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fennasinbog · 1 year ago

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One Who Travels Like a Lover | Steddie Big Bang Snippet :)

hey everyone! I've been writing a fic for the @steddiebang. It will begin posting on ao3 on October 1st, but I wanted to share a bit of the first chapter ahead of the release! I'm honored to be working on this project with @anarmel, an amazing artist who's creating some beautiful art to go along with the fic. I can't believe this is finally happening! peep a chapter one + art snippet under the cut... in the words of my poor beta:

Chapter One: The Frozen Cemetery

EDDIE

He wakes with a start – a heavy weight across his chest and the remnants of panic in his throat. The fear consolidates as a choked gasp, an impulse to sit up and run. The thing on his lap seems unmovable. He leans up to inspect it more closely, confused, and comes face to face with a goopy, horrifying heap of demogorgon. He holds back a surprised whine, painful where it rattles through his lungs; drops back, stills, tries not to breathe. Does what he always does in the face of danger: plays dead and hides.

Except.

Except, it isn’t what he does anymore, is it? He did cross an interdimensional gate – walked straight into hell out of his own volition – and stayed even as the bats closed in. He had fought even as it became clear the battle could not be won. Earned his laurels, if you will. Died, perhaps, in Dustin’s desperate, trembling arms. Shit.

The creature remains quiet, unmoving. Eddie holds his breath and slowly examines its body, looking for a sign of threat. There are no tensed muscles, no biting teeth or grasping claws. It’s unnaturally inert, Eddie thinks, death-like — and only then he realizes it is not breathing. An encounter with a demogorgon corpse sounds slightly more appealing than dealing with its living counterpart would be, and that is what Eddie focuses on as he wriggles his way out from underneath it. It takes a while, partially because he keeps feeling sick as he pushes gangly demogorgon limbs away and mainly because the effort pulls at the tender scar tissue that seems to cover half of his body. He frees his last foot, and lies back on the floor for a second, exhausted and shivering, before standing up.

It’s cold as balls, colder than Eddie ever remembers the Upside Down being. There is, however, Upside Down ash floating in the air, like glitter suspended in a lava lamp. He looks up to the sky, a murky mass of gray clouds, half-lit, like the sun is frozen in a permanent state of dusk. Grey meets gray in the horizon, where the clouds turn into fog and obscure the top of a barren mountain. A mountain range, more like, as it stretches around Eddie in every single direction. He is in a valley, it seems, treeless and dead, nothing but rock mountain at his back, and a downward slope ahead. A slope filled with demogorgon remains, by the looks of it. An ash particle caresses his cheek and melts. He catches one with his hand and watches it dissolve. Snow. Snow and ash. Eddie remembers some of Dustin’s tales about the Russians, how they took Harrington and Buckley, and wonders if he’s been taken too. Taken all the way to Russia? He shivers. It truly is awfully cold and dark, and he might not be alone, not when he has woken in this unknown place, surrounded by a wasteland of demo-carcasses. The sun doesn’t look like it will fully set, but night might be coming and he doesn’t want to risk spending it out in the open. He needs to move, find cover.

A quick review of his various pockets turns out a miscellaneous collection of lighters, pens, gum and store receipts. He has a flask of whiskey, but no water or real food, and only a hunting knife for protection. Worst case scenario, he thinks bitterly, he could chuck a ballpoint pen at a demobat and hope for the best. He peeks at his stomach, reluctant, as if knowing the state of it will suddenly make the wounds and scars real, and flinches at the sight of it – marred, dirty, torn up. It looks bad – bad enough that he should be dead, either from blood loss or an infection. It doesn’t hurt. He can’t believe he hasn’t died already.

Water, his brain supplies, voice sounding eerily close to his father’s. A ghost of the past, perhaps, but a ghost in the right nonetheless. He needs to find water – to clean himself, to drink. Water and shelter. He sighs, lowers the hem of his t-shirt over his mangled torso, and tightens his grip around the knife. Down into the vale of shadows it is.

–

People knew of Edward Munson Sr. They knew he moved to the outskirts of Indianapolis with nothing but a dream and a young bride. They’ve heard that he lost her years later to a cancer they could neither prevent nor afford to treat. They imagine him jaded, angry – and then use that anger to explain the felonies and imprisonment. Which, Eddie thinks, is not entirely inaccurate. His father had been angry. And jaded. He would be too, he thinks, if he had found his mom and then lost her. Edward Munson the Felon, that’s what his dad is, a cautionary tale to those thinking of making their way out of Hawkins to pursue a better life. He had wanted and he had failed, and look where that had got him. It made all the cowards feel better about their conformity – made them feel comfortable hating people who, like Eddie, still hoped to make it out of their silly little town.

Eddie ponders this as he makes his descent towards the center of the valley, zigzagging along the way so his unstable limbs won’t accidentally send him rolling down the hill. He’s thinking of his dad because, although nobody knows, he was one of those people who knew an ungodly amount of stuff about the mountain. The mountain, the wars, useless historical factoids. When things were good, Edward had sat Eddie next to him on the sofa and spoken over documentary narrators to tell him about survival in the wilderness. Eddie back then had been bored, sometimes, and he definitely hadn’t known to appreciate those rare moments of peace and companionship. He had sat through plane models lectures or rambling bivouac building rants, and ignored them. It broke his heart a little, in hindsight, realizing that his dad and him had been similar in that regard – so taken by random mundanities and so eager to share their passion for them with anyone who would listen. His dad had not been a good dad, not like Wayne is, but Eddie had also, perhaps, not been a good son.

It is his dad’s advice that guides his movements now, slow and steady, as he treks downwards and reaches a small gathering of trees. Trees often mean water, he knows, but also, with any luck, animals or insects. He hypes himself up with a muttered chant of “insects are metal, eating insects is metal” and approaches the forest, knife held up at the ready. Most trunks are burnt, which isn’t good news, and the ground is razed and covered in pebbles. There’s moisture, though – frost covering the leaves of a very-much-alive fern. He runs his fingers over it, gathers the frozen droplets and allows them to melt on the palm of his hand. The ground is wet. Eddie continues to walk through the ferns. He stops a few paces ahead, coming face to face with a small, frozen stream. The clouds continue to roll overhead. The night-dusk isn’t getting any darker. Eddie heaves a deep sigh and drops to the floor. He pulls out the flask, going over the order of operations:

A sip of whiskey for encouragement.

Ice from the stream to clean the wound.

The rest of the whiskey to disinfect it.

The flask and a fire to boil ice into drinking water.

His head pounds a little as he tries to puzzle the steps together, an underlying headache that might be both dehydration and exhaustion.

Sleep.

And then, sometime in the morning – or the night, or whenever he woke up – find food. How long has it been since he last ate? He’s not hungry, he doesn't think, but, then again, he’s nothing but a blur of fear and pain.

Clean. Drink. Sleep. Find food.

The list isn’t long but it seems daunting nonetheless. Nancy Wheeler would’ve managed something better – more detailed plans and a more masterful execution. He wheezes. Pushes his headband back. It reminds him of Wayne and the way he would, on occasion, pat his head. “Oftentimes, boy, doing your best is good enough,” he would say.

He takes a deep breath and does his best.

–

Eddie wakes to darkness, again. The embers beside him are still warm, but he’s cold, still. He checks his surroundings first, restless, but there’s no movement. His wounds, the second object of his attention, are clean, or as clean as he’s been able to get them. Some of them were already closed, some of them tender – hundreds of unattractive gouges and bites connecting like spider-webbing tendrils. His skin is blackened in some spots, burnt-toast-like, but it no longer looks like the worst parts of a butcher shop back room. The thirst is gone, he’s happy to notice, but the hunger has doubled in his sleep. There’s a half-sharpened stick by his boot, the last of his efforts before his tiredness claimed him, so Eddie makes quick work of carving it into a spike with his hunting knife. He pauses when he’s done, looking around before he stands. He tests out the weight of his newly-acquired, pointy spear by shifting it back and forth between his hands. He has a hunting knife and a hunting spear, which means he’s only missing some prey. Poetic really, when the hunted becomes the hunter.

He steps on the coals, choking them off until they stop smoking, and sets off through the ferns and rocks. He could’ve kept the fire for cooking, he thinks as he pushes forward past a particularly large plant, stick aloft, but then, perhaps, something could have found and cooked him. Not that there seems to be anything around. Not one meager creature. Zero. Zilch, not one single miserable-

Something brushes past Eddie’s legs. He yelps, tightens his grip on the stick until it turns white-knuckled, twists around in a panic and stabs at a… large rodent? The mousy animal manages to avoid his spear and takes off through the scrub. Eddie blinks as it fades into the distance, heart hammering in his throat, before his instincts kick in and he starts running after the thing. Whatever it might be, this could be it. This might be the one source of food he finds – the one animal that he can eat that won’t try to eat him back. He jumps over a tree root, swerves right after his prey, half-runs-half-slides down brash rocks and dirt trails. They abandon the forest, rush past it and further down the valley. Eddie’s feet skid on rounded pebbles but he continues on – on until he’s sweating, until his stomach feels like it might rip open anew, until he sees the mouse-capybara-squirrel start to dig into the ground ahead and he plants his feet. Throws the spear, as if fancying himself a javelin thrower. And he might as well be because he strikes true and the animal falls dead. Eddie walks up to it on trembling limbs, heaving from the exertion, and stares at the dead creature unseeing. It’s not like anything he’s seen before, not with its thick legs and large snout. It looks like a mutant rat, and wasn’t that a thing that had happened once? Dirt-eating mutant rats?

He sits in front of it, spent, and promptly realizes he’s never– He’s never had to prepare an animal for cooking before. Does he- Is he supposed to skin it? He shudders at the thought. Pushes it away. He removes the spear and grabs the cat-sized mouse. Rat. Rodent. Decides to look for flat ground and start another fire, which is a thing he can do. He walks around an impressively large mound of spiky rocks and freezes. Drops the mouse-cat in awe.

The valley ends ahead, not even 100 yards away, and at the bottom is the icy expanse of a frozen lake. It spans the sight, the opposite coast blurry in the distance, and Eddie’s dumbly reminded of Steve Harrington diving into lover’s lake. It is most definitely not Lover’s Lake, he doesn’t think, but the chance of it – of the underwater gate in its center, of the kids on the other side of it – makes his heartbeat quicken. He has to force himself to slow down and pick up the rodent, to remain vigilant as he walks closer to the shore. There are demogorgon carcasses on the beach, flaccid and motionless like stranded jellyfishes, and he toes at a couple of them to ensure they’re dead.

They are.

Comforted by his apparent loneliness, Eddie sets up the fire, trying to remind himself that he won’t be able to cook on the ice. That the lake is large, and the trek to its center seems long. That he needs to eat. He’s distracted as he walks through the motions, distracted as he prepares the rodent and sets it over the flame. The numbness is welcome, and the hope thrilling, and he wipes the blood off his hands without realizing, lost in the overwhelming nature of it all.

–

He leaves this fire burning when he’s done, aware that it might betray his position but hoping it will guide his way back from the indistinct flatness of the ice plain, if need be. He walks carefully but with purpose, occasionally slipping on the icy surface. It’s a slow process.

The wind is awful out on the open, finding every exposed inch of his skin and whipping at it relentlessly. Eddie thinks that he might never forget the chill and burn of it against his hands. That he might never feel his hands again.

Time warps as he walks – it could have been ten minutes or ten hours by the time he spies something in the distance. There’s a boulder breaking through the ice. He will climb it, he decides, use it as a vantage point. The rock is rough under his fingers as he pulls himself up. He tucks both his hands into his armpits right after reaching the top. He scans his surroundings, comes to learn that the lake continues on farther than he thought, its length broken up by a large hill in its center and smattered with tiny rock boulders here and there. Eddie tilts his head, amused by the fact that the mountain in the center looks like nothing and everything at once. It could be just rock, but also the silhouette of a sleeping woman or a huge hibernating lizard. The thought is funny, briefly, but quickly turns terrifying when the ground under his feet starts vibrating and shifts. Eddie drops to a crouch, eyes wide with fear as he tracks the movement, the way it fades into the ice, the way it creaks and cracks like a joint being popped. The ice doesn’t break, not when it runs several feet deep, like the lake might be frozen all the way through. The tremor stops, ground shifting under him again. Eddie stays still, horrified, mind fleeting through the possibilities. Perhaps he stands on a dormant volcano. Perhaps it was just a mild earthquake. He waits a couple minutes before moving and is just about to descend from the boulder when it moves again and sends him careening down. He hits the ground painfully, rolls onto his back, breathing hard and ragged. The rock keeps moving, he registers. It happens over and over again: the bone-chilling creaks of movement and the temporary bouts of stillness. It is only when he attempts to regulate his own breathing that it clicks – the boulder breathes.

He stands in a rush, still a bit dizzy, hip bone sore where it crashed against the ice. He looks around wildly, watches as the rocks in the distance, the few of them piercing the ice nearby, shiver sporadically. Holy shit. They are alive. They breath in synch, impossibly slow. Eddie is out of his mind with fear, half-sure he is making it up. He stretches a hand to touch the rough, crab shell-like, surface of the rock and feels the hum of a tired heartbeat underneath it. He removes his hand, finds it slimy from touching the living rock. Goopy. Demo-creature goopy. The world around him quietens, dampened, as he stares at his hand in confusion. Glances at the rock and at his fingers once again. He feels his pulse in his temple, hears it within his ears like an amplifier has been plugged into his brain. It cannot be.

He twists to look at the large mountain growing in the center of the lake and he doesn’t have to search hard at all before it takes the shape of what it actually is. Gangly, gigantic limbs. A head like a flame. A mountain-sized creature out of both his worst nightmares and the kids’ unlikely but obviously true retellings: the mind flayer.

#steddie big bang #steddie fic #steddie #my writing #fanfic #steddie bang #steddiebang23 #steve harrington #eddie munson #fellas is it gay to get lost in the upside down #ashdjadhhhhdjds prepare thouself for a sloooowburn #in this house we don't kill our gays but we DO put them through inordinate amounts of angst #my bad

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elias-code · 3 years ago

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The Feeling’s Mutual - c!Techno x Reader

PT 1 because I‘m taking too long lmao

Characters: c!Technoblade x gn!Reader, Philza, Quackity, Charlie S

Summary: [from an ask] The reader is kicked out by Quackity from Las Nevadas and was forced to roam around to look for somewhere to live and they end up in Techno’s cabin after passing out in the tundra. At first, you have a shared hatred of each other, but you end up warming up when you figure out he’s been making you breakfast.

Warnings: Exile, mild malnutrition, corruption

————————— Enjoy :3 —————————

“Ooh! I get to go visit you now! Like a vacation!” Charlie cheered.

“No, Charlie,” You sighed, continuing to follow him out of the city, “I’m getting exiled. I don’t think Quackity will let you visit me,”

He frowned, confused. He wasn’t the best at understanding broad concepts like exile and all the drama that brought it about. He just thinks you’re one of his best friends, and that Quackity is also his best friend. Now, Quackity was in no way your friend as you once were. He banished you for the dumbest thing, just because you challenged his integrity. Unbeknownst to Charlie, Quackity was giving away trade secrets, rigging elections and his casinos. You didn’t join him to scam people, you just wanted a new start after L’Manburg.

You walked with him in silence past the bright neon lights and street lamps of Los Nevadas. You were never going to be allowed back here, even though you built half of the damn place.

“So if Quackity doesn’t let me visit, can you visit me?” Charlie asked solemnly.

“Again, probably not,” You stuffed your hands in your pockets and half-smiled at him, “I don’t think he wants to see me back here. Ever,”

Where were you even going to go? No one would take you. Quackity had made many enemies, who were, in turn, yours, and now no one you were allied with alongside Quackity will be friendly except for Charlie. But Charlie was his lapdog, nothing could touch him and you weren’t going to be allowed around him anymore.

Your enemies list was vast, all the way up at the top, finally overtaking Technoblade, was Quackity. Congrats, Big Q, you piece of shit.

Charlie stopped at the end of the road, finally realizing this might be the last time you see each other. He wanted to cry, but he held it back. There’d always be hope, he could sneak out, you could sneak in. But you’d have to do it all in secret, and it just didn’t feel right to him.

“I’m gonna miss you, Charlie,” You said.

He smiled weakly at you and pulled you in for a slimy hug.

“We’ll see each other again someday,” He stated.

You wanted to believe that, but the pit in your stomach just sank further as the embrace came to an end. You’d have to get going, this would be the last time you see him, or Los Nevadas for that matter, in a long time at least.

You spent days wandering. Just as you suspected, no one would take you in. Not even Niki because of your governmental associations. You found the occasional scrap of meat or stale bread in some chests along the prime path, but you felt so sick to your stomach that it became hard to eat anything you found.

From the desert to the ocean to the plains to the tundra you roamed. You hunted with what little supplies you had.

There had been no food for days now, the snow was the only source of water within sight. There were no signs of life, no people, no animals, only the occasional dying tree to sleep under in the blistering cold. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the blizzard came.

Blinding white all around. The only sound audible was the whistling of the wind in the frozen, rotting branches above you. At this point, you’d gone numb, the only thing you could feel was your heart beating heavily in your chest as you lost consciousness.

“We couldn’t just leave them out in the snow, Techno! That’s just cruel!”

“They’re with Quackity, Phil. Don’t make me explain this again,”

“I’m not going to let you throw them back out,” Phil explained, “No one would willingly come here, Technoblade. They have a reason, I know it,”

You opened your eyes cautiously. It was warm, you were covered in a thick red cape and a few blankets, the fire next to you was roaring. Whatever argument was taking place had moved further into the distance, out of earshot.

Everything ached, but at least you were warm. You let yourself come to your senses. Maybe the exile was all a nightmare. Maybe Quackity wasn’t a dumb bitch after all. But where were you? Whose bed was this? Whose-

It’s Technoblade’s cape.

Your eyes widened as you shot up out of bed. The pain in your legs was sickening, but so was being in this man’s house. You ran to the fireplace and grabbed some sharp steel tongs, meant for poking at the logs, for protection. His footsteps moved closer, the conversation was over.

You brandished your weapon and prayed for dear life.

The door creaked open and he stepped through, shutting it behind him. He stared at you, looking down at the weapon and then back at the tossed bed. He looked unfazed by your threatening pose. You were more scared than he was.

“I lend you my cape,” Technoblade points at the bed, “And you decide the best move for you is to stab me?”

Guilt crept into your throat.

“What am I doing here?” You hissed at him.

“Phil found you under a tree,” He chuckled, “And decided he wanted to adopt someone else,”

“Aren’t you supposed to kill me or something?”

“Why? Should I?” He threatened, taking a step towards you.

You stepped back, bumping into the table behind you, “That- That’s what you do,”

“If it were up to me, you’d probably be buried in the snow by now.”

You scowled at him, rediscovering past hatred towards him and using that to fuel your rage.

“I’d rather be left out there,” You spat, “Not stuck in here with you-“

“Again, I agree, but Phil is the one you should be angry with if you don’t want to be here,” He rolled his eyes and held his hand out.

“I’m not giving this back to you,” You growled.

He stepped forward and snatched the spear out of your hand, tossing it behind him, out of reach. He leaned forward and hissed in your face, “Don’t try anything, kid,”

You swallowed your pride, weak and unarmed. Whether you liked it or not, you’d have to stay with him for a while. No one would take you in, so it was either deal with Technoblade or die. You might as well use this to your advantage.

Days went by where you never even saw Techno. Phil took care of you most of the time, but he didn’t have any room in his house with Wilbur being there and all, so you were forced to sleep in Techno’s cabin. It became easier and more manageable as time went on. The only time you ever really saw him were the latest hours of the night when he’d come home and, if you were lucky, at dawn when he left.

Breakfast usually materialized at your doorstep every morning around the same time. Sometimes it was yoghurt, sometimes fresh fruit, sometimes cold meat and oatmeal, but it was always delicious. You suspected Phil was behind the mysterious meals, that was until you asked him about it.

“I don’t think I ever said, but thanks for breakfast,” You smiled at Phil as you helped him load firewood into the horse’s saddlebags.

He looked at you, perplexed, to say the least.

“What breakfast? Don’t you just eat whatever Techno has?” Phil replied.

Your stomach turned, letting the past couple of weeks turn over in your head. You shouldn’t have assumed Phil was the one making your food. You should’ve asked before you just started gorging yourself every morning.

Phil watched as you turned pale and hopped on the horse. He thought that you just ate whatever Techno had in his pantries, and never questioned it. Now, all was revealed. Techno had been making you breakfast.

For most people living as a guest in someone else's house, having breakfast brought to their door would just be seen as a sweet thing, but it was dangerously blown out of proportions when it was your ex greatest enemy doing it without you even knowing. You silently reasoned with yourself that if he was going to poison you, you’d be dead already. That comforting fact backfired as you realised he could have killed you so easily. Your emotions were on a rollercoaster, and your stomach sank deeper and deeper as the more intrusive thoughts crept in.

You needed to catch him in the act. Something about The Blood God making you breakfast created sentiments of self-worth out of thin air. Part of you wanted to prove it to yourself, and part of you wanted to embarrass him for it.

The familiar shine of daybreak made the room glow orange. The fire had gone out that night, as it usually did, but the cold felt like nothing now that you had a mission to accomplish.

You slipped out of bed, clad in leggings and a simple green shirt. The floor was icy on your bare feet but you trodded out the door and down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

The dining room was salmon-pink, highlighted by the bright orange flickering coming from the fireplace. It was already warmer down here than it was upstairs, the fire must’ve already been on for a while by now. The kitchen was out of view, but you could already smell fish frying from the base of the stairs.

Making your way through the archway, you spotted Techno’s red cape on its hook by the door next to the thick winter coat you loaned from Phil. Below them, both were black boots, sprinkled with half-melted snow. The floorboard below you creaked when you stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

Techno spun around, startled by the noise. His face flushed with guilt temporarily but was quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and confused eyes.

“What are you doing awake? It’s five,” He implored.

“I could smell the salmon,” You shrugged and moved towards him innocently.

He turned back to the fish and turned the stove off, sliding it onto a plate.

“What’re we eating today?”

“You just said,”

You scoffed and conceded. It was a dumb thing to ask, but he wasn’t supposed to answer. It was only meant to highlight the reality that you knew what he’d been doing. Nothing in his expression, now unreadable, made you think he didn’t know that you knew he’d been making you breakfast.

He gently pushed by you, letting his arm brush against yours. It made your heart skip a beat, probably out of fear, you told yourself. Your skin went cold, but you followed him into the next room where he put the dish on the table and gestured for you to sit.

“You don’t seem to hate me anymore,” You mumbled.

“I never said I hated you, just that I don’t like you,”

“Well, you don’t seem to not like me either,”

He blinked at you and sat across the table from you.

“Where are you going today?” You said with a mouthful of food, “To do mysterious things, I imagine,”

“I was going to stay here today, actually.”

You stopped eating.

“I finished my mysterious duties,” He mocked.

Well, he wasn’t going to budge on where he’d been going the past few nights, but that wasn’t particularly important right now. What caught your attention was that he was staying here for the day. Again, meaningless to most people, but with him, it was surprising.

He began snickering, just at your face.

“I was never the one that hated you,” He laughed, “You were the one who brandished that poker at me,”

Your face flushed red with embarrassment, “I can be resourceful, at least,”

He continued to laugh at you, the absurdity of the situation hitting him with full force. Right now you wished you could hit him with full force.

“Alright, alright,” He took a deep breath, “I do have some questions for you,”

You looked up at him, annoyance plastered on your face.

“Shoot,”

“Why are you here instead of Las Nevadas?”

“Because Quackity kicked me out, and-“

“How did you know I made you breakfast?” He cut you off.

“I asked Phil, but-“

“Why did Quackity kick you out?”

“I asked him too many questions, just-“

“Do you still hold any loyalty to him?”

“No, but-“

“Questionnaire over, thank you for participating,” He stood up and excused himself from the table, heading back to the kitchen.

Techno never left again after that. He stuck around and made an effort to make you annoyed and uncomfortable every chance he could get. It was becoming a sort of game with him, and you were more than happy to play along. It made it easier to get along with him in general. There’d be no more dreading seeing him, no more awkwardness surrounding your avoidance.

Now, you had other things to be awkward about. If you passed each other a bit too close in a doorway, when you tripped over a rug in the living room, the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, the abrupt flirtatious nature of the man you were now sharing a room with.

You never really thought about it, but before he moved back into his room onto a makeshift bed, he’d been sleeping on the couch. He’d wake you early in the morning when he’d get up to make breakfast, and whenever he did leave to run errands, he’d wake you late at night when he came home.

One morning, around eight, he woke you purposefully.

“Get dressed, I want to show you something,” he whispered, gently shaking you.

You groggily complied and eventually found your way to the front door where he was waiting for you.

“No breakfast?” You asked.

“Breakfast after,” He said, opening the door.

He was dressed in his usual clothes, but he carried a large satchel with him. Inside were different scraps of leftover meat and some bones. He didn’t tell you what for, but you were too tired to ask anyway.

You followed him through the fresh snow, crunching under your feet. It was drowned out by mindless conversation that you both kept up to stay awake. He brought you to a distant hill in a clearing, where a cliffside was awaiting. The conversation stopped as he told you to wait, and he went over to the wall and pressed a rock into the stone.

You could faintly hear the sound of pistons firing before the rock slid down slotted into the floor.

The sound of dogs barking filled the forest as hundreds of dogs and puppies spilt out of the entrance. Most of them went running to Techno, who was now holding the bag aloft, out of reach from the dogs. Some of them ran to you, their tails wagging happily at their new potential playmate.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He shouted.

“Holy-“ You stopped and pet the large, black dog that jumped on you, “Where’d you get so many dogs?”

“Long story,” He began to throw chunks of meat into the writhing pile of hounds, who were now obsessively sniffing you.

“I do this three times a week,” he said as he made his way over to you, “It’d get done a lot faster if you could help now that you’re living here full-time,”

“Wait,” You looked at him blankly, “Full-time?”

“That’s the idea,”

You thought for a moment, “Where am I going to sleep?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said, handing you some chunks of meat to throw.

By the time Techno’s bag was empty, it was almost noon. He shephered them back into the cavern and shut the door behind them. They were very well trained, when he commanded them all to sit once they got inside, there was no hesitation. The puppies were confused at first, but they followed along with the pack flawlessly.

Leaving the clearing, you talked with him freely about your plans for the future at the cabin. It didn’t mean you’d live there forever, knowing Techno, he might end up being hunted out of the tundra eventually. But for now, you were sticking with him.

It was strsnge to think that you were once mortal enemies, staring each other down on the battlefield with nothing but rage coursing through your veins. Now, you were cheerily chatting about what it would be like to settle down together. Between the two of you, mutual feelings of respect and redemption. The distrust was long since buried.

#c!techno x reader #c!technoblade x reader #techno x reader #technoblade #technoblade x reader #techno dsmp #dsmp x reader #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt x reader #mcyt #eli exile #elias original

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lady-byleth · 4 years ago

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Sooooo, Shepard had a clone right? Knowing how much Cerberus likes to go above and beyond, there's a high chance that there's more than one. And the one we meet was comatose until needed, which she never was...so what if there's a whole bunch of clones in various stages of growth that just got frozen after Shepard went rogue

And after the war Miranda decides to see if she can find the rest and uncovers a whole storage of clones. Most of them are dead, either due to complications during development or because of cryo getting interrupted during the war

But one is still alive and asleep, so Miranda tells Shepard, who has only recently been released from the hospital, and takes her there so she can decide what to do with the clone herself.

Of course Garrus is there too cuz he's not letting Shepard out of sight until he's 100% sure she's not gonna get herself blown up again

Tali, Liara, Joker and EDI obviously can't be dissuade from joining either - EDI makes a compelling argument about having to test her new body that is actually complete bullshit, she's just curious - and James and Cortez just tag along because everyone else is going and it's about clones and the have Experience.

Javik comes too, cuz he's bored and Liara made vague comments about there maybe being Cerberus agents to fight, and Kaidan has a Bad Feeling about all these knuckleheads being in one room together so he comes along to keep the peace. That's a lie actually, he's just happy to be here.

Samara somehow shows up too, though no one actually contacted her cuz no one knew how. She just heard "Shepard" and "Cerberus" and decided "that could be trouble" and here she is

Grunt would have loved to go but Wrex tells him if he can't go then Grunt can't either cuz that would be unfair.

Jack has the kids to take care of and Jacob has his kid to take care of, so they're not able to come but promise help should there be some Cerberus agents that need blowing up.

Zaeed just sends a photo of himself at the pool titled "I'm fucking retired".

So Miranda ends up having to fly a huge group of people to that lab she found, which she grumbles about but she's not fooling anyone anymore.

As it turns out the facility is completely abandoned and powered down, except for the emergency power in the lab that's supposed to keep the clones alive. They check the whole place before they descend into the basement, looking for the one pod still active that Miranda found

They move past a bunch of pods with clones ranging from young girls to women the same age as Shepard and it's both fascinating and horrifying at the same time.

Shepard for her part seems to take it pretty well though she does stick close to Garrus who slings an arm around her shoulders to steady her. Tali links arms with her and Shepard gives her a small smile.

The active pod is in the far back and, at first glance, looks empty. Liara immediately grabs the data pad sitting beside it and flips through the many charts and notes on it, frowning in thought.

She mumbles something about "no growth hormones administered", gasps a small "oh" and holds the pad out a little so Miranda can read along with her as EDI starts typing on the console attached to the pod itself

"Oh!" she says after a moment, as if to echo Liara. Joker steps up next to her, trying to make sense of what she's looking at.

"What? How evil is it gonna be?"

EDI doesn't answer but turns to Shepard, a strange sparkle in her eyes that wasn't there when she first got a body. She looks both delighted and amazed. "Shall I open it?"

Shepard looks at the pod, worries her lower lip for a moment. Garrus squeezes her gently, Tali hugs her arm closer. The rest of their group closes rank around her, steadying her with their presence.

They're all here for her, no matter what. So she nods.

"Do it."

There's a low hissing sound and a blast of cold air, fog rolls out of the pod as the lid slides open slowly. For some reason Miranda and Liara look almost giddy, though Liara has to keep pushing Javik's hand down because he keeps trying to aim his gun.

James is standing on his tip toes to see into the pod before its even fully open and almost falls over when a very unexpected sound suddenly echoes through the room.

It's a crying voice. A baby's crying voice.

Samara immediately bolts forward, the instincts of a mother taking over, and she bends down into the pod and emerges with what's indeed a baby.

"Holy shit!" James looks flabbergasted.

"Holy shit..." Cortez doesn't look any better.

"Holy shit, indeed!" Somehow Kasumi is here too.

Samara rocks the little girl in her arms, scrutinizes her closely and smiles.

"Yes, I feel a strong resemblance to you," she says, gracefully moving to a completely stunned Shepard.

If you've never seen a galactic hero speechless, suddenly confront them with a baby clone of themself and that should do the trick.

The baby of course doesn't know that, she's just screaming, probably cold and scared and disoriented. She's squirming in Samara's arms, oblivious to Liara, Miranda, Tali, Kaidan and - surprisingly - EDI who are crowding around Samara to catch a glimpse, cooing already

Samara doesn't even try calming the little girl down, she has other ideas. Before Shepard can refuse Samara deposits the baby into her arms, adjusts her grip and then steps back, an almost mischievous tilt to her serene smile.

The baby calms immediately, big eyes the same color as Shepard's blinking up at a face that will he hers one day.

Shepard is motionless, looking like someone just slapped her with a frying pan...until the baby suddenly starts squealing in delight.

The unease melts from Shepard's face, a slightly confused but warm smile replacing it, and she gently shifts the baby closer to her chest, speaking to her quietly.

Little feet kick with delight, small hands reach out to grab at her face, and careful, scarred fingers brush plump baby cheeks and Samara watches with obvious satisfaction as her friends crowd around Shepard to continue cooing at the little girl now laughing happily

Shepard doesn't see it, focused on the baby as she is, but James just bursts into tears at the adorable picture while Cortez tries to console him without looking away. .

Joker is sniffing a little bit too but instead of staying in the background he loudly says "brittle bones coming through" and pushes to the front of the group. The baby immediately steals his cap. He is delighted. EDI is delighted that he is delighted.

Javik pretends very hard not to be mesmerized by the first human baby he's ever seen. He's failing miserably, much to Kaidan's amusement.

Garrus sticks to the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest, a thoughtful expression on his face. He remembers London, the half joking half serious conversation about adopting kids after the war is finished.

He'd shelved the thought in favor of focusing on recuperating, fixing what the war had destroyed, and building up Shepard who had to wrestle with severe injuries, PTSD and survivor's guilt without the distraction of a galactic war to keep her from realizing how much she was suffering.

But...it had been months, life was slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy - as much as was possible after the heavy losses - and Shepard was getting better. Therapy was going well. She would never be fully free of what she'd been through, but she was determined to get better and Hackett had arranged for the best help in the galaxy.

She was getting better. And restless. She had started spending more time with the orphans, playing with them, teaching them.

She'd always loved children. And Garrus had been very serious about starting a family with her, not so much about the cross species babies that biologically wouldn't happen.

But here was a baby that Shepard already had a connection with, a baby that she obviously already adored. He hadn't seen her smile like that in a long time. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Yes. This could be good.

He feels Samara sidle up beside him, smiling knowingly. "You should suggest it," she says.

Garrus nods, shoots her a smile. "Yeah, I think I will."

#mass effect #shakarian #long post #garrus vakarian #commander shepard #me3 spoilers #I guess?#I mean it's a joke dlc

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antoxsmith · 3 years ago

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Home Sweet Home (Part 5)

Warnings - Drama, Angst

Pairings - Negan x Reader

Summary - Reader comes back to Alexandria after several years. Let's just say old flames die hard.

NEGAN MASTERLIST - HOME SWEET HOME MASTERLIST

He stayed there for a moment, looking at you in awe as you laid there for him. The way he was looking at you made you nervous, your cheeks turning pink quickly. He smiled softly. “You are so beautiful.” He whispered, leaning down and finally kissing you again. You felt your blood boiling as he did. “Too bad you don’t want to be close to me, do you?” He said, once again provoking you, a sarcastic grin showing, making you want to slap him again.

You gave him a side smile and rolled your eyes. “You really should just shut-“ you couldn’t finish your sentence as a light moan left your lips at the feeling of his lips once again assaulting your neck.

You felt one of his hands go down to the hem of your jeans, still not tugging them down as your arms held him close to you, his warm skin against you melts against him.

He looked up at you then, his questioning eyes making you really nervous. You knew he was about to ask if you were sure... And damn, you weren’t. The whole room was spinning and the warm, tingly feeling building in your lower stomach seemed to keep your mind very occupied from what was really happening.

“Wait...” you groaned, half sitting down on the bed, Negan patiently waiting still between your legs. You reached on your back and hummed as you grabbed your gun. It had been poking your upper back for a bit.

For a long moment you just stood frozen there, looking at your gun, feeling yourself slowly coming back to the reality you had been avoiding from the moment he kissed you. Suddenly, your other arm slowly went up to your chest and you nervously covered your breasts. “We have to stop.” You mumbled, still looking at your gun, a trace of sadness in your eyes as you did.

Negan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What’s wrong, honey?” He asked, reaching out to hold your cheek softly, but you quickly moved your head to the side, letting him know you didn’t want him to touch you.

“I said we have to stop.” You repeated, slowly. “Please, get out.”

You looked elsewhere. You knew how he was looking at you. You knew he would try to take you back to... Whatever had been happening. He was still right there on the bed between your legs and you knew him too well to think he wouldn’t try to manipulate you somehow.

He was genuinely worried. Your eyes were glassy and he was scared that maybe he had hurt you, but he was mostly sure that he had been as delicate as possible. “Are you o-“

“I said get out, Negan.” You ordered loudly, pointing the gun at him in a swift movement, the look in your eyes letting him know you were not playing anymore. You just wanted him out of your sight, you wanted to go back home.

“Shit. Okay. Okay.” He quickly put his palms up and backed off, slowly taking his shirt from the bed and turning to the door with a slow, reluctant sigh. Before, he knew you wouldn’t pull that trigger but now… it just seemed like a possibility.

You watched his every movement, still pointing at him.

That gun... Rick gave it to you as a present, a few days before he died.

Rick, the one who had taken care of you when you were a crying mess for the fucker that was standing in front of you. He would be so fucking disappointed.

Once Negan was finally out of the room, you quickly dressed up again and pinched your nose. This wasn’t you. You promised yourself you would never even talk to him again. What were you doing?

As you walked out of the room you saw him sitting down on the sofa, playing with his hands on his lap as if he was going through all his past actions again. He looked up at you, seemingly worried.

“Honey, you know I would never-“

“We are leaving now. We still have a few more places to search.” You coldly announced as you grabbed your bag from the ground.

You heard him call your name but you didn’t listen. You just grabbed your things and the other bag with all the meat and walked out of the cabin, almost running.

Outside, the cold wind helped you calm down and your stomach stopped turning from all the feelings. The car was all wet, but the sound of walkers not so far away pushed you to get into the car quickly, being closely followed by Negan. You should’ve left as soon as Negan fired that gun but right, you were too busy making out with that asshole.

Negan wouldn’t say a word. At first, he thought he had hurt you, that he had done or said something wrong. Hell, he had felt like that for the whole trip, but now it was different. When you pointed at him with that gun, he knew it was something else. He also knew that look you had in your eyes when you walked out of the room. Regret.

He watched you load the car and quickly followed you into it, his jaw clenched as you started driving in silence. He could’ve cut the tension right there between you two.

A few miles later, when he just knew he couldn’t bare the tension anymore, he called your name. Good, at least not more of that ‘honey’ shit. Still, you ignored him completely. “We have to talk.” He tried again and you noticed he was growing impatient, but you looked at your map and tried not to listen to him. You failed. “I get it. Aside from all the shit I put you through, you feel like you are betraying them. I fucking get it, honey. Just talk to me.”

You let out a slow breath. He was right. Every minute of the day, every time you looked at him, every second that you even thought about him… You felt like you were betraying not only Rick but Maggie as well. She was like a sister to you. How could you do this to her?

“If you know what’s wrong then stop asking.” You answered slowly as you made a turn. You were supposed to search what used to be a gas station. “If we move quickly, we might finish all the other points today, and we get to go back home early.” You mumbled, looking at your map as you turned off the car in front of the store. It looked clean aside from the rotten walkers inside the parked, forgotten cars; but... Who knew?

You could feel him staring at you, and you sighed in distress, wondering if you should tell him how you felt so he would stop trying to talk to you. You looked up to him, your lips pressed against each other as you looked for the right words, nervously tapping your feet.

But then, your facade came up again, a trace of the woman you were before pushing you to stay all cold. “You still have the knife?” You simply asked.

“I really think we should-“

You didn’t hear what else he had to say. You just got out of the car, gun in hand, leaving him all alone as you started searching the parked cars. Now he thought he had an opinion. He was supposed to be a prisoner and shit. He didn’t get to have an opinion.

You heard him in the distance as he checked the other cars, whistling a fucking song as he did. You blocked that off, concentrating on your own search and killing a few of the late drivers; then, a few minutes later you heard him call your name.

You were about to completely and utterly ignore him, when he said he found something. Only then, you quickly walked to him expectantly.

“What? I don’t see anything.” You groaned, annoyed, as you stood next to him and looked inside the trunk he was currently holding open.

He was still grinning proudly. “It has a secret chamber.” He said playfully, making you nudge him a little too hard. “Ouch! Okay, shit. Whatever, spoilsport. It has a false bottom. Look under it.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously as you did as he said. “This better not be- Oh, shit!” You smiled bright as you saw the biggest treasure you had found in a while.

Cans. Cans and cans and more cans of food, unopened, rusty and all but... Full cans!

You started jumping around. “We are not going to starve anymore!” You laughed as you held one of the cans against you and embraced it as if it was your baby. Negan giggled while looking at you. It was nice to see you smile so bright for once.

He heard some walkers groaning in the distance. “Alright, alright. We better take this to the car before some shit happens.” He grinned to you as he grabbed some of the cans and stocked them one over the other on his chest. “That fucker must’ve spent all his life savings on these and he didn’t even try one. Must be rotting in hell still wondering how they taste.” He commented and you forced yourself not to laugh as you grabbed some cans as well. A few trips after, you finished loading them. “I think this must be enough. We can go back now... If you want.” He leaned on your car as he closed the trunk, all the cans safe and sound inside, the tension between you two gone by now. Again, you knew that look he was giving you. He was really trying to make you change your mind, huh?

“Yeah...” You narrowed your eyes at him. “We should.” You mumbled and looked down. “This will do for a couple days, maybe a week. It’s more than they are expecting.” You continued, as you bobbed your head up and down as if you were the one who didn’t comprehend it. “Well, let’s go.” You smiled awkwardly to him and turned to open your door.

“Do you want me to drive?” He asked, still standing next to the trunk, one hand on his hip. Shit, he looked so handsome all sweaty with only his white shirt, so you just stared at him. “You didn’t sleep at all. You should do that, and I know how to read a fucking map.” He inquired. Well... Yeah, you were really tired, but still, you shouldn’t trust him. “C’mooon. You know I wouldn’t do anything to you. Maybe to someone else. But not you.” He winked.

You rolled your eyes, a little chuckle scaping your lips as you nodded. You trusted him at least that much. “Alright.” You accepted and walked to the other side of the car, starting to feel sleepy already.

You didn’t really know when, but you almost fell asleep instantly, your bag under your head as if it was a big pillow.

While he was driving, Negan kept on looking back at you and... For a long moment, he just felt like before. Before, you were always sleeping by his side when he brought you back to Alexandria right before the sunrise, so tired after a whole night making out or just talking. You looked beautiful back then and you looked just as beautiful now, and he just knew he would remember that pretty face forever.

Some time after, you yawned as you stretched out slowly, looking out at the familiar road and then back at Negan, still sleepy.

He grinned at you. “Good morning, sunshine. Right timing. We’re just about to get to Alexandria. Want to change places?” He asked, slowing down the car.

You nodded slowly, even though you wanted to keep on sleeping. “You should’ve woken me up already.” You mumbled as you sit up and stretched once again.

“Oh, I tried.” He chuckled as he stopped the car. “But you just kept mumbling in your dreams.” He smirked to you as he got out.

“What?” You asked horrified as you opened your door and met him outside. “What did I say?” You asked, already embarrassed.

“Nothing.” He shrugged past you in a playful tone, getting into the passenger seat.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to remember what you were dreaming about, but it was pointless. You had already forgotten.

You got into the driver seat and checked the gas. “I hope that’s enough.” You whispered to yourself. The little trip back to the cabin wasn’t planned at all and it was starting to pay check. “Did I really say something while sleeping?” you asked him, embarrassed. The road there seemed to be already dry, so maybe the storm hadn’t gotten Alexandria, making you relax.

“Of course you didn’t.” He denied, sarcastically. Oh, he was enjoying this. “Guess.”

“Negan.” You side eyed him in warning, with a little playful smile as well. It still felt weird to say his name.

“Wow! You guessed right. That’s exactly what you said.” He preached, enjoying how you went pale. He laughed out loud, making you feel even more embarrassed.

“You’re kidding, right?” You side eyed him again, but this time with a bit of concern. You couldn’t be out there talking in your dreams. “You just like to make me nervous, don’t you?”

“Nope and… yes. It’s fun. You get all flustered so quickly.” He grinned, looking out the window like it wasn’t a big deal.

Thank God, the gas was actually enough. You waited right on the front gate of Alexandria as your people opened it and heard Negan breath slowly, looking around as if he hadn’t been there before.

“Listen, before we get in…” you mumbled, not looking at him and greeting Daryl in the distance with a slight smile. You knew Negan was paying close attention to your words, but he didn’t look at you either, instead he scratched his jaw. The air seemed to have shifted between you two from what it was moments ago. “…You are right about what you said before. Maggie is like a sister to me. And… she knows.” You shrugged as the gates finally opened and you slowly drove inside. “She knows about my past. But that’s it. The past.” You looked at him for a second as you stopped the car, your eyes meeting in a lingering, longing mix of emotions. You felt better with him knowing, and even as you deep inside did want him close… It was better if you just went both your own paths.

He was about to inquire something, you knew so. But Daryl and Gabriel came up to you.

“We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.” Gabriel greeted you with a slight, preoccupied smile.

“I missed you too, Gabriel.” You chuckled as you got out of the car. “Check in the back.” You winked to him, excited for him to see all the food you had managed to pick up.

Daryl gave you a short hug. “Had any problems with him?” he asked, still holding your shoulder and tilting his head towards Negan. At least, Negan didn’t seem to mind.

You looked at Negan for a second, then back at Daryl with a relaxed expression, feeling the sun on your skin. “Nope, he was alright.” You smiled as you heard Gabriel’s little shout after he opened the trunk.

“He better.” You noticed him and Negan exchanging a few looks that you couldn’t really decipher. “What’d you bring?”

You didn’t have to answer as he walked to the back, stood beside Gabriel and both looked at all the cans and meat the same way you did before: amazed.

“Told you I’d do a damn better job than the shaky bastard.” Negan scoffed to Gabriel, proud.

You chuckled and were about to tell Gabriel that Negan really did do well outside, when you heard someone calling your name. You turned around only to find Hershel Jr. running straight to you.

“Hey kid!” you smiled as you crouched down and took his little hug with a smile, unaware of the lingering eyes glued to your back. “I missed you. Did you miss me?” You chuckled, messing with his black hair.

“We did.” Maggie answered in the short distance.

You smiled as Maggie walked closer. She didn’t say anything, but with her little frown you knew she was asking if you were okay. You just nodded in response to that, getting back up and giving her a little hug.

“Who was it?” She asked and you just knew what she meant when she looked at Negan coldly.

“Oh… Uhm. Gabriel. But it’s okay!” You shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t make a deal out of it. “We barely even spoke.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You turned around and found Negan’s gaze still glued to you as if hypnotized. You gave him a stern look and he seemed to wake up, jerking awake and quickly grabbed some of the cans, taking them to the warehouse as some others came to help as well.

He didn’t even wave goodbye to you. Not that you were expecting it or wanting it but… You didn’t know. That trip confused you more than anything. As you walked back to Maggie’s home and Hershel told you all about his new findings, you couldn’t keep yourself from looking back.

He was still taking the cans, but he didn’t even look at you. You forced yourself to understand that this was what you so desperately wanted, so you were supposed to be happy.

Or that’s what you told yourself almost every day. He seemed to truly respect what you said that day and for some reason it was bothering you that he did. He wouldn’t look at you, talk to you, hell, it seemed like he was ignoring you and it was driving you nuts.

Taking care of Hershel and all the kids as Maggie spent all day working with the council, that was the only thing keeping you in place.

You came back from your thoughts as Judith called for you. They were playing hide and seek and they seemed to want you to play as well.

“Oh no, no, Jude; I’m tired.” You tried to excuse yourself, but she was already pulling your arm. A little reluctantly at first, you just gave in. And for a good-whole-30 minutes you actually enjoyed it.

“Found you!” You grinned as you raced RJ to the start line, him being the last one you had to find. Still, you let him win and all the other kids cheered for RJ as you acted out to be tired. “You run so fast!” you cheered, faking your quick breathing.

“My turn!” Gracie didn’t even give you time, she was already counting down from thirty. Jude pulled your arm and you thanked God you didn’t have to search for a hiding spot yourself.

But your grin stopped as you noticed her getting in the back or the carpentry. You stopped there, just knowing he might be there sent chills down your spine. Jude called your name and you had no choice but to reluctantly follow her. Not looking around, you quickly kneeled next to her behind one of the working tables, already seeing Gracie walking over your way.

“What are you doing?”

You looked back as you heard his voice.

But he wasn’t even looking at you. He just looked at Jude.

“We’re hiding! Don’t talk to us!” She exclaimed as quietly as she could, making both you and Negan chuckle a bit.

“Okay, okay.” He shrugged in innocence and kept working on cutting some wood just right there like two meters away, seemingly unbothered by your presence. And hell did it make you angry to not have his attention.

You heard Gracie come in and, in the distance, she asked to everyone in the carpentry if they had seen you and Judith. You almost didn’t see it but Negan tilted his head your way, signaling your position for her.

You and Judith looked at him, betrayed and a little offended.

It didn’t take long for Gracie to come in and find you, quickly running to the starting line. You didn’t stand a chance against her now.

“Traitor!” You saw Judith pushing Negan playfully and you laughed. She didn’t stop pushing him, making him laugh out loud. You just stood there, smiling softly while looking at Judith’s actions.

“A little help here?” Negan addressed towards you, but still didn’t look at you. You had never seen him evade someone’s gaze like that.

You chuckled and tapped Judith’s shoulder. “C’mon. RJ must still be hiding.” You winked to her, making her run out to get her brother. It was nice that, even as mature as she was, she still had the soul of a kid. A little awkwardly, you started following her, just hoping he would stop you, call your name, ask something… laugh. Anything.

But he didn’t.

That’s when you knew he really was ignoring you. Now it couldn’t be a coincidence anymore. So what? Fuck him. This was what you wanted and what you asked for. It was like he didn’t even exist!

Oh, shit. You missed him.

“What’s wrong?” Judith asked as you walked back home and rested there by the door, still watching the kids carefully, but with a very noticeable grimace on your face. You moved your head no, already about to tell her you were alright, when she cut you off. “Do you hate him?”

You tilted your head, shifting your weight from side to side nervously, knowing what or who she meant. “I don’t.”

“Then why do you look so angry every time he’s close?” She asked curiously as the other kids started walking back. Then she seemed to realize something and jumped with the idea: “Do you like him?”

You turned completely red, laughing off nervously and looking elsewhere. “I don’t, I’m just not close to-“

“You like him!” She chuckled way too loud and you quickly tried to shush her, trying to convince her that you didn’t. And actually, you didn’t, right? You didn’t like him like that… right?

[SEASON 11 SPOILERS AHEAD!]

She didn’t shut up about it from then on. Every time she came to visit you, she was always talking about Negan and it was driving you nuts again. “And I think he likes you too!”

You flinched at her words as you set down a plate of soup in front of her. RJ and her were staying with you since Daryl left with a whole bunch of others for this mission to crash into an old military place that seemed to have lots, lots of jerky meat stocked. Only catch was that it was full of walkers. Still, Maggie practically forced you not to go with her, saying you already had gone scavenging and they needed you back home in case The Reapers tried some shit against Alexandria.

“I told you I don’t like him like that, Jude.” You repeated once again. “But… why do you think he likes me?” you tried to act as if you didn’t care, but her little knowing smile made you giggle.

“He asks about you. A lot.” She said that last part louder, like she could still hear Negan’s voice in the back of her head.

“So? He’s probably worried because you are staying with me.” You shrugged.

“Well, there was this one time long ago,” she slowly drank her soup and you remained silent while sharpening your knives. “I heard him and mom talking about you. But mom told him you wouldn’t come back and he was acting like crazy.” She rolled her eyes remembering it.

You felt a smile trying to appear on your lips but you controlled yourself. You didn’t know if it was because he was looking for you or because he was suffering back then, but it did make you a little bit happy.

“I didn’t know that.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “How come you remember that?”

She couldn’t answer as you were both cut off by the soft banging on the door. When you got it, you were happily surprised by Agatha and Frost smiling at you, they looked like shit but they were here and that’s all that mattered. “You are alive!” You ran to Frost, hugging him so tight you were sure you could’ve broken his neck.

“We missed you too.” Agatha giggled as you turned to hug her too. You were so relieved. You knew they were alive for sure but you doubted you’d ever see them again.

“Just wait till Maggie gets here.” you laughed, once again hugging Frost. He was the one you were closer to back at Meridian, aside from Maggie. There was a long time it was only Maggie, Hershel Jr. and you; but then you found Meridian and you all built something amazing back there. That was until… The Reapers.

That day was awesome. You got to show Frost the whole place while Agatha and the others rested in your house. And for the first time you really felt… okay. You weren’t all worried about your feelings anymore.

Frost chuckled as he saw how excited you seemed to be that he was back, jumping around on the road. “You really thought we were dead, huh?” He put his arm around your shoulders playfully. “This place’s nice.” He nodded while looking around.

“They’re back!” you heard someone call out in the distance. You and Frost looked at each other, knowing that meant Maggie was back as well.

You quickly went and picked up Hershel on your way to greet them, the fast kid running to his mom as soon as he saw her. As you were coming closer, you watched as Negan dangerously took a bag from Elijah’s hands, him and Maggie exchanging a pair of glances that had your skin itching.

Thankfully, when you get there with the others, he went into the warehouse to stock the stuff from the bag, disappearing from your glance for a short time.

“You are alive!” Maggie exclaimed as she hugged your group, asking how did they make it back and what exactly happened at the camp. You were playing with Hershel, listening to the conversation but keeping him entertained.

“Is that him?”

You looked up at the awkward silence and then noticed they were talking about Negan. Your heart stopped as you noticed he knew they were talking about him.

Shit, he looked like a lost puppy when he made that sad face. Made you want to hug him.

“Are you hungry?” You quickly chimed in, hoping for them to forget about Negan. As the others answered to you positively, you saw Negan shooting you a ‘thank you’ look, making you get all tingly again, that being the first time you had looked at each other in what seemed like years for you.

“What did you make, chef?” Frost asked playfully as his arm once again went through your shoulders, starting to walk to your house alongside the whole group.

Negan watched you walk away, his gaze locked on Frost’s arm around you. He felt that familiar, sour feeling in his chest: jealousy.

All those past days he had been watching you in the distance, just when he knew you couldn’t see him, because he chose to respect your choice. He wanted to at least give you that. But fuck, when he saw you hugging Frost, playing around with him, guiding him through Alexandria, letting him put his arms around you… He just wanted so desperately to kiss you right in front of everyone.

But nope.

Redemption arc, right? He had to calm the fuck down and act as if it was all okay. At least, he knew you were okay. That’s what mattered, right? Not that you might or might not be fucking someone else, or that you let that asshole embrace you, or that you seemed to have so much fun beside him. That most certainly didn’t matter… right?

As night kicked in and he finally stocked the last one of the bags in the warehouse; everyone else already gone but a kid that was supposed to be keeping an eye of him ‘in case he decided to kill everyone’; he heard someone call his name, making his lips press against each other in tension. Didn’t you get he was trying to respect what you said you wanted?

When he turned around, he saw you and Maggie walking towards him, but you didn’t seem to want to.

PART 6

#negan x you #negan x oc #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #negan fanfic #the walking dead negan #negan fic #negan #negan smith #twd negan #twd #negan the walking dead #the walking dead

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vanillanaps · 4 years ago

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Unfaithful | Steve Rogers

Summary - You promised yourself it was the last time you’d see him. The last time you canceled on your boyfriend to meet up with him. The last time you’d lay naked beneath his sheets as he was buried between your thighs, but promised where meant to be broken.

A/n - y’all it’s been so long since I wrote smut, please just bear with me. The ending is also lowkey bad, idk y’all.

Category - Fem!Reader, angst, smut

Warnings - poorly written unprotected sex, arguments, cheating (I do not condone cheating) fluff at the end, I guess?

Word Count - 3.4k

♡♡♡♡

You shouldn’t be here, doing this, with him. It was wrong, it was so wrong and you knew that. Your boyfriend didn’t deserve the pain you’d been putting him through this past year, but you couldn’t help it. The way his calloused, soft hands felt running up and down your naked sides, his plump pink lips trailing kisses from your lips, down to your neck and across your shoulders. Or the way his piercing blue eyes gazed into the souls of yours, reading you like an open book. He was new, exciting and adventurous. The moment you met him, you knew it was something different about him. How he walked, talked and even presented himself. When he made that first move against you and even then you couldn’t resist him, not even when your boyfriend was a few feet away from you.

The presence of a body pulled you from your thoughts as the steam of the hot water pouring from the shower filled your senses, “You alright?”

You nodded softly, pushing away the intrusive thoughts and letting yourself have this moment. Your bottom lip was brought in between your lips at the feeling of those cherry red lips being traced against your steaming skin, “Steve, we can’t. I have to go.”

“I just need you once more before you go.” He whispered to you, his hands resting on your hips while he pressed his front up against your backside, letting you feel his hardness for you all over again. A soft moan escaped your mouth at the touch of his hard shaft flesh against your ass. You weren’t sure why you tried, knowing that each and every time, you’d melt right back into his arms without him doing much convincing.

You turned in his hold, not wanting to loiter for a moment longer, your lips found his. His hands circled around to your back, pulling you close to him. Turning the two of you around, he pushed you up against the cold titled wall, he took the chance of your lips parting with a gasp to slip his tongue in. The kiss grew heated and hands began to travel. Yours around his neck and his down to your thighs to lift you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Steve, please.” You muttered against his mouth, sighing when his shaft brushed against your folds, teasing you tremendously.

“I’ve got you.” He’d answer back. It was true, he always had you.

Your head fell back against the shower wall as he sunk himself into you. His breath shuttering against your neck as your walls squeezed him like no tomorrow, still a throbbing mess from your earlier sessions that you were supposed to be scrubbing off. His grip on your thighs tightened, thrusting up into you. Your moans filled the steamy shower as his heavy cock stretched the walls of your pussy, nails clawing at the nape of his neck while he fucked you endlessly. Steve dipped his neck down, tongue trailing against your breast, trying to bring you the most immense pleasure he could before you left him again. He knew you wouldn’t last long around him, but he figured he’d make you cum once more before you were gone.

“Fuck, please don’t stop!” You moaned, now tucking your head into his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you.

“Gonna cum already?” He asked, not even needing the answer. He knew by the way that sweet cunt of yours tightened, just nearly squeezing the life out of him, “gonna make a mess all over me again?”

You nodded desperately, your back trying to arch, “I’m so close.”

Steve widened his foot stance, repositioned his arms to hook under your knees to spread you wider for him. Picking his pace up, his hips snapped against yours, pelvis brushing up against your clit and his balls slapping up against your ass. He smirked through his groans at the feeling of tightening up around him, “That’s it baby, cum for me.” A cry left your throat as you followed his commands and released all over him, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm til his thrust sputtered to a complete stop and his load shot heavy into you.

If he was being truthful, he didn’t want to let you go. If he had it his way, he’d lay you in his bed and cook you a nice lunch as you slept away the last five orgasms he gave you, but that wasn’t his place. He was there for a fuck and then you’d go home to the man you claimed you loved. But how could you love him when you were here with Steve? How could you love him when you went back home nearly every night with Steve’s cum still leaking out of you. How were you still his?

♡♡♡♡

You felt his eyes burning holes into your back as he watched you dress yourself. Pulling that black dress he bought you down over your hips to wear for another man, “When can I see you again?”

There it was, the question that you knew he’d been itching to ask. Lately, you've been distant with him. Trying to dodge his phone calls and avoid his text, only making it at least two days but then you’d find yourself tangled in his sheets for the next few nights. But tonight was supposed to be different, it had to be. This was the last night you’d spent with him. The last night you’ll put more strains on your relationship for the man that lounged on his bed in nothing but sweats, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You didn’t need to turn around to see him rolling his eyes, you heard it, “You do this bullshit every week. You say you’re done and then I end up right in between your legs. Just stay.”

“Steve, I can’t and you know that!” You avoided his words, knowing the truth behind him.

“Give me one good reason why you can’t?” He questioned, getting up from the bed and following behind you as you collected your belongings.

“Because I love him. He’s my boyfriend and I should be there with him, not you.” You shot back.

Steve scoffed, “You love him, yet you’re here fucking me on your anniversary with him? Oh wow, he’s a lucky guy!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You whipped around, pointing a finger in his face, “You knew what this was when we first started! I told you from the beginning what it was going to be and it’s not my fault that you caught feelings! I’m happy where I am!”

“I’m not gonna sit here and act like I don’t see through your facade.” Steve stepped to you, pushing your hand from his face as he slowly backed you into a wall, “You don’t love him, you’re comfortable with him. He’s all you know, your safe place. Someone who will always be there when you crash and burn. You’re scared to let me in because I actually make you feel something. I challenge you, I put excitement into your life and that scares the shit out of you because you think one day it’ll come to an end. That I’ll leave and we’ll never see eachother again.”

“You’re wrong.” You spat, he’s right.

“No, I’m not.” Steve shook his head, his anger fading away. He didn’t want to be angry at you, he wanted you to see the truth. He wanted you to see what good you had standing in front of him and what you could make a life out of, “He bores you. It’s been the same thing since high school. You told me this. You’re keeping yourself in a relationship that’s already over. It’s been over the moment we came in each other’s lives, why can’t you see that?”

“Steve..” You breathed, lip trembling as his words started to hit home. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, he only wanted you to see him.

He let his thumb softly wipe away the tear that dared spill over your tear duct, his hand coming to caress your cheek before his fingers slide down to take your chin between them and titling your head up, “Let me be the man that makes you happy. That keeps you feeling young and excited everyday. Let me be the one to tell you that I love you everyday for the rest of our lives.” His eyes searched yours finding them completely conflicted. A small slither of hope filled his chest, this was the furthest he ever got with you in this conversation. His head lowered to place his lip on yours, placing small pecks upon them, “I love you, let me love you.”

For a moment, you took pleasure in the situation. His lips repeatedly pressed against yours in a soft manner as he confessed his love for you. You let yourself have a glimpse at your future with Steve. He was right, he did excite you, challenge you and bring adventure into your life. With Steve, there was no telling where the future might take you. The infatuation you had with him is what kept you coming back to him, but it’s also what kept you an arms length away. Knowing that at any moment, this relationship you’d built with Steve could be taken away. He could start loving someone the same way he started loving you. What if he got bored of you? What if you were only excited because you belonged with somebody else and there was a thrilling edge of being caught when he would be balls deep into you as your boyfriend called. There were too many what if’s. With the man you called yours, you knew it would be forever. That’s why you couldn’t let yourself love Steve Rogers.

“Stop, stop.” You muttered, placing your hand on his chest to push away, “I-I can’t.”

“Don’t do this, please.” He sighed as you slipped from his grip and continued to gather your belongings. His heart was nearly ready to jump out his chest as he watched you walk towards his front door, hand on the knob, “If you leave, then that’s it!” He called, stopping you in your tracks, “I’m tired of being your back up when you aren’t happy with him! It’s been a year and I’m tired of waiting. If you—if you walk out that door, then I’m done! It’s over!” Steve’s chest bounced heavily, nerves running through his body as he watched your frozen stance, but what could he have expected? You didn’t leave your boyfriend then, so why would you leave him now?

“I hope you have a nice life, Steve.” Without even a glance back, you walked out of his apartment and out of his life.

♡♡♡♡

Checking your eyes once more, dabbing away in puffiness in your eyes just before you crossed the threshold of Darren’s apartment, “Babe? Baby, I’m here!” Closing the door behind you, setting your keys and purse on the entry table, “I’m sorry I’m late! Traffic was crazy.” You lied smoothly, turning the corner to see your boyfriend sitting at the opposite end of the dining room table, hands folded in his lap, candles burned down to the middle and food that had looked like it had been sitting for a while, “What’s all this?”

“Well, I had a dinner planned for our anniversary.” He spoke, getting up from his chair to make his way over to you, “But clearly you had better things to do.”

You were taken back by his words. There had never been a time that Darren had spoken to you with that kind of tone, but then again, there had never been a time you’d been late for an anniversary dinner, “Darren, there was traffic. What did you want me to do? Tell them to hurry up? Run through it?”

“Yeah, well that excuse would be valid if it didn't take you nearly three hours to get here when you only live twenty minutes away.” He moved around you, blowing the candles out.

“Okay, baby wait.” You sighed, grabbing his hand to stop him from clearing the table, “I woke up from my nap late and was just completely off schedule and you know how much I hate when you comment on my time management.” Darren stopped letting you pull him towards you, “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll make it up to you. I’m here now so let’s just warm the food up and enjoy it, yeah?”

He looked down to your pleading eyes before giving you a small nod, “Okay.”

“Okay, good. I’ll go warm up the food and meet you on the couch.” Placing a small kiss on his cheek, you grabbed the plates of food and made your way to the kitchen. A breath of relief came from you as you loaded a plate into the microwave. You knew that you’d be late, but being three hours late and using traffic as your excuse nearly blew your cover. You knew you couldn’t keep doing this to him, which is why you ended it with Steve. Darren had been nothing but good to you and you were doing him wrong in the worst way because only did to fuck another man, but you fell in love with him.

The night was slow and awkward. You tried to converse, ask him about his day, how work was, and what his plans were but all you got back was ‘it was okay��, ‘it was work’, and ‘probably nothing’. You slightly frowned at his responses, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a right to be upset. Deciding to make it up to him, you set your plates down and crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him slowly, “I’m sorry.” You muttered against his lips. At first, you’d thought he’d forgiven you when his hands came to your waist, but it was to only push you away, “What’s wrong?”

Darren sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch staring up at the ceiling, “...You still smell like him.”

You faltered, pulling away slightly, “Wh-what?”

He brought his hands up, rubbing them over his face, “Usually when you come back from being with him, it’s faint. No matter how much you try to scrub him off you, I assume it’s because the two of you shower together, but it’s like today you didn’t even try.”

“You knew?” You questioned. Since when? For how long? Why is he just now saying something? Had he known each and every time you’d come from Steve’s apartment? Did he know the few times Steve came to your apartment?

Darren scoffed, slowly sliding you off his lap, getting up from the couch, “Is that all you have to say to me? If I knew? Of course I knew! My girlfriend is out there getting fucked by another man and you think I didn’t know? All the late night calls and text messages. When you're ‘working overtime’. Being too sick to come see me, but in reality, you’re with somebody else. Coming here with missing panties, yeah I’ve noticed! All these new clothes that you can’t fucking afford because you make minimum wage and can barely pay rent for that apartment you have!” He raged, pacing the living room back and forth, “Then you come in here, three hours late on our fucking anniversary, smelling like him! You fucked him. You fucked somebody else on a day we were supposed to celebrate our relationship!”

“I'm sorry! I broke it off with him! It’s done! I’ll never see him again!” You tried to reason, tears threatening to spill, getting up from the couch as you made your way towards him, trying to take his hands into yours to keep him from pacing, but he only snatched his away, “Darren, please! I swear it’s over!”

He stopped his pacing, his breath deepening as he tried to calm himself, “How long have you been seeing him?”

You gulped figuring that you lied and hurt him enough. He didn’t deserve what you put him through, you’re causing him nothing but pain, “A year.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “A year. A fucking ye—“ He paused, eyes finding yours and looking into what felt like the depths of your soul, “Do you love him?”

Your heart dropped, mouth running dry, “Darren, don’t make me answer that.”

He took a step closer to you, “Do. You. Love. Him?”

Tears finally fell, wetting your cheeks as you nodded.

“Get out.” He started, you went to testify but he just shut you down, “I don’t want to hear anymore of your excuses. Just—leave! Go! I don’t wanna see you ever again!” You watched as he stomped around the apartment before finally getting to the single bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

This is what you deserved. You didn’t have a right to cry, to be upset for him kicking you out. You had sealed your fate months ago when you first stepped out on him with Steve. You sealed your fate once you continued to sleep with Steve even after you had fallen in love with him and now, you’d lost both of them.

♡♡♡♡

The days passed slowly as you fell in a rut. How did you allow yourself to end up here? Alone, sad and broken. The two most important people no longer in your life. Both had been completely fed up with your shit and could you blame them for it? No. If you were being truthful, you would’ve done the same. If you were Darren, you would’ve left him the moment you knew. If you were Steve, you wouldn’t allow him to string you along as far as you did to him. God, were you a bitch. But a bitch who couldn’t help what she felt.

The days didn’t slow because Darren wasn’t in your life anymore. You could live without the schedule days that had been the same since you met Darren. There was no change, the excitement started and ended in highschool, but you stayed for your own selfish reasons that had now turned its back on you. It had left you cold and alone in the world, with no one to turn to, not even friends. They’d left you behind to go travel the world once college was over while you chose to settle down with the man that had no true desire for the adventures of life. He still didn’t deserve what you did.

But then there was Steve Rogers. The man you had gotten so easily infatuated with in so little time. You were at his beck and call, more of him crawling to you as you kept him on a string. Again, for your own selfish reasons. Steve’s life scared you. His days weren’t planned to a T, he didn’t schedule out breakfast, lunch and dinner. There wasn't any planned bedroom time and the sex was far from vanilla. Steve was wild, reckless and carefree while still being wholesome and loving all in one. You knew what your heart wanted. Back then, you were scared to follow it. But now, after having a taste of loosing it all, you said fuck it. You’d dive headfirst into this if you had to, if you even still had the chance to.

Your mind ran a mile a minute as your legs carried you into the apartment building and up the familiar staircase you had been through so many times before. Flashbacks of you being pressed against almost every inch of these walls at least once by him as the two of you could barely make it to his apartment on the third floor. A soft smile at the memory as you came face to face with his front door. Taking a deep breath and raising your fist, knocking against the tall wood.

Moments passed before the door swung open, your eyes meeting those stunning baby blue ones that you didn’t realize you missed so much, “Hi.”

“Hey.” Steve responded, leaning his body against the doorframe. The silence took over for a moment before he spoke up again, “I’m guessing you two..?”

You nodded, “Yeah, we did. You were right.”

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he stood straight, motioning towards him. Relief ran through your body as you allowed yourself to be buried into his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent. The smallest of smiles curled into your lips as you felt his press against your temple, his arms wrapping around you tighter for a moment longer, before he guided you into his apartment.

This was the start of new beginnings.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #captain america x female reader #captain america x you #captain america x reader

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iamfruitie · 3 years ago

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In Too Deep Chapter 1

Summary: Madrick, aka Mad, is a very rich, intelligent scientist who spends his time working in the lab of his mansion. He's working late one night when a stranger breaks into his lab to steal from him. Mare, a vampire who works in an assassin agency, finds himself entertained by the naivety of Mad and decides to come back and stick around between jobs. His original plans are to mess and have some 'fun' with Mad but both of them end up diving much deeper into emotions, and Mare's agency, than ever expected

An Interesting Meeting

Three in the morning during the middle of the week. Humans are asleep at this time, or at least, they should be. Your average Human would be in bed, in a deep sleep, and oblivious to the world around them.

Mare had this knowledge in the back of his head as he crawled through the window into the lab room. The owner of this facility, of the mansion that housed it, apparently either didn’t have an alarm for his home or didn’t bother to set it. The home did have a locked, tall, fence around it. Said fence would be a pain for a Human to get over, especially with the chain spikes on top. But Mare wasn’t your average Human…he wasn’t Human at all. Mare didn’t even need to climb in like this, but it was more fun this way.

He questioned for a moment why the light in the lab was still on, but he’s witnessed many Humans forget to turn off all lights when they were done, and with how large this home was, forgetting a light or two was expected. Mare wasn’t told exactly where what he was looking for was, but surely a bottle of ‘can nearly melt through anything’ acid would stick out. It would have to be stored uniquely since whatever held it would have to not be able to melt from it. Unless the acid was frozen…then it could be held by anything.

“Bingo,” Mare whispered to himself when he saw a label that read ‘warning, liquid nitrogen’ on a portable cooler along the wall. “Let’s pop this open” He crouched down and casually opened the lid, a fog coming out of the color before showing little green cubes. The acid. “Should be enough in there for the job and enough frozen shit to not have it melt before I get it back to headquarters.” A little satisfied hum came from Mare as he straightened back up, tensing up a little when he felt that he wasn’t alone in the room anymore.

“Hello?” The Human, the owner named Mad, was now in the lab with Mare. “Can I help you?” There was a hint of fear in his voice, not shocking considering there was a stranger in his home.

“Didn’t think anyone would be awake.” Mare casually commented, rolling his shoulders a bit. The Human was fully dressed, showing no sign of being tired or having been in bed, or plans to go to bed. That was strange. “I was hoping to not have to kill someone tonight.” Mare clicked his tongue. “But it’s easier to dump a body than to keep a Human silent.”

“H-Hold on.” Mad started moving back, heading towards one of the several tables in the room. “You just show up in my home and threaten me? We haven’t even shared names yet. Like, damn buy me dinner first.” Mad was stalling for time as he went for the table, knowing a weapon prototype of his was there but he’d have to search for it blindly. He also didn’t know the full meaning behind the phrase ‘buy me dinner first’, his friend has used it before and explained that it was used to describe when something was going too fast. Stating you were going to kill someone after less than a minute of seeing them was a fairly quick thing in Mad’s eyes.

“Oh?” Mare’s mood shifted and he kept his stride towards Mad, not missing a step as Mad spoke. “I see~” He was now up on Mad, hands going to either side of his hips and holding the edge of the table. Mare had blocked Mad in and had a big smirk on his face. “I’m never one to usually turn down when a Human offers a trade like that.” Mare had a few inches on Mad so he had to look down while Mad had to look up. “I’ll admit it’s not usually the fun little nerds that do that, they tend to offer money, creations, other people’s lives, but you-” He leaned in a little closer, almost having their chests touch. “-you are a different kind of Human” Mad didn’t say anything but couldn’t help the little shiver that went down his back. Mare was so close to him. “I bet you’re a real suppressed kind, have a bunch of different hidden desires you’d just love to play out? Maybe even secretly a freak with the most twisted of fantasies or maybe just a simple little vanilla boy”

“I-I don’t know.” Mad finally spoke, voice coming out in a squeak.

“You don’t…” Mare took a second and then it clicked. “How cute, a virgin.” He chuckled, moving in even closer. “I’m Mare, by the way.”

“M-Madrick…but everyone just calls me Mad.”

“Madrick? That’s a fun name for a Human.” Mare noticed how Mad was reaching around behind him. “Are you looking for something to hit me with? Go ahead, tell me what it looks like. I can help you find it and you can watch it fail to hurt me.”

“It’s a mallet-based weapon. It folds in on itself and blades can also come out of several ends…I-I made it.” Mad didn’t catch that he wasn’t actually supposed to explain what it was, but his brain was distracted by feeling Mare’s hips press against his own.

“Impressive.” Mare hummed. “You make a lot of interesting things, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes.” Mad felt a hand on the center of his back now and saw the smirk on Mare’s face grow.

“You’re adorable with how you answer everything. So much must happen inside of that head of yours.” Mare caught just a bit of annoyance on Mad’s face at being called ‘adorable’ that would be something fun to remember. “I wonder what would happen to that big brain if I fucked you against every table in here? Bend you over, hold you up, make you cum so many times your knees are weak and all you can do is say my name~”

“You might-You might break something.” Mad’s face was burning red. “There’s a lot of dangerous-” He was cut off by Mare letting out a laugh.

“Oh, you are just too much, Madsy” Mare chuckled. “Too much fun to just waste it in one night.” He suddenly moved away, leaving Mad to find himself breathless. “Every other Human I have met has been boring and so predictable.” Mare waved a hand as he went over to the little cooler, grabbing the handle and picking it up. “You seem like a fun one to play with for a bit. I’ll be back later.” Mare winked and was suddenly gone, leaving behind just a puff of purple smoke before that also faded away.

“I…what?” Mad said out loud to no one.

#madmare #in too deep #nsft #not really #a lot of talk from mare #but easier to tag it as such

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ncssian · 4 years ago

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A Favor: Part Sixteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n:

***

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

In Cassian’s arms, Nesta is shocked for all of a second before melting into his heat, kissing him back with just as much tenderness and joy as he gives her.

Fireworks go off, illuminating the scene around them, but he doesn’t hear or see any of it. Confetti poppers are popped, sending glitter and paper flying everywhere, and still he kisses Nesta.

It’s not until the fireworks show hits its crashing climax that Nesta flinches, breaking away from his lips.

She hates loud noises, Cassian remembers. He stupidly considers covering her ears against the noise for her, but then her shoulders relax, and she comes in again for a deeper kiss. His hands tangle in her bronze hair, and when they next break apart, he remembers the words he’s been holding in for so long. “I love you,” he says against her mouth, imprinting the shape of the words onto her lips. Her answering grin is bright enough to match the moon.

For a single moment, they are a perfect couple. No secrets, no baggage, no outsiders to judge them. And then the fireworks die out and the confetti falls to the floor, and the lights seem to turn bright enough to burn the eyes. The party returns to normal, and so do they.

Nesta is clutching Cassian’s wrist, looking like she has something she needs to say, but then her gaze drifts past his shoulder. To where her sisters and his friends are. She looks up at Cassian nervously. “Can you—”

“Deal with that?” he finishes for her, referring to the friends who had surely seen everything. “Yes.” It’s his responsibility to bear in the first place. Nesta doesn’t owe anybody except her sisters an answer.

Nesta looks torn between feeling guilty and grateful. “I should be there with you.”

Cassian can’t help but be awed. Nesta, who can’t have dinner without knowing what’s on the menu at least two hours ahead, has no idea what to expect from his friends. And still she’s offering to face them with him.

He takes her hand and runs a soothing thumb down her racing pulse, then her sweaty palm. “Go back inside,” he tells her, placing a kiss on her fingers. “I’ll find you when I’m done.” He might put a little sensual promise into his words to ease the nerves lacing her body, but he doesn’t know if it helps. She nods and stalks off.

Cassian stays where he is and leans his arms against the wooden balcony railing, staring into the clear night while the rest of the guests slowly trail back into the warmth of the cabin. He and Nesta will have to clean up this whole mess of confetti and streamers tomorrow, and they’ll have to do something about the new wine stain he spotted earlier on the couch—

Feyre storms up to him first. “How long?” she demands.

He looks sidelong at her. “How long, what?”

“How long have you had feelings for my sister?” Her cheeks are flushed red, either from the cold or rage Cassian can’t tell. This isn’t the question he expected from her.

“Since the day you told me to pick her up from the middle of the woods,” he answers honestly.

Feyre turns impossibly redder. “And how long have you been together?”

“Since Thanksgiving.”

Feyre looks seconds away from attacking him. “I trusted you—”

“Darling.” Rhys has come up behind her, Mor and Elain trailing him. Azriel watches coolly from the door, likely only there to see the drama unfold.

Rhys puts a hand on Feyre’s back, and she ignores it. “I trusted you to take care of her, to live with her, because I knew you would never take advantage of her like that. Because I believed you wouldn’t do exactly what you’ve just done,” she seethes at him.

Cassian stares in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about right now?”

“I’m talking about how you’ve had a hard-on for Nesta this whole time, in close quarters with her, and never thought it was worth mentioning to me.”

“I share one kiss with my girlfriend and that’s what you jump to? That I preyed on your adult sister? You really have no other questions for me?” His voice raises with every sentence, and a few guests lingering on the ground below glance up toward the balcony.

“What else am I supposed to believe?” She’s nearly shouting at him. “You didn’t tell me anything. You lied to me, knowing that Nesta is—Nesta.”

“For good fucking reason, I’m starting to see.”

“Cassian,” Rhysand says warningly.

Cassian didn’t hear him. “What is your real problem with Nesta, Feyre? Where is the problem in me loving her and her loving me? Do you think she’s incapable of making decisions for herself, or is this another thing where you’re jealous she has a life outside of you?”

“That is not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?” he demands.

“You know!” She stabs a finger at his chest, chin quivering. “You know how she is, how she feels and sees things differently than most people, and how her history with men isn’t great. And you still thought it was okay to drag her into a relationship. Why else wouldn’t you tell anyone about it, if you didn’t feel it was wrong?”

Cassian’s face turns colder than the frozen air around them. “I don’t know who you’re talking about right now, but it isn’t your sister,” he says. “It’s not my fault if you don’t know her the way you thought you did. Take that up with her, not me.”

Feyre’s breath steams in the air before her. “I will,” she fumes. She spins on her heel to leave, but Cassian catches her by the wrist.

“After you cool down,” he demands. “You’re not ruining her night.”

Feyre stares him down for a long moment, and eventually shakes his hand off her wrist. She walks back inside, waving Rhys away when he tries to follow. Elain, who Cassian forgot was there, stares at him before going inside as well.

Rhysand turns back to Cassian with ice in his violet eyes.

“Don’t start,” Cassian says, tired. “She doesn’t need you fighting her battles for her.”

“That’s not what I was going to talk about,” he says. “You lied to us.”

Mor bundles deeper into her white coat. “You really love her?” she says quietly.

Azriel steps into their little circle beside Cassian without saying a word. Supporting Cassian in silence.

“I liked having something I didn’t have to share with everyone,” Cassian says, the admission feeling heavy on his tongue. “And I don’t regret it. It was nice while it lasted.”

“I think I’m losing my mind,” Mor mutters.

“So,” Rhys gestures at the spot where Cassian and Nesta kissed, “that’s it? You’re dating Feyre’s sister now, with nothing else to say?”

“This isn’t a damn group decision,” Cassian grits.

“That’s not what we meant,” says Mor. “But you’ve been hiding an entire girlfriend up here for months. We have questions.”

“Then I’ll hold a Q&A session later,” he says sardonically. “But since we’re on the topic of Nesta, I do have something to say.”

Mor and Rhys look taken aback.

Cassian straightens up. “You don’t have to like her. You definitely don’t have to be friends with her. But I expect all of you to respect her, even Amren. If it’s not something you would say out loud about Feyre or Elain, then it won’t be something you say about Nesta. You will be on your best behavior around her, and you will not upset or scare her away. Is that clear?”

Az snorts. “Yes, General.”

Cassian cuts a sharp look in his direction. “That applies to you, too. Don’t toy around with her.”

Az grows solemn and nods.

“Is that it?” Mor raises a brow.

“You might find it harder than you think.”

She scoffs. “Well, if I had known I was bitching about your girlfriend this entire time…”

“You wouldn’t have changed,” Azriel interjects. “You’d be even worse.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. I can play nice.”

Cassian looks to Rhys.

“I haven’t spoken a word to her in years,” Rhys grumbles.

“You will respect her, even when she’s not in the room.” He doubts Nesta will be happy to have shit talked about her when she isn’t in a sex-driven haze.

Rhys looks away. “I can’t believe you even have to ask me such a thing,” he mutters. “She’s with you now, of course I’ll lay off her.”

“And you’ll stay out of the sisters’ issues,” Cassian adds.

Rhys smiles wryly. “When did we switch jobs? You want to be boss now or something?”

“If we’re done here, can we go the fuck inside?” Mor groans. “I’m freezing. And I’m holding you to that Q&A session.” She points a finger at Cassian.

He allows himself to grin, feeling truly light for the first time in months. It isn’t a band-aid solution to everything, but it’s better than lying to his family for the rest of his life. Mor and Az head back inside, and Cassian and Rhys trail them. It’s not until Cassian reaches the door that he remembers—

“What was it you wanted to tell me earlier?” He turns to Rhys.

Rhys looks startled, then uncomfortable. “I don’t think it’s the right time for it anymore. You might not want to hear it at all.”

Well, now Cassian’s curious. “Just tell me. I want to know.”

Rhys holds in a sigh. “Fine. Let’s talk inside.”

***

It’s almost two in the morning when the last guest goes home, and Feyre has no excuse left to idle around.

She finds Nesta in the kitchen doing dishes, her back turned to Feyre. Her heels have been discarded, her hair is tied up out of her face, and her sequined dress sleeves are pushed up her arms so they don’t get wet. She looks so… at home. Like this kitchen and the rest of the cabin is undeniably hers.

It reminds Feyre that it wasn’t Cassian kissing Nesta that felt like a punch to the throat. It was when Feyre saw Nesta break away, smile brightly, and kiss him back.

Feyre carefully approaches the island and clears her throat. Nesta doesn’t hear her over the sound of running water. Feyre tries again harder, but swallows the wrong way and ends up in a coughing fit.

That gets Nesta’s attention. She spins around to find Feyre hacking like an idiot, and shuts the tap off. “What’s wrong with you?” she says.

Feyre coughs one final time, her throat scratchy now. “Water. I need water.”

Nesta’s eyes nearly roll out of her head, but she grabs a clean glass and fills it up, handing it to Feyre.

Feyre chugs half the glass and sets it down with an exhale. “I was trying to say,” she starts after an awkward moment, “that you look very settled here.”

“I am,” Nesta says without pause.

“And you’ve probably heard about my—argument with Cassian by now.” Cassian, who is no longer just Feyre’s friend, but Nesta’s boyfriend. Someone Nesta loves, if Feyre heard correctly in her fury.

“Unfortunately, wooden walls carry sound pretty far.” That’s all Nesta bothers to say before turning the sink on again, resuming her dishwashing.

Feyre used to think Nesta’s lack of words meant she had nothing to say. Now she suspects there’s a storm of words raging in Nesta’s head. Too many words to even try to string together coherently, so she stays silent instead.

“I wanted to ask for your side of the story,” Feyre says. “I didn’t even think to consider your feelings before I went off at Cassian, and I might have made—some assumptions.”

“You implied that I was too weak-minded to make decisions for myself and that Cassian took advantage of my weaknesses to get me into his bed.” Nesta’s tone is flat, her eyes on the plate she’s scrubbing.

Feyre winces when she hears it out loud. “Yes, I did that.”

“Why should I tell you anything?” Nesta says. “You clearly have no problem believing what you already believe.”

“I can’t know how you feel about things if you never tell me, Nesta,” Feyre tries to defend. “I’ve been going off my assumptions for years because you don’t share anything about yourself. If I had misconceptions about you, you never corrected them.”

“And that’s an excuse to not ask me about my feelings? To not come to me when you have concerns about my life?”

“I’m coming to you now,” Feyre says. “That’s the whole point.”

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Feyre adds, “I know that we don’t know how to communicate without offending each other. So for five minutes can we just put the defensiveness aside and talk about this?”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about.” Nesta rinses the last glass and shuts the water off, going to dry her hands on a towel.

“I’ll start then: Why didn’t you tell me about you and Cassian?”

Nesta stares at the countertop. “If I answer that question honestly, you’ll call me cruel.”

Feyre hides her flinch, and decides she doesn’t need to hear the answer. Deep down, she probably already knows it. “Alright. When did you start liking him as more than a friend?”

“October. Do you want cake?” Nesta turns toward the fridge in search of dessert.

“I’m good,” Feyre says. “How did you—fall for him?” She’s had all night to think about these questions, but it still sounds impossible saying it out loud. Like two worlds colliding in the weirdest way.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Feyre repeated for the third time that night, sequestered with Elain touching up her makeup in one of the bathrooms. “Does it make sense to you?”

“I can see it,” Elain said flatly. “Nesta’s emotional, and Cassian’s emotionally intelligent. If anyone could put in the work to understand her, it’s him.”

Elain didn’t show a hint of feeling since she watched Cassian sweep Nesta into his arms and kiss her like a hero from a romance novel. When Feyre later asked Elain if she wanted to talk to Nesta with her, she curtly refused and proceeded to leave the party early.

Now, Nesta busies herself by digging through the fridge. “He’s kind. He’s unfaltering. He’s easy to talk to. It doesn’t hurt that he’s hot.”

“Is that it?”

Nesta shuts the fridge, cake in hand. “Why don’t you ask what you really want to ask, Feyre?” She yanks a drawer open with a little too much force and grabs a fork.

This, Feyre hasn’t practiced for. But she needs to find a way to voice it. “I never knew… after Tomas, I didn’t think you would trust a man again. I didn’t trust a man with you again.”

Nesta whips her head to glare at Feyre, and Feyre shrinks away from her near-feral stare. She spoke too much. She fucked it up already.

“What do you know about Tomas?” Nesta says lowly.

“It doesn’t take a genius to know that Tomas was shit. I never liked him. I was so happy when you left him.”

“And what?” Nesta drops the cake onto the island with a thump. “You thought he broke me? You thought I’d never find love again?”

Feyre looks down, playing with her nails. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe, Nesta,” she says quietly.

“And I’m trying to tell you I don’t need your protection. I never did. You do not get to assume what I’m fit for and what I’m not. You do not get to pretend to know me when you’ve never made an effort to understand me.”

“Made an effort?” Feyre can’t believe Nesta’s words. “All I’ve ever done my whole life is make an effort—to talk to you, to be close with you.”

“No,” she says firmly. “You only ever tried to make me do things your way. You wanted me to be more like you. I always came over to your place, I always participated in your parties, I always did the things you wanted to do even when I hated it, because that was me making an effort for you.”

The words take a long time to sink in. Feyre finally swallows. “Do you always have to be so cruel?”

“I’m not being cruel. This is just me. The person you see is the person Cassian fell in love with, and he likes me just fine. You’re the one who’s never liked me.” Nesta’s chest is heaving. “Yes, I am well aware of my flaws, and yes, I’m putting in the work to get past them. That’s what therapy is for. But until you look at your own issues instead of being personally offended by mine all the time, I can’t speak to you without wanting to scream.” She’s trembling as if she’s holding in a shriek right now. “I can’t keep bearing the weight of it—of our past, of everything you want that I can’t give. You won’t let me move away from it.”

Her words ring in the silence.

Feyre’s face is cold, and she touches it to find tears on her cheeks. “I didn’t know…” She blinks, looking away. She suddenly wants to be anywhere else but here, where all she’s good for is torturing her sister. But Feyre is twenty-one years old and she’s getting too old to keep this hateful thing between her and Nesta alive. She reaches for the cake and takes off the lid. “Get me another fork,” she sniffs through tears.

Nesta stares at her for a long moment, then does what she asked. Feyre wipes her eyes.

They sit across from each other at the island and dig in without bothering to get plates. Feyre takes a bite and makes a face at the sour taste, nearly spitting it out. “What is this, lemon?”

“Yes,” Nesta says, stabbing her fork into the cake. “Lemon is for guests.”

“Implying you have different types of cake lying around?” She points to the fridge.

“Chocolate is for Cassian. You can’t have it.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Shared cake, Feyre thinks. How long until they sign up for coinsurance?

They eat in silence for a few minutes, but Feyre’s mind whirls the entire time. She has to speak first, but she doesn’t know where to start.

The beginning might be good.

“I…” she speaks hesitantly, “didn’t mean to make you feel responsible for the past. That wasn’t anybody’s fault.”

Nesta doesn’t look comforted by her words. “You think Dad wouldn’t have let us all die in our pile of bills if you hadn’t stepped up?”

True. Feyre used to drown in bitterness over it: working forty hours a week and then some just to keep the family alive, and receiving nothing in return. While Nesta escaped to the woods to read all day and Elain flirted with boys in mall parking lots, Feyre carried the brunt of reality on her shoulders. It wasn’t until their father died and she got out of that town that she realized—if it was anybody’s fault, it was his.

“I think we all did our best to survive,” Feyre says. “Especially you. But if it’s moving away from me and Elain that you want, I can’t give it to you.”

Nesta looks unsurprised. Before she can argue, Feyre states firmly, “I can do things your way. I can come to you. We can learn to meet each other halfway.”

“Then you’ll be disappointed when, even after all that work, I still find you annoying as fuck.”

Feyre actually laughs. The sentiment still stings, but… “We’ll just have to see how it goes.” But what if Nesta never does like her? The thought nags. What will she do then?

Nesta narrows her eyes at Feyre. “And what about Elain?”

Her absence in the kitchen suddenly feels pointed. Feyre twirls her fork. “We’re not as close as you think, you know. I don’t always know what she’s feeling. You might have to figure her out on your own.”

Nesta looks like she would rather die.

A knock sounds at one of the kitchen entryways. Feyre turns to see Cassian leaning against the wall, looking warily between the two sisters. “I hate to interrupt,” he says, “but can I see Nesta now?”

It still startles Feyre: he’s here for Nesta, not her. That’ll definitely take some time to get used to.

“For sure,” Feyre says, getting up from her seat. She looks back at Nesta, wondering about how much more they need to say to each other…

From the look on Nesta’s face, they’ve done enough for tonight. “I’ll be calling, then,” Feyre says.

“Can’t promise I’ll answer,” Nesta replies.

Of course. Feyre turns on her heel to leave, but stops before Cassian for a brief moment. “I��m so sorry.” The words flow a lot more easier with him than they would with Nesta. “I said some terrible things outside—please forgive me.” She’s genuinely terrified at the idea of losing Cassian over her battle with her sister.

Cassian smiles down at her, not his usual grin but something gentler, more understanding. “There’s nothing to worry about.” His eyes dart to Nesta for confirmation of this, and he must like whatever he sees, because he looks back at Feyre and ruffles her hair. “Glad you’re feeling better, kid.”

***

Once Feyre leaves and Cassian can hear her and Rhys getting ready for the limo drive back home, he finally allows himself to approach Nesta at the island. Rounding the counter to where she sits, he wraps her into a hug.

For once, Nesta doesn’t question his unsolicited affection. She leans in and wraps her own arms around his torso, resting her head against his stomach. “Where were you this whole time?” Her voice is muffled in his shirt.

“Nowhere,” he plays off easily. “Just talking to Rhys about work stuff.”

The conversation lasted much longer than Cassian would have preferred, but by the end of it Cassian’s stance was firm.

“It’s a year-long project based in Milan. It would technically be a promotion for you, and you would work on-site the whole time. I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to get out of the cabin,” Rhys said.

“By sending me out of the country?” Cassian scoffed.

“With the way you’ve been avoiding us lately—I know now that it was about Nesta, but when I heard about the position, you were the first person to come to mind. Taking time to yourself, traveling on your own, making a mark without having your entire family attached to your hip… It sounded like something you needed, so I recommended you for the job.”

Rhys was scarily accurate, because those were all things that Cassian wanted. He and Nesta made lists about places they wanted to visit all the time. But doing it like this?

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to Italy.”

Rhys looked away. “That’s what I thought you’d say. You’re still in the honeymoon phase with Nesta.”

“Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t go. A year away from home? What are you thinking?”

Rhys raised his hands in defense. “Look, you don’t have to go. I can give the position away to someone else. But you’re the most qualified and deserving person on the team and we both know it.”

Even now, Cassian knows it. Unfortunately for Rhys, that won’t get his answer to change.

He smiles down to where Nesta hides in his arms, visibly exhausted after the night she’s had. “How did your talk with Feyre go?” he has to ask.

“I thought I was being pretty generous. I didn’t even call her a hypocrite for half the things I wanted to.”

“Does that mean it went well?”

Nesta sighs against his chest. “I think we reached some sort of understanding. Though I’m not sure if that makes me a bad person, for giving her hope of a better relationship between us.”

“I think it makes you a strong person,” Cassian says honestly.

“And what if I can’t deliver?”

“You can’t find out until you try.”

Nesta looks up to meet his eyes, and for a short second he’s overwhelmed by need. “Say it again,” he breathes.

Her brows furrow. “Say what?”

“What you said in the truck. I need to hear it again.”

“Oh, that.” She looks embarrassed. “Iloveyou,” she mutters quickly.

He pokes her. “Say it like you mean it, not like you’re announcing you have syphilis.”

She glares, but clears her throat and gets serious. “Cassian. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

His heartbeat stutters at the earnestness on her face. “Since when?” His lips spread into a grin.

Her face drops. “Yeah, this is really putting a damper on my feelings right now.” Nesta starts to squirm out of his arms.

“No, wait—” He tries to stop her.

“I’ll help you clean in the morning, okay?” She yawns, heading for the exit. “Good night, babe.”

“I was kidding—” He starts to follow after her, shouting, “Where are you going?”

***

Nesta wakes late the next morning with a solid warmth pressed against her back. For a second, it disorients her. She never wakes up before Cassian.

But she turns around and there he is, dead asleep while the sun is already high in the sky.

She reaches up on instinct to brush his silken hair out of his face. He’ll be pissed he missed his six a.m. workout, New Year’s Day be damned.

Putting on her glasses from the nightstand, Nesta carefully eases out of bed and crosses the room to pull the curtains shut over the wall of windows. When she’s satisfied that the room is dark enough, she tiptoes out of it.

The downstairs is still a mess from last night. Nesta wrinkles her nose at the sight of it. Discarded champagne glasses scatter the living and dining areas, and whoever snuck in those damn confetti poppers left a mess on the hardwood floors. Platters of long since finished food lie on random surfaces.

“Even the rich and sophisticated party like pigs,” she mutters to herself, stepping over a discarded throw pillow to reach the kitchen. She needs coffee and a hose to scrub this place down—

“Good morning.”

Nesta yelps, spinning toward the figure near the sink she didn’t see while coming in. “Fucking Christ!”

Azriel doesn’t blink, holding an apple in one hand and a paring knife in the other. “We’re out of coffee.” He looks like he just rolled out of bed, sweatpants and all.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta demands. “Where did you come from?”

“Ah, about that,” he says casually. “I never left.”

“You slept here?”

“Do you have breakfast? Because there isn’t even a box of cereal in this place.”

“Azriel,” Nesta forces his name out. “Start answering my questions.”

He has the decency to look sorry and blushes. “I needed some time away from Velaris. I figured the cabin would be empty since you moved out and I brought some of my stuff over last night.”

“So when I found you upstairs…?”

“I was staking out a room to stay in.”

Nesta has so many questions she almost forgets to be upset. But it’s hard not to be upset when she’s standing in front of a near-stranger in only Cassian’s shirt. “Does Cassian know about this?”

Azriel carves out an apple slice and shrugs dismissively. “He will soon.”

Her stomach churns with familiar anxiety. “But you can’t—” She wrings the shirt she’s wearing in her hands. “You can’t do this.”

“Why not? It’s my brother’s place.” His eyes dare her to disagree. “In my defense, I didn’t think you’d be living here when I decided to move in.”

“I don’t live here,” she says. In fact, she’s supposed to return to her apartment tomorrow. “But I spend a lot of time here and I didn’t get to prepare for—” she waves her hands in Azriel’s direction, “you.” It’s a wrench thrown in the gears of Nesta’s carefully calculated life.

Azriel raises a dark brow. “Do you need to prepare for me?” He pushes an apple slice into his mouth.

“Yes!” This is a change she had no say in, and those are the worst kind of changes.

Azriel puts the apple and knife down and leans against the counter. “Prepare for me, then.”

“What?”

“Before Cassian gets up, take the time to get used to the fact that I’m going to be around for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Nesta pales.

“A month, tops,” he promises. When Nesta doesn’t look reassured, he says quietly, “Go on. Do what you need to do to get comfortable.”

“But I barely know you,” she says. Well, Nesta knows Azriel is the pretty brother and the quiet brother, but now she’s starting to think he’s also the weird brother.

That’s three things they have in common, at least.

“Uh...what do you want to know?” He tries to sound nice, inviting. Nesta uses that awkward tone all the time.

It actually brings her some semblance of comfort. She sits down carefully on a barstool and asks, “Why are you really here?”

“I’m avoiding someone,” he answers without hesitation.

“Who?”

“Nobody of interest to you.” They’re doing rapid fire mode, then.

“Do you know how to cook?” she says.

“No. Do you?”

“No.” A loss on both parts. “What are you good at?”

“Minding my business.”

Nesta narrows her eyes at him. “Like you were minding your business outside Cassian’s room last night?”

He makes the slightest wince. “That was an unfortunate incident where I toyed with you. It won’t happen again.”

She doesn’t know why, but she believes him.

“What won’t happen again?”

Nesta turns to find Cassian trudging into the kitchen, looking only half-awake. He notices Azriel. “Oh, hey bro.”

Azriel nods. “Hey.”

Cassian is about to drop a kiss onto Nesta’s head when he freezes. “Wait.” The look on his face makes Nesta forget her earlier discomfort; she laughs out loud.

Peering all the way up at him from her seat, she says, “Your brother is moving in. I am reacting to this like a well-adjusted human being.”

He raises his brows. “Are you now?”

“I didn’t freak out one bit,” she says, trying to spare Azriel from her boyfriend’s overprotective wrath. Cassian doesn’t buy it.

He looks at Azriel and tilts his head toward the living room. “You wanna talk?” He leaves before the other man can answer.

Nesta shrugs apologetically at Azriel’s stunned face. “I did my best. He’s going to give you a lecture on boundaries now.”

“No, he’s not,” Azriel grumbles as he starts following after Cassian. “He’s going to beat my ass.”

***

a/n: when in doubt, write a flashback scene in italics

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara9 @lanyjoy-13

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic

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milqueandsugar · 4 years ago

Text

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Parts:

https://milqueandsugar.tumblr.com/post/643788553154920448/can-you-techno-with-a-reader-who-is-constantly

https://milqueandsugar.tumblr.com/post/643889114110918656/idk-if-this-is-where-you-put-requests-but-do-you

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, injury

Genre: Angst

| Hear No Evil, Do No Evil |

After your second kind of a date kind of not a date your very cateful around Techno

Every part of you tells you your being paranoid, but the other knows that theres something he isn't telling you

You know the piglin to well not to know when he's lying

And you care to much to ignore it

Convinced he's done something to upset you Techno doesn't search for your company like he used to

Something both him and the voices aren't very happy about

Being in love is a new emotion for him, he loves Philza sure, he loves Steven but he's never been IN love

He never realized how different those statements were before

Just like when he goes to many days without a kill the voices begin to get louder and louder, only this time he had no idea how to please them

Before he had lost everything he could lose he used to lock himself away during these fits

Know that he knows himself better, and how to control himself, he just goes around slaying any animal that crossed paths with him

Not the most elegant solution but it brought more peace to his mind

Now with no idea how to get the voices quiet he's resorted to quite literally trapping himself in his bunker

He know's your upset

He's convinced himself it's because of him

Theres no way in hell he's going to see you when all he can think about is how good you smell, how your smile makes his frozen heart melt, how soft your skin is compared to his own, how lovingly you adjust his clothes or armour after battle

All the while he scars the stone ground with his claws, chanting mantras alongside unheard voices

It had been a good two weeks since you had heard from the piglin. Not entirely unusual for you, as you rather detested the cool weather up in the arctic. However knowing there was some sort of conflict between you and your best friend made you restless at night, you couldn't keep ignoring him. He didn't deserve that, plus you missed Philza's morning tea, the smell of campfires that clung to everything in his house, the way Steve would bring sticks for you to toss. You missed the magnificent bastards that made up the Antarctic empire. More importantly, you missed Technoblade.

By the time you reached the cabin you had noticed it was unusually still. Steve and Carl were out in the yard, mosing about but there was no sign of Technoblade or Philza. They were both pretty hard workers, stubborn as hell as well, seeing as it was half past twelve you would expect the two of them to be running around doing chores. Surprisingly however it was still, perhaps they had things inside to do? Or maybe they took your suggestion for a lunch break a bit more seriously then expected.

Entering the cabin you call out for them, nothing, looking around you couldn't help but notice how much of a mess everything was. You had only ever seen the house in this much disarray before they traveled, or that time Phil let a creeper into the house and things got fucken wild. But, if traveling was the case why was Carl out front? And why was Techno's sword hung up on the mantle.

And unsettling feeling began to creep over your shoulders as you slowly begin to pick up the clutter. You couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation for things, so you decided to wait until you could come up with one or was given one. The sun had long set before Phil arrived at the house, clearly surprised to find you still sorting through chests. Clearly worried as well.

You turn to greet the man but are quickly cut off, "what are you doing here?" He ushers quickly shitting the door behind him. "I was looking for Technoblade, why is something happening? Is the butcher gang back?" You explain, chest tightening with unease. Something was seriously wrong. "No, no nothing like that we aren't in any danger. Technoblade is having another fit, he's not doing very well at the moment. It might be best for you to leave" Phil warned, his usual cheerful voice dripping with a nervousness you hadn't heard from him in a long time. You wave off the older gentleman scoffing, "Phil you're forgetting I used to go hunting with him I've seen him pretty bad-" "He's locked himself in his bunker. He doesn't even trust himself anymore, he won't eat nor sleep, whatever he has going on in his head is far more then the two of us can handle at the moment" Phil cut you off. You stood in shock, he locked himself away? Technoblade hasn't done that in.. years! What the hell was going on with him.

You wanted to believe Phil was lying to you, that Technoblade was off terrorizing villagers and he was just buying his companion time. But the genuine look of fear in his emerald eyes made your stomach sink. "He's not well Y/N, I certainly don't want him to come back to you dead or injured. He'll come through eventually, just not right now. " The blonde approached you and wrapped strong arms around your shoulders, you hadn't even realized that you were crying until he began to shush you.

"Listen, listen, stay the night here. It's too late for you to travel especially in this sort of weather, in the morning I'll take you back home, I'll let you know immediately when hes better" He assures you, pulling away to cup your face in his hands and wipe your tears with his thumbs. "Let's get you to bed, come on, let's go." Fatherly wasn't something you saw much in Phil anymore, but you couldn't deny how comforting it was, if not a bit embarrassing to have the man tuck you into Techno's sheets before turning out the lamp.

As you lay in the blood God's bed, listening intently to the sound of the howling wind you began to scheme. Something you did best was planning, and this night was no different. You had no idea how long Techno had been like this, if you had the time to curse yourself for avoiding him you would, but for the moment you just needed to make sure he wasn't dead. Slipping from his bedroom and past Phil's you gather a plate of rather light food, knowing he'd get sick if he ate something to heavy.

Stealing one of the Piglins cloaks you shield the food with your arms as you sneak our of the house. You knew Philza only had your best interest at heart, but he should have known better then to tell you your friend was in danger. Especially when that friend was less then a brisk walk away. By the time you get to the false wall your already shivering, the wind nipping at anything it could get at. Your nose was already beginning to run as you hit the disguised button and the wall drops.

At first you see nothing, the darkness and the snow fall blinding you to the scene in front of you. Stepping into what little shelter the cave provided you struggled to steady yourself after stepping on what looked to be the remains of a netherite chestplate. Hung up on the fact that he broke netherite with supposedly his bare hands you don't realize the Piglin lunging at you until your buried in the snow. Plates long discarded and broken you stare the husk of the man you knew in his wild eyes.

Almost like you could read the voices chants of your demise in the pools of ebony fear seemed to strike you harder then his fist. You heard your ribs breaking before you felt them, thank God for adrenaline. You felt nauseous, sick even as you blindly scratch and push at the weight on top of you. Grabbing a tusk by its base you pull left as hard as you can, taking his moment of unbalance to scramble away. Your hands grope for any sort of hold in the snowbank, desperate to get away from the beast on top of you. You dont make it far however before claws tear at the clothes and skin around your ankles, pulling you towards them with little care. Your screams of pain and/or fear are cut short by clawed hands tightening around your throat. Your pathetically small ones meet his, scratching desperately at the exposed hand with one while the other grabs a fist full of snow and smashes it into his face.

The white of the snow falling around you seemed denser then before, you felt cold, to your very bone under him. Under his stare. You've looked death before in the eyes, more then on one occasion, and you had never remembered them being so beautiful. For a split second you swear you hear another voice being carried by the wind, peeling your tear welled eyes from the piglin on top of you the fall towards the direction of the cabin, then at the shards of netherite. You had looked death in the eyes before, and you had yet to die. You weren't going to now.

Grabbing the shard and effectively slicing your hand open in the process you blindly begin to swing. Your chest burns, your skin burns, your vision is beginning to dim to nothing, all you can hear is the wind. Your stabs, or attempts at stabbing does little, with what minuscule amount of consciousness you have in yourself you get one finally blow, to somewhere before you cant feel anything anymore. You had never imagined death to feel so cold.

Technoblade's eyes begin to fall back into focus, pain driving the voices in his head silent as he looks down at the shard of netherite in his arm. More importantly his eyes fall onto a golden ring on the hand belonging to his attacker. A bear etched into its surface. That was Y/N's ring, he had given it to her for christmas. Anger flooding his chest he grinds his teeth, hands tightening around their neck. What right do they have to be wearing your ring? Dark eyes fall back down onto their attacker, bloodied and bruised.. and Y/N. His heart sunk faster then an anvil in a lake, scrambling backwards from your limp body he cant decide whether to look at you or his hands covered in your blood. No, no it couldn't be you, you were.. you were mad at him why would you come up? Why would you attack him?

Crawling to his side he lifted you into his arms, inspecting you closely. This had to be some sort of trick, some sort of lie? No, no you would never attack him you loved him, he loved you! That's why he was like this he was like this because he loved you! Scared lips began to quiver, and tears began to fall and subsequently freeze to his cheeks. No, no, no.

He couldn't think, his mind flooded with the screaming of the voices in his head, begging him to save you, to help you, to hold you. For once in his life he didnt know how, he couldn't save you. He had always been your knight in shining armour, and he cant save you.

He can't save you.

#blood for the blood god #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #dsmp x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp imagine #technoblade x you #technoblade x reader

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wordstro · 3 years ago

Text

[2:48 PM] + hero/villain au + "we're quite a pair, aren't we?" + part 7

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 masterlist

a/n: 2.5k, gender neutral as always, I know I said this is the last part but i'm gonna need a couple more or else this will be too long! warnings for cursing, wooyoung being toxic, and an astrology joke because I couldn't help myself lol

jung wooyoung's fiery gaze is unwavering, unrelenting, and it has you frozen to your spot. you do not know whether you are terrified or in awe of the sheer power displayed before you. flames curl around him like wings, heat scorching your skin as he moves closer. despite his promises to you, to selfishly keep you alive, you think this is it. either you will stop wooyoung, or you will die trying.

a hand on your elbow pulls you out of your thoughts and back to reality. back to the screams of civilians, to the skeletons clawing themselves out from the cracks in the concrete, all headed your way at a slow, daunting speed. there are so many of them, like moths swarming a flame or those zombie movies you used to watch on movie nights with your team, with wooyoung wedged between you and san and popcorn nestled in your lap. your heart withers in your chest, but the terror the looming army of skeletons dredge up within you does not quell.

hongjoong levels you with a sincere, determined look, his voice low, "you are not going up against him alone," his fingers drop from your elbow to your hand and he squeezes it as he used to when you were both in university, "not again. not anymore."

at any other time, the show of sincerity would bring you to tears after everything, but you don't have time that. not now. instead, you give him a grateful smile before you switch gears.

"it's fine, joong. you need to find seonghwa and jongho and make sure yeo...that he's..." your heart sinks in your chest as you trail off at the thought of yeosang's fate.

"i know." hongjoong sighs, dragging a hand through his hair, before he swivels on san. they have a silent exchange, one you can't decipher, but san nods in response and hongjoong grits his teeth. hongjoong's gaze keeps flickering to wooyoung's approaching figure even as he looks between you and san.

hongjoong says, "protect each other."

you both nod. hongjoong steps back, his eyes lingering on wooyoung, before he disappears into thin air, no doubt stepping into one of the many dimensions he can flit through. he's likely already on the other side of the army to confront seonghwa. the skeleton army spreads into the city streets, like ants, aimless as they descend upon the city. you ignore the guilt surging within you as you block out the screams and cries of civilians, turning your focus entirely on wooyoung.

"you think this is poetic justice or something?"

"what?" you blink sideways at san. he cranes his neck as he stares at wooyoung, and his expression is the calmest you've seen it in a while, as if all the anger has melted under wooyoung's scorching heat. all that is left is a sad sort of resolve.

"two of the three people who love wooyoung most," san gives you a sidelong glance and a knowing half-smile, "teaming up to beat his ass into the next decade. the alliance's pr team could never set something up like this."

your heart twists at his words, but you manage a small smile back. "should you really be romanticizing a beat down, san?"

"i can't help it," san shrugs, "i'm a cancer. we romanticize everything."

you snort, and san smiles, and you know right then that you are not the only one who's resolved to stop wooyoung or die trying.

before you can say another word, flames burst up into the sky all around you, a fire wall that cuts you and san off from the rest of the city. you watch some skeletons burn to crisps before you, blackened bones clattering into the rubble, cement melting.

you hear wooyoung laugh.

then a molten piece of rubble is soaring in your direction at a speed you can barely fathom, let alone dodge.

~.~.~.~.~

you come to all at once, and you feel as if you've been hit by a truck. a burning truck made of solid metal. multiple times.

you don't have time to assess the damage, only that you know your vision is blurred and you have burns and the smell of burning skin and hair is not pleasant at all and that you're - holy shit, you're practically embedded into the side of an office building, half your body hanging in the air, unsupported. you blink away the spots in your vision, shaking the ringing in your ears, and grip a steel pipe protruding from the gaping hole you've caused and look over the side of the building to -

"- fucking asshole!"

"you've said that already."

you recognize san's shout and wooyoung's infuriatingly nonchalant response, drifting from beneath you.

you lean over and recoil at the sight of san swinging at wooyoung with a vengeance you only imagined from him until this point. wooyoung dodges each hit with ease. he knows san's fighting style, even after all these months. wooyoung and san used to train together often, alongside yeosang.

"i knew you were bad at throwing punches, but i didn't know you were this bad. heartbreak made you this soft?"

wooyoung's tone is mocking, mean. you bristle, yanking at the protruding pipe beside you. it groans in protest, but you don't have any other weapons, so a giant corporation can handle a missing plumbing pipe or two.

san lands a punch. "that one's for y/n," then san tackles wooyoung to the ground, straddling him before he lands another punch on wooyoung's face. the sickening crunch seems to echo despite the chaos in the city. san's biting words echo as well, "and that's for yeosang."

wooyoung merely laughs, "is that it? yeosang hit harder than you."

san blinks, and the silence that follows has you pausing in your attempt to wrench out the stupid pipe from the cement building.

"hit?" san's voice echoes up to you, "past tense?"

wooyoung doesn't respond. san grabs him by the collar, yanking him close to say something you can't hear from up here. you finally pull the pipe from the building, water bursting from the severed pipe and spilling over you.

whatever san says to wooyoung flips a switch in him, one that you've seen too often in that underground apartment. in the blink of an eye, wooyoung has san by the throat, fire bursting from his other palm, poised and ready for the finishing blow. you lock eyes with san over wooyoung's shoulder, even as he grips wooyoung's arm. his lips are moving, and whatever he's whispering to wooyoung has anger rolling off him in waves. you jump from the side of the building, landing right behind him as you swing at his head. the road crumbles beneath you at the force of your jump, making you miss wooyoung by an inch. he turns his fire on you and it whizzes past your head, inches from your ear. the smell of burnt hair floods your senses once more.

wooyoung meets your gaze.

your grip remains tight on the pipe in your hands, but your voice wavers when you whisper, "is yeosang...is he dead? did you kill him?"

"those are two very different questions."

"woo -"

wooyoung grabs the pipe and it starts to melt in his hands, molten metal dripping between you both. you yelp at the way it burns your hands, pulling your stinging hands away just as san lunges for wooyoung's feet. without turning, wooyoung swings the pipe straight down into san's lunging hands. the movement is too fast. the instant rotting scent of burning flesh causes you to lurch back, even as san lets out a loud scream. he phases away fast enough to avoid the brunt of it, but from the way san cradles his hand against his chest as he scoots away from wooyoung, you know the pain is bad.

wooyoung rolls his eyes, brandishing the molten pipe in his hands. "this is fucking pathetic," he eyes san in annoyance, "you're fucking pathetic."

if you hadn't known what to look for, you'd have missed the way san's shoulders deflate at the insult.

you push your way between them, blocking san from wooyoung's harsh gaze. you shove wooyoung so hard he stumbles back, his eyes widening slightly as if he'd forgotten your strength. maybe he has, since you spent months unable to use it on him. then, he turns his angry, mocking eyes on you, stepping towards you.

he tilts his head to the side, eyes boring into your face, "did that hit too close to home for you, y/n?"

your fists curl at your side. his gaze flickers to your fists. his smile is vindictive.

"you think after this, they'll let your crimes slide?"

he takes another step closer, flicks his wrist, and all you hear is san shout behind you before he is blocked off by a wall of fire. you're encircled by fire, by wooyoung, and wooyoung merely laughs once more.

you shove him away from you. his back hits the fire behind him, but it only seems to push him back into the circle. wooyoung is unaffected by the strength of your shoves, his gaze unwavering. each time you push him back, he stumbles back only to step forward. sometimes his flames push him back to his feet when you push him to close. he continues to advance on you as if your strength is nothing. as if it isn't enough.

if you wanted to, you could shove him a hundred meters into the ground or toss him into the sky, into one of the office buildings peeking over the wall of fire even. but you don't. despite everything, you can't. yeosang doesn't need to be here to speak the strength out of you. you know it, and so does he. san knows it too, you realize, and that's why he landed punches for you.

"stop it. don't come any closer." you grit out, shoving him once more.

he laughs. there is nothing amusing about it, "do i need to remind you what you've done?"

"i'll kill you, wooyoung," you stand your ground, arms raised, but your voice wavers when wooyoung steps even closer, until his chest brushes against your raised knuckles, "i swear i will."

"come on, y/n. we both know you can't," wooyoung snorts, "you can barely even hurt me. we're quite a pair, aren't we?"

"don't compare me to you. you've hurt me time and time again," you remind him, pushing him back once more, "you just threw a fucking lava rock at me."

he shrugs, "but did it kill you?"

you let out a scream of frustration, lunging at wooyoung, tackling him to the ground. you grip his tattered collar, ignoring the way his heated skin almost burns, and you raise your fist.

he says, with such ease, as if you aren't seconds away from breaking his nose, "killing me won't stop a thing. it won't stop your anger or any of the fighting. this is only the beginning, y/n. kill me now and you'll only create a martyr."

your fist shakes midair, your grip tightening around his collar. he's right. his ideologies have already found a foothold within disenfranchised communities. you could tell that much from the brief bits of news you were able to catch on television between serum injections and blank spaces. wooyoung is always fucking right.

wooyoung's eyes flicker from your raised fist to your face, and his eyes are unreadable.

his voice is the softest murmur, but his words cut right through you, "all i have to do is say the words, you know. then we can have the city by nightfall."

you can't imagine the idea of mindlessly joining wooyoung's side. after reconciling with hongjoong, yunho, mingi, and san. after yeosang risked his life to get you out. you can't fathom why wooyoung insists on making you go through that again.

you drop your fist to his collar, and you yank him up with both hands, the sound of his collar tearing further filling the silence between you both. you search his gaze for a long moment before you whisper, "why are you doing this to me?"

it's a genuine question, and for once, wooyoung appears entirely genuine as he thinks over his response. "there are two sides to every war. those who win, and those who are dead," wooyoung's eyes flicker over your features, "i don't know what i'll do if you die, so i'm picking your side for you."

his tone is quiet, an admission almost, and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. you need to get away from him. bile rises in your throat at the thought of his words, the meaning behind it, the way a miniscule part of you still stirs at the admission. you always used to wonder how he felt about you, and when he betrayed you all, you used to lament that you were not enough to make him even consider staying. now, you're getting an admission under all the wrong circumstances and for all the wrong reasons. you continue to back away, until the heatwaves emitting from his fire wall burns at your skin, sweat dripping down your back.

wooyoung merely sits up and watches your reaction with unreadable eyes.

"you're doing this because you care about me?" your voice curls around the word care. your heart hurts.

wooyoung drags a hand through his messy hair, his gaze falling to his feet for just a moment. he nods. he appears subdued like this. vulnerable.

"that's fucked up," you whisper, "it's unfair. it's - it's -"

"i know," wooyoung says, sighing as he tugs at his hair, "i know, y/n."

his brown eyes meet yours, and he holds you in his gaze for a moment too long. your fingers curl into fists as you look away first.

"what about," you grit your teeth as you address the wall of fire behind him, "what about san? joong? mingi and yunho? you don't care if they're dead?"

"if the villain alliance needs their powers, we'll have them take the serum."

he doesn't answer your second question, and you can't help but look at him again. you can see the way your question affects him though, the tick of his jaw and the brief flicker of guilt. but his words sit heavy on your shoulders.

one day, he'll take their autonomy from them as well and you'll be forced to help.

"i hate you," you tell him.

wooyoung's voice is soft with pity, "no you don't."

jung wooyoung is always right, and you hate that most of all.

another siren breaks through the city, and you're suddenly aware of just how eerie and silent the world has become. the siren doesn't sound like anything the alliance had trained you on, the low hum of horns grating on your ears. wooyoung seems to know what it means, though, craning his neck as a small grin tugs at his lips. he brushes the dirt from his tattered clothes and flicks his wrist. the flames around you dance further into the sky.

"that's your cue," he says to you.

you shake your head in a last stand of defiance. you hope he'll listen. for once. but, he sighs, as if you are merely a child throwing a tantrum.

then he says the words and your vision spots.

you disappear.

#wooyoung angst #ateez angst #ateez #ateez scenarios #wooyoung #hero/villain au

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stevenbasic · 3 years ago

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“Call the police!!” I blurted, finally bursting through Melissa’s door after possibly the most humiliating episode yet in my office…well, uh, top five, for sure. I had just rushed out of my apartment, down the stairs (barely registering the fact that the front doors into the atrium, from the parking lot, had been boarded up) and into the office. I’d stumbled into the waiting room and felt the shocked scrutiny of several of my long-time patients before I realized I was still naked, covered awkwardly only by the thin comforter I’d wrapped myself in earlier when bolting out of bed for Josie. I froze for a second in panic, feeling like this must be a dream, but soon found myself running again, past the front desk and Brittni’s giggles, towards...

“Oh my god sweetie what’s wrong!!” Melissa exclaimed, her eyes going wide with her own alarm as she stood abruptly from her desk, and stepped immediately around it towards me. I saw her eyes take me in, head-to-toe, trying to figure out what was happening, concerned but not nearly as confused as I.

“My CA-r’s gone!!” I cried, voice cracking again in my distress. Standing there barefoot, I had just staggered down several hallways teeming with my employees, new and old, while looking like a crazy man and not saying a word to them, obviously rushing towards Melissa. They had all been goggling at me wide-eyed, and if they’d said anything to me I hadn’t registered it; I was, inexplicably, being pulled by my own acute anxiety to the only person who I felt could help me, figure this out and fix things. My car was gone!!!

“Shh shh shh sweetie I know,” she said, relief having already washed over her face as she reached out her arms for me, still rushing to me where I stood, frozen, office door open behind me and several pairs of curious eyes gazing in at the scene. In a flash she had her arms around my head, and had pulled me in to a bosomy embrace. As my face mashed into her, unceremoniously sandwiched into her cleavage, I heard her whisper above me to someone standing now in the doorway behind me: “Go get a nurse,” Melissa instructed them, “and close the door.”

She was wearing a thinly-ribbed, high-necked sweater of soft, baby-blue. Short sleeves to expose her fit arms but her chest was thankfully covered modestly; still, though; I was immediately consumed by her softness and warmth. One hand was behind my head, the other snaked around my back, holding me fast to her. Once more I’d found myself in an absolutely inappropriate situation, too immediately intimate with my new Office Manager, my employee. But at that moment, in my acutely agitated state, I didn’t care. There was concern, sympathy and strength in her comforting hug, and I needed it. I hadn’t known at the time but I was still recovering from the effects of the treatment. I was a mess!! But…not too far out of it - even as I took my first big breath of her perfume - to realize what I’d just heard Melissa say:

“Wh-what do you mean, ‘you know’??” I asked, voice muffled into the softness of her chest. If she could see my face, she’d see my now-knitted brow.

“It’s been gone since Monday morning,” she explained, tenderly stroking the back of my head, “Sheryl had it taken away.”

My voice cracked a-goddamn-gain “Wh-wh-whATT!!?!!” I cried out, now trying to find the strength to pull away from her - but Melissa was too strong. She held me fast, tighter now, keeping me in place at her big bosom through my struggles.

Sheryl?!?? Sheryl my wife the woman who - aghhh!!! Sheryl had taken my car!?!

“Why?!?” I blurted, into her smothering chest, still struggling, now just half-heartedly, to pull away.

Melissa was intent on holding me until I calmed, and began to try to soothe me. “Shhhhh…shhhh…relax,” she cooed, holding me as I indeed started to quieten, “it’s okay. Take a deep breath…”

“o-okay but…” I was still agitated but I drew it in, a big inhale.

Mmmm ahhhhhh…

…that worked, hhhhmmm….a lungful of the warmth and perfume coming from Melissa’s chest did indeed soothe me, help me start to pull myself together. I took another, and felt my heartbeat start to slow. Another, more even breath, and my eyes fluttered.

“There you go...good boy,” she purred, petting my head in meed, “that’s better. Now, why don’t we go over and sit on the couch, so I can explain…”

Before I knew it - in fact, did I black out for a moment? - I was not only on the couch with her but sitting on her lap. Still wrapped in my comforter, swaddled up, half-reclined across her thighs but supported by her strong arms and looking up at her smiling face. My clenched hands held the blanket closed at my chest, and I’d begun to shudder in the ignominy.

What was wrong with me?? Was I still feeling the effects of my treatment, even into this next morning?? Why was I allowing this to happen?!? And…how did I fit this easy on her lap?!? But, another breath of her perfume - her right breast was just below my nose - and I settled back into passivity. If I allowed myself to forget what was happening, forget that I was still married, forget that Melissa was my employee and more than ten years younger than me, and forget that I was somehow sick with something that had shrunk me to the state where a woman could do this - hold me like a child on her lap…if I allowed myself peace with those things, I’d have been like a pig in shit, held in the comforting embrace of possibly the hottest, most well-built woman alive.

And, despite my consternations, I was partly there.

“Now,” she began, hoisting me up just a bit, settling me more comfortably on her lap, “your car was a company car, right?”

I looked up at her in blurry confusion. Were we still talking about that? I blinked at her, and maybe said something in reply.

“Well, Sheryl decided that - since you’re not an executive anymore, really, with the practice,” she explained, smoothing the blanket around my knees as I reflexively clenched it tighter to my chest, “well, that now you don’t need a company car. You don’t take it on company business, you’re employed just at the office…”

The look of tenderness and pity that washed over Melissa’s face told me everything I needed to know: I had just visibly melted in front of her eyes, there in her arms. It was like she was able to watch my ego shrinking up and collapsing in further upon itself, wrinkling up like an old shoe.

“Oh, shhhh, honey, shhhh…” she consoled me, now stroking my face with tender fingers, “that’s hard to hear, I know…”

‘Hard to hear’?? Oh, god. It was like I was, pants down, being emasculated right in front of her.

“And th-this happened on Monday?” I managed. It was Wednesday, currently. And no one said anything to me?? No one here, not Sheryl…not even a text?

“I guess you hadn’t noticed, huh?” Melissa asked, “You’ve got everything you need right here.”

“no I, uh…” I hadn’t driven, hadn’t had to, since…uhhh…last week sometime? For, oh yeah-!

“Rounds,” I offered, the petulant indignance plain in my voice as my ire rose. The nerve! Sheryl can’t do this! “What about rounds? At the hospital? I have to get there tomorrow morn-”

“We’ve already decided,” Melissa proffered, “one of the front desk girls will take you.”

“But-“

“Shhhh…” she hushed me, finger coming to my lips as she gazed down at me, sternly for a moment before - seeing I’d listened - her smile eased. “We can drive you anywhere you want, me and the other girls,” she volunteered, “we all have cars, we don’t mind, anywhere you need to go.” Her finger, still at my lips, was a temptation; even in my altered state though I knew I should not kiss it.

She booped my nose.

“Shopping, errands, just out for a drive,” she continued, running her finger now down over my lips, over my chin, onto my chest, “We’re all so happy to do it.”

What she was describing was just how dependent I was going to be on these girls. She knew I hadn’t the money for a new car - or even an old one. I couldn’t afford the insurance, the gas. I couldn’t afford taxis. I’d be totally dependent on others for rides.

“And, anyway,” she went on, eyes sparkling in good humor, drumming her fingers on my exposed collarbone, “Why do you need to go anywhere else? You have everything you need right here, we can bring it right to you. It might be nice.” She smiled down at me, enjoying how I was gazing up into her face as I floated in the feminine cloud of her perfume, luxuriated in the strength of her arms. “Did you get your groceries?”

“y-yes, thank you,” I said, meekly. Another thing I likely couldn’t have afforded - food - and she’d provided it for me. In sheepishness my gaze had slipped from hers, and had settled on her tits; her perfume invited it to stay.

“There’s lots of us now,” she reminded me, hand lazily rubbing my thin chest, drifting up to caress my wasted shoulders, “We’ll take care of you. If you really need to go somewhere, we can get you anywhere you need to be.” Her arm looked so strong, well-muscled and healthy, as she felt my paltry, bony shoulder. Why did she look bigger? Or did I just, in my ignominious position, just feel smaller? “In fact,” she continued, “I think somebody has to take your clothes shopping soon. You’ve lost weight, you’re swimming in your clothes recently.” Her hand came to mine, made to start to pull them and my blanket away from . “In fact, what’s under th-“”

“N-no!” I yelped, clutching the comforter tighter to my chest. I was naked!! I had tried, earlier - when I’d heard the news about my car from Josie - to shoo the girl away, but she insisted on staying to put away my groceries. In my haste and panic, not knowing what to do but feeling I had to get to Melissa, fast, I’d forgone clothes.

“Haha no clothes under there?” she giggled, “And this is so thin, you must be chilly.” She took the edge of the blanket, began to pull it up higher. “Here, get your arms in there…” Dutifully, she helped re-wrap me, slipping my arms under the covers, easing them down my sides until my hands rested on my own hips. She tightened the blanket around me, pinning me in, effectively swaddling me on her lap.

“There you go,” she cooed, her voice taking on a teasing, maternal lilt that made my cock surge, “all snug as a bug in a rug!” Slipping her left arm under my legs, her right still behind my upper back in support, she re-hoisted me, hugging me into her curvy body again, cradling me easily. She smiled proudly down onto me and I remained quiet, any complaints having died on my lips already.

“Now, sweetie, let me tell you a few things about the construction, what’s happening today,” she said, as I enjoyed the soft rise and fall of her chest pressing into my side. When I’d rushed down the stairs earlier I had seen, I remembered now, how the front door to the building had been sealed off in the night. How had I not woken up, with the noise? Yesterday’s treatment - and Shanette - must have really zonked me out. “They’re taking out the front entrance, the whole atrium, knocking it all down, taking out a lot of the upper floor,” she continued, “patients will have to come in our side door near the breakroom. It’s just temporary. A big new entryway will be done within a couple weeks…”

Wait what? The front entrance gone? Taking out parts of the upper floor? What about-

“M-my apartment?” I asked, speaking for the first time in a while, “Is it-“

“Oh, no worries,” she assured me, “Your place will still be there, though they’re sealing off the hallways, taking them down soon too. The stairway will be gone by tonight, so you’ll have to use this…”

At that, Melissa turned at the hip just enough to redirect my gaze to the back corner of her huge office, where - something I somehow hadn’t noticed when I burst in earlier, in my panic - a new, small, spiral staircase of white metal lead up into the ceiling.

“Your place is basically right above this office, and that stair will show right up outside your door. So cool, huh?!” she beamed, obviously proud of this new development, “Now I can really keep a good eye on you!” With that she giggled, and with a jovial shake of my body in her arms, snuggled me closer.

My mouth had already gaped open in shock, and as I began to realize the implications of all this, I found my voice again. “S-s-so…to get to my apartment,” I began, hearing my voice quaver in my building distress, “I have to…to…to come through your office??” I had actually found the strength to make my voice rise, and kept it from cracking. “This is ridiculous!” The effort, though, brought stars to my eyes, and my head swam.

“Oh, shhhh, relax,” Melissa purred, trying to mollify me with another hug, resting her chin on my head, “you’re just feeling cranky, tired after last night. Didn’t Shanette take good care of you?” As my vision cleared, my eyes went back to Melissa’s bosom; I could see her bra through her sweater, and remembered her friend’s attentions yesterday evening. As big and soft as Shanette was, Melissa was that much bigger. “I know, this is all a lot,” she continued, “But, did you see my Insta post? With my kitty? All the comments?”

“y-yes…” I peeped, cowed. She was reminding me of a picture she’d posted a few nights ago, her cat nestled into her hair…and the reaction it had gotten.

“Most men these days would love to be cared for by women like this, given some place to be, safe and warm,” she said, “and that’s the way it’s going to be. Someday I’ll make a whole new nest for you, but for now you can sleep tight knowing we’re all down here, taking care of things. Keeping you upstairs, where we know you're safe.” Her voice had taken on a maternal, gentle tone, become a cradle song, and like a lullaby it was making my eyes heavy. But, the world had begun again to swim around me, and even in her supportive embrace I felt like I was falling. What was happening??

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Melissa asked, concern knitting her brow again, “You look pale.”

“I…I don’t feel very good,“ I managed, becoming more and more woozy. The room, it felt, was falling away from under me, but just then I heard the door open behind me, someone enter.

“Oh, good, Morgan. You’re just in time,” I heard Melissa say, as if from high above me, “Sweetie, Nurse Morgan is here. She’s going to take you to an exam room, check your vitals.”

The thing I recall is Melissa shifting, and then standing, easily, with me in her arms. As I began to pass out, my head lolled towards the other woman, Morgan, who looked even huger than I remembered. She had her arms outstretched, a big smile on her face, and was stepping towards us…

#growing into the job

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adsdragonlover · 4 years ago

Text

You Matter To Me

Coda to 15x19

Wc: 2k, Tags: fluff, pie, happy ending, first kiss

Also on ao3

It’s been three weeks since they won, but Dean still isn’t happy.

He’s been driving around the country, searching for something he knows he won’t find. The thing he wants that he knows he can’t have. He lost his chance.

Eventually, he ends up at a diner.

Lulu’s Pies, it says in softly glowing neon cursive above the building.

The bell above the door chimes as Dean pushes it open and steps inside. It’s pleasantly warm compared to the cold night outside, but Dean still feels cold. At least on the inside.

He heads to the bar and sits down on one of the stools.

With a cursory and habitual glance around the diner, he realizes he’s the only one here. At least the only customer.

That makes sense, he supposes. It’s barely 3 AM and the diner is plopped in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. The only other signs of life in the area are the long winding road outside and the shitty old gas station a few miles back.

To be honest, Dean doesn’t quite know why he came here. Maybe he needed a break from the drive.

He wanted to get some pie - the place was literally named for its pies - but that was mainly out of habit rather than actual desire. It’s been hard to want any of the things he used to enjoy, not since…

He cuts off that train of thought with a scowl to himself.

The waitress, a sweet looking woman with long, wavy, dark blonde hair and deep blue eyes approaches Dean from the other side of the bar. “What can I get for you, sugar?” she asks with a warm voice, rich with a soft southern accent. It reminds him, inexplicably, of his mother.

“I-“ Dean stops. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly.

The waitress, Jenna, according to her name tag, smiles sympathetically. “That’s alright,” she says sweetly. “It can be hard to know what you want, especially when you lose someone dear to you.”

Dean frowns. “How did you-” He begins.

Jenna smiles sadly at Dean. “There are some things a mother just knows, and heartbreak is one of them.” Her eyes are understanding, and painfully blue - too close to Castiel’s eyes for comfort. Dean looks away. “You look like you could use a slice of pie,” she says, handing him a paper dessert menu, specifically made for this week. “They’re all made from scratch, and made from the heart. Take all the time you need, honey. I’ll be back with a cup of coffee for you, it’s on the house.”

Jenna’s words soothe something raw and stinging inside Dean, and he offers her a small smile as she heads back into the kitchen.

He looks over the menu with a tired sigh. Not too long ago, Dean would’ve killed to eat here. All the pies sound awesome, and something about the waitress makes it very clear she puts effort into her pies.

Still, his heart isn’t really in it.

When Jenna comes back with a mug of coffee and a smile, Dean nods thankfully, but shakes his head when she asks if he’s ready to order. “I just- I need more time,” he says.

He isn’t just talking about the food. Not anymore.

Jenna nods. “Just give me a call when you’re ready, hun,” and then she’s gone.

Dean isn’t really sure how long he sits there, staring blankly at the dessert menu, coffee warming up one of his hands, his soul feeling achingly empty.

He's snapped out of his stupor by the sound of the bell above the door chiming to indicate someone else entering.

Dean’s eyes are glued to the menu still, reading the blurb under Heartbreak Pie. It's a black bottomed cherry pie, and the picture stops him.

He hears footsteps walk over, but he ignores them. They come closer until the stranger sits down on the stool to the right of Dean.

Dean feels irritation flash through him briefly, the diner is completely empty, and Dean’s positive he’s radiating “leave me alone” vibes, but for some reason the stranger decides to sit next to him anyway.

The irritation is gone as fast as it appeared however, Dean just doesn’t have the energy. Not anymore.

A couple days after they’d won, after Jack had left and Sam had reunited with a newly brought back Eileen, Dean had broken down in the bunker.

He’d lost it a little, had cried and cried and cried for days. Begging and pleading and praying. But Cas hadn’t come back.

Not long after, the sadness had turned to anger. Anger at Cas, for making the deal in the first place. For loving Dean so much it killed him. For telling him and then leaving before Dean could say it back. Anger at Jack, for dying and causing the deal, for becoming God and not bringing Cas back, for leaving Dean just like Cas had, just like Sam.

But mostly, Dean had been angry with himself. For not saying it back when Cas told him, for just standing there, for being the reason Cas died, for being too stubborn and too scared to say anything sooner, back when he’d had the chance. He was angry at himself for not being everything that Cas apparently thought he was.

Those few days were fueled entirely by anger in Dean’s opinion. He knew, deep down, that the anger was caused by love, but he didn’t want to think about that. Because if Cas was right, if he was right about Dean then there really wasn’t any good reason why Dean had never said anything.

Those few days were fueled entirely by anger. He knew, deep down, that the anger was caused by love, but he didn’t want to think about that. Because if Cas was right, if he was right about Dean then there really wasn’t any good reason why Dean had never said anything.

Nowadays though, Dean just felt numb. He drives around in Baby with the hopes of bringing something back into his life, but nothing helps.

He almost missed it, he was so lost in thought, and he barely caught the tail end of Jenna asking the stranger what she could “-get for you, dear?”

“I’ll have a slice of cherry pie,” came the low and gravelly voice, and Dean’s heart stopped, “and a slice of apple pie for my friend here,” Castiel finished.

Dean could barely hear Jenna’s acknowledgement and departure over the sudden ringing in his ears and the unavoidable bloom of hope in his chest.

He wants to look over, he does. He wants to see for himself if it really is Cas. Or if he's finally going crazy. But he can't move. He's frozen in his spot.

And then Cas’ hand comes to rest on Dean’s shoulder, right where his handprint had been, both as a scar that was no longer there, and as a bloody stain on a jacket Dean kept in the trunk of the impala for safekeeping. That movement, that touch, it was undeniably Castiel, and it forced Dean into action.

He turns his head, and looks his best friend in the eyes for the first time in what feels like forever.

And it's Castiel. Undoubtedly. He has the same messy hair, the same stubble, the same beautiful blue eyes, same dirty trench coat, the same stubbornly crooked blue tie.

“Cas?” Dean croaks, voice wobbling, painfully close to cracking.

Castiel smiles softly and the sight of it brings endless relief to Dean. And when Cas responds with, “Yes. Hello, Dean.” The relief doubles until it floods over Dean so completely his hands begin to shake.

“Cas,” he starts, voice trembling almost as much as his hands. “I- you- how-?”

“Oh look, our pie,” Cas says, cutting Dean off as their slices of pie are placed down in front of them.

“Cas, listen-” Dean begins quietly.

“Dean,” Cas interrupts. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk, I promise. Just eat your pie.”

And maybe, some other time, Dean would’ve been worried, would’ve been suspicious over Cas’ clear redirection. But he isn't. Because Castiel’s eyes are earnest and honest.

And Dean suddenly understands. Cas doesn't want to talk about it yet. He doesn't know how Dean is going to respond. He wants to have this first, just a quiet, peaceful moment.

So Dean nods, and begins to eat his pie.

It is really good pie, especially a regular apple pie, and it's probably the best apple pie he’d had in years. Mentally, Dean decides to give Jenna a large tip.

He’s halfway through eating his pie when he can’t do it anymore. Not with the way he could feel Cas watching him contentedly, fondly.

“Cas, listen, I-”

“It’s alright, Dean,” Cas says, cutting him off again, but Dean can’t be mad at it. He just needs to keep going.

“No,” he says sternly, looking stubbornly down at his half-eaten slice of pie. “No, it’s not Cas. It’s not alright, and I need to say this.”

He looks back up at Cas and waits for his response. When Cas nods in understanding, Dean takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes to steady himself briefly before opening them back up and looking Cas in the eyes. “Cas, I love you,” Dean says quietly. “You gotta know I love you too.”

Cas’ eyes widen slightly before his expression softens to something so fond it would probably make Dean uncomfortable had it been coming from anyone else. “I know,” he says with a smile that’s almost a grin.

“You kno-?” Then Dean gets it. “Oh you little shit,” he laughs. “You did not know, you don’t get to Han Solo me, you asshat,” Dean says with a wide grin.

Cas chuckles and the sound warms Dean up from the inside out. “My apologies, Dean. It seemed fitting and I figured you’d appreciate it.” Cas ducks his head slightly, avoiding eye contact, though he’s still smiling.

“Hey,” Dean says, and he reaches out and grabs Cas’ hand. “There’s no need to apologize, man.” Dean’s grinning too, and, distantly, he figures he should probably make an effort to stop calling Cas “man” and “buddy”, considering the fact that he’s in love with the stupid angel.

Cas’ smile widens and he looks back up, meeting Dean’s gaze as he turns his hand over and laces their fingers together almost hesitantly.

The flood of warmth the action brings Dean, as well as the hesitation in Cas’ eyes, brings Dean to squeeze their hands automatically, reassuringly.

All the hesitance in Cas’ expression melts away, and he practically beams at Dean. “You should finish your pie, Dean,” he suggests softly.

“So should you,” Dean points out.

Cas chuckles again and shakes his head. “It only tastes like molecules to me. I’ll get a to-go box for it and you can finish it for me later,” he says, and the ‘later’ in that sentence fills Dean with joy.

They aren’t over. There’s going to be a “later” for the two of them.

He grins at Cas and squeezes his hand before turning back to his delicious pie.

It’s after he finishes it that he gets an idea, and he grins. “Hey Cas, you wanna taste it? It’s pretty good.”

Castiel frowns and does his confused little head tilt that Dean has always secretly found unbearably cute. He realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have to keep that a secret anymore, and the thought makes him smile.

“Dean, I don’t understand,” Cas says slowly, “there isn’t any pie le-” and then the look on Dean’s face must sink in, because he cuts off with a slowly growing and a little shy smile. “...yes,” he says finally. “I would like a taste.”

“Good,” Dean says, and then he reaches over with both hands, wrapping one around Cas’ arm and cupping the back of his neck with the other as he pulls his angel into a kiss.

Castiel melts into it, and Dean feels a little like he’s glowing from the inside out, he’s so happy.

When they pull away, Dean is still grinning. “Well?” he says. “Did you like the taste?”

Cas is wearing a matching grin. “Hmmm,” he says with mock thoughtfulness. “I’m not sure, I think we should do it again, so I can have another taste.”

God, Dean is in love.

They meet again in the middle for another kiss.

Dean’s face almost hurts from smiling so much after such a long time of not smiling at all. And he knows, as they hold each other close in the pie diner, that they have the rest of their lives to spend together.

And Dean is happy.

Tag list! Ask to be added or removed!

@dreamnovak @tearsofgrace @bluebell-24 @rambleoncas

#coda #spn fanfic #destiel fanfic #destiel ficlet #destiel coda #spn 15.19 #spn 15x19 #spn spoilers #supernatural fanfic #deancas #deancas fic #destiel fic #destiel #my writing #catch me being a musical theater nerd #and adding Jenna from waitress to the story

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cricketnationrise · 4 years ago

Text

More Cheese than a Dairy Farm

for @adambirkholtz and also how dare you :D

_X_

1. after the last practice of preseason

“Great job guys, good work today. Take tomorrow off and get ready for classes to start, and then regular practices start tomorrow night,” Dex says.

“And the first team breakfast is Wednesday after morning practice!” pipes up Chowder.

There’s a general rush to shower and leave, guys chirping each other left and right. Nursey finally feels at home. He closes his eyes while he waits for C and Dex to wrap up so they can head to Annie’s. He’s a senior. He even knows what he wants to do after college. Life is good.

“Hey. Hey Nursey.”

“What Dex.”

“Feel my shirt.”

He opens his eyes to see Dex holding out the edge of his t-shirt with a smile and doesn’t try to fight the rush of affection that comes with it. He reaches out and rubs Dex’s shirt.

“It’s nice. Soft.”

“Know what it’s made of?“ Dex asks.

“No? Cotton? Should I know?”

Dex smirks and leans closer.

“Boyfriend material.”

Nursey bursts out laughing. He can’t help it. Coming out to him and C over the summer had been a huge step for Dex. He was so much more relaxed and, though he would never say it out loud, chill now. Chill enough to use horrible pick up lines on Nursey of all people.

“Dex that’s so bad oh my god,” Nursey manages to wheeze out between laughs. He looks up to chirp him more and sees that Dex looks proud of himself despite the fire truck level blush he’s rocking.

“You guys ready?”

Dex reaches his hand out to help Nursey off the bench. “Yeah we’re good Chowder, let’s go.”

Still laughing, Nursey just says “boyfriend material” to himself, takes Dex’s hand and they leave the locker room.

_X_

2. During Spookykegster

It’s an excellent party. They won their game last night, and there’s no practice or classes in the morning to wake up for. Ideal conditions for sure. And his best friends are on NurseyPatrol, which, to be fair, hasn’t been needed since sophomore year, and has now evolved into the best excuse to hang out with Dex and C for some quality Frog Time.

“You mind if I leave to go over to Cait’s?“ Chowder asks, shouting a little to be heard over the music.

“Ooooooh we see how it is, don’t we Dexy? Not even our epic friendship can hold a candle to the lovely Farmer. What ever shall be done?” Nursey says as he sways into Dex.

“You’re good C, take off. Come help with clean up in the morning and it’s all good,” Dex says, his hands automatically coming up to catch Nursey before he overbalances and falls.

“Bye guys! Have fun the rest of the night!”

And now Nursey has a slight problem. Tiny really. It’s just that now he’s alone with Dex. Dex who is actually wearing a costume for once. He’s dressed up as Woody from Toy Story and Nursey might be having a hard time not staring at Dex’s ass in those jeans.

It’s fine.

“You want to get another drink? Or are you going to dance?“ Dex asks.

“I think drink,” he says, moving toward the kitchen, “I need another beer I think before dancing. Want one?”

“Ayuh, sure, thanks Nursey.”

He goes and comes back, handing Dex a can as he leans back against the wall next to him. He’s drinking and scoping out a potential dance partner when out of nowhere he hears,

“Are you wearing space pants?”

“What? No? I’m wearing jea-”

“Because your ass is out of this world,” Dex finishes a little too loudly, blushing furiously.

“What’s this Dexy? You flirting with little ole me?” Nursey flutters his eyelashes and delights in watching Dex’s blush deepen and spread down his neck.

“I - well - you know - I - no?”

“Chill Dex. I know you’re just practicing, en bee dee,” he says just to watch Dex’s eye twitch at the spoken letters. “Gotta go see a boy about a dance. Catch up with you later.”

Nursey laughs to cover his disappointment and goes to dance. Now that he knows Dex isn’t serious and his beer is finished, it’s time to dance.

_X_

3. At Founders a Week before Finals

Nursey is stressed okay? Just because he’s got an internship lined up for credit for next semester doesn’t mean that he doesn’t need to study. And his Harlem Renaissance paper is kicking his ass. But once he finishes this draft he can take a break. He just needs to focus. Or another coffee? Maybe he just needs -

“It’s a good thing I have my library card because I am totally checking you out,” Dex whispers, from the chair next to him.

Nursey starts to snigger, trying to keep from making too much noise in Founders.

“You been saving that one just for me Dex?”

“Just thought you needed a little break from your paper,” Dex says, trying to be nonchalant about it, but his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, and his ears are bright red, giving him away.

And.

Nursey can’t hold it in anymore, and starts hysterically laughing.

He’s still laughing as the librarian swoops down on them and demands they leave. What a horribly cheesy pickup line. And from Dex of all people.

_X_

4. Nursey’s Birthday

All the card says is “We’re not socks but I think we’d make a great pair.”

But, he recognizes the handwriting and it was left on his pillow so he digs his phone out of his pocket, laughing.

Me: woowwww dex

Me: this one is so cheesy if i didn’t know better i’d swear you’d have a fondue machine down there

As he changes out of his jeans and gets ready for practice in an hour his phone pings. He opens Dex’s response and promptly has to sit down. William J. Poindexter has responded with a selfie. It’s a little blurry, clearly taken while he walks home from his programming class. It’s unseasonably warm for February today, so the pink across Dex’s freckles are 100% blush.

Dex: Happy Birthday, Nursey! Hope it made you laugh.

Something about the picture makes Nursey’s breath catch. He doesn’t feel like laughing all of sudden. He doesn’t want to examine the swooping sensation in his stomach too closely. That way lies madness.

_X_

5. March

It’s been a brutal practice. But no one is complaining. They’re in playoffs. Everyone wants to do well. And Dex is a great captain. He’s really come into his own this year.

But today was like Bitty was still here; Dex put them through a whole practice of the Russian calisthenics that Bitty had adapted from his figure skating coach.

Everyone was wiped.

“Dex, you’re my best friend but I hate you so much right now. If you were a punching bag all that would be left would be a pile of sand on the ground.”

“If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

He couldn’t help it. He giggled.

“Oh stop making me laugh, I can’t feel my abs as it is,” Nursey says, looking over at Dex.

“S’just the truth,” Dex mumbles, flushing abruptly and turning away to dig in his bag for his shoes.

“Fine print,” he snorts and hauls himself up to go refill his water bottle.

_X_

+1 After Winning the Frozen Four

Nursey doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. They’ve won the Frozen Four for the second year in a row. Chowder had a shut out, and both he and Dex had scored. It was truly a perfect game.

He knows he still has to get through the rest of his internship and finals but right now, he’s on top of the world.

He and Dex are crammed into a too-small booth for their combined shoulders with Chowder and Farmer (who flew out to watch the game) opposite them. Nursey feels good, floaty and glowing. They won, his friends are here, and long-established convention means he gets to be pressed up next to Dex. Not an inch between them.

It wasn’t like he was unaware his crush was getting astronomical. And it didn’t help that Dex kept feeding him pick up lines all this year. Lately, they’ve been a small torture, wanting Dex to flirt with him for real.

Whatever.

He’s here. Dex’s here. Nursey’s happy.

Dex has never looked better. Confident and loose like he usually only gets at the Haus. The lights overhead highlight his freckles and Dex’s hair, a touch too long and starting to curl after not cutting it through playoffs. Nursey’s staring. He knows he is. With a herculean effort, he tears his gaze away and tries to focus on what Chowder is saying.

“-And wasn’t it s’wasome when Bully checked that guy right before he could get to Whiskey and -”

“Breathe, babe,” Farmer says fondly, “They were there too.”

Nursey leans further into the leather, relaxing when they leave. As happy as he is, he is tired, and the booth is comfortable. Especially with Dex so close.

They’re all chatting too loudly about The Martian and he’s laughing at Farmer’s Donald Glover impersonation when Dex suddenly winks at him. Nursey almost falls off his seat. Dex leans closer, and whispers in his ear.

“Hey Nursey?”

“Yeah?” Nursey can barely breathe.

“Even in zero gravity I would still fall for you.”

Nursey doesn’t blush. Which means the heat he feels in his face must be a symptom of a fever. His throat is dry enough it might be true.

“Ha ha Poindex-” he abruptly stops talking when he feels Dex’s hand cover his own on the seat in between them and his fingers curl around Nursey’s own.

“Oh holy shit,” he whispers, “Really Dex? Now? With a cheesy pick up line no less?”

“S’thematically appropriate,” Dex shrugs and then tilts his world upside down with, “I got tired of you thinking I was joking around the other times I tried flirting.”

“Wh - I - I -” Nursey has no words. For once in his life.

“Its a good thing you’re pretty,” Dex chirps before leaning in an kissing his cheek, holy shit.

“FINALLY!”

They both jump and look around at Chowder’s shout. C’s beaming at the two of them.

“Do you know how much in back fines the two of you owe?!?!”

Dex just laughs and hides his (bright red) face in Nursey’s neck and Nursey tries not to melt.

“I think we’re good for them, C. It’s chill,” Nursey says, not looking away from where his fingers are curled up with Dex’s.

The fines are worth it.

#nurseydex #pick up lines #kegsters #frozen four celebrations #senior frogs #charmer #dex is trying really hard to flirt #nursey is oblivious #and pining #until he isn't #nursey #dex #chowder #farmer #smh #samwell men's hockey #5+1 fic

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jenomark · 4 years ago

Text

Part 6: WinWin, The Catch

➔Pairing: WinWin x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Lucas, Ten, Hendery, Xiaojun, Kun, & YangYang ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, yelling, cursing ➔Word count: 6,455

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Life is a whirlwind of many things: emotions, disappointment, new beginnings, and things too complicated to understand. It’s years of fuck-ups, of getting lost in the shit that hurts you, and finding out that sometimes the truth should stay buried. We’re meant to live life like it’s the last one we have, but a lot of us can’t even choose what to eat for dinner. Maybe that’s the joy in living, in just being. Maybe we should all be proud of being fuck-ups, instead of trying to be something we’re not.

“I don’t think life can get any sweeter than this.” WinWin said.

You tapped your glass against his, the frozen, pineapple liquid spilling down the sides. The taste of the drink is refreshing and so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, but you don’t care. You’re sitting on the beach in a plastic chair, the sun dipping into the ocean, and the company of a man you enjoy right next to you. Life, through its ups and downs, was finally looking up.

“I don’t want to go home.” you said. “Do you think people at work even miss me?”

WinWin laughed quietly, just a little wind through his nose. “I would miss you.”

“I bet you would.”

Since coming to the island for the past week, you and WinWin left the hotel room many times. You went snorkeling, exploring different parts of the culture, ate gourmet dinners, and got massages by professionals who avoided your sunburnt shoulders. On the days when you couldn’t seem to make it out of the door, you both fucked on the beautiful white linen bed, sometimes with the sliding door open, and every time without any inhibition.

“I miss you every day.” he said. He leaned over to kiss you, the taste of the drink on the edge of his lips.

When he brought out his phone to text his family back home, you let your eyes gape openly at his body. He was so pretty on the eyes, every muscle put to good use. You didn’t regret the order of the way things happened to fall together, just that you hadn’t met him sooner. It seemed lifetimes ago that you were hitting him up for one last bang of the century. You smiled at the memory, letting it salivate in your mind until he was done texting.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

WinWin took your hand, which was something he did whenever he was feeling affectionate. You liked the attention, the way he put his phone down and focused on answering your question. “My family are asking what time our flight home is tomorrow. And if I’ll stop by on the way back to my house.”

“Did you tell them yes?” you asked. “I miss your mother. She’s just the face I feel I need to see.”

“You don’t know how happy that makes me feel.”

He leaned over and kissed you again. There was a cheeky look in his eyes, as if asking how easy it would be for you to straddle him on the beach chair and take his cock right there. Neither of you were sex fiends during your regular life back home, but vacation time meant making time for your relationship.

Luckily for the public, you were both interrupted by the waiter asking if you’d like a bite to eat. After declining, you both gathered up your things and practically ran back to the hotel for a night of fun and pleasure.

It wasn’t love, exactly. You would be the first to admit that love was hardly a driving force in your life. At first, though lust was an option, you ruled it out fairly early. Your entrance into WinWin’s life was less about pleasing someone sexually and more about pleasing yourself. You stayed around him because he was different. Deep down, you hoped it wasn’t because he was a culmination of all the boys in your life- Ten and his safety, Hendery and his optimism, Xiaojun and his hunger for life, Kun and his stability, and YangYang’s wholesome friendship. He even had Lucas’ taste for laughter and fun.

For a while, you wanted it to be love. You wanted love at first sight to be a real thing so badly. You saw WinWin, you knew he was the one, and you fucked him real good. You chose to let it be more. Still, months later, you chose to keep the relationship because there was always the possibility that you were both lovable. You could be normal, even get the 9-to-5 job and stop fucking people for money. It could happen for you.

The car ride home from the airport felt a little off. Being away from the ocean made you feel stale. You didn’t know how to face normalcy again, how to ease your way back into a city that held so many awful memories. But WinWin held onto you like he could solve everything, made you feel like you could be the adult you needed all your life.

“We’re here.” WinWin said as the car pulled up to his mother’s house.

She didn’t know her son paid for someone like you, or that he was the last one ever. As far as she knows, he met you out with friends, and the rest was history. She didn’t know about your past, didn’t seem interested in it either. She was the kind of woman that judged no one, that welcomed everyone through her door with a hug and a feast fit for kings. It was far removed from the family you had grown up with.

“You both look sun-kissed and beautiful.” she said, hugging you, and then tugging on the edge of WinWin’s ear. “ Welcome home. I made you a nice home cooked meal. I know it’s not as good as the 5 star food you’ve been eating for the past week.”

“Mom, I’m sure it’s delicious.” WinWin said. “And I am starving.”

“Me too.” you said. “It’s really nice for you to cook for us. I feel so thankful.”

Being with WinWin’s family made you feel safer than you’d ever felt. They truly welcomed you into the fold. It was easy to imagine the rest of your life like this: taking vacations, coming back to meals cooked by a mother who cares, and being lovingly accepted into another family like you were one of their own. Your past could easily melt away, along with any of the bad taste that got stuck in your mouth.

You felt yourself getting misty-eyed. Thankfully, WinWin’s mother didn’t notice. She walked away to tend to her meal, leaving both of you in her living room. Unfortunately for you, WinWin was also an attentive boyfriend. He noticed you were on the verge of tears right away. He wiped them away for you, his brown eyes looking concerned.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine. I think I’m just tired and overwhelmed.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“No, no.” you said quickly. “I’m happy to be here.”

The smile WinWin gave you lit up your soul. He brought you in for a hug, his excitement growing in the childish way he had. You held him tightly, too afraid to let go.

No, it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t not love, either.

That night, you made love.

In the beginning of your relationship, all the men before him would pop into your mind. There was the roughness of Lucas, the tenderness of Ten, and the intensity of Hendery. Every so often, you wished WinWin was as good as Xiaojun was at oral. You incorporated the carefree attitude YangYang taught you into your sex life, taking WinWin for a wild spin. You avoided Kun, and every feeling he brought up within you. Every so often, you would dive back into the deep end and meet WinWin, and you would merge all the men together. He would never know, and you’d never ask if he had any inclination.

Something changed a few months in. The sex got better, and you were more present. You were with him for the whole time, pressing down on his chest and riding the high that belonged to only him. You fell hard. You two were good for each other, matched up right in all the best ways. He didn’t need help in any department. He was whole and complete, and he made you feel like a goddess.

“You’re thinking.” WinWin whispered, kissing your forehead.

He pushed his cock deep inside of you, the words out of your mouth coming out breathless. “I’m not.”

“Okay.” he said, giving up before he started.

He fucked you so well that you both forgot about everything. It was only until you were dreaming that everything came rushing back. You dreamed of the men, of the paradise lost, of WinWin’s mother wishing you were her daughter-in-law.

Office jobs on a Monday never once seemed glamorous, but it was all you needed to feel ordinary. You stayed at your desk and watched the screensaver on your desktop fade in and out, like a heartbeat. Cheek resting against the palm of your hand, you sighed. You waited for lunchtime like the rest of the office girls. You didn’t gossip, didn’t show anyone your new nails. Your desk wasn’t decorated, but you were settled in for a while. The company liked you so much that you moved on from being a temp really quickly, which either made people love you or hate you.

“How was vacation?” a colleague asked.

You had become one of those people that shows vacation photos on her phone. There was WinWin laying on the beach, his toned stomach covered in sand. There was a photo of you posing by the sign of a restaurant, your arms thrown around him and your leg popped up. You hardly recognized the girl in the photos, though you’d spent 20+ years in her body.

“I wish I were in your shoes.” she said. “Your boyfriend is dreamy.”

“Thank you.” you said. It was hard to keep the amusement out of your voice. You were used to women fawning over him because he was so handsome, but when it was a married women with five kids, it made you hope you’d never be like that.

“It looked like such a nice little vacay.” she said. “So luxurious. How did you pay for all of that?”

“Savings.” you said.

Though you weren’t doing sex work anymore, the money from your secret apartment felt like it was never ending. You had sold so many things that reminded you of the men you saw over the years, choosing the money and a better life for yourself. It didn’t bother WinWin that you had more money than him, though he wouldn’t let you buy him a damn thing.

“Lucky.” she said before moving back to her desk.

Your eyelids were heavy, and the bottom of your feet sore. You dragged your feet through the doorway of your new, modest apartment, and threw your stuff down on the floor. You didn’t check your phone, just sat down on the couch and let your head fall back. You drifted off to sleep and only woke up to a knock on your front door. Picking yourself up, you walked over, swung it open, and screamed when WinWin picked you up and spun you around.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He kissed you passionately, letting your body slide down his before he let your feet plant on the floor. You felt breathless, and could tell that your face was hot just from seeing him again. There were days you kind of wanted to share a home with him, to see him every single day. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so taken aback by him every time you saw him in the flesh.

You didn’t fully get a good look at him until he moved away from you and went over to the fridge for a drink. He was wearing a dark blue suit and his hair was slicked back from his forehead. He looked expensive, and the smell trailing behind him reminded you of the vacation you’d just left.

“What are you all dressed up for?” you asked.

“You and I are invited to a party.”

“A..party?” you asked. “On a Monday night? I’m exhausted. I just had my full day of work after a week of beauty and sunshine. Baby, the last thing I want to do is party.”

Then, as if everything suddenly made sense, you remembered that your birthday was in a few days. Your mind was whirring. You didn’t want WinWin wasting money on some nice party when he’d put up more than his share for the vacation.

“Please.” he said, pouting. He took a drink from inside the fridge and set it on the counter. “I wouldn’t go without you.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ve seen your closet. You have plenty of dresses.”

“I won’t know anyone there.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t tell you who was going.”

“I’m running out of excuses, aren’t I?” you asked.

WinWin smiled and came over to hold you. “Yes. I’m not a party animal either, but for some reason, I really want to go to this one. It’s at that nice hotel downtown that was just built. Imagine a night full of cocktails and dancing, coming home and collapsing in my bed. Fun, right?”

You closed your eyes. When you opened them, you said yes. After all, you didn’t want to ruin a possible surprise. WinWin picked you up and spun you again. ‘Round and ‘round in circles you went.

The dress you wore was too tight. You felt so bloated in it that, on the car ride over, you kept fidgeting. WinWin calling you beautiful didn’t help, but the sulking definitely did. Arriving at the party made you so nervous that you forgot about the ill-fitting dress. You weren’t ready to be in front of people you loved, if it was a birthday party. You were stressed about who would attend, and who would not.

“Holy fuck.” you said, looking up at the hotel it was being hosted at.

In another life, it felt like you had been there before. It was much too swanky for your new taste, but there was something so familiar about the exterior that you couldn’t help but stare at it. The cream of the building and the black marble accents were stunning to look at, even more so than your date.

“We’ll stay no longer than two hours.” he said. “Does that sound good?”

You were unsure, but you did agree. He took your hand and led you across the street, the red satin dress you were wearing flying up with the wind. You smoothed your hair down with your free hand and walked through the revolving door with him. Inside, the building was even more gorgeous. It must have cost a pretty penny, and would have taken years to import all of the textures.

“Who invited you here?” you asked. “Someone from work?”

“My cousin.” he said. “ You’ve met him before.”

You were whisked into a ballroom full of people. It was clear that, by the lack of people you knew, it was not a surprise birthday party for you. It made you a little sad, but you tried not to show it.

Being among crowds was never fun for you, but feeling his hand on the small of your back relaxed you. You were thinking you could enjoy the night anyway, but WinWin walking away to fetch drinks made the fear creep up your spine again. You sat down at an empty table and scanned the hoards of people dressed in expensive designer clothes, your eyes raking it all in. You assessed that the reason you were so uncomfortable is because the environment reminded you too much of the life you had four months ago.

“Here.” WinWin said, setting your drink down.

You took a big gulp and set it back down, watching strangely as the condensation from the glass formed a ring on the tablecloth. For a bit, WinWin sat with you and held your hand, his eyes watching people laughing and chatting along.

“I can’t find my cousin. He’s not answering his phone.” he said, not able to peel his eyes from the crowd.

“Should we go look for him?” you asked.

There was a weird tension in the pit of your belly. You pushed the drink away and vowed to not drink anymore. You joined WinWin in looking for his cousin, even though you didn’t know which one he was referring to. His family was big, and they all looked so different from each other, but they all had the same cute laugh and love of ordering things online.

“Let’s dance.” WinWin said, rising to his feet.

You looked at the hand stretched out before you. He was speaking and moving too quickly. You felt like you were being pulled in every direction. The lights of the ballroom chandeliers were too bright, the air too humid. Still, you took his hand and let him bring you to your feet.The heels were killing you, but they were the only shoe that matched the dress.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “You’re acting really weird. “

“Weird?” he asked. “How?”

“I don’t know.”

You wiped sweat from your forehead and felt nauseous as he led you both around the floor. It was the first time you wished you were anywhere but with him. Being at home and sleeping sounded much more exciting than the truth of where you were.

“Can I spin you?” he asked.

Before you could tell him that he couldn't, WinWin spun you around. You held onto his shoulders and caught your breath. He spun you one more time, your body losing slight control, and then he let you go.

All you could see were the lights in a blur before they stopped. You were too aware of the arm that had caught you. You looked down at the floor, at your feet crammed into your heels, then you closed your eyes tightly, and opened them again. You looked up and was met with a chest that didn’t belong to WinWin. Clutching the arms tightly, you used the body to bring yourself up all the way.

“Lucas.” you said, your voice shaky.

Dressed in a white button down and a light blue suit jacket, Lucas was there. His face was a little slimmer, but the same eyes were looking back at you. They were wide and hard, not a lick of concern in them. For a moment, you were transported back in time. It was where you were supposed to be, with the man you thought you were going to marry. You blinked and started looking for WinWin.

“You like him?” Lucas asked.

You removed your hands from Lucas’ arms and he dropped them to his sides the same time you did. You looked into his eyes and tried to muster something to say. The last time you saw him, you couldn’t get the right words out. Your storyline was very much unfinished.

“Does he check all the boxes?” Lucas asked. “Safe. Able to pay. Puts up with your lies and insecurities.”

“What?”

You looked over at the right time to see WinWin moving up to your side. You felt relief. You waited for him to berate Lucas for talking to you that way, a hero to save the day. Instead, he held out his hand to Lucas, as if asking him to dance.

“Four months.” WinWin said to him. “I want extra for having to sleep with her so many times.”

Lucas opened his jacket and took out a wad of bills. He peeled out so many pieces of paper that you lost count of them all. “Here is half. You get the rest of the money in a while.”

WinWin took the bills without counting them and tucked them into his own jacket. He gave you the tiniest apologetic glance before walking away. Confused, you started to walk after him but was stopped by Lucas' big arm.

“What are you doing?” you asked. “I’m following my boyfriend. Let me go.”

“Your boyfriend?” Lucas asked. “Wow, you really bought it. The con artist gets conned.”

Your brain was trying its hardest to make sense of what Lucas was saying. Any minute now, you would wake up from your nap on the couch and you wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a hotel ballroom with your ex-boyfriend. When that didn’t happen, you stormed off across the dance floor, your eyes searching for WinWin. You took out your phone and began texting, but a big paw of a hand snatched the phone from you.

“He won’t text back.” Lucas said.

“Give me that.” you said, swiping at him. “Why are you here? Did you follow us?”

Lucas laughed. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what? You’re a psycho.” you said. “You broke up with me, remember? You left me. Let me live my life. I’m happy.”

Without your phone, you walked outside, through the revolving door and down the rabbit hole. You could hear Lucas’ heavy footsteps behind you. When you were out of earshot, he placed his hand on your shoulder gently and spun you around to face him.

“Give me my phone, or I will call the police.” you said, not enough bravado in your voice.

Lucas handed you the phone, but you yanked it from his hands anyway. There were no messages from WinWin, and nothing of note. You looked for the car you arrived in but it was gone. You swallowed the lump in your dry throat and closed your eyes again.

“Why did you hand him money, and where did he go? What was he talking about?” you asked. It was the question you’d wanted to ask all along but was too afraid to ask. “Please, nothing snarky. Tell me the truth.”

“The truth? Like you told me the truth?” Lucas asked.

“Lucas, please.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

You were facing him head on, tears rolling down your face. Everything felt too chaotic, too blinding. Your thoughts were swimming in your mind, each one making no sense from the last. If what you believed to be true was true, you needed to know how it all went down.

“I set you up.” he said. “Sicheng, that’s his real name, was never interested in you. I paid him to like you, to fuck you. “

“He was my client.”

“Wrong.” Lucas said. He moved out of the way so that people could pass by. “I paid him to pursue you. It wasn’t easy, I’ll give you that. I had actually given up hope, but then you came right in at the end.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not.” Lucas chuckled darkly. “I paid him thousands of dollars. I paid for your vacation. I’m thousands in debt, but hey, who cares. I finally did it.”

“Did what?” you asked, wiping a hot tear from your cheek.

“Humiliated you the way you humiliated me.” he said. “Fucking guys for money behind my back? Why couldn’t you just cheat like normal people? Fuck, I wanted to marry you.”

It was quiet, the traffic from the sidewalk dying down. You leaned against the side of the building and felt how truly tired your body was. The fire in Lucas’ eyes calmed down a little bit, too.

“I know.” you said quietly. “I saw the ring.”

“Shit, you really fell for everything.” he said. “I planted that ring. I thought that if you believed I was going to propose, you would catch yourself in the lie. I thought you were smarter than me, but tonight proves that theory. You’re not smart at all. You should have seen your face when you saw the house key. ”

“Why would you do this to me?” you screamed, grabbing the attention of someone waiting in traffic.

“You did this to yourself, sweetheart.”

You turned around and put your arm against the wall, leaning your head down against it. “I don’t understand. WinWin and I are a real couple. I’ve been with his family and his friends. I love him.”

“The family thing wasn’t my idea.” he said. “I had nothing to do with that, but I find it funnier this way. How does it feel being so blind-sided that it’s ruined your life?”

“Fuck you.”

“No.” he said. “Fuck you. Exactly, how many people have you slept with? Did you get tested before you fucked me?”

You walked away, walking down the street to God knows where. You groaned when he kept following you, and you stopped in front of a well-lit display window. In the light, you could see how beat your reflection was. The dress was pretty, but your insides were shining out and they were ugly.

“You thought you could fool me.” Lucas said. “I followed you to some places, you know? Saw all the freaks you were with. That one guy? Hendery? I talked to him, acted like I was a stranger. He was so fucking in love with you that I was jealous. Can you believe that? I was jealous of someone who had you about as much as I did. It’s a real shame what you did to him.”

“Shut up.”

“He thought you would be together forever.” Lucas mocked.

“You don’t know a thing about Hendery.”

“Wrong again.” he said. “I know a lot about men like Hendery. The sad, rejected men that tried to love you. I was one of them.”

You checked your phone again, your last attempt at hope. All you wanted was to see WinWin’s name pop up, to text you that he was bringing the car around, and that he was going to take you away from the crazy man before you.

“If you knew....” you began, feeling dejected. “...why did you let it go on for so long?”

Lucas seemed to really think about the answer. In the light, he looked so handsome and young. You were reminded of the man he was when you first met him. You felt a little pang in your chest where your heart used to be.

“I guess I wanted to see if you would change, if you would love me.”

“I did love you.”

There was hurt and anger in Lucas’ eyes. “Loved me enough to cheat on me?”

“It was just a job.”

“Was I just a job, too?” he asked. “ I knew about the extra apartment. I really meant nothing to you.”

“This conversation is going nowhere.” you said. “I’m sorry I did that to you. I should have been upfront about who I was and what I was doing with my body. I fucked up, and I fucked your life up. And you, in return, fucked me up for the rest of my life.”

“This isn’t my fault. This is your fault.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is, Lucas.” you said. “You and I were done. We never would have lasted.”

“So, you strung me along to make yourself feel better?” he asked.

“No I-”

“-Like you did with Sicheng.” he said. “I’m not an idiot. I know the ins and outs of everything that happened in the last few months. It’s a cycle. The people you fuck keep you feeling better about yourself long enough for you to move on to a new one. I was just the unfortunate asshole getting caught in the middle.”

“I’m not talking about this right now.”

“And there it is, the denial.” he said. “Look at how you turn away from me when I tell you the truth. All those men and not one of them could ever call you out on your bullshit? Where is the love there, huh? Where are any of them now?”

You threw your hands up into the air. “I don’t know. They’re not here, Lucas. You hate me so much, but you’re the only one here. The last man standing. Congratulations, you did it.”

A car pulled up to the curb. You texted a friend for a ride, someone you didn’t know quite well. You didn’t have anyone else. While Lucas was talking, you were figuring out how best to run away from him. The knowledge hit you hardest where it hurts. You didn’t think anything could ever be the same again.

“I have to go.” you said. “I can’t be here anymore.”

“Yeah? Just like that?”

You held the car door open. “Yeah. Just like that, Lucas.”

“And you don’t have anything else to say?” he asked.

“I do, actually.” you said. “To those I’ve fucked and fucked over, I’m sorry.”

THREE YEARS LATER- LUCAS

He stood very still, so still that he could hear the tiny giggling coming from the other room. Lucas smiled to himself and tried to ignore it as best he could. If there was one thing he was good at, it was acting.

“Ready or not, here I come!” he yelled, his voice booming. He loved pulling silly voices. It was something that brought him so much joy. “You better not come out until I find you-u-u-u-u-u.”

With the heaviest of footsteps, Lucas walked across his house. It was dramatic the way he walked, and it only brought out another tinkle of laughter from the east side of the house. Lucas walked into another room and made fake footsteps like he was walking away.

There, in the corner, the top of a tiny head peeked out from behind a toy box. As if sensing him, the head poked back down. Lucas fought the urge to laugh. He played dumb and moved around the room, loudly checking behind places no human could hide behind.

“It’s very difficult to find her.” he said. “I wonder if she is in this room.”

Another giggle, another pull at his heart strings. Before he could move over to the toybox, a little girl ran out from behind it and into his arms.

“Daddy! Daddy!” she yelled, giggling as her father Lucas scooped her up into his arms. “You found me!”

Lucas swung her around and planted kisses all over her heart-shaped face. His happiness was always with her, even when it was hidden. Lucas set his daughter down and knelt down to her level.

“Now,” he said, his face serious. He tried not to laugh as his daughter put on a serious face, too. “Now, we have to find mommy.”

With her hand in his, they walked through the house to look for the missing puzzle piece of their family.

THREE YEARS LATER- TEN

“What is love to you?”

Ten sat across from his date. There was something in the question that made him cock his head to the side. His smile lit up when the person sitting across from him broke out into a similar smile, a clear embarrassment striking them unannounced.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Ten said. “It’s a fair question. Do you have an answer for it?”

“I don’t.”

“Well, I do.” Ten said.

It was Ten’s assertiveness that got him the date in the first place. That, and the way he was so open about everything. He didn’t know if the person across from him was his soulmate, or if he even believed in that. Still, it was fun getting to know someone. In a way, it was like getting to know yourself.

“I think love is everything.” he said. “I think it’s in everything. It’s in the company you keep, in the weather you wish was different. Love is a painful reminder that not everything can stay the same. It’s the gentle way someone wishes you a good day. It’s an old blanket that smells like memories from long ago. Love is scary, but scary things are fun, too. We all want love, and we all want to be loved. It’s hope, and it’s full. I used to think love is never being left, but now I think leaving someone often means loving them so much that you do what is best for them. Love is...yeah..I love love.”

THREE YEARS LATER- XIAOJUN

He lit the candles, one on each end of the table. Getting lost in the flame was an option, but Xiaojun had many steps to take. He smoothed out the table cloth, the fine linen unwrinkling before his eyes. There was peace in watching everything come together, in the controlling things.

“Perfect.” he whispered.

Moving around the table, he fixed two of everything, even two napkins of the prettiest shade. The dishes resting on the table were cleaned so properly that not even a stray hair found its way there. The drinking glasses were sparkling. He could see his reflection in them both, his handsome face full of content.

“Whaaa, so perfect.”

Xiaojun took a seat in one of the chairs. He felt the wood of the armrest, a seat fit for a king, and he smiled to himself. The dinner jacket he was wearing was a little oversized, but it was pressed in a way that made him feel happy.

A man walked into the room and served food on both sides of the table, the tastiest feast money could buy. A bottle of wine was tipped into the glasses, not a drop wasted.

“Thank you.” Xiaojun said softly.

After the waiter disappeared, he looked at the empty chair on the other side of the table. The steam from the food rose up high, and with it, Xiaojun’s expectations. He took one savory bite of food. After, he took a bow to the seat that would remain empty for the rest of his life.

THREE YEARS LATER- KUN

“Therapy is at five p.m, don't be late.” she said.

“I don’t know why we’re going to therapy if we’re not going to work on our marriage.” Kun said. “Please help me understand.”

His ex-wife looked at him like she saw right through him. She was unbothered, not willing to waste a single emotion on the man before her. “It’s for the children.” was all she said before she got into her car and drove away.

Kun sat by himself on his front porch swing for a long time. His new house was smaller and bought with his own money. There was only enough room for him, and for his children whenever they wanted to see their dad on the weekends. With the end of his marriage, everything else seemed to go, too. He no longer had a job after getting caught having an another affair with one of the real teaching assistants. He figured it was a fair bit of karma for all the bad things he’d done, but it still didn’t make it an easy pill to swallow.

Occasionally, he would call your old phone number in hopes that you’d pick up, but you never did. It was probably for the best.

THREE YEARS LATER- YANGYANG

The massive backpack on his back made him sway a little. He found it so funny that he couldn’t read any of the signs in the foreign language. He’d met a lot of people on his travels, and each one found it charming that he was so carefree and kind. All it took was a smile from YangYang and the citizens were cured.

“Where are you going?” a traveler he had just met asked. He was an older man, way older than YangYang’s grandfather. He’d decided to travel and live a bit after his wife died. He was everything YangYang aspired to be, maybe, without all of the death.

“I don’t know.” YangYang said. “I guess, wherever the wind takes me.”

“Well, that’s a start.” the man said. “The train is here. Best go on your way, then.”

YangYang felt sad about having to say goodbye to the man. It was always like that over the last few years. He struck up conversations with so many good people, all of their stories worth telling, and then he’d have to say goodbye. Occasionally, they would exchange social media and whatever, but it never felt the same.

“This was nice.” YangYang said. “I really enjoyed hearing stories about your wife. She sounds like someone I would have liked.”

“You would have.” the old man said, his gaze on some distant memory. “Have safe travels and remember what I said, kid. Never stop. Take care.”

YangYang accepted the man's clap on his shoulder, even though it made him sway even more. The train stopped before him, windows slipping by. In the reflection as it slowed down, he thought he saw someone that looked an awful lot like you behind him, but when he turned around, no one was there.

THREE YEARS LATER- HENDERY

Since it was raining, the park was empty. Since he considered himself an idiot, he didn’t bring an umbrella.

Hendery approached the park bench like it was a bomb that could explode any minute. He looked around before taking off his jacket and stretching it across the surface to soak up some of the water. Then, he sat down and looked out over the grass. He blinked rain off his eyelashes and looked down at his lap. He did everything he could but check his phone. Over time, he looked up at the sky and let the water droplets hit his face. When he had done all the waiting he could do, he got up from the bench.

“Well.” he said, looking down at his soaked jacket.

Hendery picked it up from the bench and flung it over his shoulders. He took one last longing look at the bench for beginning to walk away. He was stopped by footsteps coming up from behind him. He turned around, placed the jacket back on the bench and sat down again. Hands on his knees, he stared straight ahead.

“You’re late.” he said.

The person sat beside him on the bench, their hands on their knees, staring straight ahead. At the same time, the person and Hendery looked at each other.

There wasn’t an apology you could say that would fit the crime. Hendery knew that. He looked straight ahead again, but he moved one hand from his knee and used it to hold yours. Your clasped hands sat between you on the bench, solid and true.

You looked at him before staring straight back ahead. Though it was pouring now, and your skin was slimy and your clothes wet all the way through, you didn’t seem to mind anymore.

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