder and looked up the few inches that separated us.

Big mistake.

Jeez, having eyes as green and beautiful and heart spasm-inducing as his should've been illegal!

And being surrounded by his warm, cinnamony boy scent was not helping matters one bit.

I hastily broke eye contact, opting to look down at our toes instead. Toes are nice. Toes are safe. "It's, uh... it's very easy. You just take steps in the shape of a square. Watch my feet and follow along, I'll go slow. Forward with your left foot first," I took a step back and he moved with me, "then to the side with your right… now bring them together… Good. Then back with your right… out with your left… and together again." I took him through it a few more times without issue. "See? Simple. You're already getting the hang of it."

"I just must have a really good teacher," he said in a low hum.

"At this rate I'll soon be the one following your lead instead of… wait," my forehead wrinkled, "...you are already leading." I looked up at him suspiciously. "Did you already know how to ballroom dance?"

He smiled sheepishly, "Heh… guilty?"

"You brat, why did you tell me you didn't?" I laughed, trying to step away from him.

"I said no such thing," his hand shifted from my hip to the small of my back, not letting me escape. To be fair, I didn't try that hard. "You just assumed I didn't know how. And you know what they say when you assume," he teased as he continued to lead me in our little dance.

I scoffed in spite of the upward tug I felt at one side of my mouth. "Where did you even learn to waltz?"

"My lil secret," Lea winked. "But you know the deal. I'd be willing to give it up for one o' yours."

"You want me to give you a secret?" My eyes darted to the left. "I'm not sure I even have anymore…"

He snerked, pulling me ever so slightly closer to him. "Now I know I don't believe that. You must be able to think of at least one."

...actually yes. There was… at least one more I could think of…

That of certain feelings I was having for a certain redhead.

Sensing a small, familiar heat creeping up into my face, I cleared my throat and shook my head, still not meeting his gaze. "No… no I don't think so. Pretty sure I'm all tapped out."

He dipped his head down next to mine and I could feel him smirking against my ear as he whispered, "You wouldn't be lying to me now, would you?"

His warm breath tickled and I had to suppress a shiver. Conceal, don't feel. Don't let him know. I finally looked at him with a small, playful smile that I hoped didn't betray my hammering heart. "Come now… does this look like the face of someone who'd lie to you?"

Lea bit back a tiny, crooked grin as his eyes hooded, his thumb tracing small circles against the fabric of my dress. Then his lips parted, about to speak.

That was when, for the second time that night, a knock came at my door.

That must be Anna. Smile widening as I continued to stare up at Lea, I called out, "Come in."

I heard it open followed by a soft, "Oh!" that caused me to pale and my feet to stumble.

That wasn't the sound of my sister's voice.

My head whipped towards it as I stammered, "M-Mother!" This time when I attempted to break free of Lea's hold, he let me.

She stood there, posture perfect and hands clasped together in front of her. "Sorry, I didn't think you already had company."

"S'okay, I was just leaving," Lea said before pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. "Night," he told me, voice low as his fingers tucked some of my hair behind my ears. Apparently, he couldn't just depart without giving me one final whammy of the warm fuzzies. Jerkface. "Ma'am," he nodded to my mother as he walked past her towards my door, closing it behind him on his way out.

My gaze followed his exit before drifting over to my vanity right beside the door.

More specifically, to the spiked collar still resting on top of it.

Fudge. Had I wondered what my parents' reaction would be if they ever discovered it in here? Yes. Did I particularly need to find out the answer to that little question this very night? Hell no!

Luckily Mother hadn't seemed to notice it on her way in and her back was currently to it as she said, "That young man is… quite the character."

Funny. That's what Father had said. Almost verbatim. I wondered if my parents rehearsed these things.

"He, uh…" I sidled past her, putting myself between her and the choker, blocking her line of sight to it. Then I forced an innocent smile and a weak chuckle, "...he makes me happy."

If she thought my movements strange, she was good at hiding it. "And he seems very fond of you."

"Ah… yes, I suppose so." I casually leaned back against the piece of furniture and slipped a hand behind me, discreetly moving the offending item into one of the vanity's small drawers.

Whew! Mission Hide The Goth Contraband was a success!

The small feeling of victory swiftly waned however and I frowned. "Mother, I…" I began, only to find I had no idea what to say to her.

I hadn't had any idea for years now.

It had not always not always been like this. In fact when I'd been very little, I'd felt like I could share anything and everything with her. She'd been my biggest supporter in all things, especially in my love of the performing arts. As I'd always been such a shy child, she'd gone so far as to even encourage the activity, perhaps in the hopes that it would build my confidence and make me more outgoing.

But as I'd grown older, our relationship had changed. She became more aloof and distant. I suspect she and Father had hoped my interest in theater was just a phase, one I'd grow out of eventually. But when it seemed I wasn't going to - not on my own anyway - she'd started taking a sterner approach with me. That's when she stopped being my friend. That's when it became harder to talk to her. And it'd only gotten harder and harder with time. Things were never quite the same between us after that.

She watched me now, patient for me to continue. Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I finally settled on, "Why are you here?"

"I would think the answer should be obvious." Her small, gentle smile caught me off guard, but not nearly as much as her now stepping forward to take both my hands in hers. "I wanted a little time alone with my daughter. Away from your father and grandfather... just the two of us."

My breath hitched, my chest constricted, and before I knew it I was blurting out, "I auditioned for a musical."

Her head reeled back slightly and I winced.

Welp. So much for not letting that cat out of the bag.

I swear, mouth, I can't take you anywhere.

Waiting with bated breath, I searched her wide-eyed gaze for any clue as to what she might be thinking. Was she angry? Annoyed? Disappointed? I couldn't tell as her face gave away nothing for several long seconds. Finally though, she tipped her head to one side, "...did it go well?"

I blinked, a crease emerging between my eyebrows. "I, uh… yes, I think it did. But they won't announce casting until next week."

"I see. Well," and here she was smiling again as she leaned in closer to whisper, "we can just keep that our little secret, hm?"

...who was this woman and what had she done with Mother?

I stared at her before slowly nodding. It was all I could do. Words abandoned me at the moment. I hadn't been prepared at all for this.

And I was even less prepared for what came next.

Mother's gaze softened as she brought her hand up, cupping her cool fingers to my cheek. "That must have taken a lot of courage. I'm very proud of you."

My throat tightened and I swallowed past the lump I felt forming in it. I blinked away some tears, my voice hoarse as I somehow managed to get out, "Th-thank you… Mother."

Had I entered some sort of Twilight Zone? If so, I never wanted to leave.

She regarded me kindly for a second more before her expression turned to that of concern. "You look tired. Have you been sleeping well?"

Honestly, I hadn't. The last good night's rest I'd had was the unplanned sleepover in Lea's room. Every night since then was one night closer and closer to this weekend and whatever unspeakable horrors awaited me. Every night had been less and less dreams, replaced by more and more tossing and turning. I'd actually spent all of last night wide awake, just staring up at my ceiling until the sun had at last arisen.

So, naturally, my answer to Mother was, "Yes."

Her quiet tsk said she didn't believe me. "Come here," she turned away, walking towards my bed and lowering herself down onto it. I hugged myself, feet rooted to the spot as I stared after her, bewildered. Sitting back against my pillows and tucking in her legs, her hand patted the spot on the mattress beside her, "Cuddle close, scooch in."

Instantly I was transported back to when I was a little girl. Back to the last time I'd heard her say those words to me. My response was automatic and before I'd realized it, I'd already curled into her side and was resting my head against her shoulder.

She started humming a familiar lullaby. One she had used to sing for me all the time when I was small. It was from my favorite musical, the same one that the song I'd sang in the tryouts had been from.

This was nice. It wouldn't put me to sleep, but still, it was... nice. Comforting. Nostalgic. Her hand was lightly stroking my arm, my hair, my cheek. Then she was trailing the tip of her pinky down the bridge of my nose slowly before bringing it back up to do it again. An old trick she'd used to use to get me to pass out. Cute. That may have worked when I was a child, but I was an adult now. There's no way it could still possibly have the same effect on me now, not in a million-

Within minutes I was out like a light.

Author's Note: Ah, it's finally here! The dreaded weekend with (dun dun dun)… The Parents (TM)! Elsa's spent most of the story in Lea's KH universe, now it's his turn to spend a few chapters in her Frozen world xP Let me tell you, when I was writing outline notes for this whole story, I had very little planned for this arc at first. I had a smattering of a few vague ideas, but hardly enough to fill even so much as one chapter with! But thankfully, Frozen 2 was released, coming to my rescue and giving me a whole new host of Frozen characters to include xD Then the ideas started flowing, thank goodness! Soooooo, more F2 characters to be introduced in the chapters to come! Fun Fact: Elsa's dress this chapter (complete with lil necklace) is loosely based on the dress she wears at the beginning of F2 for the Some Things Never Change song, just picture it shorter (cuz apparently I just want to do that to all her dresses) and with a maybe slightly poofier skirt.

Next chapter, what new trial and tribulations does The Weekend (capital T, capital W) hold in store for our couple? Is there something up with Anna or she just being her normal oddball self? Was there a reason behind Mother's unexpected show of affection? Will there be trouble brewing at Gramps' bday shindig? Just who REALLY is the cuter cutie to ever cute: Lea or Elsa's wonky snowman plushie? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years ago

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Hammer of the Gods: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,531

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“Show's over,” you say when you enter the ballroom. “Sword's a fake, and Gabriel’s still kicking. I hate to break it to you, sister, but you've been tricked.”

Kali doesn’t say anything, but she has a hopeful look in her eyes. She still has feelings for Gabriel, that much you can see.

“What now?” Sam asks.

“Now, all we have to do is—”

The lights flicker in the Grand Ballroom, and you cut yourself off and look at the lights.

“What's happening?” Baldur asks.

“It’s him,” Sam nods.

“How do you know?” Kali wonders.

“Does it matter? Shazzam us outta here, would ya?” Dean says.

“We can’t,” Baldur sighs.

“Of course you can't,” Lucifer says from the double doors. He doesn’t look the same since you last saw him. Whatever his vessel is doing to him, it’s not good. There are red sores all over his face as if his vessel is breaking down. It’s like whoever he’s possessing isn’t fit to handle such a powerful creature. “You didn't say, ‘mother, may I?’. Sam, Dean, Y/N, good to see you again.”

“Baldur, don't,” Kali says when she sees her partner size up Lucifer.

“You think you own the planet? What gives you the right?” he sasses.

He stalks towards Lucifer to confront him, but the archangel just shoves his bare hand through his chest and out the other side.

“No one gives us the right, we take it,” he says and rips his hand out, killing the Norse God instantly.

Lucifer tosses Baldur to the side like he’s nothing, and that pisses Kali off. Both of her arms erupt in flames, and you and the brothers do the smart thing and hide behind an overturned table for cover. This is a fight for the grownups, and it’s best if you stay out of the way. She throws flame after flame at Lucifer, but no matter how much fire gets on the archangel, it doesn’t damage his vessel any more than it already is.

She stalks to him angrily, but before she can get in another shot, he hits her with an uppercut to the chin, sending her flying through the air.

“You okay?” Sam whispers to you and his brother.

“Not really. Better late then never, huh?” Gabriel answers from besides you. Where the hell did he come from? Did he finally come to his senses and join the fight against his brother? He takes out a DVD from his jacket and shoves it into your chest gently. “Guard this with your life.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You use your magic to conceal the DVD before shoving it in your jacket.

He doesn’t explain what it is, and he gets up to deal with his older brother. He shoves his hand out and sends Lucifer flying through the double doors and into the hallway. Gabriel has his archangel blade in his hand with determination. Well, you think it’s an archangel blade. You’re not really sure anymore.

“Lucy, I'm home,” he chuckles. Lucifer stomps over to him, but Gabriel raises the blade higher, which stops the other angel in his tracks. “Not this time.” He reaches behind him and helps Kali to her feet. Now that you know it’s safe, you and the Winchesters reveal yourself. “Guys! Get her outta here!”

Deciding not to question him, Sam and Dean take Kali and guide her to the doors so she can escape the hotel. You’re not that far behind, and you refuse to back down from Lucifer’s hard gaze.

“Over a girl. Gabriel, really? I mean I knew you were slumming, but I hope you didn't catch anything,” Lucifer says right as you leave.

You’re not staying for the rest of that conversation. There is no more trouble for you as you leave the hotel, and you three rush to the car with Kali trailing behind.

“I'm not getting in that thing.”

“Just get in the car, princess,” Dean rolls his eyes.

You open the door for her, and once she’s inside, you squeeze in next to her. The brothers get in, and Dean wastes no time leaving the hotel grounds. Kali has the vials containing your blood, so as long as you’re with her, you can leave. Once she destroys them, you’re free from her spell.

ALL PERFORMERS IN THIS FILM ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18, HAVE CONSENTED TO BEING PHOTOGRAPHED, AND HAVE PROVIDED PROOF OF AGE. 18 U.S.C. SECTION 2257

Whatever film Gabriel gave you, you thought watching it was a good idea. He hasn’t come back from his little play date with his brother, so you figured something bad might have happened to him. It’s the next day, and you’re watching the DVD with the brothers on Sam’s laptop in the middle of nowhere.

“Dear Diary, being a high-powered business president is super-fun. But so exhausting. Sometimes, I just need to relax. I need Casa Erotica,” a female says sexily.

Is this really a porn video? There is a knock on the door, and the woman dressed in very little clothing gets off the bed excitedly.

“Room Service!” a man says from behind the door.

Wait, you know that voice…

“Come in!” the woman says with a smile.

“Gabriel wanted you to guard this with your life?” Sam asks you.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I figured it was worth something. Now, I’m not so sure,” you shudder and continue to watch the DVD.

The door to the hotel room opens, and Gabriel walks in wearing a mustache and a service waiter’s outfit.

“I've got the kielbasa you ordered,” he says to the woman.

“Ooh, Polish?”

“Hunagrian,” he smirks and throws the dish on the mantle.

The screen goes black, and all you hear is the sound of Gabriel kissing the woman.

“Okay, if this continues, I’m burning your laptop,” you groan.

“I might let you,” Sam clears his throat.

The screen goes from being black to showing Gabriel and the woman making out on the bed. He’s feeling her up and down sensually, and the woman is moaning.

“What the fuck is going on?” you demand to know.

Gabriel stops kissing the woman, turns to face the camera, takes off his mustache, and breaks the fourth wall of the film.

“Sam, Dean, Y/N. You're probably wondering what the hell is going on. Well, if you're watching this, I'm dead. Oh please! Stop sobbing, it's embarrassing for all of us. Without me, you've got zero shot at killing Lucifer. Sorry, but you can trap him.

“The cage you sprung Lucifer from? It's still down there. Maybe, just maybe, you can shove his ass back in. Not that it'll be easy. You gotta get the cage open and trick my bro back into it. And uh, oh yeah, avoid Michael and the God Squad. But hey, details, right?

“Wait for it, here's the big secret that Lucifer himself doesn't even know—the key to the cage? It's out there. Actually it's keys, plural. Four keys, well, four rings from the Horsemen. You get 'em all, you got the cage. Can't say I'm betting on you boys and Y/N. But, uh, hey! I've been wrong before. And Y/N, you were right. I was afraid to stand up to my brother, but not anymore. So this is me, standing up.”

Gabriel stands off the bed only to lay back down, but on top of the woman.

“And this is me lying down.”

He grabs the woman and starts the process of getting down and dirty. This is proving to be too much for you to see, so you slam Sam’s laptop down with force and shudder.

“That is something I don’t need to see,” you shrug.

“Horsemen, huh? Well we got War's, and we nicked Famine's, which means that's two down. Collect all four seems like a piece of cake.”

“Wait, when did you get War’s?” you ask.

You know you’ve asked him this before, but a lot has happened since then, and you’re fuzzy on the incident since you weren't with them.

“Oh, right, you weren't there. Where were you while we were trying to fight for something that actually mattered?”

“Oh, so saving a whole town from killing each other doesn’t matter? Ellen and Jo don’t fucking matter?” you yell.

“Well, I know they do,” he glares.

“Enough! Seriously, you guys, you need to stop this,” Sam interrupts.

He grabs his laptop off the top of the car and tucks it underneath his arm.

“I’m not the one who needs to stop. It’s him that needs to grow the fuck up and start acting like a mature fucking adult,” you sneer.

“Oh bite me,” he hisses.

“Stop! Both of you, get in the car! All we need are the rings from Death and Pestilence. Let’s focus on getting them instead of each other, okay?”

“Fine by me!” you yell and get into the car.

You slam the door a little harder than necessary, and the brothers get inside a few seconds after you. Sam is getting sick and tired of this fighting. He wants it to end, but he doesn’t see it ending well.

Neither do you and Dean.

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lumiolivier · 4 years ago

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The Good Old Days Chapter Nine: Beauty and the Streets

A/N: Hi, friends! Look. I’m just going to come out and say this now. This is my favorite chapter title so far. I don’t know why, but I love it so much. So, reward my hard ass work with some validation. Not to sound desperate, but fuuuuuuck. Anyway, you know where I’ll be if you need me, k? x

ICYMI: Chapter Eight: The Power of Observation

I had a feeling deep in my bones that the training I’d have to go through in order to take over for the Old Man someday would be extensive. There was bound to be parts of said training I wasn’t going to be all that big of a fan. Being holed up in a dressing room of some ritzy ass department store? Definitely securing a cozy spot in the top five. I could feel the weird looks the second I walked in. What the hell is a piece of shit like me doing in a place like this? Am I the Old Man’s charity case? Am I his sugar baby? Are we even in here together? Am I lost? At least with the door closed, no one can see me. No one can cast their unnecessary judgment.

“Hey, Old Man…” That didn’t mean my skin crawled any less, “Is this all really necessary?”

“Yes,” he answered flatly.

“But…!”

“It’s non-negotiable, Frankie,” the Old Man put his foot down, “This girl deserves a little bit of effort, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I’m not hearing it, Frankie,” he shut me up, “Take your bitching elsewhere. It’s barely a step up from what you already got. You make it sound like you’re being forced to sleep in a three-piece suit.”

“Top hat and tails,” I jabbed.

“Alright, smartass,” the Old Man let that one slide. Gracias a dios. I thought he would’ve handed my ass to me for something like that, “Subtlety is key with anything. Like this. It’s not a drastic change by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s just enough of an upgrade to make a slight impact. If you work in layers with subtlety, the world is yours. It’s like they say with the frog in the water.”

“I’m not following you, Old Man.”

“If you put a frog in boiling water,” he explained, “It’ll want to jump out immediately, right? Water’s too hot.”

“Right.”

“But,” he added, “If you put the frog in cold water and gradually heat it, the frog has no idea it’s being boiled alive.”

“Things aren’t working out too well for the frog,” I noticed, “I feel him.”

“How did your mama ever put up with you, Frankie?”

“I had two older brothers that made me look better in comparison. I’m the fucking golden child.”

“Just…” I heard the Old Man lean against the wall, “Anything that doesn’t look like you got into a fight with a chain link fence. Or just escaped prison. I don’t ask much for you.”

“Fine,” I rolled my eyes, fully dressed again. Nothing had a hole in it. Nothing had been fixed. Everything was in its original state, “There. Better?”

“Considerably,” he approved. But then, a woman came up behind him. A real beauty, too. Damn, Old Man…

She started getting a little closer with him. Her arms were wrapped around his. Damn, Old Man…I see you, “How are you doing, Gregorio? Do you need anything?”

“I’m wonderful, sweetheart,” the Old Man put her hands up to his lips, “Thank you. I appreciate it, but I think we got it handled. Ok?”

“Ok…” the woman floated away, heavily swooning. I didn’t get it. I mean, the Old Man wasn’t the worst looking creature in the world, but somehow, it was more than that.

“And that, my dear Frankie,” he threw an arm around me, “is how that’s done.”

“What did you just do?” I wondered, still totally fucking dumbfounded.

“You know how I told you to work in subtlety?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s how you work in subtlety,” the Old Man took great pride in his work.

“How many do you got on the hook at once?” I asked.

“On average?” he thought it over, “Probably four or five, depending on the day. Would you ever guess I didn’t remember her name?”

“You don’t even remember her name?” I gasped, “Damn, Old Man. If you don’t mind me saying this, you’re a fucking hound.”

“I do what I can,” the Old Man shrugged.

“So,” I assumed, “That’s why you called her sweetheart. It makes her feel all special and warm and fuzzy inside while simultaneously saving your own ass.”

“You’re a quick study, kid,” he smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Old Man,” I melted inside. Just a little bit.

“I got you taken care of,” the Old Man started pulling price tags off, “You go wait by the door, so they don’t think you’re stealing.”

“Ok.” I wasn’t going to fight with him. I’m pretty sure that receipt alone could pay next month’s rent. That’s not a bill I need to see. Chances are, I’d throw up. This was way too fucking nice for someone like me. I mean, I know it’s going to be me one day, but I didn’t think that one day would come this soon. Surprises are neat. And if I do say so myself, I look damn good…

But none of that mattered. I was about to get the girl. In a few short minutes, I was going to get the girl. I was going to have my second chance. Unless she stands me up or Veronica didn’t get to her in time or some bullshit like that. Because that’s my level of cosmic luck. I hoped to all things holy, unholy, and morally neutral that I’d be able to sit down at the Bean and see her walk in and suddenly have Sixpence None the Richer playing in the background for some ungodly reason. Because it fits. That’s why.

“Hey, Frankie,” the Old Man started walking out. I’m guessing it’s safe to follow him without setting off the alarms, “Where did you say you were taking this girl again?”

“The Bean,” I told him, “Why?”

“I like the Bean,” he smiled a bit, “It’s cozy, quaint, public. Very old Williamsburg. And if you go at the right time of the day, the people watching is excellent.”

“That’s a little unsettling…”

“It helps with the whole art of observation thing,” the Old Man threw the car door open, “But it’s a little late in the day for me to hit up the Bean. Peak hours are between eight and nine.”

“Why do you say that?” I wondered.

“Old people and hipsters,” he giggled, “Hell of a mix. The old people don’t know how to react to the hipsters. The hipsters don’t know what to think of the old people. The chaos is beautiful, kid. Like watching art come to life.”

“Hey, Old Man…” I could hardly sit still, “I…”

“You’re nervous, aren’t you, Frankie?”

I hate when he does that, “Yeah. That obvious?”

“To a well-trained eye,” he nodded, “What’s got you worried?”

“What if she doesn’t show up?”

“Then, you still got coffee today,” the Old Man settled me, “Then, you took yourself out. It’s not a bad thing to be by yourself once in a while, Frankie. I’m guessing you don’t get a lot of that.”

“Not really,” I admitted. Now that I thought about it, I didn’t get much time to myself. More often than not, I’d be with my brothers or I’d be with Mama or I’d be with someone. I was hardly ever alone. I always thought that was a good thing.

“Then, even if she doesn’t show up,” he assured me, “This is not all for naught. And at the end of the day, you still need to come back to the Narrows. I got a few places coming up on their collection dues and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not go do that. For the plain and simple fact that I don’t want to. That’s what I have you for.”

“I know,” I sat and bounced my knee a little more, needing for this excess energy to go somewhere.

“Tell you what, kid,” the Old Man put a hand on my shoulder, “If this doesn’t go over and you’re stuck here by yourself, we’ll scrap your collection job tonight and do something fun, k?”

“Thanks, Old Man,” I smiled a bit, “I appreciate it.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” the car pulled up to the curb. Holy shit, that was fast, “Now, go on, Frankie. Go make me proud. Go get your girl.”

“That was the plan,” I pushed myself out of the back of the Old Man’s town car and took a step toward the door.

“Hold on!” the Old Man rolled his back window down.

“Did you need something?” I wondered.

“Here,” he peeled off a hundred and put it in my hand, “You don’t need to be running out of money while you’re here.”

“Old Man…” I gasped, “I’m good. This is a little…”

“Nope,” the Old Man cut me off, “Don’t give me that. Go on, kid. Go get your girl.”

I looked back up at the Bean’s sign, but when I turned around to yell at the Old Man some more, he was already gone. Dammit…Well…Here goes nothing. I walked into the Bean and ordered an espresso and a chocolate chip cookie. Hopefully, the espresso will help calm my nerves a little. Either that or it’s going to amplify them at least tenfold. That’s the gamble I’m willing to make. Please show up, Vanessa. I don’t care if it’s to spit on my shoes. I just need to see your face again. The Old Man might be a little pissed about you spitting on brand new shoes, but I need to see that face.

“Frankie…?” a husky, yet gentle voice came up behind me.

Holy shit, it’s her. Yet…This was different. I got a better look at her in the light. Power of observation, just like the Old Man said. Slight rip in her jacket sleeve, designer bag, chai latte in her hand, and legs for days…Dios mio, “Yeah…Hi.”

“Hi,” she smiled, glancing over at the empty seat, “Do you mind?”

“Please,” I insisted, “Not at all.”

“So,” Vanessa sat across from me, “I hear you met my little sister earlier this afternoon.”

“I hear you met my oldest brother last night,” I retaliated with no intentions of getting so defensive. It’s just a default setting. And now, I feel kind of bad.

“I’m assuming he was your brother,” she thought, “He said his name was César and said his brother thought I was cute.”

“Hold on,” I stopped her, “Did he specifically say Frankie or did he say Tony?”

“He said Frankie,” she assured, “Promise. But it wasn’t a half bad idea to use Veronica as a go-between.”

“I wanted to ask you about that,” I told her, “What did you mean you had eyes on you last night?”

“Just that,” Vanessa started to relax, “My sister. Violet, not Veronica. She’s a total fucking narc. Veronica would take my secrets to the grave. She knows about loyalty and solidarity between siblings. Violet would sell me out to our mother for Costco samples.”

“Hey…” I hushed her, “Don’t knock Costco samples. Those are worth the membership.”

“Sorry,” she sighed out, “Violet gets me stressed.”

“Here,” I broke my cookie in half and handed the other half off to her, “You look like you could use this more than me.”

“What are we, five?” Vanessa giggled. I didn’t care about that. All I needed was to get her to smile again. I’d hate to see that go away.

“So what if we are?”

“Alright,” she gladly accepted my offer, “Frankie…There are some things about me…They’re not exactly desirable.”

“Really?” I had a hard time believing she was into anything shady. Considering my recent employment, I doubt she could surprise me, “Try me.”

“My last name is Scarlotti,” Vanessa confessed, picking at the cardboard ring around her cup, “My family owns half this city. It’s maddening.”

“Wait,” I wondered, keeping my voice down, “Do you come from mafia?”

“No,” she shook her head, “Nothing like that. My family’s business is a lot more legit than that. But it doesn’t make it any less like hell.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well,” Vanessa sipped from her latte, “It’s the expectations that come along with it. It’s not so much my dad, but it’s my mother. You’re Mommy’s perfect princess. Her debutant. Every action you do immediately reflects on the family, Vanessa. It’s just…It’s bullshit…And…I’m venting…I’m sorry. I don’t mean to vent, but…I just…”

“Vanessa,” I spoke softly, doing my best to calm her down, “It’s alright.”

“Really?” her spiral slowed, “I’m not scaring you off or anything?”

“Not at all,” I swore, “Trust me. I’ve seen my fair share of hell.”

“I know I should be grateful for the life I have,” she started working on her half of cookie, “Because it could always be worse. That’s why Violet took me to Williamsburg last night. She wanted me to see how much worse it could be. But…”

“But?” I wondered.

“I love coming down to Williamsburg,” Vanessa smiled, “If I had my way, I’d live down here instead of the Upper East Side. I love the little cafés and the clubs down here and…Just the pulse of the city. It beats different down here than what it does up there. Manhattan’s a different monster. But something about coming down to Williamsburg…I have yet to find somewhere else in all five boroughs where I feel more comfortable than here.”

“I know how you feel,” I gave her a nod, “I’ve lived in Williamsburg for as long as I can remember. But every once in a while, I wondered what it’d be like to live up in Manhattan. The upper echelons. The other half. But at the end of the day, even if I did have the means to move uptown, I don’t think I could do it. This is still home. It always will be.”

“I envy you…” she was quiet for a second, but then, she came to again, looking at me confused, “Why am I telling you all this?”

“My mother always said I had one of those faces,” I shrugged, “Really and truly, Vanessa, it’s alright. If you need to vent, then you need to vent. It’s really not a problem. Don’t worry about it. If you want to vent, keep going. If you want to change the subject, I totally understand. I’ll leave it up to you.”

“Better conversation topic please,” Vanessa decided, “Besides, I feel like all I’ve done since I sat down is ramble on about me. I want to hear more about you. I already know enough about me.”

“But,” I caught a glimpse of a clock, not needing to go down the rabbit hole of my tragic backstory quite yet, “We don’t have much time together.”

“Then…” The Old Man told me to keep an eye on someone’s hands. What they do when they’re nervous. Where they are. But I suddenly found her hand in mine. They’re…so soft, “We should make the most of the time we have together, shouldn’t we?”

“What class are you leaving me for anyway?” I teased, hoping I didn’t cut too deep.

“Communications,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, “Yay.”

“You don’t need it,” I brushed her off, “I think you communicate just fine. See? And I didn’t even need a degree to tell you that.”

“You’re cute,” she giggled a bit…That laugh…It’s fucking adorable, “As much as I’d love to believe you, I need this class. Then, hello, graduation day…in two years.”

“What’s your major?” I asked.

“Law.” Holy shit, this girl’s going to be a fucking lawyer? And she’s sniffing around me? Oh, Vanessa, you are definitely the kind of girl that was put in my path at the right time. That’s for damn sure, “I’m debating between going into estate planning or being a defense attorney.”

“Why not both?” I suggested, “A girl like you. You seem like your brain could handle it.”

“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted, “But I only have so much in the trust fund. I need to spend it smart.”

“I could think of worse ways to spend it,” I figured, “Could pick up a gambling problem…Cocaine…Maybe hookers, if you were feeling particularly spicy one night.”

“No,” Vanessa laughed some more, “I’ll stick with an education, but thank you. Your suggestions were greatly appreciated.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” I wondered, “Why the hell would you want to go into estate planning?”

“Are you kidding?” her eyes lit up, sparkling more now than when we first met, “Do you know what kind of front row seat I’d have to some of the most knockdown, drag out family drama? Some of the families my family is connected to, when they’ve had major deaths that involve big wills…Oh, they’re fucking bloodbaths. The closest of relatives are suddenly the worst of enemies. Someone gets written out while they’re still alive. It is an absolute disaster. From a purely psychological standpoint, it’s fascinating to watch. Kind of like watching animals at the zoo. It’s amazing what lengths some people would go through for someone else’s money or their possessions after they’re dead. It’s so pointless, but it’s still fun to watch.”

“You know,” I started to worry about this girl and what kind of mental state she was in. However, she had a point. And a damn good one, “That’s kind of twisted.”

“I know,” she bit on her lip, “But I can’t help it. I don’t start the drama, but I sure as hell don’t mind being the occasional spectator.”

“That’s still kind of twisted…”

“It’s the same principle as watching a soap opera,” Vanessa shrugged unapologetic, “Only it’s real life and in front of my eyes.”

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t watched my fair share of Telemundo with Mama over the years, so I got it, “I like you, Vanessa…”

“I like you, too,” her smile melted me to my very core. I think I could keep this one around. For a little while anyway. But then, she caught a glimpse of her watch, “Shit…I need to be going. I hate to run, but…”

“It’s alright,” I let it go, “I understand.”

“Thank you,” Vanessa got up from her seat.

This was it. I needed to shoot my shot and shoot it big. This time, I’m not blowing it, “Hey, Vanessa?”

“Hmm?” she threw her bag over her shoulder.

“Can I call you tonight?” I asked.

“Sure,” Vanessa allowed, “How about around nine o’clock? I should be home.”

“If I can get a spare minute,” I nodded, “I have to work tonight.”

“I really hope you do,” she played with a stray lock of her hair, “Because…I’m glad I gave you a second chance.”

“I’m glad you gave me a second chance, too,” my heart started racing. Damn near ready to burst out of my chest.

“It was nice meeting you, Frankie,” Vanessa waved behind her.

“You, too…” I hated to see her go…But damn, to watch that girl leave was like a work of art.

Vanessa…She’s definitely something. That’s for sure. She’s definitely got some of that debutant in her. There’s no doubt about it. But there’s more. There’s so much more. There’s a sadist…There’s a sweetheart. There’s a caged bird begging to be set free. And if I’m the one to do that, then so be it. I’d be happy to. Now that I think about it, I really and truly hated to see her go. It’s too bad we didn’t get to spend a little more time together. She didn’t need to be late for her class.

And I got to share my cookie with her. Not to be that guy about it, but I hadn’t shared a cookie with someone since I was probably five. Dammit, Vanessa, you were right. Go ahead, corazón. I won’t stop you. Now, what to do, what to do. Dare I go back to the Narrows? No. I think I should head home first. I’m sure someone’s worried about me. I haven’t been home all day. And I barely left a note for Tony and César. Besides, they needed to know about her, too.

#the good old days #oc backstory #fan fiction prequel #mafia au #switch #for the family

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years ago

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it’s you and me, there’s nothing like this

hey @cheddar-the-dog!!! i am your writer for the b99 2019 fall fic exchange! i apologise for waiting until the last minute to write this, eheh, but it's here now! i chose your prompt "the season of spooky stuff and one of them hating everything horror related and one being the protector" and took the freedom of incorporating it into this little thing. hope you enjoy! ❤︎

thank you to @b99fandomevents for organizing this :)

happy halloween to you all! i do not and have never really celebrated it, but last year i did go to a halloween theme park and it was AWESOME, and i definitely thought it'd be the kind of thing jake and amy would do together.

read on ao3

2015

The first time Jake had tried to bring Amy to the Halloween theme park, she had started out skeptical about the idea.

“Just because we’re dating now doesn’t mean I like Halloween,” she remarked over breakfast as he suggested his plan for their shared Saturday off. “I still think it's a ridiculous holiday.”

“So… the best kind of holiday.”

She rolled her eyes over the edge of the coffee cup. “Can't you go to this park with Charles?”

“I don’t want to go with Charles! I want to go with my adorable girlfriend, who, by the way, is looking stunning in that outfit.” He pointed to what was definitely his flannel currently being donned by Amy, who had paired it with pajama pants and a fuzzy blanket from his couch wrapped around her shoulders. “Also, does this mean you’re stealing my clothes now?”

“It means your apartment is cold all the time,” she said, but her smirk made him suspect he wasn’t totally wrong, either. “Why is this so important to you, anyway?”

“You’re going to think I’m ridiculous.”

“Try me.”

“Fine,” he hummed, rubbing the nape on his neck and looking down at the table to avoid eye contact. “Because it’s technically a holiday tradition that doesn’t bring up shitty memories, and I don’t have a ton of those. I was thinking it’d be kind of nice to share one with you?” He could feel his cheeks heating as he admitted the truth. In their five months of dating, he’d already had to face more emotional vulnerability than ever before in his life, but it had yet to get easier. “Sorry. It’s, uh, stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking it until he looked up at her, finding her watching him with a tenderhearted gaze that was still new to him, but never failed to make him feel safe with every fiber of his being. “It’s sweet. And okay. I’ll go with you.”

If he’d been a little bit braver, he could have told her he loved her at this moment, and thinking back at it months later, he would regret that he didn’t.

Instead, he’d simply returned her smile. “Noice. Smort.”

She rolled her eyes at him another time. He sort of found it absolutely endearing.

2019

This year, he’s not even the one to suggest their yearly visit. Amy brings it up all on her own as they’re going to bed on a Friday evening, her yawning wide before scooting closer to him, intertwining their legs and pressing kisses to the back of his neck to gain his attention.

“Do we have any plans for tomorrow, babe?”

“I don’t think so,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and just enjoying the way her lips feel against his neck, the way her hands gently rub patterns on his shoulder blades. “Anything you’re thinking about?”

“I was thinking maybe we should go to that Halloween park,” she says, and it warms his heart to hear her sounding genuinely excited at the thought. “If you want to.”

“Well, I could never say no to the Halloween park.”

“Or to me, I hope, since it’s our yearly tradition.”

“Nah, it’s harder to say no to the park,” he teases her, and she punches him hard in the elbow. “Ow! I was kidding!”

“Don’t you dare,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to the same spot. “It’s a date, then. And my goal for this year is to not get terrified by the haunted houses.”

2016

Jake had missed many things while in witness protection in Florida. His girlfriend first and foremost, but also the Nine-Nine, New York pizza, weather that wasn’t either scorching sun or heavy storms, and the Halloween park. It had been one of the dreams he’d thought about during his worst evenings of homesickness; he and Amy, walking around the overly decorated area while holding hands and looking at all the kids and adults in costumes, pointing out ones they recognized.

(“Look, Jake, that’s a tiny Harry Potter!)

(“Ames! That woman’s dressed like Holly Gennaro from Die Hard!”)

It felt like a dream to actually be back, walking hand in hand much like he’d pictured and standing in line to one of the haunted houses. It felt like home.

“I still don’t get the point of why you would pay someone to scare you,” Amy mutters, rubbing her arms and jumping up and down on the place to keep herself warm. “The real-life world is plenty terrifying. Climate change. Racism. US Politics. I could go on and on.”

“Because it’s fun, and while the things you mentioned are hella scary, they make for awful costumes,” Jake pointed out, already shrugging off his leather jacket to drape it across her shoulders. “I mean, how would you even dress up as climate change?”

“Don’t show up to the party and claim you’re dressed as the extinction of humans due to our planet becoming inhabitable.”

“Oooh, that’s actually pretty genius.”

“I know,” she winked. “Let’s go in and pretend to get scared by stuff that isn’t really scary, shall we?”

She’d taken back what she’d said about one minute in. The makeup and costumes of the actors were far more convincing than even Jake had expected, way better than it had been last year, and he hadn’t been able to blame Amy for the way she clutched herself to his arm as they made their way through the building. Her nails had pressed so hard through his shirt they’d almost made marks, but he hadn’t minded it. Getting to be her protector, even if only for a seven-minute walk through an amusement park’s over-budgeted version of a haunted house, felt like a privilege.

2019

She promises him at least another five times before they even get in line that this is the year she won’t get scared. She’s so confident, staring him down every time she repeats it, that eventually, he tells her he believes her. His gut feeling says otherwise, but the smug grin on his wife’s face as he tells her the white lie is cute enough to make the dishonesty worth it.

“Climate change is scarier than ever,” she declares as they step foot into the house, and he chuckles at her. “This has got nothing on it.”

She ends up taking back her self-assured statement a few minutes in for the fifth year in a row. Jake is getting truly curious about what kind of budget the park’s makeup department is working with, and he has to admit there are a few things executed well enough to make him jump. Amy squeezes his arm tightly, letting him lead their way through, and he basks in the glorious sensation of feeling like there are times when he can be her protector, too - god knows she’s good at being his when he needs it. She’s squeezing a little hard, and her nails feel a little sharper than usual, but it’s fine.

It’s dark inside the building, but he feels her warm breath near his neck and turns around to see what she’s doing only to find someone other than Amy there; an actor with a black, hairy mask over their face that seems to have no concept of personal space whatsoever. Even though it’s what he tends to keep teasing his wife for, he yelps and bolts for the emergency exit, almost tackling a stranger on the way out.

He’s still breathing hard when Amy comes out too, laughing as she throws her arms around him.

“That was awful,” he mumbles as she tries to calm down from the giggling fit. “That was so scary. Where the hell did you go?”

“Where the hell did you go?”

“I thought I was right there with you!”

“Let’s maybe not go back in there,” he suggests, and she shakes her head.

“Let’s maybe not.”

2017

The year they got engaged, he learned another fact about Amy Santiago - while she may have hated the haunted houses, she was a major fan of the rides. Unfortunately, this included the rides even Jake was hesitant to go on, like the attractions that went way too high up in the air and dropped way too low, way too fast.

“Come on,” she had encouraged him, shooting him that smile that never failed to make his knees weak and pulling his arm towards the line. “It’s perfectly safe. I’ll let you hold my hand.”

“I can hold your hand on the ground,” he pouted. “I much prefer that option.”

“Come on, babe! Just one time!”

“I hate you,” he’d told her as they stood in line, repeating it as they were being strapped to their seats, making her roll her eyes both times. “I love you, but right now, I hate you.”

He’d been able to see more of Coney Island from the top of the ride than he’d ever wanted to see in his life, and then, just as he was about to freak out about the height, the ride dropped.

The scream that ripped from his throat shocked even himself, because it was a sound of pure and utter panic, but amid that panic, he’d found beauty.

He was alive. He was a free man. He could be outside to do these kinds of things with his soon-to-be fiancée, instead of being locked in for fifteen years arrested for a bank robbery he didn’t commit, and it felt beautiful.

“Did you enjoy it?” Amy asked as they walked away from the attraction, his legs a lot shakier than her, but her hair looking way crazier than his did.

He’d grinned before cupping her face, bringing their lips together. “Weirdly, I kind of did.”

2019

Every year, he hopes she won't insist on going on the rides, that she's changed her mind just this time. Every year, he's dead wrong as she takes his hand to steer him decisively toward the ride he's learned to detest with his entire being.

“You don't think I could skip it for just one year?” He asks, gulping as he looks up at the massive construction, but Amy shakes her head.

“Tradition is tradition, babe. We’re doing this.”

“Do you have to get revenge on me every damn year just because I drag you through the haunted house?”

“You got it.”

“You are a terrible person,” he sighs, but it's impossible to keep his tone serious.

She kisses his cheek. “All is fair in Halloween theme parks, love, and war.”

“Is that the saying, really?”

Every year, he thinks he's gotten used to the horrifying attraction. Every year, he finds out he's wrong. There's no getting used to the relentless shakiness as they're taken closer and closer to the top, the tension when they are there knowing they're about to fall any second, the spine-chilling drop in his stomach when they fall.

He survives it, and he supposes every experience helps him understand why this is something people like his wife will do for fun. He feels alive, almost frightfully so, his heart pounding and breath shaking but his instincts so on edge. He feels real, and although it's hard to stand on his legs when the ride finally finishes, it's worth it when he gets to turn to Amy and find her looking genuinely impressed by him. She looks a little pale after this year’s ride, asking him if they can sit down for a few minutes afterward, but when he asks if she enjoyed it, there's no hiding her beaming grin.

2018

The year they had gotten married, they'd competed in the pentathlon games. They’d tried a few of them before, but this was the year they dialed their competitiveness up to the max, offering each other no leniency as they ran between the different game stations. Rifle shooting had been the most even, electronic darts the least - Amy claimed he’d tried to sabotage her by tickling her shortly before, making it difficult to keep her arm still - and their opinions on whether or not Jake’s moving basketball net was rigged to his disadvantage differed drastically, but through it all, they’d been enjoying themselves. It might not have seen that way to everyone else judged from their bickering and borderline unserious threats, but to Jake and Amy, this was love.

This was going back to their old rival days for a short while, to the memories of constantly trying to beat and outdo one another, before returning to reality and realizing they’d already won the greatest prize of all; each other.

(The giant stuffed frog that Jake had won at one of the stations, handed to him by a mysteriously silent employee with the name tag ‘Craig’, was a close second. It croaked if you pressed a button.)

Counting all the results together, the final conclusion was that Amy had won, and Jake laughed heartily at her as she did as expressive of a dork dance as he’d ever seen her do in public. After all, it was hard for him to feel much like a loser in anything as long as she was around.

“Loser buys hot cider and cinnamon donuts?” She’d suggested with a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“We share bank accounts, babe.”

“It’s the gesture that counts,” she’d insisted then, and there’d been no way for him to decline.

2019

His wife is unstoppable this year as well. Jake ends up doing far worse in several stations than he knows he’s capable of, the competitiveness dialing down as he realizes there’s no way for him to win now. Instead, Jake simply watches Amy in her element.

She’s so focused, so precise, so thought-through when she’s confident in her abilities. She’ll tuck her hair behind her ears like even a single strand could be the thing to sabotage her chances, bite her lip, stare down the task or target and tackle it right on, instinctive and calculated at the same time.

It is moments like these when he struggles to believe there was ever a time when he wasn’t with her, a time when he wasn’t blessed with the opportunity to get to watch her like this, without any sense of guilt or inadequacy.

She’s stellar, a piece of art much like the paintings she studied for several years at university, and he gets to live his life with her.

He gets to go to Halloween theme parks year after year with her as company. He gets to have her clutching on tight to his arm through haunted houses. He gets to sit next to her as they go on rides he thinks no sane human should be willingly exposing themselves to. He gets to be with her and hers all at once, and every year, every month, and every day, it keeps getting better.

“Did you even try to win this year?” She asks, curiously, as they’re walking towards the donut stand.

“Nah,” he shrugs. “I already won.”

“... Wow. Marriage really did a number on you when it comes to cheesiness, huh?” Her voice is teasing, but the little laugh, the tenderness in her eyes, is not.

“I have my days,” he says, placing an arm around her shoulders. “Winner buys the donuts this year?”

“A for effort, but they’re still on you.”

“Two hot ciders, two cinnamon donuts, and one box of donut holes, please.”

“Actually,” Amy pipes up as the teenaged cashier punches in their order. “I think I’ll have a hot chocolate instead.”

“Changing a winning concept,” Jake comments. “That’s bold of you.”

“Creating a new one,” she corrects him. “Gotta keep it interesting.”

As much as he loves all the crazy things they get up to on their visits, laughing their way through the day, Jake has to admit he loves the final part most. They’re sitting close together on a bench overlooking the water, drinking their cider and hot chocolate and enjoying the sugary baked goods while they chat about the day. It’s stress-free and allover wonderful, and it’s hard, if not unfeasible, to picture how anything could ever be better than this.

“This is the best tradition,” Amy says, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watch parents chase their toddlers along the water’s edge, couples walking together and friend groups trying to take pictures in the half-darkness. “I hope we keep this up.”

“We’re definitely keeping it up,” he assures her. “This year was amazing. I already can’t wait for next time.”

She smiles, stroking his hair before beginning to ruffle through her right pocket for something. “Actually, next time might be a bit different.”

“What do you mean? We’re not changing this tradition, are we?”

“No,” she laughs. “We’re not. We’re just… renewing it to keep it interesting. Close your eyes.”

He does, and she instructs him to hold out his hand, so he does that, too.

She places a thin, maybe fifteen or so centimeters long, little plastic stick in his outstretched hand, and his fingers wrap around it.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

“What’s this?”

“You might wanna read the display,” she tells him, and he unfurls his fingers to reveal a digital square and a single, life-changing word.

It takes a moment to sink in.

“No way,” he says when he can tear his eyes away from it, looking up at his wife to find her with what he hopes are happy tears in her eyes. “Are you - is this real, Ames?”

“I have like seven more of them at home,” she blushes. “So yeah, I think so.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know.”

“How long have you kept this a secret?”

“I took the first one three days ago,” she admits. “I wanted to tell you the second I found out, but then I remembered this, and I thought… maybe it could be another nice memory for the tradition.”

“It is.” He wraps her in a tight hug, pressing soft kisses to every inch of her face he can reach. “This is… wow. Just, wow.”

“That’s a pretty good summary of it.”

“This is the best visit so far,” he whispers in her ear as she takes the positive pregnancy test from him to put back. “This is the best visit ever.”

Life with Amy, and their yearly visits to the Halloween theme park, truly did have one thing in common; they both just kept getting better.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #b99 fanfiction #brooklyn nine-nine fanfiction #jake x amy fic #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfiction

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littledemondani · 5 years ago

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everything changes | duncan shepherd x fem!reader | part two

warnings: College Fuckboy!Duncan, semi-public smut, drinking, clubbing, reader being an all-around savage bitch, unprotected sex, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

words: 2.2K

summary: You and your friends go clubbing to celebrate the start of the new semester, but what happens when Duncan ends up going to the same club as you?

a/n: Hey babes! This is the second part of my College Fuckboy!Duncan headcanons. This is also my first time writing smut. Also, big thank you to @wroteclassicaly for helping me with ideas for this. :D I really hope you all enjoy this, and I love y’all <3

part one

Thank you @ms-mead for this lovely moodboard <3 ily!

“Uhh, my name is Y/N actually.” You chuckled, trying desperately to keep your rage anxiety at bay. A million thoughts raced through your head at once that you didn’t even hear a thing Annette was saying to you. She excused herself and left to go do god knows what (you didn’t care, you just wanted to get the fuck out of there).

You got your phone from your clutch and send for an Uber. The last thing you want is to be stuck with Duncan for longer than you need to be. He hasn’t said a word to you. Nor has he so much as looked at you. Adding more fuel to the pent up rage you’re feeling. You decided to go outside and wait, knowing if you stay inside with him that you’re just going to lose your shit in front of everyone.

Once you reach the doorway you look behind you at Duncan one last time. He didn’t follow you, his utter shock keeping him from moving. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest as if at any moment it would burst out of him. He knew he had fucked up, severely fucked up. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to follow you out and explain everything.

He lifted his gaze from the floor to the doorway, locking in on your eyes. The look of betrayal and anguish on your face shattered him more than he’d like to admit. But as quickly as your eyes met, he turned away and walked off to go greet some acquaintances of his mother.

You felt your heart sink but knew what had to be done. This was it for you. No more putting up with Duncan and his bullshit. You opened the door and walked out of Duncan’s life, for good.

Summer vacation has come and gone - the beginning was spent crying over Duncan. For two weeks you waited for a call or text from him, heart jumping each time your phone rang. But nothing ever came.

You can’t say you were surprised, especially not after the way he acted at the party. “Duncan Shepherd doesn’t chase after girls” had been a rumor you heard one day while waiting for class to start. It was true though: he didn’t chase after girls - they chased after him.

‘Not me,’ you thought to yourself. You were done with trying to figure Duncan out, done with crying yourself to sleep, done with wondering what the fuck you did wrong (which was nothing, of course). So you sought out to rid Duncan of your mind, and it worked.

The late summer nights were filled with drinking until you couldn’t feel anymore, getting lost in the embrace of another person, and waking up with a pounding headache that lasted all day.

Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest way - but it got the job done. You soon forgot all about Duncan Shepherd and his fuckboy ways. Until it was time to head back to D.C. for a new semester. Then the memory of that handsome face asshole hit you like a ton of bricks.

Now here you are, back in D.C., and getting ready to go out to a club with your roommates to celebrate the end of your first week back. Anxiety flooded your veins at the thought of Duncan possibly being there with his frat brothers. But with the help of your roomies, and about 5 shots of tequila, that fear dissipated.

You were wearing a short form-fitting black dress, black Louboutin heels (yes..the ones Duncan got you), and a dainty necklace. After straightening your hair you put on your makeup. You looked over yourself one last time in the mirror, making sure every hair was in place and your makeup was perfect.

The club was filled with a bunch of sweaty college students, some drunk, some high, some both. You were on your 4th vodka cranberry, the drink making you feel fuzzy and carefree.

Your roommate invited her boyfriend and his friends, one of them being a guy you had taken some interest in as the night progressed. He was tall, but not too tall, with short brown hair, lean muscle, and pretty green eyes.

Maybe it was your carefree attitude since leaving Duncan or your inebriated state of mind (let’s go with that one) that had you pulling whatshisname to some semi-secluded area near the restrooms. He was just looking too good and had been whispering dirty things in your ear as you danced with him, causing arousal to pool in your panties.

You pulled him in for a kiss, full of need with your tongues fighting for dominance. He walked you until your back hit the wall, running his hands down over your ass - squeezing - then stopping at the back of your thighs. Your hand snaking down to palm at his semi-hard cock, eliciting a small groan from him.

“Jump,” he orders, lifting you with ease. You wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him in for another kiss.

“You’re not afraid of someone seeing us?” he asks while unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock.

“Just shut up and fuck me already.”

Without hesitation, he pulls your lacy thong to the side and slowly eases himself into your tight, wet cunt. You let out a breathy moan, his girth stretching you deliciously.

He rocked into you until he bottomed out completely, allowing you a moment to adjust to him. You grabbed the nape of his hair and tugged harshly, “I said, fuck me already.” a hint of venom laced in your voice.

You didn’t want him to be nice to you, you wanted him to use you. To fuck you like you meant nothing to him because he meant nothing to you. He was just a distraction, another person in your fucked up way of coping with the loss of Duncan.

He chuckled, “If that’s what you want-” he snapped his hips into you with brutal force, “then that’s what you’ll get.”

The pace he set was harsh and unrelenting. You loved every second of it, the way the head of his cock hit your most sensitive spot, the way your back was being pushed into the hard tile wall, the way your legs burned from clinging to him like your life depended on it, his bruising grip on your ass.

Your head was thrown back against the wall, hips snapping to meet his harsh thrusts, eyes closed in total bliss. You could feel the pressure building in the pit of your stomach, that familiar warmth spreading throughout your body.

You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, finally opening your eyes - when you saw him. Standing by the doorway of the men’s room, and watching you like a hawk, was Duncan Shepherd. You let out a loud, broken whine that came out more like a moan.

“What the fuck?!” your train of thought actually leaving your mouth. This can’t be happening. You closed your eyes, thinking if you open them he’ll be gone, he’s just a figment of your drunk imagination.

You open your eyes again, but no, he’s still standing there. Looking every bit the same as the last time you saw him. His hair perfectly styled, wearing his signature black leather jacket, dark jeans, and a black shirt. You let out another broken moan, pussy involuntarily clenching at the sight of him.

“Mmm, you gonna cum for me, doll? Cum all over my cock?” you ignored whatshisname, the only thing mattering to you at this moment was Duncan standing not very far from you, still watching you.

If he’s just going to stand there and watch, then you were definitely going to give him a show. You finally lock eyes with him, seeing the look of hurt (?) deep in his eyes...even better.

You grab onto the back of whatshisname's hair, using it as leverage to help you bounce harder on his length. You moaned extra loud, wanting Duncan to hear you rather than just see you.

Each buck of your hips, every moan leaving your pretty mouth, was a knife twist in Duncan’s stomach. He couldn’t believe what the fuck was happening. How had he not noticed you before he went into the restroom? And are those the heels he bought you?

It takes everything inside of him not to walk over to you and punch that guy in the face. But what would that do? Make you hate him even more than you already do? He knew there was nothing he could say or do at this moment, and it fucking killed him.

It killed him to see you with another guy, much less fucking another guy - having someone else draw out those sexy moans and whimpers he loved hearing. Having another guy feel the way your cunt clenches and flutters when you're about to cum, it was all too much for him.

Yet he couldn’t look away.

The way Duncan’s eyes bore into yours, like daggers, sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. This entire ordeal was something you found to be... exhilarating. You weren’t one to actively seek revenge - but this sure did feel fucking good, and you were getting off on it.

You weren’t going to last long, your orgasm fastly approaching. You turned your head slightly so your lips were near whatshisname’s ear, eyes never leaving Duncan’s, and whispering, “I’m g-gonna cum. I want you to cum inside me.” It was like your words flipped a switch in him, sending him into a frenzy.

His already bruising grip on your ass became even harder, thrusting up into you with such force you knew you wouldn’t be able to sit, much less walk after. Your moans turned into screams and legs shaking around him as your violent orgasm ripped through you.

A few more thrusts and his cum painted your walls. You stayed connected to each other for a bit, both trying to regulate your breathing. He moved to set you down, making sure you were okay to stand. You adjusted your thong and dress - looking up to find that Duncan had left from where he had been standing.

A tiny pang of disappointment (?) hit you. You had hoped that maybe Duncan would still be there, that you’d be able to rub it in his face even more that you were doing fine without him. Your thoughts were interrupted by whatshisname taking your hand in his and pulling you back towards your friends.

Several drinks later you found yourself back on the dancefloor with whatshisname. Your hips swaying to the beat of the song and his hands roaming all over your body. You turned around to have your back against his chest, your ass rolling against him.

And - for the second time that night, you caught sight of Duncan Shepherd. He was sitting in the VIP section of the club (of course) laughing with his frat brothers and some girls. One of them practically sitting in his lap.

Bitch.

Duncan was trying to have a good time. Trying to force the image of you fucking another guy to the back of his mind. Tried to let the girl practically throwing herself at him distract him from the clusterfuck of emotions running through him. Tried to drown his thoughts in alcohol in hopes that they would stop screaming at him.

“Hey Dunc, isn’t that Y/N?” one of his frat brothers called out, pointing you out on the dancefloor. He turned his gaze to where his friend was looking, seeing you dancing seductively with your date. Without thinking he stood up and marched his way over to you. Ignoring the others telling him to stop and it was a bad idea.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he got to you. Wasn’t sure what he should say, or if he should say anything at all. He contemplated turning back but decided against it. He needed you to know how he felt, how he truly felt.

No more hiding.

Once he got to where you were, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you off the dancefloor. With the anger evident on his face you couldn’t help but start laughing. Was he actually serious? After everything, he put you through, and now he’s the one who’s angry? It was hilarious to you - even in your drunken state of mind.

Your laughter only made Duncan angrier. Pushing you up against a wall and trapping you by placing both hands on the side of your head. “You think this is funny, Y/N?” his voice seething. Nostrils flaring from how pissed off he was.

You couldn’t help but think he was still fucking hot, even when he was mad. You also couldn’t help the arousal it sent through your body. Or the shiver it sent down your spine.

“Yeah, I do actually. Now if you don’t mind-” you move so you could leave, but Duncan pushed you back into the wall. “I’m not done talking to you. I don’t know what you see in that guy. He can’t fuck you like I can, make you cum like I can. He probably didn’t even make you cum at all.” he taunts while playing with a strand of your hair.

If you weren’t pissed off before - you were fucking pissed now. “He did make me cum. I can feel it between my thighs, wanna see?” you say with a smile. Duncan’s face dropped, which didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Didn’t think so, now get the fuck out of my way, Duncan.” you give him the nastiest glare you can muster up and push him off of you, walking back towards your date and your friends.

And Duncan stood there, head hanging low. Cursing himself for talking to you the way he did, for letting his anger get in the way of what he was really trying to do. But there was nothing he could do about it now. No way for him to come back from that. At least not right at that moment.

For the last time - Duncan Shepherd lets you walk away from him.

Tags: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @fckinsupreme @lovelylangdonx @wroteclassicaly @svjourn @hecohansen31 @ms-mead @your-daddy-langdon @delgrey

#duncan shepherd x reader #college fuckboy!duncan #house of cards #duncan shepherd #y'all this is trash but i wanted to post it anyways #take my hot garbage #take it now #dani's writing

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benhardyisdaddy · 5 years ago

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Royal Protection - Part 2

MASTERLIST

(welcome to pt 2!!! i hope you all like it, i love cliffhangers lol)

Word Count: 1,445

Loud, head thumping music blared all around you. Sweaty, chaotic bodies jumped, danced and screamed as they watch the live band on stage. Your favorite band of all time. The mixture of the ear piercing music and the shrill screams were enough to make your head pound. You don’t think you have ever been somewhere where it’s this loud, causing your own body to shake. Adrenaline? Perhaps. This was the first time in your eighteen years of living where you’ve snuck out. Usually princesses don’t do that. They stay far up in their castle, away from everyone else. Smile, y/n, you can hear your mother harshly whispering to you.

Your mother. Your parents were going to absolutely kill you when they find out you’ve snuck out. And believe me, they’d find out. Your nightly routine of Gwil checking on you was about thirty minutes ago. You can almost picture the panic in the castle as everyone rushes around to find you, but failing miserably. Hopefully they notice the opened window, you think to yourself. You purposely left it open in hopes they would realize that you weren’t in the castle. That you decided to venture out into the world for just a night. So far, you liked it.

You move your way around people in the crowd so you can get a better view of the band. Your best friend, from whom you’ve met online, was trailing right behind you as she shoved people to the side to make a path. You weren’t allowed to have non royalty friends, so Claire was your little secret. She didn’t see you as a snotty, rich princess like everyone else did. She saw you as y/n and that’s it.

“Piss off!” she yells, kneeing a handsy man in his side.

She was also a little firecracker. Spoke her mind no matter what and you loved that about her. She’s the reason why you’ve broken out of your small, dark shell. She had yelled loudly, making you turn around and laugh as the man is hunched over, grabbing his sore side. Claire rolls her eyes as the two of you continue walking. Your favorite band was having a midnight performance and you couldn’t believe you were here. It felt like a dream. You kept finding yourself peering around, in search of security guards watching you. You saw none, which allowed you to breathe a bit more. The multiple drinks you have consumed were making your head feel all light and fuzzy. You turn your focus back to the band and smile as your favorite song comes on. Everyone in the audience cheers like crazy and you join in, not caring who was watching. Your arms fly above your head as you begin dancing to the beat. You close your eyes and can’t stop smiling as you take in every second of this night, never wanting it to end.

“So, do you love it or do you love it?” asks Claire, smiling at you.

You look to her fast and laugh loudly.

“I think love is an understatement!” you shout back.

You’re grinning as you still stare at Claire, watching as her face slightly falls. She’s staring at something behind you, making your heart pound even faster - something you thought was impossible.

“Claire?” you ask, worried.

“Did Joe quit already?” she asks confused.

You shake your head and wait for her to continue, but she keeps staring past you. You wave your hand in front of her face making her finally look at you.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, half laughing.

“Your groupies! One’s been following you for a bit now. Is he new?”

Your brows slowly knit together, confused. New? You know Joe was leaving soon, but that wasn’t for another week. You shake your head slowly and feel a chill wash over you. The blaring music suddenly becoming mere background noise. You turn your head and peer behind you, scanning the multiple faces all around. Your eyes finally land one a blonde man, all dressed in black. His eyes are peering right at you, not breaking for anything. A serious look is plastered to his face as he stands near the back wall in the shadows. He was definitely staring at you. Your cover had been blown. You look back to Claire fast and grab her hand harshly.

“We have to go!” you say to her, dragging her behind you.

She yells out your name several times, but you continue rushing to the exit.

“Y/n, what’s gotten into you!? So they found you, big deal!” she yells.

You spin around, your face pale.

“Claire,” you start, trying to catch your breath. “I don’t know who that is, but they apparently know me! I have to go!”

Her eyes are wide as the two of you turn back around and spot the same blonde man making his way through the crowd, his eyes still on you. Claire looks to you and nods her head.

“Go!” she yells.

You both run and bump into people, causing them to shout out at you. You ignore them as the exit gets closer. You feel yourself relaxing, when suddenly Claire’s hand slips from yours. You gasp and turn around realizing just how busy the arena had gotten.

“Claire!?” you scream, looking around frantically. “Claire!?”

Nothing. You had lost her. You spot the blonde man getting even closer, so you choose to turn and continue without her. You knew this was a bad idea. You knew someone would notice you. You knew you should’ve brought security. You fling the door open and feel the cold air hit your face. You inhale the fresh breeze and begin rushing down the sidewalk. You pull your jacket close to your body as you wrap your arms around yourself. You push forward in the direction of the castle, ignoring any cat calls on the way there. You look behind you and feel yourself calm down when you spot nobody following. You round a corner and lean against a brick wall to catch your breath. You close your eyes and lean forward, dizzy from your head spinning.

A screeching noise of a car stopping too fast makes your head to shoot up. A giant black SUV is directly in front of you with dark tinted windows. You stand up straight and gasp when the drivers door opens up and the same blonde man from the concert walks out. He looks directly at you and rushes forward. You scream loudly and attempt to run, but it’s no use. He grabs your arms and hurriedly cuffs your hands together behind your back. You kick your legs wildly as he wraps his arms around your waist and carries you to the car.

“No! Let me go! Help!” you scream loudly as tears roll down your face.

The man huffs as he holds you against him with one arm, while the other opens the back door and pushes you inside. You flop on your back and try kicking while he slams the door closed.

“Let me go!” you scream loudly, your voice breaking.

The man ignores you as the car begins driving fast. Fear has your whole body shaking as you sob loudly. Why was this happening? What could this man possibly want? Now you really regret sneaking out. You continue to kick at the door in anger and frustration.

“Let me GO!” you scream as you kick harder.

The car comes to a hard stop, making you roll over onto your stomach. You try to sit up, but it’s no use. You hear the door open and hands wrap around your arms, leaning you up. You fight against the man’s grip when suddenly something gets put over your head, blocking your view completely. This is when super panic mode sets in. You’re screaming and kicking as you get dragged out of the car. Your feet slide against pavement as you get carried someplace.

You make out a bright light as you enter a building. You breathe fast as you’re forced to sit down. You hear whispering in front of you and make out two male voices. You squeeze your eyes closed and silently weep. You were scared. More than scared. You were beyond terrified. Your whole body was shaking in fear when suddenly, the thing over your head was ripped off. You squint your eyes to the harsh light as you blink them a few times. You peer in front of you and spot two men. You blink a few more times as your eyes finally adjust. You freeze and slowly shake your head, shocked.

“Joe?”

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marril96 · 5 years ago

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The Distance Between Us

Chapter 9: Witch’s Familiar

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: The time for the Halloween dance has come.

Editor: @cherrypierowena

You loved Halloween, you really did, but your idea of it was more sitting in front of the computer as the latest horror movie played on screen than a dance full of people you couldn't stand clad in cheap costumes and getting blackout drunk.

Yet here you were. At school. At seven PM. Dressed up as a cat; furry suit, fuzzy ears, and fluffy tail, all black as night.

You looked ridiculous.

No more ridiculous than the girls dressed as slutty nurses, but still ridiculous.

Your friends begged to differ, but then, they looked no better than you so it wasn't like they had any place to comment.

Sam and Dean had showed up in plaid shirts, worn jeans, and brown boots. Basically their everyday attire, but they claimed to be monster hunters. They carried ridiculous looking plastic knives (which still earned them odd looks from teachers at the entrance, one of whom had demanded to inspect said "weapons" despite their quite obvious fakeness) and had painted on some scars and tattoos on their arms. Dean had given himself a scar over his entire face, stretching from the right side of his forehead to his left cheek. Claimed it made him look more badass. Which was actually, strangely, true.

Castiel was an angel, dressed in all white (including the trench coat). He'd stuck a fluffy halo atop his head, and had on a pair of wings, big and feathery. You were tempted to rip out a feather or two. His glare at having seen right through you stopped you in your tracks.

Meg was clad in black leather from head to toe. Her eyes were full black, courtesy of contacts, and she had on wings that looked identical to Castiel's, only his were white while hers were ink black.

And Crowley…

Crowley had on a suit, one that almost looked tailored specifically to him. A crown was perched on his head, black with blood-red crystals. He wore red contacts, making his eyes look like menacing rubies.

"Lemme guess," you'd said the first thing you saw him. "A demon."

He'd looked at you with such offense, as if you'd just insulted his mother. Throwing a quick glance Meg's way, he'd made a face and told you, "King of Hell."

Because of course he was.

What else would he be?

Stupid you.

You didn't exactly have many ideas for your costume. Dressing up wasn't your thing, especially when it came to school-related events.

Browsing the local costume shop, nothing stood out to you as special, as you. You were there more as a courtesy. You weren't even sure if you would show up to the dance.

Then you remembered Rowena. Remembered her smile, so happy, so bright, as she showed you her dress.

You had to see her in that dress.

You didn't know why. Didn't understand the euphoria that went through you at the image of her clad in it, of the fabric hugging every curve of her body.

That was when it occurred to you that you could be a cat. A black one.

Witch's familiar.

You wondered if she would get the reference. If anyone would, for that matter.

It was silly, really, but oh, well. It was a school dance, not a castle gala. Silliness was basically law.

"Drink?" Crowley asked. He looked around to make sure the coast was clear, then pulled a flask out of his inner pocket and took a big swig.

Whiskey most likely.

You made a face. "No, thanks."

He shrugged. "More for me."

He took another swig. Then another.

Nice.

The dance had just started, and he'd already started working on getting drunk.

"Easy there, your majesty. Leave some for later."

With a sly smirk, he opened up his suit jacket, revealing three more flasks neatly stashed in each pocket. "A king always comes prepared."

Of course he did.

"I'm not driving you home because of your preparations," you threatened.

He held his hands up in a placating manner.

"And I'm not helping you walk. You're not drooling on my shoulder. Again."

One time, a few months ago, was more than enough.

"Thanks for the warning, love, but I can handle my liquor," he said in a modest tone that was faker than his title.

You laughed out loud, right in his face.

"What's up?" Sam asked, breaking through the crowd of costumed bodies with Dean in tow. Both held plastic cups filled to the brim with foamy amber liquid that didn't look like juice.

"Crowley's a drunk," you said. Before the king could utter a response (which earned you a middle finger from him instead), you asked, "Where'd you get that?"

"Some seniors snuck in a six pack," Dean said with a shit-eating grin. He took a sip of his beer, then another before finally downing half a cup.

Beer. One of Dean Winchester's weaknesses, right alongside hot chicks, porn, pie, and Jack Daniel's.

You stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. How did one sneak in a six pack?

You decided you didn't want to know.

They were seniors. It was explanation enough. Just like that time Garth Fitzgerald did something that got the entire school evacuated and guys in hazmat suits called in. How? It didn't matter. All that was known was that whatever he'd done occurred in the chem lab and it was an honest to god accident.

It had happened, and everyone had gotten a day off.

And tonight, everyone who wanted would get to party properly.

Crowley opened up his jacket again, flashing the goodies right in the Winchesters' faces. "Amateurs."

Dean's face lit up. "Crowley, my man!"

Crowley held up a hand. "No."

"Come on."

"You get nothing."

"Don't be a dick."

"I'm proud of the title."

He looked it.

"I'll pay you," Dean said.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "How much?"

The elder Winchester peeked into his wallet. "I got two bucks."

Crowley looked offended. A flicker of amusement flashed over his face. "Generous, but no."

"You're an ass!" Dean whined.

Crowley sighed. "Need I remind you what happened last time?"

Dean, drunk out of his ass, had stolen and then drank his entire stash. And had gotten so sick he'd almost ended up at the ER.

Crowley knew better than to let his guard down around him. Fool him once and all that.

"I was wasted back then," Dean said.

"And you'll be wasted this time. Not on my account." Crowley shooed at him as if he were a pesky stray. "Off you go."

Dean did, in fact, go away, became one with the crowd, but not before holding up a middle finger.

"Charming," Crowley quipped with a smirk.

"You guys should just fuck and get it over with," you teased.

You knew Crowley would happily take that option. He never said anything, but you could tell he was attracted to Dean. And Sam. And Castiel. Maybe even Meg and you.

Crowley was attracted to everyone. Flirted with everyone. And, if given the chance, slept with everyone.

You still loved him to bits, but only as a friend. He was attractive, and funny, and could be sweet when he wanted to, but he was your friend. That was what you loved him as. Nothing more and nothing less.

"I'm in if he's in," Crowley said suggestively.

You laughed. If he were a girl, it most likely would have happened yet.

Sam, through a laugh, said, "I'm gonna go find Eileen. See if she wants to dance."

Eileen Leahy was a cute and sweet Sophomore girl Sam sometimes saw in the library. They would make an adorable couple.

"Leaves just you and me," Crowley said, cocking up a teasing eyebrow. "Up for a dance?"

"I can't dance," you pointed out.

"You can stand and watch me dance."

An offer you couldn't refuse. "Sure."

It wasn't like you had anything better to do.

Grabbing your hand, he dragged you into the crowd. People were drinking. Dancing. Moving and swaying to the rhythm of the loud, deafening music blasting through the speakers. So many different costumes surrounded you; some good, some terrible, but, despite the quality of their attire, everyone seemed to be having an amazing time.

Without warning, Crowley took your hands into his and started dancing. He was a great dancer. A rather sophisticated one. He moved just the right way. No mistakes, no slip ups. Just good, old-fashioned dancing.

What the hell.

If he could do it, if all these other kids could do it, so could you.

Talent didn't matter.

It was all about enjoyment.

You let Crowley spin you around. Let him pull you in and out. You were stiff, more robot than human, but you moved alongside him, copied everything he did to the best of your — rather limited — ability.

No one paid attention.

No one pointed and laughed.

Everyone was lost in their own joy.

"Where did you learn how to dance?" you asked, shouting to be heard over the music.

"Dance school," Crowley said.

Seriously?

He didn't seem like the type.

But then, it was Crowley. Everything was possible.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"You don't look like the type to go to an extra school."

Or school in general.

"Mother signed me up," he said, shrugging. "Quit when I was ten. Seemed like a waste of time."

Now that was more like him.

You chuckled.

"Still got the moves."

"They're great moves," you said.

He spun you around again.

Right into someone's back.

Shit!

"I'm so sorry," you said.

The person you'd crashed into whipped around, pissed to high heavens.

Then your eyes met and all anger vanished in a blink, replaced by surprise. A quite welcome one.

"Y/N?"

"Rowena," you breathed out.

It took everything in you to regain your composure. She was gorgeous. Stunning. Mesmerizing. The sparkly black dress fit her perfectly, hugged her every curve as if molded on her body. Her nails were painted black, and she wore a pointy hat adorned with spider web patterns.

Dear god!

She was the most beautiful witch you'd ever seen.

"I didn't think you'd come," she said, flashing a bright smile.

Neither did you.

"Thought I'd have some fun, after all the math," you said.

She gave a small laugh.

"How's that going for you?"

"Good. When I'm not crashing into people."

"Och, it was nothing."

Right.

That was why she wanted to rip your head off — until she noticed it was you.

Did that mean you weren't on her shit list anymore? That her mean girl persona didn't apply to you?

What a privilege.

Rowena narrowed her eyes at her brother. "Fergus."

"Sister," he retorted in a rather uninterested tone.

Such sibling love.

"It's so nice to see you guys," Lucifer said cheerfully.

He was dressed in all red, with red contacts and horns stuck atop his head.

The devil.

Fitting.

You flinched, having not noticed him. You were too distracted by the beautiful witch to notice the garbage that came with the package.

Rowena may have become nicer to you, but that didn't make her choice of boyfriends any less disgusting.

"The feeling's not mutual," you said, then turned to Crowley. "Come on, I wanna get something to drink."

"You're leaving?" The devil pouted. "What did I do?"

"You exist," you replied.

He dramatically slammed a hand over his heart. "Ouch. That hurt my feelings."

Good, you thought. Fucking awesome!

Rowena gave you a polite smile on your way back. A tad… apologetic.

No.

You were seeing things.

She loved that asshole and, despite the recent change in your relationship, hated you.

And, for some strange reason you couldn't put your finger on, it made your heart feel like it was being picked apart by dull knives.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @tasyahilker @a-queen-and-her-throne

#rowena #rowena macleod #rowena x reader #spn #supernatural #crowley #sam winchester #dean winchester #lucifer #spn family #my fics #fanfiction #high school au

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h-o-l-l-i · 5 years ago

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Love Never Hurt So Bad

Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Language, Angst, Mention of blood/injuries

Author’s Note: Requests are OPEN until 6/15! Let me know what you think of this series and let me know if you would like to be added to any of my tags!

SPN: @coffee-obsessed-writer // @mrsjaxtellerfan // @roonyxx // @princessofthefandomrealm // @witch-of-letters // @lauravic // @destielhoneybee

Series: @coffee-obsessed-writer // @roonyxx // @mrsjaxtellerfan // @holylulusworld // @flamencodiva // @suvikamahes98blr // @paintrider13-blog // @squirrelnotsam // @eves-library // @coffeebooksandfandom // @teller258316 // @babykalika2001 // @deansgirl79 // @princessofthefandomrealm // @tftumblin // @sasbb23 // @darylsbxtch // @mirandaaustin93 // @divadinag // @adoptdontshoppets // @andthatsmyworld // @fandomoverdose666

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“I swear to God Crowley, if you—”

“Hurt her!? This is Hell, it’s what we do here!” Crowley spat back to him, the frustration foaming in his mouth, “She’s alive…barely.” His voice rumbled. “See for yourselves.” He snapped this thick fingers and the doors creeped open slowly, the anticipation peaking as two of Crowley’s demons stepped aside, their hands firmly fixed on both of your arms to support your body.

“Y/N.” Sam’s voice exclaimed just above a whisper, his jaw tightening.

Dean’s knees became weak at the sight of you and his breath hitched in his throat, his eyes taking you in…what was left of you anyway.

___

You blinked your eyes, the shapes slowly focusing in form the fuzzy blobs from the blood that flooded your vision. You raised your aching head painfully; you swallowed hard and tugged at your restraints. “I’m going to kill you, you son-of-a-bitch!” You tried to spit but your voice was dry and scratchy in your throat. “You’re not Dean!”

“Maybe,” his voice mimicked the man you loved, “But after a while,” he paused and picked up a blade, running his finger down the sharp edge. His eyes flashed up to you; his boots echoed in the small cement room that you were in. His breath hot in your ear, “You won’t know what’s real anymore.” You jutted your head into him, you winced in pain and reopened an old wound, the fresh, warm crimson blood trailed down the side of your face and stained your shoulder. “You bitch!” He lunged towards you with the knife grasped firmly in his hand but halted abruptly when the steel door screeched open.

You let out a small sigh of relief, knowing that the familiar pain of the sharp blade cutting into your skin was postponed for a few more minutes at least. Dean’s eyes flickered black again and Sam walked through the door, “Christo!” You spat, the blood splattering from your lips. They both winced and their eyes showed their true nature. You leaned your head back in laughter, “Fucking hilarious!” You smiled, they turned towards to and Sam picked up a small torch.

“We’ll see who’s laughing in a minute, Y/N.” Sam light up a blue flame.

“I’m going to kill you, just like I killed all of your demon buddies,” you smiled, looking him straight in the black eyes, “It’s only a matter of time.”

___

One of Crowley’s demons, dressed in all black, clicked her heels, the sound catching his attention, two other men followed in behind her and stood patiently.

“My King.” She said Crowley’s other men still stayed in place.

“You’re standing there still because…” his voice grew thick with agitation.

“Sir.” One of the men said nervously, stepping forward to speak to the King of Hell who was sitting in his throne. “Y/N, she—”

___

Crowley flashed his men a look and they nodded before tossing you to the cold, hard floor. Your cackled hands caught raised to brace yourself as much as you could, the double doors closed, leaving you alone with Crowley and the Winchesters. “Go ahead.” He motioned to you and sat back down into his plush throne.

Dean was sprinting to you, kneeling onto the ground, he assessed the extent of your multiple wounds all in different stages of healing. “Y/N, I’m sorry. All of this happened because I listened to Crowley, it’s on me. I did this—” Sam pulled a chair over for your to sit in.

“Don’t…I forgive you, Dean; you thought you were doing the right thing. I’d do the same if I was put in your position…” your voice hurt as you spoke.

Crowley stood and spoke, “Originally, I was just going to rough her up a little bit to get a rise out of this one,” he pointed to Dean at your side, “had her in a comfortable room…nothing as bad as some of those motel rooms you stay in. But,” he paused, standing up and tucking his hands into his front pockets of his black jacket, “then she had to go and kill three of my best torturers, so…”

Dean says, “that’s my girl.” Sam smirks proudly at you.

Crowley let out a frustrated sigh and sat back in his throne and three men came into the room and pulled you to your feet again taking you away.

“Hey!” Sam shouted

“Y/N! Bring her back right so to I swear to Chuck I’ll rip your head clean off your body, Crowley!”

“Oh, that’s a new one.” He mocked and leaned over the arm of the large throne and poured some amber liquid into a small glass and sipped on his whiskey. Before he spun the lid of the bottle closed he tipped it to the brother’s silently. They both tighten their jaws and wield their signature Winchester bitch-face. “Okay then,” he twisted the lid back on tightly, “Shall we let the fun begin?” He smirked.

He snaps and stools are brought out for them. “I’m going to bring Y/N out, if either one of you tries to pull any high cards, she dies.”

“Hate to break it to you but I’ve come with a full hand, Crowley.” Dean’s rough, firm voice groaned. Sam stood strongly next to his older brother and tightened his jaw and lowered his chin, firmly placing his eyes on the King go Hell.

“That’s where you Winchester’s are wrong,” Crowley laughs, “I have the high cards and you have- hold on, give me a second, let me have a look... No cards!” The brothers, filled with adrenaline and fury, frowned severely and stepped closer to Crowley ready to fight but the doors open and Crowley’s eyes flash a dark red, “You might want to rethink that,” he stood and patted the top of his hellhounds head, “before Cugo here, has a little taste.”

“Whatever you want Crowley, I’ll do it!” Dean’s voice boomed, his heart ached at the sight of you struggling to stand, your knees wobbling; your skin bruised, bloodied and dirty. “You win, okay? Just please, let Y/N go and you can do whatever you want with me.”

“Dean,” Sam intervened.

“No, Sammy. Y/N’s going to need someone, I need you to be there for her.” He turned his eyes to grace yours again, “I love you, Y/N.”

“Oh, my heart! It is bleeding with joy.” He said sarcastically and rolled his eyes, “Also, enough of this self sacrifice already; if I wanted you, I would have taken you.”

“Then what do you want?” Your tired, weak voice grabbed the attention of the three men in the room. “If you want me to stop killing your demons maybe you should train them better!” You spat at him from your chair, not even attempting to stand, knowing that your body is too weak to stand on your own. “Or at least stop making deals with kids.”

“Maybe I’ll do both…maybe I’ll keep you for a little longer since you’re so full with ideas to better my demons…” he snarled.

“Come on, Crowley. We can work something out.” Sam’s voice of reason speaking clearly, his large body stepping in front of you, protectively. “Your job and our job don’t exactly work well together but it’s not impossible…” he tucked his hair behind his ears. “We’ve done it before, Crowley. Let, Y/N come home, just name your price.”

“Her soul.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Not a chance!” Dean’s voice shouted.

“Long shot, I know but it was worth a shot.” Crowley amused. “I’ll let her go with you, but,” he stood, “I’m keeping it until we’ve come to an agreement.” He smiled, “Think of it as…collateral.”

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moonstruckbucky · 6 years ago

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Snowed In [one shot]

Summary: Based off the prompt: “we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward” from this prompt list.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2741

Warnings: Illusions to sex, language, awkward situations

Notes: To help get myself into the holiday spirit, I found some fun winter prompts that I’m hoping will do the trick. I’m literally writing these as I sit bored at work so.

New York nightlife reached new heights the night before an incoming snowstorm. You weren’t sure what the appeal was, since your idea of a good snow-in involved fuzzy socks, a book, sleeping until noon, and Netflix, but you let your friends drag you out into the frigid New York air anyways. At least you won the argument to wear jeans and heeled boots over a skimpy cocktail dress.

Light snowflakes were already falling as you and your friends caught an Uber to a nightclub in Manhattan. It was cramped in the backseat between the four of you, and the traffic was terrible, but despite all that you felt a small bubble of excitement. Small talk buzzed around the car, the driver chiming in every so often much to your enjoyment, and then before you knew it the Uber pulled up in front of the building.

The line out front looked daunting, stretching far down the block, and you frowned. “Are you sure we’re going to be able to get in?”

“Nat’s got hookups,” Wanda supplied with a wink and a toss of her long brown hair. You laughed a little as you slid out of the car, hugging your coat tighter to your body.

The music from the club pulsed a rapid beat as your quartet strode up to the door. Natasha, in her stunning emerald green pant suit that set off her red hair, smiled sweetly at the bouncer, a big hulking man named Dave, and gave her name. Dave grinned and leaned forward to peck her cheek in greeting, and with an amused smile you wondered how deep her connections went.

Dave allowed you to enter the building, the indignant cries of the people in line falling on deaf ears. You winced a little at the volume of the fast-paced dance music, a remix of some modern pop song, but your ears quickly adapted as Natasha led you all to the bar. It was tradition to start off every girls’ night with a hefty shot of tequila, and it was a tradition that often set you up for a terrible hangover the next day.

But considering your boss had already told you not to bother coming in, you decided you could live a little.

The shot went down smooth despite the bite of the liquor, and it settled warmly in your stomach. You grinned as Wanda held up another. Clinking your glasses together, the second one went down even smoother than the first.

“Let’s dance!” you said into Wanda’s ear. No need to ask her twice. She grabbed your hand and tugged you out onto the crowded floor, leaving Natasha and Gamora to follow behind you.

You began moving to the beat of the song, your hand still in Wanda’s as you danced around one another. In spite of your initial reluctance to go out tonight, you were glad you did. The night had only just begun and already you were having a blast.

You danced through five songs before you needed an actual drink in your hand, and Natasha followed you back to the bar. Dropping into two stools, you panted to catch your breath and exchanged a broad smile with the redhead.

“Thanks for twisting my arm in coming out,” you said, leaning closer to her to talk without yelling over the music. Her spicy floral perfume wafted into your nose, and you laid your head on her shoulder.

“Sometimes we worry about you,” she said honestly. She leaned forward over the bar to give the bartender your drink orders, settling on some kind of tequila mixture. Then she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, returning her full attention back to you. “How much of a homebody you are. Sometimes we think something else is going on.”

“No, nothing’s going on,” you said earnestly, lifting your head to give her a soft smile. “You know me, I like my space and solitude.”

“I know,” she groused, a teasing lilt to her voice. “But I’m really glad you came out tonight. We could all use a night to let loose.”

“I’ll drink to that.” The bartender set your drinks down and immediately you and Natasha clinked them together, taking hefty sips and wincing. “Wow, he was feeling generous with the tequila.”

“No kidding.” Her eyes scanned further down the bar, a slow smirk appearing on her face. “Hey, out of curiosity, when’s the last time you got laid?”

You spluttered. “Beg pardon?”

“Y’know, when was the last time someone knocked you into your headboard until you saw God?”

“Jesus, Nat! Have you always been so crass or is this something new?” you retorted, face flaming (though you’re not sure if it’s from her blunt question or the answer you’re reluctant to give).

“I’m gonna say it’s been a while then. Wanna break that streak? Because there’s a total hottie checking you out down the bar. Really muscly, navy button-down. Don’t be obvious about it, for the love of Pete.”

As subtly as you could master, as grace wasn’t really your forte, it was Nat’s, you turned your head, eyes flitting across the bartop to meet a pair of vivid blue eyes, brought out by the obscenely tight shirt stretched across the planes of his chest. Dear god, you feared for those buttons, but the smirk he sent your way quickly had you rethinking how much you’d love to rip those buttons free.

Knowing you were caught, you straightened on your stool, playing it off that you weren’t totally checking out a stranger. Your finger traced the rim of your glass as Nat’s dark eyebrow rose.

“What the fuck do I do?” you squeaked. “Do I go over there? Buy him a drink? Send him a fucking letter with a carrier pigeon? Nat!”

“I think you’re covered, sweetcheeks. He’s coming over here. I’ll catch you later. Or maybe I won’t.” She smirked, picked up her drink, and abandoned you at the bar just as the muscled torso of aforementioned hottie down the bar took her place.

Dear god, he was even better looking up close. Did the universe really spit out people who looked that good? His blonde hair looked soft as silk, the dim lighting of the club reflecting off the highlights. And up close, those buttons looked to be in real danger of popping off at any point.

He cleared his throat, which you’d just barely heard over the music, and your eyes snapped to his. He was smirking, and your face colored at being caught so obviously ogling him. You played it off, gracefully crossing one leg over the other and leaning on the bar.

“Hi.” Oh sweet Jesus, even his voice was smooth as silk. You were done for.

“Hello.” You thanked the heavens your voice didn’t waver or crack. No good showing all your cards at once.

“I’m Steve,” he introduced, jutting out a large hand, tipped with long fingers, out towards you. Smoothly you took it, reveling in its warmth and the way it dwarfed yours. Instinctively you suppressed a shiver when his thumb ran gently over your knuckles before he let go.

“Y/N. Pleasure to meet you, Steve.” You batted your lashes once, thanking Natasha for seemingly sending you some pointers on sultriness via ESP.

“Oh believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” Steve responded smoothly. He leaned his elbow on the bar, effectively lowering his face closer to yours. His cologne, a delectable aroma of something musky, invaded your nose, inhibiting your senses and making you feel drunk. “Could I interest you in a dance?”

Playing coy, you blushed. “You could.”

The dance floor was where you remained for most of the night. You’d caught a glimpse of your friends, who encouraged you to stay with Steve despite it being girls’ night. You weren’t sure they could pull you away with a herd of wild horses. He was intoxicating, Steve, and an excellent dancer. His large hands splayed across your back as you danced chest to chest, eyes locked on one another.

When he spun you around, pressing your back to his front and pressed a slow, languid kiss to the spot behind your ear, you knew there was no way in hell you weren’t leaving here without him.

Which is how you found yourself crowded against the window in the back of an Uber, Steve’s mouth assaulting yours, as the snow fell more heavily. A layer of white coated every surface, a fleeting thought that left as quickly as it came when Steve’s warm hand slid up under your shirt, luring gooseflesh to the surface despite the blasting heat in the car, the fire in your blood.

He barely pulled away from your mouth to pay the driver when the car stopped, and the two of you fumbled out of the backseat. It was a trek across the slippery sidewalk to his apartment building and breathlessly he told you the elevator was out of service. To the stairs it was, and that was an adventure in itself seeing as neither of you was keen on letting the other go just yet.

Finally, finally, you reached his floor and his apartment door, and your mouth teased the skin of his throat as he dug into his pockets for his keys. His throat vibrated as he groaned when your teeth nipped at the skin, bruising his pale skin a pretty purple.

Once inside the apartment, it was a heated flurry of discarded clothing, loud, carefree moans, and breathy sighs until you fell asleep cradled against that glorious, expansive chest.

You were the first to wake the next morning, having rolled away from Steve’s godlike form sometime during the night. Eyelids heavy, you scanned his room for your fallen clothing, finding only your jeans and underwear. Your blouse and bra must have been left in the living room. You rubbed your eyes, urging yourself to wake up faster so you could get the hell out.

You slipped out of the bed, a small part of you wishing you could stay just because of the furnace of a man still dead to the world, and began picking up your clothes. Like you thought, you found your bra strung over the arm of the couch, your shirt under the entryway table. Once dressed, you pulled your phone out of your jacket and brought up the Uber app.

You frowned when a notification popped up in the app that all Uber services for the Manhattan area were shut down due to the snow.

Shit. The snow.

Venturing to the massive living room window, you pulled back the curtain and frowned at the fact that you could not see a foot in front of the window. Snow flurries were being whipped around by a strong wind and a layer of frost coated the windows. Steve’s apartment looked to be on an upper floor, though you couldn’t tell how high from the low visibility. Plus, you hadn’t exactly been counting the floors as you climbed the stairs the night before.

Sighing, you browsed the internet for subway times, cursing quietly when a bright orange banner at the top of the page notified you that, like Uber, the subway was shut down due to both maintenance and the storm.

“Everything’s locked up.”

You jumped, nearly dropping your phone, at the sudden sound of Steve’s voice. He was leaning against his bedroom doorway, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. Jesus, did this guy own a shirt that fit him properly?

“Yeah, I, uh, found that out the hard way,” you muttered, waving your phone by way of explanation. You suddenly felt very awkward; your previous one night stands didn’t usually extend this long, and you had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, it seemed Steve did. “Do you want some coffee?”

The way he asked it was so unusually casual that you couldn’t do anything but nod and follow him to the kitchen. He slapped the countertop twice, a nonverbal cue for you to park it, and he began to bustle around his coffee maker.

“So, what do you do for work?” he asked as he filled the basin with water. He glanced over his shoulder at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. The whole ordeal threw you for a loop, really.

“Um, I’m in marketing,” you stammered, awkwardness coating every word. Sighing, you dragged a hand through your hair. “Sorry, I’m not usually this awkward. It’s just….”

“This doesn’t happen a lot for you,” he finished with an understanding smile. The beauty of it set your mind back a couple steps.

“Uh, right. Usually, I’m out before he wakes up or….he’s out. There’s none of….this.” You gestured between the two of you. Steve nodded, lips pursing a bit. He had a twinkle in his blue eyes when he turned to lean his backside against the counter, the coffee percolating behind him.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to mix it up a bit every so often, right?” His grin was wry and teasing, and you felt yourself smiling back. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

Steve’s smile turned softer. “Pancakes it is.”

Conversation flowed easily between the two of you once you set aside your awkwardness. If Steve didn’t feel uncomfortable with his one night stand staying through the snowstorm, then who were you to complain?

Turns out, Steve was a hell of a cook and whipped up the fluffiest batch of pancakes you’d ever had. He even had strawberries, whipped cream, and homemade maple syrup from his parents in Vermont. The coffee was nice and strong, and the company and conversation couldn’t have been better.

The two of you moved into the living room after Steve insisted he’d clean up the dishes later. You frowned, but he flashed that thousand-watt grin at you and you forgot what you were frowning about. Steve held out his arm next to the couch, and you flopped onto it, groaning at its plushness.

“Oh my god,” you sighed, stretching your neck back as you curled your feet up underneath you. “I could die happy on this couch.”

Steve chuckled and sat down, closer to you than you’d been expecting. With all the casualness of a good friend, or even a boyfriend, he reached for your legs and dropped your feet into his lap. The gesture made butterflies take to your belly, and you hid a smile behind your coffee mug.

“I’ve admittedly fallen asleep quite a bit out here. Dunno why I even bothered with an actual bed.”

You shifted so your back was against the armrest. Steve’s thigh was firm under your legs and his hands warm as they drifted up and down the tops of your feet.

“It is a comfortable bed though.” You smiled cheekily, pulling your lip between your teeth when Steve’s pupils dilated just a bit.

“Glad you slept well then.” Was it you or did his voice drop?

“Like the dead. I had a pretty good furnace keeping me warm.”

“Happy to be of service. Let me know if I can do it again sometime,” he said softly, voice turning away from teasing and playful to serious. Your smile dropped, but only a bit, before it turned shy as his cheeks flushed pink.

“Are you saying you…want to see me again?”

Damn your galloping heart for actually wanting him to say yes.

Steve’s face turned a darker shade of crimson, the blush spreading down his neck and to the tips of his ears.

“I mean, I know it’s not very….conventional to want to see your one night stand again but I’m having a nice time with you. So, yeah, I’d really like to see you again. Maybe we can go get dinner somewhere or lunch in the park.”

You smiled giddily. “I’d love to. Give me your phone.”

He tossed it to you, and you plugged your number in, adding a little wine emoji next to your name. You handed it back, letting your fingers brush his for a lengthy moment before dropping your arm, your eyes locked on his. You watched his breathing hitch, watched his Adam’s apple bob.

Boldly, you licked your lower lip, lower regions clenching when his eyes followed the movement, and asked, “So, just how comfy is this couch?”

Steve’s hand drifted up your leg to your thigh as you sat up. “Come over here and we’ll find out.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america #steve rogers #captain america x you #captain america x reader #marvel #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #winter #winter fluff #marvel fanfiction

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brookeandrylee · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter Twenty One

Ry woke up the next morning, hardly remembering how she had gotten home. She cried in Brooke’s car for half an hour or so before carefully driving back to her dorm, her eyes blood shot and filled with tears. She had texted Brooke that she had made it home safe, per her request, and quietly cried herself once she reached her bed.

Once Ry had woken up, she felt numb. She wasn’t ready to see Brooke, but she knew that she needed to bring back her car, and that involved, at the very least, Brooke driving Ry home.

Ry climbed out of bed, seeing the jacket that Brooke had given her thrown haphazardly across the floor. Ry allowed herself a small smile, remembering that way Brooke had called her cute. The smile didn’t last long as more images of the night poured into her head.

‘You should have taken better care of her,’ the voice said. ‘You shouldn’t have led her on or kissed her back. She’s not even going to remember it and you’re going to have to tell her.’ The voice continued to rip her apart as she got dressed.

Ry pulled out a pair of black joggers and an old hoodie from a college that she had visited in high school. She slipped on her vans and decided on a blue baseball cap with a turtle on the front.

Ry left her dorm and walked out of her quiet suit. Her roommates were likely all still asleep, as it was only 8:30.

Ry got in Brooke’s car and threw out some of their trash from the night before, including a handful of napkins that Ry had used to cry into. Ry finished cleaning Brooke’s car and began her drive over, her stomach doing flips.

The further Ry drove, the sicker she felt. Something felt wrong. She thought about the night before and how amazing it was to kiss Brooke. She had kissed her before, but it was different last night, it was...innocent. The warm feeling that Ry had felt the night before began to recreate itself and, for just a moment, Ry let it.

She shook the feeling of warmth and tried to shake the feeling of dread and just focus on the road. She drove in silence the rest of the way, mindlessly turning and stopping when necessary.

Ry pulled up to Brooke’s apartment, using the fob attached to her key to allow herself entry. She climbed the stairs, hoping to work off some of the nerves that threatened crawling back up her throat.

Ry jogged, quickly making it to Brooke’s floor. She walked up to her door, preparing to knock, when she realized that she had the key. ‘She I still knock?’ She thought to herself. ‘But if she’s sleeping or sick, I don’t want her to have to get up.’

Ry decided she would let herself in and call out to Brooke. She found the key, but as she put her hand on the door handle, it turned itself, having already been unlocked.

Ry’s heart sank. Maybe she was just paranoid, she always made sure to lock her doors. But she had forgotten to lock Brooke’s the night before when she left.

Every worst case scenario filled her mind. She threw the door open and ran inside.

“Brooke?!” Ry yelled out, trying to stay calm. Squint greeted her at the door, meowing happily. ‘Okay that’s a good sign,’ Ry thought to herself. “Brooke, are you here?” She asked again, loudly, worry plaguing her voice.

Ry made her way to the bedroom, terrified, praying for a response.

Brooke had woken up around 8 the next morning, she felt absolutely dreadful, the first thing she did was take care of the waste basket, it smelled terrible. Next she found herself some ibuprofen and finished off the juice on her bedside table, and checked her phone. she smiled, remembering Ry had been so sweet to her. She had gotten home safe thank god.

‘Rylee... fuck.’ She thought, the memories of the night before flooding her memory. She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering the way they felt pressed against hers. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes once more, ‘right, you ruined everything’ she reminded herself.

She was in absolutely no mood to do anything with her throbbing headache and low self esteem. ‘She ran out of here like a terrified kid, Brooke. How could you do that to her!’

Everything felt like too much to handle, she pushed herself to the bathroom and turned on the hot water. She stripped down and watched herself in the mirror as steam began to fill the room, she was really upset with herself, she could hear her mother’s critical words echo though her skull. She tried to shake them off and stepped under the shower head, trying to scrub away the feelings of inadequacy.

She had no idea what time Ry would be showing up, she wanted to look at least semi decent after the way she had acted last night. ‘Sloppy, immature, gross, stupid.’ She told herself as she rinsed the soap from her hair and body.

She thought she had heard the front door open, she wanted to stay under the scalding water but she got out and wrapped a large towel around herself. It was Rylee, she was already here and Brooke still looked awful, her wet hair plastered to her skin. Eyes still puffy, nose still red, her skin was splotchy from how harsh she had scrubbed.

“Down here!” She hollered back, hugging the towel around herself a bit tighter and stepping into the hall where Ry could see her. “Hey, glad you could make it” she smiled softly, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She felt self conscious, small, like She wanted to curl up under a rock and die.

Ry could feel her heart start beating again, she didn’t think she could ever be that worried. She ran forward without even thinking. “Jesus Christ, thank god!” She dropped the keys behind and and wrapped Brooke in a hug.

Her back was soaked with water and it dampened Ry’s sweatshirt, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t thinking about anything, she was just so happy that she was okay.

“Holy fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Ry said, giving Brooke’s body a right squeeze before pulling back, keeping her hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry—I...the door and I just came in. I should’ve texted but it was unlocked and I...” Ry stuttered, frantically trying to explain herself.

Just as she started to get ahold of herself, she heard a beep from the kitchen. “Oh...coffee’s done...” she said. “I, uh, I set it on a timer last night, I don’t know if you like coffee...did you want me to get you some while you get changed?”

Ry looked at her, trying get a read on her face. Did she remember what had happened last night? Did she care? Was she mad that Ry just embraced her soaking wet, barely covered, naked body. Ry tried not to think too hard about what laid beneath Brooke’s towel.

“Miss me?”

Brooke winced as the girl hugged her tightly but chuckled almost immediately. Savoring the feeling of the girls touch. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get you all wet.” She gave an apologetic smile as Rylee held her shoulders.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s sweet that you were worried about me.” She reassured her. “Coffee sounds great, thanks babe” she squeezed her arm and pulled back to get dressed.

Brooke went into her room but kept the door open, she shifted through her clothes. It was laundry day so her options were limited. She changed quickly into an oversized pale yellow and white striped shirt. She didn’t bother with a bra, the only panties she had left were thongs. She pulled on a basic black one and a pair of tight lounge shorts.

She looked at herself in the mirror and shrugged, hoping Ry wouldn’t get the wrong idea. She towel dried her hair and threw it up up into a large messy bun. She threw on some large fuzzy socks to keep her feet warm in the chilly apartment, then she made her way out to the living room.

Ry walked out into the kitchen, her shoulders still tight with worry. She tried to forget all of the images that flashed through her head before she knew that Brooke was okay. Ry had been prepared for the worst, which consisted of some pretty gruesome images.

Ry pulled out two coffee mugs and poured them full. She realized as she poured that she didn’t know how Brooke liked her coffee. She took out the cream and sugar and made her way into the living room, carrying everything and setting it in the coffee table.

Ry went back into the kitchen poured Brooke a glass of water, thinking she’d probably need to hydrate after their night of drinking. She set it next to their cups of coffee and walked back to the kitchen to start breakfast.

Ry heard Brooke make her way out of the bedroom. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee, but everything’s out on the table!” She yelled out, although she hardly had to yell. Brooke apartment was quiet. “I’m in here making pancakes,” Ry said with a smile. She had been so nervous to see Brooke, but it didn’t seem like she had remembered anything from the night before.

Brooke was about to sit on the couch, but she heard Rylee say she was making pancakes. “Are you really making me breakfast?” She asked as she wandered into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. She watched her appreciatively, sipping on her coffee.

“You’re really sweet Rylee.” She mumbled as the girl flipped a pancake. She wanted to bring up last night, she knew Ry remembered. Brooke could really just pretend nothing had happened and ignore it. No, that wouldn’t be fair to Rylee. She would have to bring it up eventually. She grabbed the butter and syrup from the fridge, then pulled open a cupboard and grabbed sun butter. Setting them on the counter with two knives, two forks, and two plates.

“Of course I’m making you breakfast!” Rylee said, chuckling. “You’re gonna need carbs to soak up all the shots you took last night.” She laughed, covering her nerves. Her face got red as she mentioned the woman’s drinks. She hoped that bringing up the previous wouldn’t remind her of anything.

“You don’t have to help, you know,” Ry said quietly. She enjoyed Brooke’s company, but she wanted to pamper her, at least a little.

“Sorry to barge in uninvited this morning,” Ry mumbled. “I should’ve called before I left, I just didn’t think about it. And then the door was unlocked and I got nervous, that um—that’s something happened,” Ry said, clearing her throat.

She didn’t want to think about how scared she was that something had happened to Brooke. And she sure as hell didn’t want to think about why she cared so much.

Ry continued making the pancakes, stealing glancing of Brooke over her shoulder every once in a while.

Brooke nodded, listening to Rylees explanation “I didn’t mean to get so fucked up, I didn’t realize I hadn’t eaten anything” she chuckled along.

“I can go sit down if you want me out of the way, but I just like hanging out with you”

‘Shit, am I being too forward?’ She asked herself, ‘I don’t want to make her feel weird, and I definitely don’t want to lose her.’

“It’s sweet that you were worried, I’m really okay” she rubbed her arm reassuringly.

“You weren’t too bad,” Rylee laughed, trying to make Brooke feel better. “It was my fault, I totally forgot that we were gonna get bar food. And you’re more than welcome to stay out here, I just thought that you might not be feeling so hot.”

Ry flipped another pancake. “I think I have enough for two more, so we’d each have three. I’m not sure how many you wanted, I can make more if you’re still hungry.” Ry said, turning to Brooke, giving her a once over.

Rylee hadn’t noticed what she was wearing until now. Her shirt had wet spots on it, presumably from her shower, making parts of her shirt see through. Ry tried not to stare. Her eyes ventured down to her legs, water droplets still running down them.

Ry cleared her throat, bringing her attention back to the pancakes. “I— I’m glad you’re okay. I’m sorry if I scared you, I just...I was worried with the door unlocked. I’m really sorry I didn’t lock it when I left, I can be really thoughtless.” Ry spoke carefully, trying to avoid discussing last night’s events.

“The pancakes are almost done, I’m not sure where you wanted to eat,” Ry spoke softly, not looking up from the pancakes.

Brooke rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. Ry didn’t seem upset with her, at least too bad. “No, no you didn’t do anything wrong! We were both having too much fun to pay attention to anything else, I’m doing okay though, so I’ll hang out here if you don’t mind” she chuckled, standing awkwardly in her own kitchen.

“Three is perfect, thank you” she grinned, watching Rylees eyes take in her figure. She felt a small blush on her cheeks and her nipples hardened against her shirt in excitement.

She tried not to react to her gaze but it was difficult. Still desperately wishing for her touch. “You didn’t scare me dear, I really appreciate your looking out for me. You’re not thoughtless, I understand why you left in such a hurry last night” she mumbled before her eyes went wide. ‘Fuck’ she thought. ‘No going back now, she had to know I remember now.’

“Oh...um, yeah...I just—,” Ry was at a loss for words. Brooke’s comment caught her off guard, she didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Ry said, solemnly, looking at her feet. “I just got, um, caught up in the moment. I knew you were drunk. And I know we’re friends. I just...,” Rylee trailed off, afraid of saying the wrong thing. “I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Ry swallowed, hard, trying to push down her feelings. She didn’t to seem hurt, but she was afraid that she came off as cold.

“I just hope that doesn’t mean that I tainted the rest of the night. I still had a good time with you, Brooke.” Ry said, hyper focused on plating their breakfast. She was avoiding looking up, she could feel Brooke’s gaze.

‘Fuck, does she think this is her fault? No I can’t have that... I have to tell her, I can deal with the consequences. She shouldn’t have to, this isn’t her fault, I can’t let her think that.’ Brookes mind was racing as she watched the girl carefully.

“Please, please don’t apologize. I should be apologizing to you, I put you in a really shitty situation, and I shouldn’t have.” She took a step closer, gently placing her hand on Rylees arm.

“I uh, I don’t regret it, though. I’m sorry, I know that makes things confusing, and difficult. But drunk words are sober thoughts and all that. I guess drunk actions are sober desires” she shrugged.

“I had a really great time with you, and I’m sorry if I got out of hand. Next time you can get sloshed and I’ll drive” she laughed lightly, trying to alleviate some of the palpable tension.

Ry looked at her with a blank expression. “What?” She asked, trying to comprehend what she said. “Can I...can I sit down?” Ry felt light headed, she wasn’t sure if she was hearing her right. She carried the pancakes out to the living room, placing them on the coffee table. She sat herself on the couch, leaving a spot for Brooke to sit next to her.

“I’m sorry, um, what do you mean?” Ry spoke quietly, her voice dry.

Brooke frowned, knowing she was the reason everything felt so weird. “Er- yeah, go ahead.” She gestured to the living room and followed her out and sat next to her. The couch was small and there wasn’t a lot of space for Brooke not to be touching her in some capacity, she tried to keep it to a minimum as she explained herself.

“I mean uh, that- I...” she sighed, “Sorry, its hard to put my thoughts together when I’m hungover” she scratched at the back of her hand nervously. Her gaze was pinned to the ground as she began. “I know I said that what happened wasn’t right, and that it wouldn’t happen again” she paused to look up at Ry

“I uh, I really like hanging out with you, I also really really like kissing you. You make me so happy, more so than I thought I was capable of... And I don’t wanna have to deny myself being happy because the college might not like it.” She mumbled, her leg had started bouncing anxiously.

“I know it’s risky, I know it’s not a great idea, but maybe, if you felt similarly... we could, uh... go on a date sometime? Or just hang out in my apartment and just... enjoy each others company?” She bit her lip gently, quickly adding “I’m sorry, I know this is a lot, and I’m going back on everything I had said previously, but I can’t sit here and pretend I don’t want to kiss you again.”

Ry’s head was spinning. There was no way this was happening. There was no way in hell that a girl like her liked a girl like Ry...at like that. Only 27. Established. Successful. Smart. Beautiful.

“Are you still drunk?” Ry blurted out, genuinely curious. She was sure that she wasn’t hearing Brooke right. “Am I still drunk?” She said under breath.

Brooke let out a hearty laugh, her head fell back onto the couch as she giggled. “I’m not drunk! Definitely not drunk, very hungover, but sober.” She wiped at her eyes as she caught her breath.

She watched her for a moment curiously, her head tilted slightly. ‘She probably doesn’t feel the same way, she’s trying to make jokes because you’ve made her uncomfortable again’ she voice in her head suggested coldly.

“But uh- I was serious... about what I said, I meant every word” she mumbled quietly.

Ry sat still, uncomfortably aware of how close she was to Brooke. The two were close enough for Ry to put her head on Brooke’s shoulder, so she did.

Ry was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Brooke to say that she was joking, or that it wasn’t feasible, or that it was payback. She still wasn’t sure that she was awake. But for a moment, she just wanted to enjoy it.

She sat in silence for a couple of beats, her head laying on Brooke’s shoulder. She didn’t say anything, just listened to the sound of her breathing.

After a few moments, she broke the silence, looking up at Brooke. “Brooke...you’re a professor. I—I can’t be the person that ruins that for you.” Ry spoke slowly, her eyes fixated on Brooke’s lips, only looking into her eyes as she finished speaking.

She watched Rylee carefully. Unsure of whether or not she was about to pass out from the look on her face. She leaned her head against the girls for a moment before pulling away.

“If anyone finds out, I’ll take full responsibility, I would anyways. Regardless, I’m sure I could find another job within a company or something. It’s not like you’re a minor in high school, I wouldn’t be registering as a sex offender. It wouldn’t ruin my life, sure teaching is nice... but I could find something else to do and probably get paid better, plus you’re a senior. So even if you wanted to wait... I would wait for you. I don’t want to wait, but I will, if that’s what makes you comfortable.”

She took Rylees hands in her own. “I really like you Rylee, and I wanna see where this goes, but not if you aren’t completely comfortable. And obviously we would be sneaking around for a while, but only for a few months. No one would be able to know then, but as soon as you finish your last final...” she trailed off, tilting the girls chin up slowly.

“It’s all up to you, I’ll respect whatever you decide. I can take you home right now and never speak of this again. We can ignore what I said and watch movies as friends, we can talk and discuss further... it’s whatever you want and need from me. Just let me know” she smiled softly, her eyes falling to the girls lips. She wanted to lean in, but she didn’t, she needed to know what Rylee wanted first.

Rylee watched Brooke speak, the way her eyes shined in the natural light of the living room. She was so afraid that what was happening wasn’t real. That it would be ripped away at a moments notice. She wanted to trust Brooke, she did trust her. But she didn’t trust herself.

Her eyes darted across Brooke’s face. She liked her too. And Brooke had to have known, there was no way that Ry had been able to keep it that secret. Brooke was too smart for that.

She watched her smile, the way her eyes fell to her lips. Ry didn’t know what to say. She felt Brooke’s breath on her face. She smelled of mint and sandalwood. Ry worried that her breath smelled. She hadn’t brushed her teeth and she had had a few sips of her coffee, so she tried to breath out of her nose.

She looked at Brooke’s lips, her head moving forward. Her body moved of it’s own accord. She knew she should stop, she knew that she would go home, but she didn’t. She told herself that she wasn’t thinking, but she was. She just didn’t care.

Her body continued forward, her stare on Brooke’s lips unmoving. Her heart beat faster as her chest got tighter. Her breaths raced forward with fever. She was too close to go back.

Ry forced her head forward the last centimeter necessary, pushing her lips onto Brooke’s. She breathed her in, feeling her lips pressed to hers. She felt a wave of calm wash over her as she pushed deeper, not wanting to let go. Ry wanted, more than anything, to feel Brooke kiss her back.

Brooke watched Rylee with curiosity, she could see how hard she was thinking. She was desperate to know what was running through the girls mind.

She didn’t move as she became aware of Rylee moving in, closer and closer. Her breath hitched in her throat, their lips almost touching.

Brooke wanted to say something, to reassure Rylee that she didn’t have to kiss Brooke just because she had said she wanted to. Nerves were coursing throughout her body as the inches between them turned to centimeters.

Suddenly, she felt calm.

Every doubt that had plagued her mind vanished instantaneously. Ry was warm, comforting, inviting. The electricity she had felt during their first interaction had shifted to that of a cozy fireplace. She felt like home, a warm meal at the end of the day, she could see a future with her, the family she had always wanted embodied in the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.

Her hands cupped her cheeks gently, savoring the taste of sweet coffee on her lips. She sighed through her nose, unwilling to break the bubble surrounding their perfect moment.

Rylee smiled into their kiss, lightly coming up for air. It was as if all of her worried had wasted away, leaving only the two of them, together. Everything felt blissful and serene. Her mind that had been racing only a few moments prior was now empty, filled only with thoughts of the women holding her face.

Ry continued to kiss her, separating her lips slightly, allowing Brooke’s to fit them like a puzzle piece. She pulled her lips back every few seconds before pushing them forward again, harder than before.

The results were numerous deep and passionate kisses, ones that didn’t allow for the lips to really separate, but instead move with each other. Ry places her hand on the arm of the couch that sat behind Brooke, steadying herself as she fell into the girl. She giggled a little against Brooke’s mouth, hardly able to contain herself. As she felt Brooke smile back, she pulled her lips away.

She laid her head on Brooke’s chest, putting her shoulder under Brooke’s arm and sliding her arm between Brooke’s back and the couch. Her other arm wrapped itself around Brooke’s front until Brooke was in a tight hug. She let her body weight fall into Brooke’s, their two bodies touching at nearly every point.

Ry kept her eyes closed as she listened to the sound of Brooke’s heartbeat, taking in the scent of sandalwood as she breathed. She smiled to herself, not saying a word.

Everything was right with the world in that moment. Their lips moved passionately, intimately, but there was no sexual charge, it was simply two people who cared for each other, sharing a moment of peace.

When Ry pulled away, Brooke couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. She broke out into a fit of laughter as Ry basically collapsed onto her. The tight hug felt good, comforting, Ry was definitely stronger than she looked.

She wrapped her arms around the girl loosely at first, then tight as she could, ultimately rubbing the girls back softly and humming in content. “That was... wow” she mumbled, the grin still beaming on her cheeks.

Ry blushed, smiling and hiding her face in the crease of Brooke’s arm. Ry couldn’t help but giggle to herself, afraid to let Brooke see her bright red face. She knew it would be her turn to get teased.

She smiled again, using her arm to push herself up into Brooke’s lips again. She was passionate, but quick, pulling back to look into Brooke’s eyes. They were so close that she could see her reflection, but she didn’t pay attention to that. Instead, she studied the freckles that sat in Brooke’s eyes.

“I never even had a chance,” she said, smiling.

“What do you mean?” Brooke chuckled, placing a chaste kiss to the girls nose and giggling herself. She had never felt so comfortably vulnerable around someone. Just as she was leaning in for another kiss her phone buzzed. Brooke decided to ignore it, whoever it was couldn’t be as important as the girl in front of her.

She planted another quick kiss to the girls lips before a thoughtful look ran across her face. She still technically needed an answer. “You’re so beautiful, amazing, wonderfully perfect” she mumbled, glancing at the table for a moment. “If you don’t want to answer me right now, and you need some time... that’s okay, this can be casual if it’s what you want. I’m just not sure if this is like a friends with benefits thing for you? Or if you actually wanted to, you know... go on a date with me? Please don’t feel pressured to answer this second, just lemme know what you’re thinking.”

Ry pulled her shoulders back, looking at Brooke’s whole face, her smile faltering. Did Brooke not feel the energy that Ry had felt? Did she really think, after that, that Ry just wanted sex? She was a little hurt, but tried to understand that that wasn’t Brooke’s intentions.

Ry placed a hand on Brooke’s cheek. Her fingers rested behind Brooke’s ear and her thumb stroked her cheekbone. “I want to be with you, Brooke. For more than just sex. For a lot more than just sex. I’m sorry this didn’t make things clear enough,” Ry said, leaning in slowly and kissing Brooke sweetly.

Brooke kissed her back eagerly, grateful to know that Ry did in fact, feel the same. The kiss lasted a good thirty seconds before Brooke pulled away sheepishly and smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume, sometimes I just need reassurance, you know?” She shrugged lightly before pulling the girl back into a hug.

“I’m really glad you feel the same way” she mumbled into her hair as she kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry I was being stupid before” she added after a moment.

Ry lifted her head so she was looking at Brooke. “No, no you weren’t being stupid. I— I understand. We still have a lot to figure out. But I don’t care about all of that right now. We can deal with it later, together. I at least what to give it a chance... us, ya know. I had a really good time with you last night and I’m not going to let something get in the way of being able to do that again.”

Ry thought back to when Brooke said that she would take the fall if they were ever caught. “And if something happens,” she said slowly, taking Brooke’s hand, “you’re not solely responsible. I don’t care what your job says. I know what I’m doing and I know what rules I’m breaking. But I’m gonna break them anyways.”

Ry paused, taking a more serious tone. She looked down before looking back at Brooke. “Brooke, if we’re gonna try dating, you can’t see me as your student. You can’t offer to take the heat. This is a decision I want to make with you, which means we’re both responsible from here on out. I can’t be in a...well, I don’t know. I don’t want to date someone where there’s power dynamics.”

Ry’s chest grew tight again, afraid she would scare Brooke away with her seriousness. “I want to see where this goes,” Brooke explained. “But I don’t want to stop you from teaching. I also don’t want to wait... I think you know what that means.” Ry said, her face getting red as she looked at the floor.

Brooke nodded, they definitely still had a lot to talk through and figure out. But Brooke wanted nothing more than to make this work with Rylee, she was sure of that much. “Right, of course. I had the best time last night, but maybe next time I’ll stay a bit more sober” she chuckled.

Brooke smiled as Ry took her hand, she rubbed her thumb along the back of it gently as she listened. She didn’t want Ry to get caught up in all of the turmoil and fallout, but Rylee was an adult, and Brooke couldn’t tell her what to do. So she nodded along and accepted that she wanted to do this as a team, which is really what Brooke wanted too, so there was no protest.

Ry’s tone was more serious now, so Brooke gave her the undivided attention she deserved. Again, Rylee was right... Brooke couldn’t see her as a student anymore, not if this was going to work. This wasn’t some kinky sexy fling, the student wasn’t asking the professor for extra credit anymore. “I understand, and I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like this relationship won’t be between equals. I might be a little distant in class, but that would be the only time that I would need to do that. I hope you can understand at least that. I do see you as a person, and not just some sexy student.” She mumbled, a soft blush appearing on her face.

“So we keep things discreet, very down low on campus, no social media until after you graduate. But my apartment and anyplace outside of town I’m showing you the hell off” she squeezed her hand and placed a kiss to her cheek. When she pulled away from her face she added. “Unless that isn’t what you meant of course. God I’m a communications professor but when it comes to reading you I can’t seem to figure it out.”

Ry smiled, watching Brooke get flustered. “No, that’s—that’s what I want,” Ry said, her face getting red hot. She was never good at expressing her emotions, so when she did, her entire body reacted along with it.

“I’m okay with keeping things discreet, I think that’s important. I just—“ her gaze dropped back down to her lips. “It’s gonna be really fucking hard...”

Ry kissed Brooke again, excited that she could do so openly. She never wanted to leave her arms.

“Yeah it’s gonna be fucki-“ she was cut off as the girls lips were pressed once more to hers. She chuckled and tangled her fingers into Rylees hair. She never wanted this to end.

Brooke pulled away when she couldn’t breathe anymore. She gasped for air, her face was flushed and her eyes heavy from her desire for the girl. “You’re so fucking perfect” she mumbled, letting her hand fall from the girls hair and trail down her cheek.

“So... do you remember what I said I was planning on doing today? Because that seems to be evading me, and I don’t know what I promised you we would do today but I have stuff to bake, and some wine, although I doubt I’ll drink any you’re welcome to it. I’ve got movies and Netflix and Hulu” she rambled, trying not to sound like a boring grandma trapped in a 27 year olds body.

Ry grinned, sitting herself up so that she was in all fours. “I don’t know about you, but these are my plans,” she said, arching her back downward, reaching her head up to Brooke’s lips. Ry closed her eyes and leaned in close, her lips barely parted. Just as she brushed them against Brooke’s, Ry opened her eyes wide and laughed throwing herself so that she was in a laying position. Her back was against the couch as her head sat in Brooke’s lap. Rylee looked up at Brooke, pink tones scattered across her face as she smiled adoringly at the woman.

“I’m happy here for the rest of the day,” Ry said, blinking slowly as she looked up into Brooke’s eyes. She grabbed Brooke’s hand and intertwined their fingers, laying their conjoined hands across her stomach.

“Just tell me if you need me to move,” Ry spoke with a clan tone, but she was studying Brooke’s eyes, looking for signs of rejection. Ry hoped she wouldn’t see any signs that Brooke was irritated or displeased with her actions.

She looked a bit surprised, trying not to stare too openly down her shirt or at the curve of her ass when she arched her back. “I... uh-“ she mumbled leaning forward to kiss her, just as their lips brush she heard Rylees adorable laugh resonate through her apartment.

She felt the girls head fall to rest in her lap. Brooke blushed and tried to rid herself of the lustful thoughts that had begun to infiltrate her mind.

Brooke watched her, adoration filled her eyes. A soft and loving smile sat on her lips. “Nah, I’m happy to have you right here” she mumbled softly, running her fingers through the girls hair and sighing in content. She hummed gently as they sat in a silent peace.

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