#still have to turn in this lab before midnight which i will do even though im not sure the lab is right

[pallases]

i have done so much calculus this weekend…

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 2

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: mentions of masturbation WC: 6.9k AN: hehehehehe this chapter was so much fun to write and i fear i have added a bit of a plot to this pwp fic. next chapter will get even wilder! as always, asks and requests open <3

Ch. 1, [Ch. 2], Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 2: Testing

Anakin stumbled to his room on unsteady feet. When he entered, it was 1:43 am, but he had never felt more awake. He couldn't have slept even if he had wanted to, because you were haunting him. The wood of his door as he unlocked it felt like the lab bench under his fingers. His lips felt phantom kisses from you. Your angry voice echoed in the creak of the hinges. His pillows were soft like your clothes, like your skin.

The more he thought about it, the harder he got, which he wasn't sure was possible, really. His cock was pressing against his jeans so hard that he was relatively certain he could get off just by thrusting into the material a few times. Anakin rocked his hips experimentally against the rough material, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Jesus. He was definitely sensitive enough to cum like that. But he shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. It would be weird and creepy, when you told him you didn't want to do more of this. He shouldn't. He resolved to sleep it off, but found sleep was still evading him about an hour later when he lay awake in bed. Fuck my life. Fine. If he was going to be up, he might as well get some work done. So, he spent the night typing at his desk, which he distinctly had to try not to imagine kissing you against.

Anakin didn't hate you. Far from it. Okay, maybe not that far from it. But if he hated you, he something-else-ed you with equal measure. He just wasn't sure what that something else was. Did he like you? This wasn't like any crush he had before. You were so rude sometimes, but he would snap right back, and then escalate. Anakin didn't love that personality trait in himself, but it came out in spades around you. In freshman year, your name on the posted top homework of the week was exhilarating. Finally, some competition. Someone who loved engineering as much as he did. Someone who understood the fire that got him out of his backwater town and into the world. Then he met you, and that exhilaration turned a thousand times stronger. You weren't just a peer, you were a challenge. Every jab you threw at him, every time your bot would beat his in the traditional end-of-year tournament, he'd feel like he was suddenly on fire, electricity shocking through his very being. It was the same feeling he chased in taekwondo, that edge where he wasn't sure if he'd win, but he was so, so close. It was easier to interpret it as anger, as hatred, as fuel.

Even though he thought you could be a know-it-all, he had to admit that he always had a sort of begrudging respect toward you. You worked on a group project together, three times, once per year on average, and he could consistently rely on the fact that you'd never be a slacker. Others on the team would sometimes ghost, which annoyed you both in equal measure. The two of you would butt heads over what to do in the projects, but you were always 100% dedicated. He respected it about you, even if you were critical of his admittedly shoddy handwriting or the logical jumps in his proofs.

By senior year, he was unknowingly nursing what could affectionately be called a crush, though it was masked under layers and layers of frustration and competition and anger. Anakin wasn't very self aware, but it was beginning to dawn on even him that, perhaps, he liked you. There were several signs. Late nights in the lab were torture for him. He'd sit there, trying to focus on something, anything, but he kept seeing that piece of hair that fell into your face when you bent over your bench and your deft hands wiring capacitors. Sometimes, when you passed him and he caught a whiff of your smell, his heart would speed up. When he heard your voice in class, he would start smiling. It was honestly kind of embarrassing.

In retrospect, it was surprising he hadn't broken and kissed you earlier. But, now that he had, all he could think about was kissing you again. As he sat at his desk thinking, the next steps for his thesis slipped through his hands like grains of sand. At practice the next afternoon, his technique was sloppy, which his teammates riffed on endlessly. In class, the professor could have said the secret to traveling faster than light, and it would have gone in one of Anakin's ears and out the other.

You had said it couldn't happen. Why? Did he do something wrong? At the time, he was clouded with arousal, joy, and exhilaration, so he didn't ask any questions, just agreed mindlessly, but your statement was haunting him. We shouldn't do this again. Why not? His body was screaming for it, at the very least, and so was his heart, but he chose to ignore that.

Anakin was pondering this issue over a piece of tech for the Jinn lab, where he worked part-time during the semester, when Obi-Wan walked in and headed straight for him. Though Obi-Wan was technically his supervisor, being a third-year graduate student advised by Professor Jinn, Anakin considered him a friend. Though he was usually pretty serious, Obi-Wan appeared thoroughly amused today and looked a bit like the cat who got the cream.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said by way of greeting as he passed by his chair.

"What's up?" Anakin asked as he tried to get a particularly annoying screw tightened.

"Were you in the thesis lab last night?" Yes, he was, in fact. He was making out with you, but he didn't need to mention that.

"Yeah, working on some hardware for my next prototype, why?" Obi-Wan's smile spread further, if possible.

"Did you know there's cameras?" The blood froze in Anakin's veins. The suggestion in his voice was unmistakable.

"What?" His voice came out like a whisper.

"Good thing you were simply working on your prototype. You should warn other students to take… dalliances elsewhere," Obi-Wan said, winking.

"I-um-fuck--I." The words died on Anakin's tongue. Holy fucking shit. "I didn't see cameras."

"They're small. Qui-Gon had me install them this year. Nevertheless, things happen," Obi-Wan said, pausing, then quickly added, "Good luck." Obi-Wan patted Anakin on the shoulder and walked into his office in the back of the lab, leaving Anakin frozen in his chair.

Later that evening, once he'd worked (read: sat in shock) for four hours at the Jinn lab, finished two assignments for his gened, and led a practice for the TKD team, Anakin dragged his tired ass to the thesis lab. He was still restless since Obi-Wan's revelation. There was a video of the two of you, and he found himself wondering more than a few times if he could get it. For safekeeping, of course. No other reason.

He nodded at Barriss, who was on her way out, on complete autopilot. Seems she's getting in gear for the competition, he would have thought had he been mentally present in the slightest. He was the only one in the lab, a relief considering the fact that all his brain cells tended to leave the building as soon as you were near him, so he could get some work done. Get some tests in, make some actual progress. Maybe he could even pull a win on the competition, if not just an A on his thesis. He'd written some code during thermo lecture that he loaded onto an Arduino, turning over the device and its sharp pins in his fingers before disconnecting it from his laptop and shoving it into a breadboard. It looked ugly, clunky, and inelegant, but it was just a temporary setup for the test run before he attached the Arduino to the current motherboard. Sometime midway through the code running, the door to the lab clacked open.

It was you. Who else would arrive to the lab at 8pm? You looked gorgeous today, which hit Anakin like a punch to the gut. Cool, cool. This was normal. He could handle this. The cold had darkened your lips and cheeks a bit, so subtle he wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't staring. But he was, and he looked away quickly, back to his computer, and choked out a "hey." Anakin heard the tell-tale smack of your backpack on the floor, then each layer you shed (thump for coat, gentle taps for gloves, barely a thunk for hat). His eyes were fixed intently on the screen, even though there was nothing to look at there. When he looked up, you were right in front of him, close enough to touch.

"Hi," you said. Your eyes were gazing up at him earnestly and he could almost see his reflection in them. Fuck. You were standing incredibly near him, much closer than anyone else in his life would.

"Hi," he breathed. Was this it? Were you going to tell him that, actually, you wanted him? That maybe you could go on a date, or, at least go back to your place? Just going back to yours for sex wouldn't be exactly what he wanted, but then again beggars can't be choosers. And he was definitely a beggar right now.

"I need the small pliers." You reached out your hand expectantly. Oh. Okay.

"Yep." He handed them over, then watched as you walked back to your table.

Awesome. So Anakin was still horrendously awkward around you. He knew how to speak to you after the past several years, where he'd found himself getting little kernels of knowledge about your life and thoughts. It was more that he didn't know what he could say that wasn't a confession that he really really wanted to kiss you again.

The dark had already fallen outside hours ago when you began to put away your prototype. All of the world was asleep, the hallway outside the makerspace dark. The only light outside the lab were the streetlights glowing through the open windows, casting shadows over the sidewalk. Time was fictional in those moments, stretching and shortening and contorting until a minute passed in what felt like an hour, or the other way around. Nothing made sense in those moments. His calculations. The unease he felt. Least of all, why you didn't want to kiss him again. Why he didn't just tell you that he couldn't stop thinking about you. But you were already putting your coat on, slinging your backpack over your shoulder, and--

"Wait," he called out desperately, gesturing with his hand toward you. He fell silent. What was he going to say? He'd ask you to talk, to explain that he actually really enjoyed yesterday and that he'd really really like to do it again. He'd tell you that he didn't hate you, actually. That he'd actually enjoy going on a date, maybe to dinner or a movie, he wasn't picky. The words were on the tip of his tongue.

"Can you just stay for five more minutes while I use the drill press?" Close enough.

You looked at him and simply nodded. You kept an eye on him while he used the drill press, and his hand almost slipped three times under your scrutiny. But then he was done, and you both went through the paces of closing up the room. Vents off, machines off, check printers, check laser cutters, lights off, leave.

On the walk home, Anakin looked up and saw an empty sky, so different from the one on the farm at home. No matter where he turned there, he saw constellations and different worlds. Here, between the tall buildings and under all the light pollution, it was just black. You walked home wordlessly again.

The next day, he was determined to be more normal, and immediately asked you how your project was going. He could tell you were guarded based on the wariness in your eye, but you still answered. That you were dealing with a test not working. He offered to take a look at it, but you shot him down.

Later, you asked him if he knew how to deal with an issue with your CAD model, which he did, and he helped you extrude text on the curved surface. Anakin tried not to notice how close your body was.

The normalcy returned within three hours between the two of you. Sure, there was an elephant in the room (or, really, a herd of elephants), but you two were getting comfortable again, casually chatting about class and boasting about your projects. You revealed the thermo midterm hadn't gone so well, and he confessed that it hadn't for him, either. He was very worried about the class, actually, but the thesis was his priority. When he told you, Anakin couldn't figure out what your expression meant. Surprise? Anger? Sadness? Sympathy? He shrugged it off. Probably was a shock to realize he wasn't always perfect.

An hour later, he was thinking about going home, but then he saw you staring at your computer with your headphones in.

"Whatcha watching?" He hoped the question sounded casual. You paused the video and looked up at him.

"An old Criminal Minds episode," you responded with a hint of a smile. His heart leaped.

"Can I join? I'm waiting on a print, and I need a break anyway." Was that smooth? He couldn't tell. You nodded, and he pulled up a chair. He was endlessly thankful you were using wired earbuds today (you had explained you'd forgotten your usual wireless ones at home), so that he had an excuse to sit near you. It was just how far the cord reached, not how badly he wanted to press himself against you. That was all.

"Oh, it's totally the teacher," he remarked at one point, midway through the episode. Your legs had gotten closer, almost pressing the sides of his thigh to yours. That did not make his heart race. It was probably the tension in the episode.

"Obviously, dumbass," you chided, smacking your leg into his, but there wasn't any bite to it. It was affection, and he reveled in it the whole way home.

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Ahsoka Tano wasn't stupid. She had eyes and a capability for critical thought that she thought two particular people in her life lacked. When her roommate came home from the lab one day in mid-November, dead silent with hair mussed and lips still swollen from making out with someone, Ahsoka knew something had happened between you and the only other person who would be in the lab that late. Finally. But there was a clench in your jaw, a hard set in your eyes, that told her it wasn't all positive. But it was progress.

The first time she met met Anakin was when she was a freshman and joined the Coruscant U taekwondo team. She'd seen him around the competitive taekwondo circuit, of course; he was national champion two times running in the 16-18 division. Anakin was precise, vicious, and powerful. By the time he was a freshman, he was about to reach the fourth Dan, a feat which took most people years. He was just that good.

When Ahsoka met him, she was certain he'd be the kind of arrogant that could only come with prodigy status. And, though he was a bit full of himself, she was surprised to find him to be kind. Not nice, necessarily, all quips and snipes and sarcasm, but definitely kind to the younger students, and to her. When he asked her to be his vice-captain, she said yes immediately. There was no one better she could learn from.

The first time she noticed the tension between you was at the first competition she was in, when you came to watch her. At some point, Anakin's name had been announced, and you looked like you'd smelled curdled milk. When she asked you about it later, she hadn't expected the total word vomit that spilled out of you about how annoying and horrible and infuriating Anakin was in class. Your actual issues with him were fairly minor, she thought: 1. He gloated (definitely true), 2. He sabotaged other people's projects so he'd do better (probably not true), 3. He was always getting praise from the professors (probably true), and 4. He always assumed you didn't know what you were doing (probably true).

But Ahsoka saw a side of him you didn't. At a competition in her sophomore year, in the dead of night at the Airbnb the team had rented, she saw him frantically sewing his expensive competitive dobok, heavy with embroidery befitting his dan, when one of the seams tore mid-match the day before. It took some digging, but he confessed that he didn't have a backup. He couldn't afford a new one right now. Anakin didn't talk about home much, and, when he did, it was in clipped sentences saying that yes, he had a mom and a new stepdad. Yes, he was from a small town. As vice-captain, she had access to the list of students who the team was sponsoring at competitions because they needed the financial aid. Anakin was on the list every time. Ahsoka didn't mention it to him, ever.

Over the past three years, she had watched the spark between the two of you ignite into fights and frustration. She'd heard Anakin ask about you in a way he thought was subtle, but was actually glaringly obvious. She'd heard you complain that he was so annoying enough times. Now that something had actually happened between you, that was it. She was going to do something about it.

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"A taekwondo party?" You had asked.

"Yeah! At Rex's," Ahsoka had said. To be honest, you kind of needed a break. Or, at least a night to not think about circuits. You were beginning to see that Anakin was smart, even smarter than you had thought, and it was creeping up on you that, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't win no matter what you did. Maybe he was just too brilliant. You wanted to forget that, and getting drunk seemed like a great way to do just that. "Anakin will be there," Ahsoka's voice echoed in your head. Why did she say that? The peace you had settled into with Anakin was tenuous, but there. Did she know about what happened between the two of you?

You still weren't sure when you arrived on the door of the brownstone. Tau Kappa Delta wasn't an actual frat, but it was a house full of the TKD team competitors who called each other "brothers," so the nickname stuck. It was a bit out of the way of campus, but it was the prime place to hold parties if you wanted to get raunchy in a safe place. You and Ahsoka had gotten dressed up, you in some kind of short black silk dress she shoved in your hands, and her in a strappy ensemble that looked a bit like battle armor. There were straps around the arms that extended into fingerless gloves and some kind of tactical belt was slung low over her hips. Her halter top showed off her strong arms, and, for an instant, you wished you played sports for the university. How she wasn't shivering in the cold air, you'd never know.

The door swung open and the warmth indoors hit you, thick with bodies and sweat and beer, and some guy ushered you in while Ahsoka gave him a hug. This must be one of the team members you had met, some sturdy guy with an accent. You couldn't quite place if his name was Cody or Vaughn, but it was one of them, you thought. The room you entered was full of coats and bags, as well as a few people standing and chatting with drinks in their hands. Through the doorway, music blared in what was probably the living room. You couldn't make out any furniture through the dancing crowd.

Ahsoka reappeared with a shot in each hand, offering one to you with a wink.

"To a good night where you can relax, because God knows you need it," she toasted, bumping her shot glass against yours and downing it in one go. The tequila burned as it went down your throat. You coughed for a bit, then asked her for another. Might as well get the party started right. Another shot went into you, and then Ahsoka dragged you to the dance floor. The lights in the room were flashing all kinds of colors--red, purple, blue--and the music was loud enough that you could feel it vibrating through your organs. Ahsoka pushed her way past some people, closer to the center of the room, and then found enough space for the two of you and started dancing. The rhythm flowed through you, and you were just drunk enough not to care if you looked stupid. It was perfect. The two of you danced for three, maybe four songs, before Ahsoka went to get you both another shot, and then another. Some of Ahsoka's friends had joined you, not that you knew them, but you were in your own world, having fun. People bumped into your shoulder, leg, elbow, whatever, but you were on cloud nine. The bass felt like one heartbeat connecting all of the strangers on the floor to you, like you were all one beast. Dancing with your friends like this, going to parties, that's all that you cared about. This would be one of those memories you treasured, you were sure of it.

And then you saw Anakin. Much to your annoyance, he looked particularly good that day, his hair still as touchable as it was every day in the lab. He was wearing light-wash jeans (like that night, a small part of your brain reminded you) and a black, comfortable t-shirt. Oh, and there was a woman with him. Like that wasn't the first thing you noticed. She was shorter than him by a good bit, standing in front of him so you couldn't see her face, just her annoyingly shiny chestnut hair and perfect neck. Cool. Fine. They were in the corner of the room, with him leaning against the wall and her standing in front of him, shouting conversation over the loud music. Anakin shot her a warm smile, the one he rarely turned toward you, and then she put her hand on his chest. It was the alcohol that flipped your stomach, you were sure of it. And anger at seeing him, nothing else. You tapped Ahsoka and got close to her ear.

"Who's that?" You asked. She turned closer to you, her eyebrows drawn.

"Huh?" She half-yelled back. You lent in closer, trying to get to her ear.

"The girl?" You could barely hear yourself over the noise.

"What?" Oh, fuck it. You full-on yelled, but it didn't even come close to the level of bass in the room.

"Who's the girl with Anakin?"

"Oh," Ahsoka yelled back. "That's his ex." Awesome. Whoop-de-fucking-do. There was, objectively, no reason why that should have annoyed you. But it did. The girl waved to Anakin, then left, leaving him looking incredibly hot up against that wall. Your eyes took in the width of his chest, the muscles and veins in his arms. And then he was looking at you.

He had caught you. Fuck. He gave you a little wave with a smirk, then left into the next room. Shitfuckmotherfucker. Ahsoka grabbed your shoulder, shouting something about how the two of you should get some air. You nodded and let her pull you out of the dance floor, then to a room down the hall, where you could hear voices talking, laughing.

You recognized a few of the people. Jesse, Echo, the one whose name you'd ascertained was actually Cody, Fives, and Fox were all there, and, of course, so was Anakin. They were sitting in an uneven, horrible circle that was really more of a convex shape around the couch. Some girls you'd seen before around campus but you hadn't really met and some other team members were strewn about the room, sipping beers from their red cups. Anakin greeted you both with a wave.

"Hey, come join us, we're playing truth or dare," he yelled across the room. Ahsoka grinned and almost pulled you down with her to the floor.

"C'mon, let's play," she said as she grinned up at you. Truth or dare and other party games had never really been your thing, and you kind of were feeling the number of shots you had taken, so you decided you were out.

"Oh, I'm not sure--" you started.

"What, gonna chicken out?" Anakin's voice called. That motherfucker.

"Never," you shot back, plopping your ass down. You weren't sure there was a way to win truth or dare, but you were going to find it, goddamn it.

"Okay, Rex. Truth or dare?" Jesse started. You'd only met him once, but he had a nice voice and a glint in his eye that made you like him immediately.

"Dare," he responded gruffly. Some oohs peppered the room as they watched their intrepid assistant captain about to get loose. Jesse thought for a moment.

"Take two shots!" The crowd chanted as Rex sighed, poured himself two shots of tequila, and downed them with only a small wince. After he was done, it was his turn.

"Ahsoka, truth or dare?"

"Truth?" Ahsoka crinkled her nose.

"Aw c'mon Snips. Bo-oring," Anakin teased. Ahsoka shot him a look that said if I weren't across this circle, I would smack you right now.

"Only 'cause y'all can't think of a better dare than drinking," she said. Chuckles bubbled through the room.

"Fine, then, have you ever kissed Lux Bonteri?" Rex's question apparently hit the nail on the head as all the color drained out of Ahsoka's face.

"I changed my mind. Dare." Ahsoka's eyes were wide, and you knew why. She and Lux had kind of had a thing going, but he was on another school's team. She'd come back home after matches with stories about what he said, asking if you thought it was romantic or platonic. But she'd never admit to doing anything with a member of their fiercest competition. Rex rolled his eyes as people booed, Anakin especially loudly.

"Fine, fine. I dare you to… call your ex," Rex conceded. That was easy enough for Ahsoka, given that her only ex was Barriss, who she was still good friends with. Barriss had broken it off to focus on work over a year ago, and it had been hard on Ahsoka at first, but they got over it and were back to just being a little bit awkward. With an eye roll and a scoff, Ahsoka pulled out Barriss's contact and pressed the call button. The phone rang out on speaker, just getting Barriss's voicemail. "There, ya happy?" Ahsoka asked, then turned to someone else.

The game went around and around, questions about the last time someone had sex and dares to kiss someone else flying across the room as the team members who obviously knew each other too well publicly tortured one another. Eventually, someone said your name.

"Truth or dare?" It was Echo, who Ahsoka had told you was finally competing again after tearing his ACL. He had kind eyes, and the room seemed electric, so you made your choice without much thought.

"Uh, dare?" Echo smiled in a way that seemed apologetic, and you realized that perhaps this was a terrible idea. Was the room holding its breath, or was it just you?

"Okay, I dare you to straddle Anakin for three minutes." The room erupted, cheers and hollers coming from every player in the nearby vicinity. "Get it, Cap" came from somewhere on your right, and a whistle came from your left. Anakin looked white as a sheet, and you noticed he was staring at Echo with murder in his eyes. They'd pay for that in practice, most likely. He was leant back on his arms, legs criss-crossed, but the position suddenly looked tense. A muscle in his jaw bulged. The chants weren't stopping, and you decided to get it over with.

Whether it was the alcohol coursing through you or some newfound bravery, you weren't sure, but you started moving over to Anakin, who was three seats to your right, near a wall. He made eye contact with you, his gaze softening, and you could practically hear him asking you if you were okay with this. You were, you realized. It was probably the alcohol talking. The wolf whistles of the other players faded away, and sitting on his lap suddenly became the only thing you wanted.

You hitched one leg across Anakin's body, then sank down so that you were sitting on him. The rough material of his jeans slid against your bare thighs, and you cursed your choice not to wear pants. Your stomach was pressed to his chest, and you noticed that, even though your cleavage was in his eyeline and you always thought he was easily swayed by tits and ass, his eyes were intently staring into yours. In your shadow and the dark light, they were blown wide, the black almost consuming his blue irises. A world away, someone yelled that they had started a timer.

Somewhere behind your back, Ahsoka slipped Echo five bucks. You wouldn't have noticed if she had done it in front of you, because you were too busy trying to slow the beating of your heart. Or was that his? You couldn't tell. Everything was a bit fuzzy. In this position, you were above him for the first time, looking down at those eyes that were casting you a look that churned something inside you. With that look, you were back in the lab, and he was telling you to jump up onto the table, and his hands were all over you. You'd lose yourself in that moment, if you could.

Anakin's eyes traveled down your figure with a hard gulp that bobbed his Adam's apple. His gaze lingered on your low-cut front, tracing over the seams, then reaching down to your thighs. In your drunken state, you hadn't noticed the amount of skin that was exposed when your dress rode up. He definitely did. You felt something slowly changing beneath you, and it took you a second to comprehend that he was getting hard. Because of you. You rationalized it as the reaction any person with a penis would have to being straddled like that. Right?

His heavy breathing seemed to confirm it, and Anakin mouthed 'sorry' when he felt himself press against you subtly. You distinctly did not mind. His eyes flicked down between your legs, where the skirt had ridden up so that one wrong--or right--move would let him see what was underneath it. Him seeing you didn't bother you one bit, actually. You kind of wanted him to put a hand to you, press his fingers inside you. Maybe he could take you upstairs to one of the rooms and fuck you furiously. Or maybe you could shove what you were feeling against your legs into your throat. Or maybe one, then the other.

His gaze met yours again before sliding down to your lips and staying there. The same energy that he had when he was one-upping you, confidently answering a question in class, or telling you to re-solder your work grew in his eyes. That intensity. That fierce desire for success. You found it incredibly attractive then, but now, it was irresistible.

The timer beeped, and you thought of the 3D printer that night in the lab. Cockblocks, the both of them. The others in the room cheered as you got off him instantly, then slinked back to your usual seat. Now that you were sitting on your own, it became obvious that the heat between your thighs was not entirely from his legs warming you up. You pulled the hem of your skirt down just a tad. The adrenaline of the moment hadn't stopped, even though you were reminded of the existence of the crowd that had just watched you. You didn't want it to end. You'd give anything for the room to be empty right now, like the lab at night. You pulled out your phone and sent a message to Anakin, your fingers wobbly on the keyboard.

Upstairs. Follow me in 3 mind, the text said. Fuck. Maybe you were a bit drunk. *Mins, you corrected. Anakin checked his phone almost instantly, his eyes still locked on you from before, and quickly typed something back. k. You waited two more rounds of questions before getting up.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you said to Ahsoka, who was absorbed in some kind of debate with Fives and Cody. She nodded at you, and then you were off. You weaved through people, up to the floor with the bedrooms, which was much less populated than the downstairs. There were a few rooms that seemed either occupied or locked, but one at the end of the hall sat ajar. You entered, leaving the door cracked so Anakin would know where you were, then sat down on the bed. It was a twin, in a decently clean room that had a bunch of posters for bands along the walls. Whoever lived here really liked Pink Floyd, apparently. It was actually nice up there; the music was pumping through the building, but it was a nice backdrop this far from the speakers. The window was open, so the cool breeze was flowing.

A few moments later, the door opened. The second you saw Anakin, you pounced on him. He let out a slightly surprised mmph, but then feverishly kissed you back. Anakin tasted like alcohol and orange juice, but you didn't mind. As long as he was kissing you, he could taste however he wanted. One of his hands scrabbled behind him to find the door handle and shut it, while the other came up to your jaw. Whatever desires he had downstairs, he was clearly showing them now. His hand went down to grab your ass, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh. You pressed yourself against him, just like you were downstairs, your whole bodies melded together until you didn't know where he began and you ended. The way Anakin kissed you was intoxicating, more so than any of the shots you had taken that night. More than any drug you would ever take. That fire, that anger-desire-passion-whatever that burned in you intensified until the music downstairs and the unfamiliar surroundings faded away, and all you could feel was him.

You rocked your hips forward, just to test his response, and he growled into your mouth with a ferocity you didn't expect, but loved anyway. Fuck, you'd do anything to hear that again, to hear it all the time. He pulled your hips into his, grinding against you in the process.

Suddenly, he twisted around so he was pressing you against the door with his body enveloping you. Anakin trailed down from your lips to your jaw to your neck. The little nips and wet kisses were driving you wild, so you decided to return the favor and snaked your hand down his chest, which was shockingly hard and muscular, until you reached the hem of his shirt. Your fingers toyed with the edges where his skin met the soft cotton, and you could feel his ragged intake of breath when you trailed even further up. He pulled away, his breathing still heavy. You thought and hoped he would take his shirt off. To show you what you'd seen on the rare times his shirt had ridden up while he took off a hoodie or jacket. Instead, he just looked at you and stopped.

"Fuck me, please," you whispered into the room. For a moment, he looked like he was strongly considering it, and you found yourself praying he would say yes.

"How many drinks have you had?"

"I don't know, like four? Does it matter?" You shrugged. "It doesn't change that I want you," you whispered in a way you hoped was seductive. Anakin got off you so quickly that you were almost hurt, but he still remained close enough that it soothed the sting.

"I'm sorry. It's going to kill me to say this, but we shouldn't do this now. I've only had one drink and you're clearly not thinking straight," he said. His eyes were so full of concern that you almost didn't get mad at him. Almost.

"No, I'm thinking very straight. I'll say the alphabet backwards if you want," you offered, getting closer to him again. He took another step back.

"I'm talking about your decisions. I don't want to have sex, and then have you wake up in the morning and regret it. Just--let's go back to yours." He caught the look in your eye, which clearly meant that yes, you would indeed like to go back to your place, then hurried to add more.

"Not like that. You go to sleep. I'll stay in your living room. In the morning, if you still want to do this, I'll fuck you right then and there." Anakin rumbled the last words out so intently, so full of promise, that you finally conceded.

"Fine, let's go. But as soon as I wake up, I'll take you up on that. And then I'm going to the lab. I've gotta get back to work," you said, letting him past you to open the door for you. Anakin chuckled.

"Maybe you're more sober than I thought." The two of you went back down the hallway, past the other closed doors to the staircase, which was somehow even sweatier than you remembered, then past the living room to the entrance. Anakin's hand was clasped around yours the entire time, to make sure he didn't lose you, and you found that, actually, you didn't mind the contact. You wanted to do it a lot, even sometimes outside of sex. But that was the tequila talking. In fact, the tequila was doing a lot of talking right now, and the world was a little bit wobbly and fluid. Your head was heavy, and you found yourself stumbling a few times in your impractical heels.

Somehow, in all the chaos, Anakin found Rex by the entrance. You couldn't hear every word he said, but you caught "too drunk," "going home," and "make sure Ahsoka gets home safely." The 15 minute walk home passed by in a blur because you were a bit too distracted by the smell of Anakin's jacket around your shoulders. You really were stumbling around, and Anakin had to catch you a few times, but you made it back to your dorm in one piece.

This time, instead of going to the west elevator, Anakin followed you to the east, then up, up, all the way until you got to the tenth floor. Your key scraped against the lock, and you could hear Anakin's impatient sigh as you missed the hole again. You finally got it in, then got into your apartment and immediately flopped face-first onto your bed. Everything was a muddled mess after that. Anakin helped you take your shoes off, though not without making fun of you for being so drunk first, and then handed you a makeup wipe. You slapped it across your face a few times, then tossed it to the side. With a quick "good night," Anakin was about to leave your bedroom to crash on the living room couch.

"C'mere," you called, sitting up and stopping him in his tracks. He approached the bed, then sat down next to you until you put your head on his shoulder. This was bad, you knew, but it felt, for a moment, like that didn't matter. "Stay." Your voice was so small, so quiet. Vulnerable.

"I want to, but, no, I really should--" You interrupted him, still a little drunk and groggy but definitely annoyed. Could the bastard stop trying to be chivalrous for one second?

"If you don't stay, I am gonna dunk your Arduino in water. After you've soldered it." The threat was slightly diminished by the way you nuzzled his shoulder, but it worked anyway. Anakin was always a sucker. His deep sigh confirmed it.

"Fine. Just--oh God this is weird--let me take off my jeans if I'm going to sleep in a bed." You nodded and watched as he stood up, then unbuttoned them and pulled them down so he was in loose boxers and his t-shirt. His strong legs were on display, and you filed the image away for later as he crawled in behind you on the tiny twin bed. Your bed was shoved into the corner of the room, so he had to smush himself between you and the wall, but he managed it with only minimal complaining. He was so warm, so big and comforting. Maybe this was the relaxation you needed tonight, not a stupid party. Maybe you could do this more often. Anakin put his arm around your stomach, pulling you into him. Yup, you definitely had to do this more often. His breath tickled the back of your neck delightfully, and his bare legs felt incredible against yours.

"Is this okay?" You didn't have time to answer with anything more than a mhmm before you fell asleep. It was the most restful sleep you had in months, but that wasn't because of Anakin. Maybe it was. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so bad. Maybe you liked him a bit, when he wasn't being an ass. But that was probably the tequila talking. It was the tequila, really.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

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[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

Hellooo, I don’t know if you do request but what if Ford was overworking himself down in the basement, and to surprise him, you cosplay as your DD&MD character but in lacy lingerie while give him a lap dance…Sorry if that’s too much my imagination going haywire 😃

Oh I'm soooo behind this

Suggestive content under the cut

MINORS DNI

It was late, very late actually. You were not especially surprised that Ford had yet to make an appearance; having been cooped up in the lab for most of this week tinkering away. Now was the third night in a row that he had come to bed late. Yesterday you had to drag his sorry sleep deprived behind upstairs at the ripe hour of 3am, finding him passed out in his chair and hunched over in a position that was definitely not good for his back. Tonight though he had promised to do better, to return to you at a reasonable hour. It was now 12:43am so the hour was not in fact reasonable. Old habits die hard you mused, how else was a man able to get so many PHDs?

Typically you slept rather restlessly, even more so without the comfort of Ford besides you. Tonight though you were awake at such a late hour for a reason. Said reason being what you deemed as 'positive reinforcement.' You had every intention of seducing Ford the moment he entered your shared bedroom.

Which is how you got here; in probably about a third of your Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons persona, lounging somewhat lackadaisically on your stomach in an extremely raunchy set of lingerie that left very little to the imagination. You fiddled with the dice next to you on the bed, enjoying the sound of them clacking together. Well the night isn't getting any younger and neither is Ford so if he wasn't gonna come up to you- you were gonna go down to him.

Bouncing up and off of the bed you plucked Ford's neatly folded bathrobe off the back of the chair at Ford's desk and pulled it over your ensemble, checking in the mirror to make sure there were no clear indicators of your chosen attire. Securing the tie around your waist, you picked up the dice and your phone, sliding them into pockets before checking your appearance one last time in the mirror and adjusting the circlet and elf ears you donned.

It was late enough that you had no real fear of running into anyone else but you still chose to be cautious; it would be incredibly obvious to anyone on the outside to just what you were doing sneaking around like this With that thought in mind you took your time getting to the basement.

Unsurprisingly Ford was still very much awake and actively working. His back and shoulders were tense and he scribbled down notes in his precious journal, still oblivious of your presence. He jumped a little when you slid up behind him, sliding your arms loosely around his neck and letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"Hello Dear. I'll be up in a few minutes, I just need to finalize this calculation."

You just hummed and coiled your arms tighter around him, fingers playing with the knit of his sweater while waiting for Ford to play catch-up. Your lack of genuine response paired with your unwillingness to leave seemed to be all Ford needed to put it together, all the pieces snapping together in his big wonderful brain. He paused in your embrace, gears grinding to a halt, pencil suddenly unmoving.

"I've done it again haven't I? What time is it my Love?"

You just laughed, cheeks flushing at the term of endearment and moving your hands to rub his tense shoulders while pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"It's well past midnight Darling."

Your tone was sweet but matter-o-factly in his ear, letting out another small airy giggle when he dropped his head to his desk abit dramatically. You tutted at him and moved to grab ahold of his chair so you could turn him to face you; he let you. There was a rosy tint to his cheeks, clearly a little embarrassed for making you get out of bed to retrieve him like a petulant child past their bedtime for the third time this week. His eyes were apologetic when they met yours, then turning suspicious when he saw your clothing choice. You gave him very little time to scrutinize, wanting to get the drop on him. And drop you did: the robe you stole falling to the floor just as fast as Ford's jaw did. In that quick movement to had also taken liberty in placing your phone face up on his desk, a D20 in your hand as you slunk down to straddle his lap. You took great care in pressing your body to his as you placed a chaste kiss next to his open mouth, ghosting your lips across his skin until you met his ear.

"Persuasion check. Roll for seduction."

Your voice was low, a sweet beckoning whisper against him and it sent a shiver down his spine. He tried to pull you in for a kiss but you resisted him, instead flicking your wrist and letting the die in your drop onto his desk. You both watched as it rolled to a stop against the corner of his open journal. Ford gulped loudly, eyes flitting back to you.

"Eighteen."

Ford's voice was a low rasp, sounding dry in his throat. His gaze was intense, eyelids hooded. You leaned back and he chased you, still trying to kiss you. Again you resisted him, tracing his jaw with your forefinger.

"Eighteen with a multiplier of plus two for being a bard and a secondary plus two for being a half elf. So twenty-two."

Taking his jaw in your hand, you decided to have mercy on him, leading him into you for a kiss. He needed no convincing, meeting you eagerly, lips meeting yours in a bawdy open mouthed kiss. It was a little clumsy at first, noses bumping together momentarily and his glasses making themselves known against your cheek before his brain caught up with his body; influencing his handiwork. His tongue worked against yours diligently, your own wrapping around the smooth muscle and sucking lightly. That was all you allowed him, pulling away again and sitting back on your heels, letting out a laugh at the disappointed whimper that left him as you did so. The hand that had snaked it's way into your hair attempted to pull you back in, putting gentle pressure on the back of your skull to encourage you.

You smoothed your hands down his sides, stopping to squeeze his thighs, smiling when you felt the muscles clench under your fingers. Ford's hips reflexively bucked up into yours when your hands skimmed higher, against his pelvis. You turned your attention to your phone on his desk, swiping up on the screen to press play on the song you had queued up. It wasn't anything special per-say, but it worked for the occasion.

"Should've come to bed Honey."

He blinked slowly up at you, finally catching onto your plan. His grip tightened reflexively as you moved to lift yourself up before you gently grabbed his hands, bringing them to your lips, hot breath fanning against his knuckles in a way that made him feel dizzy. You placed a kiss to both of them, maintaining eye contact as you brought them both to rest back on the arms of his chair. You kept your hands over his, leaning in close to nip at his earlobe; voice low and spilling from your lips like honey as you spoke.

"Gonna keep your hands right here and to yourself okay Sweetheart?"

He nodded dumbly at you, your words and honeyed tone ringing in his ears and knocking around inside his skull.

Taking great care to actually move gracefully, you used Ford's body as leverage to smoothly stand. Making sure to arch your back in a fairly evocative way on your ascent, pushing out your breasts invitingly towards him. Your body moved lithely, almost balletic as you swiveled around on your feet, throwing a saucy look over your shoulder back at him before gyrating your hips to the music. Ford was hypnotized, watching silently from his place in his chair. Music barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears as he watched you drag your hands sensually over the contours of your body, feeling his cock come further to life beneath his slacks. He shifted in his seat, attempting to adjust his pants and relieve some of the pressure he felt somewhat discreetly. You easily caught him of course, observant at you were. Simpering at him, you closed the distance between your bodies again.

"Feeling tense Stanford?"

Upon closer inspection of your lascivious apparel he spotted some interesting and rather complex looking stitching zigzagging across the crotch area. Any and all questions he had pertaining to your undergarments were suddenly dashed and graciously answered as you whipped your body forward, arching your back harshly and tracing your hands up your spread legs tantalizingly. The new angle your body took on completely showcasing the fact that the stitching he was admiring was actually a seam, a seam that was now very much open and giving him a front row seat to your glistening folds. He balked, letting out a choked sound as he shot ramrod straight up in his chair, cock at full attention.

You smiled with a sadistic satisfaction, running your hands up his thighs just to make him squirm. Fingers just barely brushing against the clothed length of him where it was now tenting in his pants. A groan rumbled low in his throat, eyes greedily eating up the sight of your breasts sitting prettily against your torso, framed beautifully by the delicate lace trim of your bra.

He hadn't seen this piece before he realized, not recognizing the pattern of elegant lace pattern decorating your chest and hips. He felt a level of fondness rise in him right alongside want at the idea of you surprising him like this. It then struck him in the chest that this was a planned effort, orchestrated with the goal to seduce him. Although he very much doubted that your original plot had taken place in the lab; a slight on his part he imagined.

You laughed and leered lecherously at him over your shoulder before crawling your way back onto his lap. Ford was hyper aware of every movement you made on him, knowing that only his own clothing separated him from your sex. You gave him no reprieve, sitting on your haunches as you just barely hovered over him, not giving him the satisfaction of your pussy dragging against his clothed member.

His fingers flexed, clenching aggressively around the armrests as he fought to keep his composure, unwilling to be the one to end your little game. You just smiled at him again, fluttering your lashes almost innocently as you brought your hands down to play with his where they sat white knuckling the worn leather, humming thoughtfully as you traced around each individual finger.

"You're being terribly good Ford. It's really no fun."

You teased him without any bite, giggling a bit as he raised a brow at you.

"I'm just doing as you asked Dear."

He couldn't help the smirk that worked it's way onto his face, his voice taking on a lower register that he knew would get you all hot and bothered. Your reaction was subtle and he had to give credit where credit was due but he knew your every micro expression and could see straight through the slight wobble in your lip you tried to mask by biting it.

"Don't you want to touch me Ford? "

Your voice took on a pout, feigning hurt while you finally dropped your weight onto his lap, grinding heavily against his erection. Ford hissed through his teeth at the sensation, being able to feel you glide against him even through his pants. Your eyes were still on him, still waiting for an answer from him.

"Yes. I would like to very much."

You giggled again, finding his phrasing both a bit silly and endearing in your current situation.

"Roll for it."

Ford's hand was trembling slightly as he reached back for the die, fumbling around behind him on the desk blindly until he felt the smooth edges of the die beneath his fingers. Your fingers delicately traced edges of his jaw, regarding him with a sardonic expression as you watched him try to regain some semblance of his composure. He made a noise, a grunt maybe, in an effort to clear his throat; his adams apple bobbing briefly when he swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. You took the moment to bite at it, scraping your teeth and laving your tongue across the column of his throat as he wove the die between his fingers; pulling back only to watch it drop back onto his desk.

Ford's breath hitched, head turned and Lazer focused on the die as it slowly came to a stop. A loud groan could be heard throughout the space, immediately followed by howling laughter.

"A two! Critical failure!."

You gasped out between laughs that shook your whole body, having to grasp at the arms of the chair to steady yourself atop Ford as his head dropped back in defeat, hands falling limply at his sides. Ford leveled you with a chastising look at your continued snickering. You simply brought your hands back up to his face, leaning in to pepper his face with sweet kisses.

"Oh you should have come to bed Darling."

You cooed against his skin, breath tickling his cheeks as you withdrew abit. His face was softer now but still frustrated, lips turned into what you'd dignify as a pout. As much as you wanted to tease him more about it you had technically accomplished your goal; knowing full well he'd follow you wherever you would go once you got up off his lap, if he let you that is. He was being a terribly good sport about this, even with his straining, clearly painfully hard cock trapped between your bodies. Being ever so merciful whilst also indulging in your need to make Ford squirm you ground down against him hard. Absolutely languishing in the loud shattering moan that escaped his chest and the way his hands shot up to dig into your hips.

"I'll tell you what-"

A dreamy sigh left your lips along with a soft moan of Ford's name as he bucked up against you. Leaning in closer your breath fanned against his earlobe as you finished the thought he had interrupted.

"You come with me to bed and I'll let you make a saving throw."

----------

Sure you knew this "positive reinforcement" would probably never break this bad habit but you'd reap the very pleasureable consequences all the same.

[scoopsahoy]

ok I've seen arguably too many "Steve takes your virginity" fics but not enough "you take Steve's virginity". maybe you could do it where the reader has seen him and a girl go into a bedroom at parties and stuff but he reveals that they don't do anything besides make out and/or talk because he didn't feel truly connected to anyone, but he does with the reader, and you're his first. doesn't have to be exactly that but I'd love to see smth like this. (also set before he and Nancy get together!)

ぺ  word count ⋰ 2.1k

✰  tw ⋰ none :)

❍  cw ⋰ swearing, dirty talk, fingering, descriptive sex, top!reader

✐  masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

What started out as getting paired up as lab partners with Steve Harrington in chemistry class turned into eating lunch together a handful of times, then sitting together at assemblies. But you'd never hung out away from school, which is why it sort of caught you by surprise when he asked you out after class one day.

Obviously you agreed.

Now, you were in his passenger seat looking up at what stars you could see, rain clouds blocking a good amount of them.

You'd been making good conversation the whole time, but after a brief moment of comfortable silence, he decided to change the subject.

"I heard about you and Joey. Sucks."

You nodded. "Yeah. That was weeks ago, though."

"How long were you guys together?"

"Eight months. It's fine. I kinda got the feeling that he wasn't looking for anything long term. Asshat didn't even dump me in person. He called me at like midnight one night to do it. I thought he might've been drunk but nope. He was completely sober."

"What'd he say?"

"Apparently he'd been eyeing a girl in his gym class. He came close to sleeping with her that night before he called."

"Damn."

"Yeah. On one hand, I'm glad he didn't cheat on me, you know?" Steve nodded. "But on the other hand, I almost wish he didn't tell me why he was ending it. Maybe that's just me, though."

"No, it's not just you."

You smirked at him. "Thanks." You looked at each other for a moment. "So... Betty Thompson, huh?"

"What about her?"

"What do you mean, 'what about her'? I saw you guys the other night at Jackson's party."

"What did you see, exactly?"

"I saw her pull you into one of the bedrooms and shut the door."

"Oh, yeah."

"She's really nice. Good for you."

"Yeah. We didn't... do anything, though."

Your brows dipped in confusion. "What? Nothing?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't really feeling it. She's sweet and everything. We just didn't... click. Sexually."

"Mm. So what girls have you clicked with? Sexually." You threw in that last part sarcastically.

He shook his head. "None of 'em."

At this point you felt like he was messing with you.

"Not a single one?"

"I mean, we've gotten along in every other way, and I've kissed a few of them and done some other stuff. It just never moved past that."

"What about the first one?" He was silent, staring at the stars. That was when you understood. "Steve... You haven't-"

"No. I haven't. I've only ever felt that click with one person, but I don't know if it'll ever lead to anything."

"Who is it?" He looked at you, still not saying anything. "What?" He still didn't speak. "Is it me?"

He hesitated to nod. "I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I don't mean for it to."

"It doesn't." He raised his eyebrows. "Not at all."

"Good."

"What is it about me?"

"You're just... more genuine than most of them. With a lot of them it felt like they were only nice because they thought it would lead to sex, not because they were actually nice, you know?" You nodded. "But with you, you're just a really kind person. To everyone."

"Oh."

The energy in the car had shifted, and it started to feel like the space was getting smaller. You reached over and grabbed his hand, which was warm.

"Y/N..."

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

You felt your chest tighten a bit. This wouldn't be your first kiss, but it was the first time you'd been asked for permission to kiss you.

You nodded, and you inched your faces closer to each other. His lips were soft and gentle on yours, and he was almost hesitant.

You reached up and cupped the side of his face, pulling him closer, and his nervousness lifted away and he leaned in to kiss you more firmly.

You pulled away after a moment, your faces inches apart.

"Wanna move to the backseat?" you asked, slightly out of breath.

He nodded immediately, and you crawled over the middle console and rather ungracefully landed in the backseat.

When he joined you, you positioned your bodies so that he was sitting in the middle with you on top of him. Your knees landed on either side of his hips and you sat on his thighs.

You craned your head down to kiss him, but you could feel anxiety radiating off of him, so you stopped after a moment.

"Are you okay?" you asked, pulling back enough to look at him.

"Are you seriously asking me that right now?"

"You seem nervous."

"I am. But I'm excited."

You smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I just... I don't know what I'm doing."

"It's okay. We'll start here." You grabbed his hands and pulled them up to your waist. "How's that?"

"Good."

"How about this?" You pulled his hands up to your breasts, and his breath staggered. "Better?" He nodded. You reached down and grabbed the bottom of your shirt, slowly dragging it up and over your head, exposing your top half and leaving only your bra to cover it.

But that came off just as quickly, your entire upper half bare and unprotected.

His eyes were wide as moons, and you led his hands back up to them. "Okay?" you asked.

"Way better than okay."

You laughed quietly at that. One of his hands trailed to your back and pulled you closer to him, allowing him to plant kisses across your chest. Your hands landed on his shoulders as he left soft, wet spots on your skin.

After a moment, you reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, studying his body. It was littered with moles and freckles and his skin was smooth.

You bent down to press your lips to the right side of his neck and shoulder, making him sigh with satisfaction. His hands slipped down and landed on your thighs, the pads of your fingers pressing into your skin.

Your fingers began unbuttoning his jeans and he lifted his hips, pulling them down his thighs and leaving them pooled at his ankles. You could see a tent in his boxers that had been restricted by his jeans, and it made you bite your lip.

You awkwardly maneuvered to pull your shorts and underwear off, leaving you completely nude in his lap. He looked down and his lips separated, which made your chest go red.

"Steve," you said, getting his attention. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm good."

He pulled you back in for a kiss and you jumped when you felt two fingers on your clit. You softly gasped into his mouth and he smirked.

"I thought this was your first time."

"I never said I didn't do this part."

One of your hands gripped the seat behind him and the other squeezed his shoulder. His fingers were making almost unbearably slow circles, but when you ground into his hand, he sped up.

"Shit, Steve," you moaned into his mouth as your hands moved back to cupping his face.

One thing you'd come to notice since you became sexually active was how little time you lasted with stimulation to your clit. Granted, it was a lot quicker when it was a tongue than with fingers, but it was never more than a minute. You were just hoping it wouldn't be a turnoff for him.

With your hips slowly yet uncontrollably grinding into his hand combined with how quickly his fingers moved, you knew this orgasm would come ridiculously quick.

You couldn't resist breaking the kiss, both of your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as you pressed your foreheads together.

"Steve, I'm so close. I'm gonna cum."

He kept going, looking at you as your eyebrows dipped down so far that it made your skin wrinkle.

As quickly as that coil in your belly formed, it broke. You gasped deeply, your legs trembling as your entire body convulsed. You involuntarily thrust your hips back and forth as you came, making the car rock with you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you moaned in a high pitched and desperate voice, your nails pressing into his skin.

He kept you cumming until you had to move his hand away, letting your orgasm fade out.

Your breath was shaky, your thighs twitching. His hand landed on your hip, his thumb gently stroking your skin.

"Sorry," you whispered breathlessly.

"Sorry? For what?"

"That was quick. I hope that didn't, like, kill the mood or anything."

"Are you kidding? That was hot."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

You kissed him with a smile, a moment later whispering into his ear, "Take your boxers off."

Without hesitation, he lifted his hips again and pulled his underwear off, his boner springing free.

You raised your eyebrows as the sight. He was a bit bigger than what you preferred, but you couldn't stop from biting your lip at seeing it. You reached down and wrapped your fingers around his girth, slowly stroking.

He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, throwing his head back and resting it on the top of the seat. You covered his neck and throat in wet kisses and he softly moaned at the combined sensations.

"Do you have a condom?" you whispered, pulling your hand away.

"Yeah, in my wallet." You reached into the cupholder behind you and grabbed his wallet, pulling out the plastic-wrapped condom and tearing it open with your teeth.

"You're sure about this?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah."

You nodded and reached down, rolling the condom over his erection.

"Ready?"

"Mhm. Ready."

You positioned him at your entrance and slowly sunk down onto him, making both of you whimper.

"Is that okay?" he asked.

"Oh, god, Steve. So good."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." The pitch of your voice was a bit higher than you intended for it to be, but it was a huge turn on for him to hear you whine.

His eyes remained glued to your face as you slowly bounced, unintentionally moaning when you took all of him.

You kept this slow pace for a moment, trying to adjust to his size. But when you did finally get used to it was when the car began to rock. You squeezed his shoulders and reconnected your lips, soft moans tumbling from your lips and past his.

That was when raindrops started hitting his car, which neither of you noticed. The sounds of skin against skin, panting, and the creaking of the car masked any outside noises that could've possibly intruded. Your eyes were shut, your head thrown back.

"Shit," you whimpered as he left sloppy kisses all over your neck and chest.

"Is it still okay?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"More than okay. So good."

"Y/N?" This time, he sounded embarrassed.

"Yeah?" You looked down to make eye contact, but you didn't stop your movements.

"I think... since it's my first time-"

"Are you close?" All he could do was nod. "That's okay. Cum whenever you want to."

Your encouraging words were more than arousing, and you began kissing his neck again. You could tell with how tightly his fingertips were pressing into your hips that he was close, even before he said anything.

Your lips against his skin drove him crazy, and when he began slightly bucking his hips up into you, you knew he was right there on the edge.

"Cum for me, Steve."

And within seconds, he was melting into the seat, pulling your body into his, and thrusting hard into you. His moans were like music to your ears and you could tell he was in heaven.

When you eventually stilled your movements, he didn't move. He stayed completely still aside from his heavy breathing, his head leaned back.

You cupped his face, angling his head up so he could look at you. You kissed him gently, which made him grin.

When you pulled away, you combed his hair out of his face with your fingers.

"Okay?" you asked.

He nodded quickly. "Oh yeah."

You looked out the window at the rain, smiling to yourself.

"I wonder when that started."

You turned back to him, and he tucked your hair behind your ear.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?"

"Not judging me."

"What would I judge you for?"

"It was my first time, and I didn't last long."

"No guy lasts long their first time."

"Even Joey?"

"Please. It took him not even five seconds to finish the first time. This was much better."

That made him smile. "I'm glad. Next time it'll be longer, I promise."

You tilted your head a bit. "Next time, huh?"

"I mean, if you want to."

You kissed him. "Of course, I do."

He nodded. "Sweet."

[promptthebear]

🐰 25 with frank castle!

Hello! Sorry this took so long, and congratulations on being my first Frank Castle fic!

Frank Castle x Reader- Jumpscare

Prompt: I can't smile, I'm mad

CW: Established relationship, F!Reader, written in 2nd person, reader referred to as "you". Body shape, hair colour, eye colour left ambiguous

Summary: You're home by yourself and watching a scary movie. Frank comes home after being gone for awhile. Chaos ensues.

You should’ve known better than to watch a scary movie when you were home alone. But Frank was still away, there was nothing else on and you were already too invested to turn it off.

Which is how you found yourself, up past midnight and still watching the hapless teens meet their doom at the hands of a knife wielding killer. Your black lab mix, Riley, was loyally snuggled against your side, fast asleep and completely indifferent to your growing anxiety. You ran a hand down his back, mindlessly working your fingers into his soft fur to try and soothe yourself. It didn’t have the desired effect however, since you nearly jumped a foot in the air as the movie killer leapt out from a closet onscreen and snared yet another victim.

Riley jumped with you, his head jolting up and a soft growl rising in his throat as he looked around for the hidden threat. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, reaching down to rumple the dog’s ears to try and calm the both of you.

“Sorry boy, just the TV.”

Your dog stared up at you for a moment, before letting out a heavy sigh. You could almost hear the annoyance in the sound, as if Riley couldn’t believe you’d woken him up for something so stupid. You watched as he shifted position and tucked his muzzle beneath his paws, most likely trying to block out any further interference with his sleep.

“I hope your Dad comes back soon” you said, half to Riley and half to yourself “I always get so jumpy when he’s gone.”

The movie certainly wasn’t helping. Every creepy sound effect from the TV seemed to echo back at you from somewhere in the apartment, and you kept glancing over your shoulder as though you expected the killer to pop out the second you looked away. You thought about texting or calling Karen, knowing your friend’s cheerful disposition would soothe you instantly, but decided against it when you remembered how late it was. Even though you knew Karen would answer right away, you didn’t want to disturb her. She was so busy with her new job at the paper, and it was your fault for putting yourself in this position anyway.

“Watcha watching?”

“Jesus SHIT” you shrieked, flying from the couch the second you felt a breath ghost against your ear. Riley, good boy that he was, followed suit, barking for all he was worth and doing his best to get a grip on the slippery hardwood so he could put himself between you and the intruder.

Said intruder however, was none other than Frank Castle. He was standing behind the couch, eyes wide and hands held up in a submissive gesture. A bag of takeout from your favourite Thai place hung from one wrist, and his keys were still in the opposite hand, which told you he’d just come in. How had you not heard him?

“Frank!” you yelped, reaching down to grab a pillow from the couch and lob it at his head “What is WRONG with you?!”

Frank ducked, the pillow barely grazing his ear as it flew past. He was upright again in seconds, years of Marine training giving him reflexes you could only dream of.

“Hey now” he said, a lopsided smile already tugging at the corners of his mouth “Is that any way to greet your husband?”

A sigh buzzed past your lips as you sank back down onto the sofa, your heart pounding a mile a minute in your ears. Riley, upon realizing it was Frank and not the Boogeyman, had stopped barking and was now doing a happy dance towards his master. Frank smiled down at the big dog, setting the bag of takeout on a end table next to the couch and kneeling down so he could greet Riley properly.

“Hey mutt” he said, his voice soft as he rumpled the dog’s ears “You been taking good care of your Mom for me?”

Riley squinted up at Frank, his tongue lolling out in a doggy grin as his tail wagged a mile a minute, nearly catatonic with delight. Yes he seemed to be saying Please tell me a did a good job because I tried so hard.

Frank gave the dog’s side a couple more affectionate pats before rising and turning to glance in your direction. You could feel his eyes tracing your profile, but you refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you bit your lip and stared resolutely at the TV, though the credits on your movie had started to roll.

“Babe?”

Nope. You weren’t going to look at him. Yes, he had been gone for at least a week and you had missed him so bad it hurt, but after that entrance he was going to have to work his way back into your good graces.

“Hey. Babe, look at me.”

The sudden closeness of Frank’s voice finally made you look up. He was leaning in front of you, his hands braced against the back of the couch so his arms made a cage around your torso. You could smell his aftershave and the coffee he must’ve drunk on the way home. It was a potent cocktail that made you want to grab hold of his collar and kiss him stupid, but you held fast.

“I haven’t seen you since last Saturday. Doesn’t that at least get me a smile or something?”

You ducked your head down, trying to hide your face from Frank’s probing gaze.

“I can’t smile, I’m mad”

Frank chuckled, the sound a deep rumble in his throat, before grabbing hold of your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He paused for a moment, gauging your reaction to the touch and waiting to see if you’d jerk away. When you didn’t, he gently tilted your face upwards so his eyes met yours.

You wanted to tell Frank to fuck off, that he was a jerk for scaring you and he wasn’t getting shit until he apologized, but any response you may have come up with vanished the instant his lips met yours. You melted into the kiss so quickly it was almost embarrassing. Within seconds, you had thrown your arms around Frank’s neck, clinging to him as though he was gone a year instead of just a week. Your eagerness wasn’t lost on Frank, and he pressed at the seam of your lips with his tongue, tightening his grip on your waist when you moaned in response.

You were about to open your mouth and reciprocate, when Riley pushed himself between your bodies, breaking off the kiss to give out some of his own. The two of you laughed as the big dog eagerly licked your faces, re-establishing himself as the centre of attention where he rightfully belonged.

“Ah, you missed me.” Frank said as he plopped down on the far side of the couch, leaving room so Riley could still sit in the middle. The big dog sprawled out as soon as Frank settled, his head in his master’s lap with his rear facing towards you for maximum pat potential. You happily obliged, scratching the spot between his hips you knew he loved.

“No way” you shot back, unable to keep the smile off your lips “I’m mad at you, remember?”

“Oh yeah? Well, you don’t kiss like someone who’s mad.”

You let out a snort and threw another pillow in Frank’s direction. He caught it nimbly instead of ducking this time, and leaned forward to tuck it behind his head. Once he was comfy, he held a hand out in your direction, loosely open with the palm up. With a sigh, you grabbed the remote from the nearest side table and handed it to him, turning back to grab the bag of takeout as he started to channel surf.

“You in the mood for another movie?” you asked as you placed the various Styrofoam containers on the coffee table. Like an idiot, you’d skipped dinner in favour of snacking on popcorn and the smell of the sai oua and fried rice almost had you drooling.

“I dunno,” Frank replied, his eyes trained on the screen “It all looks like horror stuff. You up for that?”

“Yeah. It’s not so scary when you’re here to protect me.”

[loganofthenorth]

Okay so for my Shera Swap AU, I’m designing the characters in Hero Forge.

The first one I did was Bo, because I put their names on a wheel to decide the order.

Lovely darling Bo

I made him edgier and more Horde-themed.

I couldn’t really do it in Hero Forge but he has a Horde symbol instead of a Heart on his chest.

Don’t worry he’s still a sweetheart even when raised on the side of evil. Like Adora, he’s been raised within the Horde and believes they’re the good guys. (Basically the Horde found him before his Dads did. For convenience I’m assuming his fathers adopted him.) Since the Princess Alliance isn’t as bright and bubbly in this world (with some exceptions such as Scorpia and Sea Hawk) it’s easier for Bo to stay loyal to his friends even after Catra rebels. Catra is framed as a traitor, even by Adora, and Bo doesn’t really witness a lot of what actually plays out. He sort of plays a similar role to the Horde Trio, only he’ll be more active than they are since Adora likes to work with a team more than Catra had.

Bo works a lot with Entrapta (more on her later) in the tech lab. He’s basically her apprentice (and supervisor after Adora gets a higher ranking) and spends most of the orphan’s training time with her. When she gets captured by the Princess Alliance, Bo takes over as the Horde’s tech genius. He’ll probably have an arch where he realizes things aren’t right and play Scorpia’s role of going to the Princess Alliance.

Catra and Bo never got along because Catra and Glimmer turned everything into a competition. Since Bo was loyal to Glimmer, Catra often turned against him by association. I think Catra will have a character arc of working through her co-dependency issues and similar struggles, and part of that arc will involve reflecting on how she treated Bo. She’ll probably reflect about Glimmer too, but not as much since Glimmer started just as many fights as Catra did.

Bo is extremely confused on why Catra is Adora’s closest friend. He’s tried to be patient with her but to no avail. He hasn’t the slightest idea how Adora does it. Well… *had* done it. He’s probably the only one to comfort Adora rather than lecture her or act confused when she’s upset after Catra leaves.

Bo is also the voice of reason in the Best Friend Squad, and often Laudie, Kyle, and Rogelio have to help him talk sense into Adora and Glimmer.

Which reminds me, the Horde Trio will also be in this. They have a sort of awkward friendship with Bo and Glimmer, mostly because Glimmer is too hotheaded for their liking (and favoured by Hordac) and Bo is a huge pushover. Kyle sees Bo as a really close friend. Bo often forgets Kyle’s name and feels really bad for it.

Bo is terrified of Shadow Weaver and has nightmares of her. Glimmer and Catra both tease him for it.

Adora and Bo are both very protective of each other. Glimmer is protective of them too but often gets ahead of herself. Bo and Adora both see each other as their younger sibling. This often starts fights when they say the analogy out loud.

Due to never having birthday parties in the Horde, Bo had a gut feeling that something was missing. He invented the concept of celebrating special occasions by sneaking out at midnight to have a campfire and sing songs they heard from the soldiers. They stopped doing this as teenagers, though, since it became too dangerous and Catra often got the brunt of the punishment.

Anywho, that’s all I have about Bo for now. Next up will be Adora!

[nullsleepy]

The Strike of a Villainess

Chapter 3: Guess I’m an amnesiac now?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Ao3

———————————-

“What do you think you’re doing, Eden?” Damian grabbed Marinette’s arms before the knife could hit Lilian.

“Damian!” Marinette startled, looking up at her love with shocked eyes. “It- it isn’t what it looks like, my prince. Just a small argument!”

“In Lilian’s room? At midnight? Get out, Eden.” Damian tossed her arm away from him, cold eyes going warm as he looked at his lover’s, Lilian’s, form. He gathered her form in his arms, whispering something Marinette couldn’t make out in her ears.

“But- my love, it isn’t proper for a man and woman to be alone at night! And she’s a witch-!” Damian glared at her until she shut up, shivering. She swallowed before making her way to the door, knife still in hand. “Good night, my love.”

“And drop the knife before you leave.” Damian said, not even looking at her. “You will regret this, Marinette Von Eden.”

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open as she stifled a yawn, the sun warming her from the window. The peace surrounding her was a feeling she had long forgotten, but its comfort was welcoming. She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes still adjusting to waking up.

Marinette’s eyes closed once again before going wide. A white ceiling was above her, whereas the one in HER room was wooden. No way-

Marinette tussled with the blankets before looking at the mirror nearby- which displayed the doll-like child she had seen, had been, earlier.

Marinette couldn’t stop the scream that escaped her lips as she covered her eyes, trying to escape her reality.

“My lady?” A woman’s voice echoed around the room, interrupting Marinette’s scream. The woman entered the room silently, not that Marinette could see, with her hands still covering her eyes. “I brought a doctor. Miss Jasmine insisted you needed to be looked over.”

Marinette huddled up in her bed, knees pulled to her chest. Hesitantly, she looked over at them, noticing a small crowd of maids and two doctors with her.

“Lady Eden, could I see your arm?” The kind, male doctor stood next to her bed, smiling at her. After a small beat, Marinette gave him her arm. “Hmmm… yes. You seem fine. I’m going to ask you a few questions first, before I diagnose you, okay?”

Marinette nodded.

“First off, what is your name?” The doctor continued to smile at her, still holding a finger at the pulse on her arm.

“Marinette… Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She murmured, not feeling her usual confidence in this situation. She barely was able to keep from shaking, which the doctor seemed to notice.

“And your age?”

“I… don’t remember.” Marinette lied, knowing she was in a child’s body and not wanting to be marked as insane. Kwami, should she have lied about not knowing her name as well?

“Huh. Okay, and do you know where you are?” The doctor whispered something to the other doctor before looking at her.

“Not really, the maid earlier said I was in some sort of a manor, but I don’t know what she means.”

“Alright, I think I understand.” The doctor smiled brightly at her before turning towards the maids, letting go of her arm. “Lady Eden seems to be experiencing memory loss, though I need to examine her more properly to determine why. But from her pulse and my mana detection device-“ his what? “It seems we are in for joyous news! It seems that the young lady has had an early awakening!”

The maids all looked at eachother, some fearful while others, the younger ones, looked proud.

“We should give the lady some room for now. I’ll prepare my lab to research this and examine her.” The doctor crossed his arms, nodding his head. “It seems like a serious condition.”

“Yes, sir!” The maids responded, quickly leaving the room, aside from the one that brought the doctor in.

“Sir?” Marinette mumbled, looking up at him with wide eyes, startling him as he turned around.“What is the thing you said earlier? Mana detection?”

The doctor rubbed his fingers over beard, before smiling back at her. “A mana detection device detects mana, young lady. Mana powers magic.”

Marinette nodded, twisting the blankets underneath her hands. “And, uh, what’s my name?”

“Marinette Von Eden, miss!” Suddenly, pain shot through Marinette’s head as she suddenly remembered the name- the name of the villainess in Miracles Do Come True. Marinette. Von. Eden.

“Crap.” She whispered inaudibly under her breath as everyone but the one maid left the room.

—————-

“She’s so annoying, Wayzz!” Marinette groaned as she stared at her phone, looking down at the screen. “Doesn’t she have anything better to do? Like being with her fiancé?”

“Who?” Wayzz looked over her shoulder, noticing the character.

“Marinette Von Eden!”

——————

The stupid villainess that shared her first name.

The one that blocked her at every turn.

The one that tried to kill her only to be killed off in the end.

Marinette Von Eden.

Marinette stared at the maid in front of her, looking at her reflection in her eyes. But Lady Eden was a young adult? And Marinette… seemed to be a child.

“My lady?” The maid stepped closer to her, falling to her knees beside the bed. “May I say something inappropriate?”

Marinette nodded, only half paying attention.

“I hope, sincerely, you never remember anything.” The maid murmured, hands clasped as if in prayer, causing Marinette to turn to her.

“Why do you say that?” The blunette tilted her head, though she was sure she knew the answer.

“You’ve had a rough childhood, my lady.” She said unexpectedly, causing Marinette to raise her eyebrows, the game never mentioned the villainess having a sad backstory? “You’ve gone through so much and have grown to be a very rough person. I hope this is a blessing from God to let you live peacefully. Happily.”

“Thank you.” Marinette responded, though she was deep in thought now, unable to comprehend what the maid just told her. The villainess had a rough childhood? What happened to her? “You may go.”

The words left Marinette’s mouth without her realizing, the maid giving her a soft smile before leaving.

“Wait! Before you go, what’s your name? And how old am I?” Marinette quickly asked the moment the questions popped into her mind.

“Your 12th birthday is next month, my lady. And my name…” the maid smiled as she began to close the door. “…is Eloise.”

And just like that, Marinette was left alone again, to her thoughts. But one thought took hold of her mind- no matter what, she needed to return back to Paris. She may have been distracted by this new knowledge and stuff, but she had a city to protect. She NEEDED to get back.

————————-

Next

Taglist: OPEN

Notes: Hey! Chapter 3 was a bit of a ride, right? Well, next chapter will be an actual rollercoaster! Also, when I was writing the next chapters, I thought I separated something wrong because I thought chapter 4 was apart of chapter 3 and couldn’t figure out what happened. Anyways, that’s just what I get for writing them all on the same doc. I hope to see you all again, soon! Also considering messing with the ships a bit(will always be a damianette fic tho) after a comment I got on ao3! We’ll see if our dear Mari gets a harem or not >;)

[agentlizardofowca]

^ "did you sleep well?" "mhm.." [tracing the mark with their hand] "i can tell." // GO GO GO!!!

[I sometimes have trouble sleeping, and something that helps me fall asleep is to imagine my favourite characters falling asleep after an exhausting day. I've imagined the following scenario maybe 500 times.]

NOW ALSO ON AO3

zzzzz

Perry knew with certainty that it was wednesday when he left. He was about to take his coffee break when he was rushed to the airship bay and shipped off for an emergancy. As he was flown off to [counrty] he was informed of the world's newest thread, a nuclear physicist with some interesting ideas about justice. 

Sleep isnt really an option if all life on earth is in mortal peril, so the agent stayed awake for as long as it took to nuetralize the threat. It worked out okay, perry thought to himself as he sat through debriefing with his head cradled in his arms. The world still had its biodiversity, and he still had all 10 fingers. 

When he returned to Danville it was dark, past midnight. The streets were deserted except for a few stragglers who were finding their way home after a long night of partying. Perry assumed he looked at bad as they did.

He showered at headquarters because he could smell himself, and he was self-conscious about that, before letting himself be dropped off at his- their place. They shared it nowadays. And despite the fatigue, Perry couldn't help but smile giddily at that thought.

When he unlocked the front door he was met with a dark and still apartment, which was both a blessing and a curse. Heinz had the habit of working long into the early hours, so for the lab to be deserted now meant that it must be early. Really early.

He yawned and trudged towards the bedroom taking off items of clothing as he went so that when he softly opened the door, all he had to do was plop down his clothes on an empty chair.

Dead-center in the middle of the bed was his (former) nemesis, sleeping soundly. Both his arms and legs were spread luxuriously as if he was attempting to claim the whole bed for himself; Heinz never was very good at sharing. Luckily for Perry, he had no need of the comforter tonight, it was the middle of summer, and sleeping in just his boxer would do.

He resisted the urge to fall face down into the bed- that would surely jostle the other man awake, and though Perry was so, SO happy to see him, he was far too tired to be interrogated about his mission. So instead he slid onto the mattress soundlessly.

This close, he could hear the other man's rhythmic breathing. Even without touching, he could tell the other man was warm and relaxed. 

Perry's eyelids were as heavy as Heinz's titanium arms, but still, he had to take a moment to admire the careful stillness of his usually energetic partner. 

He hadn't taken the time to turn on any of the lights, just because he didn't want to bother having to turn them off again. But even in the low light, Perry knew where Heinz's features were, after this many years he could conjure his face in an instant. He would kiss him, right now. But he could not. Instead, Perry adjusted one lanky arm carefully to the side to make space for himself and laid himself down. His forehead settled nicely against Heinz's shoulder and closed his eyes.

He carefully breathed in, and when Heinz exhaled, so did he. Within a moment their breathing was synchronised. The wooly fog that Perry'd been carrying around in his head faded with each breath. With his last vestiges of consciousness, he reached out one arm and placed it over Heinz's heart. The steady drum lulled him to sleep quickly.

***

The sun was up. Through the insufficient barrier of his eyelids, Perry was aware that the sun was bright and waking him from maybe the deepest sleep he'd experienced all year. With tremendous effort, he shifted his head on the pillow. A sleepy squeak escaped him.

For a while, he just existed. A man sleeping on his tummy with one leg pulled up and one leg dangling just barely off the edge of the bed. 

The sounds of birdsong didn't reach this high up, and even the noises of cars and trucks passing below were like a distant hum. 

The door creaked a little as it opened. Something was put down, and then the mattress dipped beside him.

"I know you're awake, Perry the Platypus," Heinz said kindly.

Perry exhaled in reply.

"I can tell because you stopped snoring." The little smile that stretched his lips was audible in his voice.

Perry rolled over again, his side now pressed up against the other man. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked as he adjusted to the brightness of the room. He wasn't going to apologize to Heinz for snoring, he'd known about that particular flaw long before their nemesis-ship ended.

"I think you slept for thirteen hours," Heinz calculated, and he smiled down at Perry. His slowly graying hair was attempting to block Perry's view of those midsummer sky eyes. "Did you sleep at all since I last saw you?"

The horizontal man shook his head.

Heinz whistled. "Did you sleep well?" And one finger carefully trailed a line across Perry's cheek that was left by the bedding.

Perry stretched until his back popped and nodded lazily. Heinz's hand was still on his cheek.

"I can tell," He said as if it was a secret they shared.

Long fingers slid away, and the mattress wobbled as Heinz left it. "I made lunch Perry the Platypus. Come and eat with us before Vanessa has to leave for her mother's house. She's missed you too." Gone was the softness in Heinz's voice as he forced Perry back into the reality of the conscious world. The man left the room, not bothering to stop speaking to him, even as he got too far away to be heard clearly. 

A T-shirt landed on Perry's face. He debated rolling over and sleeping another 13 hours, but the siren call of lunch and his husband's enthused conversation won.

[loreleismusings99]

Two Body Problem

Ch 4

[Masterlist]

Qualifying exams are stressful. coming to terms with budding romantic feelings is somehow even more stressful. In which Mark and the reader critique each others' work and a surprising amount of sleep happens.

Thank you for reading! sorry this took so long to get out, I just graduated(can't believe I have a bachelor's degree now omg), and my life has been kind of a whirlwind lately, but I'm glad I was able to get this out. I don't think this is my strongest chapter, but I can move on to other parts of the story now this is done. As always, please let me know of ways I can improve this and if there's anything that should be fixed about this. Tysm, and I hope y'all are having a wonderful holiday season! Happy Perihelion Day!

also, y'all, I am running out of Matt Damon gifs to use for these so if you have any suggestions, please send them to me!

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

God, my back hurts…

You shift under your blanket and grumble at the uncomfortably stiff structure that's currently cradling you. Cracking open an eye, you look around at your surroundings, becoming increasingly familiar as the clouds of sleep part and slowly return your senses to you. Why am I in the living room? Cracking open the other eye, you’re nearly blinded by the morning’s sunlight. Letting out a raspy “ugh…” at the unpleasant stimulus, you turn your head into your blanket again to shield your eyes from the offending ball of ionized hydrogen.

A new piece of sensory information halts your thoughts almost completely when you bury your face in your blanket though; notes of honey with an afterthought of what might be soil flood your senses, layered with something bergamot-y and a mystery spice that gives warmth to the smell. The smell reminds you of your night in the library, labs full of undergrads extracting caffeine from tea leaves, and office hours in the too-cramped grad office in the biosciences building. You remember a hand brushing yours as you both reach for the same homework packet, then mousy blond hair, striking green eyes, and a smattering of freckles.

The realization that your blanket smells like Mark hits you like a freight train and you're suddenly ripped from the clutches of sleep as he fills your senses. You try to find it within you, but you can’t quite locate the discomfort you thought you’d experience being confronted with Mark’s presence--however fleeting and ephemeral-- first thing in the morning. The feelings it stirs within you are… pleasant?? Being enveloped by the earthy scent is calming for whatever reason; like being held, wrapped in a profound sense of home and safety that you rarely have felt in your adult life. He must wear lavender… you think, trying to explain away the state you're in before drifting off again, sleeping in for the first time in a long while.

☆☆☆

“I'm sorry, you did what?!” Mark whirls around, his sandwich still clutched in his left hand while his right is holding his laptop in a precariously loose grip.

Colin rolls his eyes before responding to Mark's dramatic outburst. “Oh please, don't act so scandalized; that's a completely normal and average thing to ask--”

  The door slamming at almost midnight tonight was certainly not on Colin’s bingo sheet for the evening’s events, but it was a harbinger of more unexpected happenings starting with Mark’s sour mood after returning from what should have been an enjoyable get-together with his colleagues in the bioengineering department.

“Sure, yes, normally, but they’re about the least average individual I’ve met up until this point in my life, Colin; you can’t just--” Colin has had a front-row seat to Mark’s gradual descent into denial for almost 6 months at this point. As Mark starts waxing poetic about how inviting you over to do moc quals presentations together would be the single worst decision Colin’s made, he remembers the night he came back from that mixer the two of you met in late spring earlier this year.

“The fucking audacity, how did they get this far being so unprofessional--” Mark tosses his bag onto their shared couch a mere foot away from where Colin was sitting writing up a first draft of the introduction for his thesis proposal on improving science communication with the general public while avoiding misleading sensationalism. Mark storms off into his room before poking his head out the door to say, “Did you know using a switch case to find the number of elements in an array is apparently--” Mark mimes air quotes “‘so clunky that it should be considered a syntax error’? Fucking hell…”

As Mark ducks back into his room grumbling, Colin responds with,“ Mark, I promise you I had no clue… and good evening, why do you look and sound like someone just told you agriculture and botany are the same thing?” Colin waits for Mark’s response as he stomps out of his room, having exchanged his business casual garb for his pajamas, and sulks into their kitchen.

“Oh, no reason. I just had the displeasure of getting publically ridiculed by a EE who wouldn’t know the difference between a spanner and a set of calipers, their head’s so fucking deep in electronics they don’t know how to communicate with other humans.” after grabbing a bottle of lemonade from the fridge, Mark collapses down on the chair to Colin’s left, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

  He has it bad… Colin remembers thinking, as he does now, as he watches Mark run up his blood pressure, postulating about critiques you haven’t even had the chance to make on his quals paper and presentation yet. “Mark… Mark, listen.” Colin says to interrupt his wayward roommate’s self-sabotage. “It’s not that serious. They’re going to come over to get their paper looked at too--actually, they’re presenting the same day as you. They’re coming here with the same level of vulnerability as you. I don’t think they’ll go easy on you, but I don’t think they'd be cruel either.”

Colin waits a couple of seconds before asking,“... what’s their name?” Mark pauses and looks up at the ceiling with a faraway look in his eye before saying your name, calmly for the first time since he’s returned home for the evening. Colin and Mark sit in this pause before Mark continues, describing how you were a vision of confidence and poise in your sweater vest, oxfords, and slacks--likely due to unfounded pride, he added after snapping out of his momentary revere. It took everything in Colin’s power not to laugh in Mark’s face every time he tried to explain away every positive thing he noted about you, from your ‘surprising competence in biomechanical design to your managing to land a graduate assistantship in one of the best-funded bio-instrumentation labs in the department.

“How would you know? Hell, they were probably thrilled by the idea of getting to take me down a peg and ruin my faith in my thesis in the process--”

“Well, they certainly seemed eager, but likely not for the reason you think…” Colin responds absent-mindedly as he returns to prepping his presentation materials for their moc quals presentations.

Mark pauses in his nervous pacing and looks finally directly at Colin before asking, “What… exactly did they say? When you asked?”

“My, you’re awfully interested in the minutia of their reactions to you. I wonder why…” Colin postulates slyly, looking up from his computer and smirking.

It takes a few seconds of gear-turning in Mark's head before he finally picks up on what Colin is insinuating before the man in question lets out a guffaw and states, “Absolutely not. No. Impossible, inconceivable--”

“Explain yourself then; you've been emotionally constipated since the day you met them,” Colin crosses his arms before continuing, “You aren't very good at hiding the inner machinations of your head you know, it's written all over in how you act.”

“What I feel for them is probably the farthest thing from affection, they make me sick to my stomach--”

“You sure those aren't just butterflies?--”

“Can you please just answer my question?” Mark sighs in exasperation, and Colin lets out a chuckle before explaining how the events transpired.

“So, I found them in the lab--I think they were soldering something? Honestly, it's beyond what I was willing to ask about so I don't know, but I asked them how they were doing and if they're interested in doing moc quals with us--”

“How do you know where their lab is?”

“I majored in journalism, Mark--I have my methods, don't worry about it. Anyway, they perked up at the mention of moc quals and said that they're about to give their presentation on Friday and that they'd love to have extra practice presenting to people who would ask similar questions to what their committee would ask them. They even mentioned that, quote,‘ despite your likely lack of appreciation for their work, your opinions would be useful,’ end-quote.” Colin utters the last sentence with a chuckle.

Mark opens his mouth to say to retort before he's interrupted by a gentle knock at the door.

Mark looks up at the door and then frantically around the apartment, looking at the mess of dishes he had left from his dinner yesterday before uttering a soft “shit!”, tossing his computer onto the couch next to Colin, and holding his sandwich in his mouth as he picks up his dishes and runs them into the kitchen. “You didn’t say they’d be here now!!” Mark yells from behind the divider wall that separates the kitchen from the living/dining room area, hiding dirty dishes in a panicked frenzy as Colin gets up to let you in.

“You didn’t let me get that far before you started questioning me--Hi there, welcome in!” Colin calls over his shoulder before greeting you and stepping to the side of the open door to let you into his and Mark’s shared space.

“Hey, thanks for inviting… me…” You look around like this is the first time you've seen a room before saying“Wow, you two have a nice place” with what looks like a sparkle of awe in your eyes.

“Thanks,” Mark finally decides to pipe up after exiting the kitchen and leaning against the wall. “Sorry for the mess though, I didn't know we were going to have company.” Mark forces through a fake smile as he looks over to Colin with thinly veiled, panicked irritation.

“Ah, so the clutter and dirty dishes aren't a half-baked preparation strategy?” You jest, dawning a coy smirk before turning to Colin and asking, “Shoes on or off?”

Colin's barely able to get in an ‘either is fine’ before Mark rebuts with, “You wound me with how much you underestimate my very complex plan to distract you.” Colin almost sprains an ocular muscle rolling his eyes at Mark's attempt to play it cool after nearly having an aneurysm about you coming over as the man in question ducks back behind the false wall before saying, “I'm making Pizza Bagel Bites for us.” There's a short pause before Mark pokes his head around the wall to regard you again before asking, “Do you like Bagel Bites?”

“Yeah, Bagel Bites are fine.”

“Are you sure? I can make something else if you want; we also have hot pockets, an actual frozen pizza, and we might have some leftover soup from Thanksgiving too--”

You rest a hand on your hip and sit into it before asking, with a huff, “Mark, honestly l, anything is fine; are we going to do this or are you afraid my presentation's going to be better than yours?”

At this point, Colin has sat back down on their couch and is having the time of his life watching what's unfolding before him. He looks over to the kitchen where Mark is still hidden and listens as he hears a clamoring commotion of a pan being filled with frozen Bagel Bites and the furious beeps of the oven turning on to pre-heat before he rushes out of the kitchen, picks up his laptop, sits down, and opens it.

Mark dawns a haughty smirk and a competitive gleam sparks in his eyes as he says, typing away on his computer, “Oh, you have no idea the magnitude of scrutiny you've just unleashed upon your work…”

You let out a huff of a laugh before saying, “I expect nothing less” and opening up your laptop and sharing with the two of them your paper and presentation as the lot of you get started on your moc reviews.

The process is fairly simple: one of you presents while the other two act as your panel committee, asking questions, and making suggestions at the end of your presentation. Colin goes first, presenting his findings from his literature review of surveys and short-term studies of the efficacy of popular science news and the need for more long-term studies. This is something he's practiced hundreds of times, so the questions you throw at him aren't surprising--though, he is quite taken aback by how well-versed you are in pedagogical techniques in science communication and makes a note to pick your brain about your experience later.

You go next, Mark having half-offered half-volunteered you to go next, he's probably still trying to calm his nerves, Colin thinks as he watches Mark shift awkwardly in his seat while you stand from your spot on the couch next to him after setting up your presentation on your computer. Colin tries his best to focus on the lovely presentation on flexible electronics and their use in vitals monitoring, but he can’t help but be distracted by Mark's increasingly adorable investment in your presentation, actively listening and asking questions but with a faraway look in his eyes as he gazes at you with what can only be described as adoration as you passionately expound upon the process of medication release in implantable medical sensing devices. You finish your presentation and Mark enthusiastically jumps up to present last, evidently forgetting his nerves from earlier and diving straight into the complexities of irrigation and sustainable crop cultivation in extreme environments. Colin takes note of the understated excitement you exhibit at Mark's passion for his field, so reserved that he almost missed the way you attempted to block a blush and giggle at his peculiar use of casual, nearly comical lexicon in a presentation meant to convince the academics at the top of the botany ivory tower to give him a chance at becoming a professional scientist.

After presenting you all went over the notes you made on each other's presentations, discussing why certain word choice decisions were made, how each of you dealt with being confronted with A gap in your knowledge, et cetera. Mark was chewing on the end of a red pen while looking over the notes and suggestions you provided for his presentation before making a face and asking, “What’s wrong with my wording here? I think this is a perfectly valid term to describe nutrient uptake efficiency in--”

“Mark, do I need to tell you why you can’t say ‘slorp’ in a Ph.D. qualification oral exam?” You look up from your paper, now marked up with notes from Mark and Colin, and look pointedly at Mark, your mouth quirked into a poorly concealed smirk. Mark starts falling over his words trying to explain his reasoning--or lack thereof--while failing at holding back enthusiastic laughter.

Mark turns to Colin and asks, “Well, what do you think--do you see the academic value of using slorp in a presentation?”

Colin rests a hand gently on Mark’s shoulder before responding. “Mark, my dearest friend, I absolutely do not,” Colin says through bouts of laughter and it puts you in stitches next to Mark, laughing so hard that the only noise you can make is a high-pitched wheeze as you’re doubled over by your glee.

Mark dramatically clutches his shirt right over his heart and says, “Et tu, Brute??” before succumbing to his laughter.

☆☆☆

The empty chair to your right buzzes with the vibrations your restless leg sends through the floor as you await the panel's decision on whether or not you need to reconsider your place in the Ph.D. program. Every time you try to listen in on the conversation your advisor and mentors are having in the room behind you, Hana gently squeezes your hand to remind you to at least try not to obsess about your presentation. It's done now, the ball's in their court. All you can do now is wait and try not to send your blood pressure through the roof.

I think that went alright…you think, threading your fingers between Hana's in an attempt to ground yourself. I answered all of their questions correctly… I think. They didn't say so if I didn't; would they have done that? Fuck, what if they just decided to say nothing-

The door to Hana’s and your left opens suddenly to reveal your advisor, Dr. Ameer, poking his bald and bespectacled head out from behind the door before stepping out and standing to his full height, imposing from your current seated perspective.

He looks down at you for a moment before smiling proudly and holding out his hand. “Congratulations!” You take his hand and shake it feeling like the air got kicked out of your chest, only able to let out a breathless squeeze of a ‘thank you’ that your advisor lightly laughs at. “Excellent treatment of the current gap in the literature on the use of implantables for tissue regeneration for rehabilitative purposes in particular--it makes a great start to a thesis project.” He states, taking off his reading glasses.

You nod and say another “thank you,” stronger this time now that your tensed muscles have finally relaxed and Hana's got you wrapped up in a sideways hug. “I'll make sure to, uhm, send you my availability for the next week so we can discuss how I did and how I can improve. We should also start to discuss my thesis--where to start, what we're capable of doing, et cetera.”

“Absolutely. Don't forget to celebrate too, though. You work hard, you deserve the rest.” He says, sitting down in the chair to your right.

“Oh, don't worry about that,” Hana says, clapping you on the shoulder, “I'll make sure they have at least a little fun within the next 24 hours.”

“Thank you for your work keeping them sane.” Dr. Ameer says through a laugh.

“Is this an intervention?” you ask, looking back and forth at the two of them as they both guffaw at your bafflement.

“Alright,” Dr. Ameer starts, standing back up before saying, “Congratulations again, I'll see you on Monday.”

“Thank you, and see you then.” You respond, allowing yourself to finally smile with a gleam of pride in your eyes as he nods and walks off, presumably to his office.

You wait until you know he's out of earshot before bellowing out a, “Thank fucking God…” as Hana squeals, shaking your shoulders in pent-up excitement.

“Hey, don't act like you didn't nail it in there, I heard you, you were great!! Oozing confidence and academic splendor!” Hana responds, dramatically clutching a fist over her heart. “We have to celebrate properly tonight; maybe drinks and dinner at my place--”

“Please don't make it a big thing, it's not like I just defended my thesis,” you say through an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, but we're at least inviting over Colin and Mark--they just passed their quals too.”

An Incredulous and confused look twists your face when you ask, “How do you know? I thought they were presenting just now too?”

“Trivia night people have a group chat--here, look” Hana takes out her phone and shows you a text from Colin with a picture of him smiling with his arm around what looks like Mark, his head tilted back in relief while Colin ruffles his hair.

Your eyes linger on Mark's neck a little too long before you pull your gaze away and clear your throat, saying, “I see.”

“Hey,” Hana says, putting a hand on your shoulder, “we don't have to invite them, or anyone for that matter, especially if they'll make you uncomfortable.”

“No no, thank you, uhm, there's nothing wrong with that. If anything, I probably owe the two of them a thank you, we presented to each other and they both offered some awesome suggestions that I wouldn’t’ve thought of otherwise.”

Hana regards you silently for a moment, eyes narrowing before they widen in shock as she says, “No fucking way.”

“… What?”

“I mean, the two of you becoming civil with each other finally was to be expected, but I never would've thought--”

“Oh,” you say rolling your eyes as you go to stand up, “Okay, I see where this is going--”

“So I'm right then?” Hana grabs her bag and goes to follow you.

“Absolutely not.”

“You were just gazing longingly at Mark!”

“I do not gaze at him,” you wheeze out with a laugh as you push open the doors to the Tech building.

“Okay, so why did you just freeze right now? I refuse to believe it was a nondescript brain fart and you just so happened to zone out looking at Mark's trachea--” Hana finishes her sentence in a whisper to not attract the attention of the undergrads walking past them in the courtyard.

You whip around to look Hana in the eye as you whisper-yell, “What I feel for Mark is the farthest thing from attraction, I can't possibly think of a world where he would inspire anything other than disgust--”

“Denial is a river in Egypt, my friend, and we are in the midwest--”

“God, I can't believe you--” You whirl back around and start walking off in the direction of your apartment.

“I'm inviting them over, and be at mine by 5!!” Hana shouts at your retreating form and you throw up a thumbs up to show your acknowledgment.

  Your mind wanders on your way back home; you remember eating a Pizza Bagel during your moc quals with Colin and Mark, the latter suddenly saying, “Wait! Hold still” causing you to freeze in your tracks and your eyes to widen into saucers, thinking a bug or something crawled onto you. He reaches over and gently swipes a thumb across the corner of your mouth before saying“ Rogue pizza sauce” before moving on to the next thing that caught his attention. You're still frozen in place, trying to process what just happened, when Mark absentmindedly licks the tomato sauce off his thumb like he forgot that that was just on your face and not his. Now, something like this usually wouldn’t surprise you--especially given Mark's tendency to forget the simplest of things--but for whatever reason your brain short-circuited; at a complete loss for words, for once in your life not a single thought crossed your mind--just complete radio silence and a faint fluttering feeling in your chest. You didn't notice it at the time, perhaps because you didn't want to, but that fluttering felt different than you expected. You wanted to feel a flush of anger wash over you at his invasion of your personal space but all you could muster was the nauseating fondness you felt that night he walked you home after trivia night.

This realization makes your face twist into a scowl. “Shit…” you say, burying your face deep into your coat.

  When you enter Hana’s apartment building, the weight and warmth from your jacket and the building hallway make your skin prickle with sweat. You unzip your jacket and tug a little on your turtleneck’s collar before knocking on her door. A muffled “Hold on!” sounds from behind the door before Hana flings the door open a few seconds later. “Come on in!” she hurries you in while carrying a pan of what looks like an attempt at caramelizing… something?

You take off your shoes and place them on the small rack set up next to the front door before hanging up your coat next to Hana’s on a nearby coat hook. “What are you making?” you question, the medley of smells hitting your nose almost making your eyes water.

“Chicken parm--assuming I'm doing this right,” says over her shoulder while rushing back into her kitchenette, trying not to spill the contents of the very hot pot on her person.

“Hana, I'm not sure if you're supposed to caramelize anything in a chicken parmesan dish?” you follow her timidly into the kitchen, not entirely sure you want to bear witness to what she is concocting.

“You’ve gotta have more faith in my process,” Hana says confidently over her shoulder right before the pan on the stove in front of her bursts into flame. There's a brief scramble As the two of you try to put out the fire, eventually being left with a charred mess sitting in the pan with the two of you staring at it blankly.

“... Portillo's?”

“Yeah,” you respond with a light huff.

  You're drying off and putting away dishes as Hana passes them to you after giving them a thorough scrubbing to get off the char from her attempt at cooking dinner. After about two minutes of this Hana puts down the dish she's working on and huffs before saying, “I'm putting on some music, any requests?”

You pause and think for a moment before answering, “Um… I don't know; What've you been listening to lately?”

“This is gonna sound kind of weird, but I've been on a bit of an ABBA kick lately.” She says, drying her hands off before retrieving her phone from the front pocket of her ‘That's not Burnt, that's Flavor’ apron.

“Knowing you, that's not weird at all.” You deadpan before the two of you let out a stream of giggles. Hana taps away at her phone for a couple of seconds, and Chiquitita starts playing from a speaker on the far side of the kitchen to your left. “Oo, that's a good one.”

“Darling, they're all good ones,” Hana says through a playful smirk, making you laugh. The rest of the otherwise boring task goes by much more slowly but more enjoyably with the two of you intermittently stopping to sing along at the top of your lungs with whatever song caught your collective attention, Hana occasionally using whatever cooking utensil was within her grasp as an impromptu fake-microphone. She's in the middle of a surprisingly impressive belt during Lay All Your Love on Me when a confident knocking echoes through the apartment. “Ope, is that them?” she inquires in a suddenly quieter voice with what you detect as a hint of bashfulness--possibly at the prospect of being heard through the door. She briefly checks her phone while you dry the last plate and put it away. “Yep!” she says before doffing her apron and nearly prancing to her front door.

You turn around and open up a cupboard to put away the plate you're holding, but as you reach up you feel a pair of eyes on your back. You close the cabinet door and whirl around only to be met with a pair of infuriatingly disarming green eyes. In your periphery, you can see Mark’s shoulders pitch up slightly before a toothy smile blooms across his face, catching you off guard with the sincerity of it. You clumsily return his smile before congratulating him before dawning a defensive smirk and saying, “I’m glad our corrections weren’t ignored” jokingly implying that was the only thing stopping him from failing.

A grimace distorts Mark’s smile before he opens his mouth to speak, pausing for a second before finally letting out a laugh and saying, “I was about to say that I had to because Botany isn’t exactly as easy as what you do, but saying something is only biomedical sensor engineering doesn’t exactly have the punch I ‘m looking for.” He and Colin take off their shoes and you and Mark close the distance between the two of you before he continues. “Glad to hear you passed too--what is that smell, is something burning?” Mark interrupts himself, halfway through crossing his arms when he finally catches a whiff of the residual char in the air from Hana’s cooking.

“That would be the aftermath of Hana’s attempt at cooking; don’t worry, we called Portillos as soon as the pan lit on fire.” You quickly add after seeing the color drain a bit from Mark’s cheeks.

You wonder if they’ve always been that rosy before he frantically looks between you and Hana and asks, “You lit a pan on fire?!”

“Only a little bit, we put it out quickly--the alarm didn’t even go off.” Hana dismisses Mark’s worry with a wave of her hand while walking over to her speaker to turn its volume down.

“That’s a shame, we could’ve roasted non-stick flavored marshmallows,” Colin jests from his spot at Hana’s kitchen island before she sticks her tongue out at him, sending the lot of you into a laughing fit. “Well, what do we want to do until the dogs get here?”

Hana pauses to think for a second before ducking to rifle through a set of board and card games she keeps under her living room speaker and reemerges with a small red box. “‘We’re Not Really Strangers’?” she punctuates her question by lightly shaking the box, “I’ve got a few packs mixed in here, so we shouldn’t get any repeats if we’re waiting a while.”

Colin responds in the affirmative before enthusiastically walking over to her couch and plopping down with a ‘whoomph.’ Mark shifts next to you before stating in an almost whisper, “This ought to be interesting.” The two of you look at each other and you scan his face, taking in the mirth evident in his lightly freckled face and you lightly nudge him with a wheeze of a laugh before walking over to get a seat at Hana’s coffee table.

  How can one person be so fucking warm?? You internally hiss to yourself while sitting next to Mark. The two of you still have about an inch of separation between the two of you but even so, you feel like the warmth radiating off his body is smothering you in a calm you’re trying to steel yourself against. You’re sitting in a half-crisscross position with your leg resting on top of your foot now to make it harder for you to subconsciously inch closer to Mark to try to remedy the ever-present chill that usually plagues you--with what appears to be little success considering the two of you stared out on this couch with about 6 inches of space between the two of you. Mark guffaws heartily at Hana’s answer to the card Colin just pulled and you can feel the seat shake with his laughter, the proximity of his person to yours making your heart ache dully. This is miserable, I’m miserable, why is this happening, why me? Why him?? You wonder to yourself with a slightly pained smile and chuckle while Hana pulls a card from the pile in the center of the table.

“Let’s see--ough, I hate this one; ‘What are your plans for the future?’ survive this Ph.D.” Hana immediately answers with a wheeze of a laugh putting the card in the discard pile.

“Honestly, same--I’m just glad my quals are done so I can focus my time and energy on research,” Colin answers before taking a sip of his water and looking to Mark for his answer.

“Alright, are we talking about, like, the next five years or more of what my endgame is for what I want to do with my life? Because I wouldn’t be able to securely pin that down if my life depended on it.” Mark laughs after Hana tells him to say whatever he has an answer for. He pauses for a moment before continuing. “Well,” he begins, crossing his arms, looking up at the ceiling, and slightly adjusting his position, spreading his legs slightly; it takes every ounce of willpower in every atom of your body not to look down at his legs as he does so. “I’m planning on submitting to the NASA GSRP soon, so, assuming I get awarded it, I’ll be working more with botanists at Kennedy Space Center to develop cultivation experiments for the ARES missions--If they ever happen at all.” Mark finishes with a scoff, making you frown. With the tumultuous nature of how government is run, it's becoming increasingly difficult to gauge if there’ll be funding for ambitious space missions like the budding ARES program. Mark abruptly turns to you--itching to turn the attention away from himself--and asks, “What about you?”

You’re given pause by the way Mark abruptly changes the subject, but answer anyway. “Oh, um, I’m headed to Pasadena in the spring; I’m working with one of the engineers there on electronics for a Lunar water surveyor--seems like we’re both NASA-bound. You’ll have to tell me more about the project you’re submitting for, it seems interesting--we might even be able to collaborate a little bit, depending on how far my work on this surveyor goes.”

You end your answer with a coy smirk and for a flash of a second, you could've sworn you saw Mark’s eyes briefly cast downwards to your lips before rocketing back up to meet yours. No, that can’t be possible. God, I’m losing it-- you think to yourself before the man in question interrupts your internal agonizing. “Oh, so you think I’m good enough to get the fellowship?” He inquires with a jesting tone, ducking his head to look up at you through his eyelashes, his vermillion eyes scrutinizing you through the varying shades of blond and brown.

You look at him incredulously and answer before thinking better of voicing your knee-jerk reaction, “Of course; I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” The realization of what you said hits you like a ton of bricks flying at you at Mach 1 as you see Mark’s cheeks flush. Again with the rosy cheeks? Did I make him uncomfortable? Was that too much? Shit, does he think I like him now? Fuck--

“Ah, well, I’ve got nothing to worry about then--if even you think I could do it.” Mark laughs and claps a hand on your shoulder, making you let out a huff and a chuckle in relief at his jovial tone, thinking you’ve narrowly escaped being found out.

“Alright, enough work talk--” Colin captures your attention after letting out a light chuckle and motions for you to pick up a card. “Your turn, Inspector Gadget.”

You lightly chortle before reaching over to pick a card up from the top of the pile of unused cards. “‘Do you think I’m a good kisser?’ Hana, I thought you said these were from the friendship pack???” The whole table bursts into laughter while Hana chokes out a confirmation that it is indeed from the friendship pack. “Alright, out with it, what are your verdicts?” you ask through an exasperated sigh.

“Honestly, I think you’d be a great kisser, remember when we visited Vanessa’s mom in Vegas and you somehow tied two cherry stems with your tongue? While drunk no less--” Hana interrupts herself with her own laughter as you choke on the water you’re drinking at the mention of that night.

“Fuck, I forgot about that!” you cough out. “If it means anything, I had to use my teeth for most of that--I was afraid I was going to swallow the things both times,” you confess with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I don’t know how good of an indicator that is; one of my exes also could tie a cherry stem with his tongue, but the first time we kissed he practically shoved his tongue down my throat.” Colin weighed in with a scoff before continuing, “What do you think Mark?”

Mark pauses for a moment and in that calm, you notice that he’s draped his arm over the seat cushion behind you. In an unexpected wave of wreckless confidence--at least, that’s what you’d call it--you decide to lean back into his arm, immediately relishing in how warm he is. He considers you for a moment, a surprised look on his face before answering, “Honestly I feel like you could go either way; either you’re a mind-numbingly great, or criminally terrible, no in-between” Hana and Colin break into a side-splitting laugh and you ask him to please explain what his reasoning is behind that answer. “You… you--” Mark interrupts his sentence with a breathy laugh, looking up and away from you before continuing. “Alright, look, you… have a lot of surprising things about you and they’re all, like extremes--”

“Yeah???” you interject, your face contorted into an incredulous smirk.

“Yes, let me finish--”

“Please do--”

“So, I think it would be one of those things that you’re, like, inexplicably good at for no fucking reason, or you’d exceed my expectations and be worse than I thought you’d be.” He finishes, barely able to hold back his chortles.

“And what exactly were your expectations?” you ask, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at the revelation that he’s thought about kissing you before. You try your best to stamp out those thoughts before your infuriatingly lovesick brain can indulge in them, thinking God, I’m hopeless. Mark pauses for a second, looking at you apprehensively. You can feel his arm shift on the cushion behind you as he agonizes about whether or not to tell you. “...Mark--”

“That you’d be kind of mid--” he admits with a grimace.

“WOW!” you exclaim, laughing like you just got the air punched out of you. “The amount of confidence you have in me is truly inspiring--is there anything you think I do well?”

“Piss me off--” The four of you lose your minds with laughter; you go to grip your leg to brace yourself against but accidentally slap your hand against Mark’s. The muscles in his leg tense and you freeze. You feel like you should--no, have to--move your hand but for whatever reason the signals your brain is sending to your arm are getting lost in transit, leaving your hand planted steadfastly on top of his quadricep. A spark of surprise flashes through his eyes for a moment before he moves his hand to grasp at yours, still resting on his leg. “You do that perfectly--”

“Fuck off,” you draw your hand out of his grasp, laughing to yourself and unable to look him in the eye.

☆☆☆

After your Portillos arrive you all dig in, opting to put your card game away in favor of watching a Seinfeld rerun while you all eat. Mark tries to focus on his hot dog to get the memory of how your hand felt on his leg out of his mind. I suppose that’s my fault for not noticing how close we were getting. Did they want that? Why did I want that?? Fuck, I hope I didn’t make them uncomfortable-- Mark takes a deep breath after swallowing a mouthful of hot dog to try to calm his racing thoughts. He feels a pair of eyes on him while he zones out watching the TV and turns his gaze in your direction. You stare back at him with an indiscernible expression before asking, “You okay?”

He smiles and nods, trying not to let his inner turmoil show, “Yeah, I’m good--just starting to get a little tired.” At least that much was true; the fatigue of the past couple weeks of preparation for his quals had decided to dump itself on him now that the adrenaline of the whole ordeal had dissipated. You hum and nod before patting him on the back, an alarmingly comforting gesture that Mark didn’t expect to appreciate as much as he did. The four of you continued to watch Seinfeld until he could feel his eyelids begin to droop. Shit, he thought, I can’t be this tired right now, I still need to get home-- His train of thought is interrupted when he feels you slump against his shoulder gently. He looks down at your now asleep form and huffs out a silent laugh, finding you asleep for a second time that week. He looks up to Colin and Hana, who both seem to be engrossed in the exploits of George and Jerry, before he decides to rest his eyes for a second as well, thinking there wasn’t any harm in taking a moment to rest for once. Mark nods off before he can hear Hana and Colin snicker to themselves.

===

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[doonarose]

Hello fam,

Here's some TMI that I've spent the entire day spiraling over on the reddit chat but may as well therapize myself here too. Wait is therapize a real word... I did not know that.

Anyway - teaching week from absolute hell. Hours and hours and hours of on my feet labs and workshops. And then getting myself in a position where I had to mark prac write ups - 88 of them - in about 48 hours. Reckon it took me about 16 hours and it's mind numbing exasperating work because this is their first one - a quarter of them failed, some of them wrote the most incoherent bullshit...

That means my brain has been frazzled and fried since sometime Tuesday and by some oversight I neglected to put in my calendar that my parents were dropping their dog off at my house today to mind for a week. Probably because it's no big deal and not something I really need in my calendar.

Except I completely forgot. 100% out of my brain, gone, no idea it was happening until I got a text at 10.30 saying the dog had been dropped off and they were on their way to their airbnb where they've got a few nights away or whatever.

Now, worth noting, they did need to go into the house to drop the dog off, because this is the dog that, famously, escaped this same house a bit over a year ago, got smacked by a truck, was 50/50 on surviving for a long while, and cost them $6k to fix... so yeah, of course let yourselves in, dump the dog and lock the doggy door.

So a few things to know:

I live in a messy house at the best of times. Dishes in the sink, last night's plates still on the table, a bag of used tissues next to me on the couch, socks on the floor, etc. Like it's not gross rotting food or anything, but it's not the standard I like to show my parents (or anyone else). So that's a bit embarrassing.

Last night, because I pulled a 12 hour day of admin and prac marking, I fell into the too-often-fallen-into habit of having a decent slosh of vodka over ice with soda as soon as I got home at 8pm to turn my brain off so I could sleep before midnight. I left the half empty bottle of vodka on the table in the living room.

Also when I got home last night I took my bra off in the living room and left it draped across a chair.

Also, in a particularly lazy moment, I had left the eski full of water from almost two weeks ago sitting in the same spot in my kitchen which, yeah, okay, gross of me, but I intended to clean it up before anyone fucking saw it.

And you're probably reading this and thinking that it really isn't that bad so here's the real main source of mortification. Because I live alone and because no one would ever just drop in and because I've been busy and lazy and whatever. I also left my bright magenta sex toy besides the bathroom sink this morning. Where it had been since the morning before. Because that's a fine, logical place to leave it. And when I got the text I immediately remembered that because I saw it this morning when I was getting ready to go into work at 7.30 for an 8am zoom to the US, and kind of vaguely thought 'I should put that away' and then didn't. And didn't close the door to the bathroom because i only do that on hot days and it's been mild, finally, the last few days. And then when I got that text I tried to convince myself that my parents would have no reason to go into my bathroom, even though they would have obviously gone in the house and seen the above bad shit. And then I tried to convince myself that even if they had seen it, we would never speak of it and I would never know.

Anyway, I got home a half hour ago and my toilet door is fully closed, it's next to the bathroom door that remained fully open, magenta fucking rabbit in full view. I never, ever fully close the toilet door because it jams.

So anyway... may never wank again. Will, at some point, report on how I handle my face and soul next time I have to speak/see my parents.

If I die tonight, my COD will be mortification.

[strawberryicebreakers]

HELLO i hope this ask finds u well :]

so not to be annoying or anything but out of curiosity (and immense unending passion for the topic and also your fanfic) is there a chance the uhf fic will finish? not like, right now or in a month, but just in general :)) sorry ive read the draft like 10 times by now and yknow lol :)) have a lovely day from the weird al fans of tumblr!!

hello!!! your ask finds me in one of my labs, hunkered down between classes.

it's completely alright to ask! there's always a chance I'll go back to any of my drafts [including anything I've posted to ao3 and unfortunately abandoned over the years], but I'm still working on my longer ted lasso fic [which is now at 123k! very weird to know I wrote that much] and I'm a bit worried that trying to revisit an older draft might knock me out of my groove before I finish it.

that being said! I still do incredibly appreciate all the love you + others have given the draft so far; it's so sweet to see people so passionate about something I'm playing around with [and I think of the one comic that was drawn nearly every day]. there's a scene or two that're further down the plot of the story than I wrote in the draft [ergo, doesn't take place right where the draft stops] but I'd still love to share it as a thank-you. as always, it's very unedited, very rough, but hopefully something to y'all will enjoy. :) have a nice day as well!

Sinatra wasn’t the worst to listen to, but when it seemed as though all the radio stations in Oklahoma could loop through were the man’s Christmas albums, Robert could understand why some people would have a grudge against the guy. It’d been an hour and a half of Sinatra, Sinatra, and even more Sinatra, slowly driving a wedge into whatever Christmas spirit he still had at the ripe-old age of twenty-five. 

Teri’s parents lived all the way in the suburbs of Oklahoma City, a far cry away from his and George’s apartment in Tulsa. Usually, the traffic would make him wish for a day where faster-than-light travel was the norm, but at two in the morning on Christmas Day, I-44 had been all but deserted.

Even with the lights strung ‘round each house, little reindeer pulling plastic sleighs that gleamed back under his headlights, Robert had to turn his brights on to see the house numbers. His car slowed to a crawl, creeping through the picture of perfect suburbia. 

Each house was perfect in its own right; a blanket of snow on each lawn, a wreath on each door, a brand new car or two in each driveway. He’d bet his life savings that all (save one or two) of the houses had perfect families, too. A husband and his wife, their two kids, an overexcited dog or a temperamental cat. 

It used to nauseate him, seeing places like this, knowing this would be his life. That he’d be the father waking up on Christmas to a wife wrapped around him, that he’d have to -, do things with her that he didn’t want to think about doing. 

He shuddered, chilled despite his heater working overtime and then some. Usually, his car was on the colder side ‘cause Robert ran hot, but George was more delicate than he was. He hadn’t grown up in Oklahoma, wasn’t used to how cold the winters got. If George had it his way, they’d live in a damn blast furnace from the second the temperature began to drop. 

He parked, an inch from the curb of the nicest house he’d ever seen, staring at a mailbox that someone’d painted “The Cambells” on in curly, vintage font. 

With a pre-emptive cringe, he honked his horn, quick as he could. It was what he’d told George he’d do when he got here, letting him know he was good to run out. 

Robert stared at the door, waiting to see the familiar head of curls he’d grown fond of. He didn’t know what to expect, not after getting a frantic phone call at half-past midnight, begging for him to pick him up. 

There was a joke somewhere in there, that George got lucky that Robert’s a night owl, but before he could hoot down the phone, he’d realized George was serious. It wasn’t some midnight worry, not a kid asking his mom to pick him up ‘cause he can’t sleep without a certain blanket. 

George knew how far the drive was, how miserable it’d be to drive in the middle of the night. He knew how bad it’d be for him and Teri if he disappeared without goodbye.

And yet, he called.

Robert didn’t think there’d ever be a time in his life where he wouldn’t answer.

[back-and-totheleft]

The Entertainment Industry Task Force

The building on Fuji Way in Marina del Rey, California, is as nondescript as they come — just another glass and concrete office tower like so many others hunkered in business parks across Los Angeles. But 20 years ago, just a few weeks after the 9/11 tragedy, a group of elite Hollywood figures and a handful of top U.S. Army brass met for a clandestine summit straight out of a Michael Crichton novel.

A lot of what transpired that night is still top secret, but this much we do know: One evening in October 2001, just weeks after al-Qaeda terrorists took down the Twin Towers in Manhattan and maimed the Pentagon, a group of about 30 of Hollywood’s top creatives — A-listers like Oliver Stone, “Law & Order” producer Dick Wolf, “Seven” director David Fincher, “NYPD Blue’s” David Milch and the late John Singleton, to name just a few — were quietly invited to mingle with high-level members of the U.S. military.

The group was officially, though secretly, named the Entertainment Industry Task Force and its mission, which everyone enthusiastically accepted, was to help America prevent another 9/11 by brainstorming terrorist scenarios so out-of-the-box crazy they could only happen in the movies. Unless, that is, al-Qaeda thought of them first. After all, until 2001 nobody had ever imagined — or prepared for the idea — that hijacked planes could be used as deadly missiles against landmark buildings like the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.

“The 9/11 attacks had just happened,” A. Michael Andrews II, the now-retired major general who came up with the idea for the meeting, told the The Wrap in an exclusive interview offering details about the group and its membership that have not previously been disclosed. “The Pentagon was in gear and rolling. We had a defense-science board and an Army-science board looking at all the standard actors. But nobody knew what to expect. So, I thought it would be worthwhile to look outside our usual way of thinking about terrorism. I asked if we could get some entertainment industry volunteers together and see if they could dream up plot lines that might expose a weakness in our real-life anti-terrorism network capabilities. It was an opportunity for us to learn and for Hollywood to help.”

To some degree, Hollywood had already been helping. The Institute for Creative Technology, launched in 1999 by the Army Research Lab in affiliation with USC, had been drawing on Hollywood talent for a couple of years as a super-high-tech war-modeling and virtual-reality training facility. Screenwriter John Milius, most famous for penning “Apocalypse Now” and the “Dirty Harry” movies, was said to be an early consultant.

So after 9/11, when the Army decided to corral a bunch of movie and TV execs for a terrorism bull session, it was only natural that they’d hold the confab at the ICT’s marina command center, which turned out to be much cooler-looking on the inside than its drab exterior would suggest. “It had this one door that seemed like it was out of SPECTRE headquarters,” James Korris, a former Universal TV producer who served as the ICT’s creative director during the early 2000s, told The Wrap, referring to James Bond’s nemesis. “It slid open electrically and we even added a sound effect, so it sounded like the doors on the Enterprise.”

The first meeting of the Entertainment Industry Task Force — the acronym EITK somehow never caught on — began at around 7 p.m. and didn’t break up until sometime before midnight. Attendees had so many horrifyingly destructive and diabolical ideas, they decided to meet again a few weeks later for a second session. All signed NDA’s swearing them to secrecy and while there were whispers in Hollywood newsrooms about some sort of hush-hush summit, nobody blabbed a word. In fact, to this day, those who attended have kept their lips sealed; every one of the task force creatives contacted by The Wrap was unavailable to share their memories of the event. One attendee confirmed those who attended, but declined to talk further.

But for the first time, Korris shared with TheWrap the full list of attendees. Some choices were logical, directors and producers behind crime dramas like “Hill Street Blues” and war epics like “Platoon.” Others seemed almost random, like Randal Kleiser, the director of…. “Grease” and “The Blue Lagoon.” Here’s the full roster, complete with noteworthy pre-2001 credits:

David Ayer, screenwriter (“Training Day”) Danny Bilson, Screenwriter (“Viper,” “The Sentinel”) Martha Coolidge, Director Christopher Crowe, Screenwriter (“The Last of the Mohicans”) Steven de Souza, Screenwriter (“Diehard”) David Fincher, Director (“Se7en,” “The Game”) Naomi Foner, Screenwriter (“Losing Isaiah”) Spike Jonze, Director (“Being John Malkovich”) Jerome Gary, Producer (“Pumping Iron,” “Stripper”) Walon Green, Screenwriter (“The Wild Bunch”) Randal Kleiser, Director (“Grease”) Mary Lambert, Director (“Pet Sematary”) Niki Marvin, Producer (“Shawshank Redemption”) David Milch, Executive Producer (“Hill Street Blues”) Jonathan Sanger, Producer (“Elephant Man”) Robert Shaye, Executive, Producer, Director (New Line Cinema) John SIngleton, Director (“Boyz N the Hood”) Oliver Stone, Writer-Director (“Platoon,” “JFK”) Robert Ward, writer (“Hill Street Blues”) Dick Wolf, Producer (“Law and Order”) Joseph Zito, Director (“Friday the 13th”)

According to Korris, who attended both sessions, a large portion of the first meeting was devoted to dissecting and analyzing the mindset of a terrorist. “They spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out what Osama bin Laden was all about,” he says. “What his personality was like, what was driving him. At the time, Bin Laden was a blank slate that we were trying to fill in. So, it was basically character development.” But the group also did a lot of work on story arcs, pitching various potential terrorist plot lines. “I have a whole book full of them but I don’t want to say too much about the specifics,” Korris said. “I don’t want to give anyone ideas. But some of them were common sense and some of them were a little more obscure. It was a lot like being in a writers’ room. They just came up with ideas and I wrote them down and then I made a report.”

That report — which to this day remains unavailable to the public — was ultimately delivered to the highest levels of the George W. Bush administration, with Korris and Andrews flying to Washington, DC for a briefing with Wayne Downing, then the deputy national security adviser in charge of combating terrorism (who reported directly to then-National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice and then-Assistant to the President for Homeland Security Tom Ridge). “Downing was obviously someone who didn’t suffer fools gladly, but he was very gracious and very polite,” Korris said. “I gave him the report but I have no idea what he ended up doing with it.”

Andrews has a similar recollection of the meeting. “I don’t think Downing asked a single question,” he says.

Of course, it’s possible that the report saved lives. Who knows what dastardly plots it might have predicted and helped to foil? Thanks to Oliver Stone and Dick Wolf and the others who devoted brain cells to the anti-terrorism cause, America is possibly a little bit more secure today than when they gathered in the marina. The ICT, which is still around, although no longer headquartered on Fuji Way, is certainly in better shape; its budget, funded primarily by the U.S. Army Research Lab, has ballooned from an initial $45 million in 1999 to close to $300 million today, according to an individual with knowledge of the operation.

And for Hollywood, there was an extra bonus: Some of the ideas cooked up by the Entertainment Industry Task Force came in handy once the attendees got back to their studio lots. “Oh, I think several of them ended up in films,” says Korris. “It wouldn’t shock me if some of the people in the meeting thought, ‘Hey, that’s a good idea.’”

-Benjamin Svetkey, TheWrap, Sept 10 2021 [x]

https://www.thewrap.com/hollywood-pentagon-secret-9-11-summit-oliver-stone-dick-wolf-david-fincher/

[alfvaen]

Vending Barren Memoranda

On my wordpress blog, I posted a while ago about my Random Band Name Server--which started as a very early web thing in the 90′s, and which turned into a Twitter account, where potential band names were posted several times a day.  After the Muskmelon takeover, though, I paused the band name server account until either things improved or I came up with another idea for it.

I of course moved to Mastodon, but I also had been mostly lurking on tumblr for a while.  I debated for a while what to do with the band name server, but eventually it seemed like tumblr might make a good home for it, so I’m going to be giving it a try.

On Twitter I could schedule the tweets arbitrarily; bandnameserver was set up to post hourly between 9:00 AM and midnight Mountain Time every day, though, so it seemed like tumblr queueing features should be up to the task.  And so they should...except that I apparently can’t schedule things to start later.  I had wanted to start at the new year, but without having to log on late at night, interrupting New Year’s Eve festivities (nothing wilder than watching a movie with the family), and apparently this is beyond even Tumblr Labs Queue 2.0 capabilities.  And while I was dithering about it, the first post went out a few minutes ago, so I guess it’s starting now.  And presumably any future “days off” will also not result in restarting at midnight unless I try really hard.  So it’ll probably come and go a bit differently.

I haven’t decided what to do to try to increase discoverability.  I’m posting this, of course, and I’ll probably reblog most of the posts I see, but I don’t know if my posts actually show up on anybody’s dashboard right now.  Considering that I only know of about three or four people who interacted with the bandnameserver posts regularly in Twitter, I suppose I can’t do much worse than that.  Maybe I’ll add tags too at some point, I don’t know.  Probably they’ll just go out into the great tumblr void, and maybe they’ll amuse somebody.  All I know is that I have not stopped coming up with them so they might as well go out somewhere.  So if it seems interesting to you, try following bandnameserver.

(These aren’t randomly or mindlessly generated--they’re all artisanally selected bespoke band names, which pass through my brain at least one before posting.  Though once I did try stochastically generating names based on real and fake band names, I did still eliminate the stupid, offensive and tasteless ones.  So whatever remains is something that I apparently did not think too stupid, offensive or tasteless.  And if you think one of them still is, let me know and I’ll try not to be a dick about it.)

[vbecker10]

Stay the Night?

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Warnings: none really, bit of angst, some slight self depreciating thoughts, mostly just fun with a fluffy ending

Summary: You are still a new member of the team, working in Tony’s lab doing research. You've developed a bit of a crush on Loki and you decided the best way to deal with it was to avoid him. One night, you work too late and Loki runs into you in the kitchen. He insists you stay the night.

A/N: As always, this is way longer than I originally planned lol. I feel like it could have been like 3 chapters 🤦‍♀️. The last time I tired to write a oneshot it was 59 chapters and counting though so this is still better. Hope you enjoy it!! 💚

Dividers by: @harlequin-hangout

You rub your eyes and drink the last of your room temperature coffee, you preferred it warm but couldn’t remember how long ago you made it. You look into the empty cup and silently debate making another. Checking the time on your laptop, you groan when you realize its almost an hour later than you had thought.

It was Friday, the end of your fourth week working for Tony Stark and you wanted to make a good impression. On Monday, you had been given a research assignment and were expected to have it finished by the end of next week. You were close to being done and there was plenty of time to finish it, but you had a bit of a breakthrough right before everyone was starting to go home. You decided to work half an hour longer, then an hour longer. Soon you ended up dragging yourself and your laptop into the kitchen on the common floor so you could find something to eat for dinner. You told yourself, after you finished eating you would leave but three hours after that you were on your second cup of coffee and thinking about a third.

“Y/N, what are you still doing here?” a voice said from behind you.

You turn around on the stool as Loki walks into the kitchen. It takes you a moment to register that he had called you by your name, you weren’t even sure he knew what it was. You and Loki had barely ever spoken before, he never really spoke to anyone you had noticed. You had sat next to him in a meeting the day before but he didn't look over at you once.

“Oh... uh,” you grasp for words as he walks towards the fridge, your eyes are drawn to him like always. You had never seen him in regular clothing before. Loki always wore his Asgardian clothes even when he wasn't wearing his full armor, which you had to admit you loved. Now he was wearing what looked like very soft black sleep pants and a emerald green t-shirt. It somehow made him look more approachable, almost like he wasn't a God just a normal guy getting ready for bed... a really hot normal guy.

“I was just finishing up some work for Tony,” you finally stop starting at him and manage to get the words out.

“This late?” he asks and you think for a moment he almost sounds concerned.

“I didn’t plan on still being here, sometimes I lose track of time when I’m really into what I’m working on,” you tell him as you start to save your files, preparing for a quick exit.

He nods as he takes a bottle of water out of the fridge and closes it. He leans on the door and takes a sip, you can feel his eyes on you even though you don't look up. Before he can say anything else, you close your laptop and hop off the stool.

“I guess I should probably get home,” you say as you pick up your empty coffee mug. You walk over to the dishwasher next to the fridge, where he is still standing, watching you silently. You knew he was tall, but you hadn’t realized how tall until you were standing this close. You bend down to add your mug to the top rack and when you stand up, he is looking down at you.

“How far do you live from here?” he asks.

You look up at him questioningly, not really sure why he would be curious about that. When you don’t answer immediately he takes a small step backwards from you, almost at if he realizes he's towering over you and says, “Its already midnight, does it take you a long time to get home?” Again, his tone surprises you, he genuinely sounds worried about your trip home.

You nod, “I actually commute from New Jersey so... between an hour and a half to two hours. I have to take the subway and then a bus... and then walk a bit back to my apartment.”

He shakes his head then says, “I think maybe it would be better if you stayed here tonight.”

It takes you a minute to register the suggestion. You would expected something like that from Pepper or Bruce, maybe even Steve but definitely not Loki. Why was he suddenly concerned about you, you wondered.

"Well, I guess I could sleep on one of the couches in the commons space,” you say, pointing to the large room behind you.

“You could sleep in my bed, if you’d rather,” he suggests.

You’re whole brain freezes for a moment, almost unable to process what Loki just said. You put your hand over your mouth quickly to prevent yourself from saying something before your mind has a chance to review it.

He laughs at your reaction and says, “I should have phrased that better I think.”

You nod, still keeping your hand over your mouth, afraid you would agree too quickly to joining him in his bed. There was no way you would deny you were attracted to Loki. The velvety sound of his voice, his mesmerizing blue/green eyes, his smirk whenever he annoyed Tony or his brother. You had daydreamed more than once during a meeting about running your fingers through his hair to see if it was as soft as it looked.

He smiled at you and said, “I meant... You could sleep in my room and I can sleep somewhere else.”

You take your hand away from your mouth and laugh a bit at how ridiculous you are. How could you assume someone like him would suggest sleeping with you. Before you can dwell on that thought much longer you say, “I wouldn’t want to put you out of your room.”

“I’ve slept on the couches in the library almost as often as I have in my own bed,” he answers with a shrug.

You don’t respond, weighting your options. Leave now and get on the subway alone at almost half past midnight, hope there is a bus within half an hour of you getting to the station, then walking about half a mile to your apartment from the bus stop at around two in the morning... or sleep in Loki’s room while he sleeps upstairs in the library.

“Just spend the night and you can go home in the morning,” he says, trying one more time to convince you to stay.

“Ok,” you agree and he smiles at you.

You pick up your laptop and he motions for you to follow him down the hall. The two of you make your way quietly past the rest of the sleeping Avengers until you get to his room. He opens the door but stays in the hallway, letting you go in first. You turn on the light and the room instantly feels like its Loki’s space. The dark walls are lined with bookshelves that go from the floor to the ceiling. There is leather chair by the window with three books stacked neatly on the nearby table. The room smells of leather, old books and Loki’s cologne, which you couldn’t describe but loved.

He takes a few steps into the room and draws your attention back to him. “The bedroom is through there, the bathroom too. The TV works, but I’ve never found anything interesting on it... I might have lost the remote actually,” he says almost absent mindedly as he looks around a bit.

You giggle at him and he looks up at you with a warm smile. “I think I’ll just go to sleep, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, trying to hide a yawn.

He nods and then asks, “Do you need anything else?”

You think for a second and joke, “A toothbrush and something to sleep in is probably too much to ask right.”

He holds out one hand and waves the other over it, after a bright flash of green Loki is holding some folded clothing with a green toothbrush laid on top. “Wow,” you say without thinking, you can’t help but be impressed. You had heard about his skills with magic but never seen them first hand.

For a brief moment you think you see a small blush rising on his cheeks but you must be mistaken. His fingers gently touch yours as he hands you the clothing and toothbrush and says, “Have a goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Loki, thanks again,” you respond as he closes the door on his way out.

You wander over to one of the bookshelves and run your fingers along the spines of the old leather books. Some of them you recognize but some are in what you assume is Asgardian. You walk to the chair by the window and open the cover of the book on the top of the pile. It looks like a book of short stories but you aren't able to read it. You touch the pages lightly, flipping through the book, closing your eyes you can't help but imagine the sound of Loki's voice as he reads the stories out loud. You smile at the image but quickly shake your head. You needed to stop pretending something like that could happen, he was only being polite when he offered to let you stay. He wasn't interested in you, you scolded yourself as you closed the book.

You left the living area and went into the bathroom to change into the clothes he conjured for you. They fit perfectly, a pair of black shorts with a small bit of gold trim at the hem and an emerald green t-shirt, that looked like the same soft fabric he had been wearing. You paused for a second, looking at yourself in the mirror and wondered if Loki realized he made you clothes that matched his so exactly. Of course he knew he did, he made them, you thought to yourself. He always wore black, gold and green, those were his colors, don’t think too much into it, you shook your head.

After brushing your teeth, you turned off the lights and crawled into Loki’s bed. You sigh as you feel the soft sheets wrap around you. Loki definitely had good taste, you think as you roll over onto your side. You rest your head on one of his pillows and take a deep breath, the whole bed smells like him. Rolling onto your back, you stare up at the ceiling and try to push back the part of your mind that wishes he was in the bed with you. He was just being nice, you tell yourself again but you can't help thinking how it would feel to lay here with his arms around you. You groan, putting your hands over your face as you yell at yourself, stop thinking about him and go to sleep.

The next morning, you wake up and check your phone. Its barely eight but you figure Loki probably wants his room back as soon a possible. You get up and make the bed, putting on your jeans from yesterday but still wearing the green shirt you slept in. You thought about taking a shower first but your mind immediately began filling with images of Loki in the shower so you quickly decided to skip it.

You walked into the kitchen, deciding you needed coffee and Loki might want some tea. It was easy enough to know which he liked, he was the only one who drank that flavor. You set up your coffee in the coffee marker and fill the kettle with water before placing it on the stove. Just as the kettle finishes boiling, you hear two voices coming down the hall towards the kitchen. Bucky and Steve stop talking when they see you taking the kettle off the stove.

“Oh, good morning, Y/N. You’re here early... on a Saturday,” Steve says, looking at Bucky, as if hes trying to make sure it is Saturday.

“Yep,” you answer as you pour the water into the mug and add the tea bag. You suddenly find yourself wishing you had changed your shirt. You hadn't wanted to originally, it really was soft and fit you so well. It even smelled a bit like Loki since you had worn it in his bed all night.

“I actually stayed the night by accident,” you tell them as you open one of the drawers looking for sugar to add to your coffee.

“By accident?” Bucky asks, looking as confused as Steve had moments before.

Before you can answer him, Nat walks into the kitchen. She greets the three of you before heading straight for the fridge. "Nice shirt Y/N. I like that color on you, never see anyone else around here wear green except Loki really. Where did you get it?" she smiles as she pulls the eggs out of the fridge and puts them on the counter next to you.

"Hmm, oh this? Not sure," you lie awkwardly.

"I'm more curious about how you accidentally slept here," Bucky says with a bit of a laugh.

“I was working on a project and didn’t realize what time it was until it was really late,” you explain. "So I just slept here, no big deal."

Bucky nods, seemingly accepteing your reasoning but Nat is a spy and you know she can tell there is more. "Where did you say you slept?" she asks. You vaguely point down the hall where all the Avengers room's are. "There aren't any empty rooms on this floor," she says, raising an eyebrow as you put the box for the tea away in one of the upper cabinets

"Wait, are you making yourself tea and coffee?" Nat asks as she realizes what you are doing.

“I wouldn't bother with that tea, it's awful. Loki is the only one who drinks it,” Steve says.

You try your best not to react, instead you pick up the mug of tea with one hand and grab your coffee with the other. “I know,” you say quietly as you put your head down and walk quickly out of the kitchen.

“Wait... you and Loki?” you hear Nat ask but you ignore her and head towards the elevator instead.

You head to the back of the library, where the couches and reading area are. You stop in your tracks and take a step back quietly, you lean against one of the bookshelves with a mug in each hand. Loki is still asleep on one of the couches, but he is much too tall for it. He’s curled up as much as possible, with his head on a throw pillow but his legs still dangle off the other end. You start to feel guilty about him sleeping up here when you were in his room, you would have fit much better on the couch than he did. Just as you are about to set the tea on the table near him and leave quietly he starts to wake up. He rubs his eyes and you freeze, he sits up slowly and yawn while he stretches.

“Good morning Y/N,” he says, sounding half asleep as he moves to one end of the couch, motioning for you to sit on the other end.

“Morning Loki, did you sleep ok? I'm sorry, I didn’t realize how small the couches up here were. You couldn’t have been comfortable sleeping like that. I feel bad now, you should have stayed in your room, I would have been fine on one of the couches,” you say all in one breath.

He smiles warmly at you and takes the tea you made but forgot to offer him. “Y/N, it was fine, as I told you, I’ve slept here before,” he assures you.

You take a sip of your coffee and he smirks a little before asking, "So, how did you like my bed?" You cough, nearly inhaling your hot coffee and he apologizes quickly. “I'm sorry, are you alright?” he asks as you go back and forth between laughing and coughing.  

You nod your head and clear your throat, finally able to catch your breath. "I'm ok, I'm used to drinking luke warm coffee," you finally manage to joke but when you look up at him he looks worried.

"You sure you're ok?" he asks as he gently puts his hand on your back.

You nod, "I'm fine, really." You can't help but relax as he slowly moves his hand up and down your back. You let your eyes close and find yourself leaning into his touch. He must have noticed because he didn't stop, he just slowly rubbed your back from the base of your neck to just above the top of your jeans.

"Thank you for the tea, by the way," he whispers in your ear after a few moments.

"You're welcome," you smile as you open your eyes but the smile fades quickly when you remember running into everyone in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" he asks, noticing you shift away from him slightly.

"Nothing. I should go," you tell him. You pick up your coffee mug, almost knocking it over as you stand up to leave.

"Y/N?" he asks as he comes around the coffee table to follow you. He reaches out, his hand catching your wrist lightly. His touch was soft and warm, you could see the concern in his eyes. The look confuses you, before last night he had barely spoken to you and now he looked at you with such care. He slowly lets go of your wrist and you immediately miss the feeling of his fingers on your skin.

"I ran into Nat, Bucky and Steve this morning... I should have told them I was just stopping by for something this morning instead of saying I stayed over. Nat thinks we spent the night in your room, she probably figures we slept together because of the shirt you gave me and the tea I made for you. Bucky and Steve do too and probably everyone else on the team has heard by now," you say, keeping your eyes on the floor as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You aren't sure what kind of reaction you expected from him, maybe for him to laugh at how ridiculous of an assumption it would be but what he said next stunned you into silence.

"I'm sorry that would be such a terrible thing for them to think about us. I didn't realize you would be so... humiliated by the thought of it," he says. "I'll find Thor and explain what happened last night. He'll make sure they know you weren't with me," he tells you as he moves past you to leave the library.

You almost couldn't believe it, he sounded hurt that you were worried everyone would think you had been together. Why would he be hurt by that, you weren't even friends, you thought. Shouldn't he be offended that they thought a God like him would want someone like you in the first place?

You stand there, watching him leave as you think about last night again. This time, instead of the voice inside you convincing you he would never want to be with you, it asked what if you were wrong? What if Loki did care about you, and this is how he had tried to show it? You couldn't stand here and let him leave like this, you thought. You weren't sure if you believed that voice but you had always listened to it when it was being negative. Maybe it was time to listen to it when it was positive for once.

"Wait!" you call to him as your legs finally allowed you to move again. "Loki, wait please," you catch up to him and this time you catch him by the wrist.

He stops by doesn't turn to look at you. "I really didn't mean to upset you, Y/N," Loki tells you and you can hear the truth of that in his tone. "I wanted to make sure you were safe last night, that was all."

"I know, I'm sorry Loki," you tell him, hoping he will turn to look at you but he doesn't. You loosen your hold on his wrist but don't let go, instead you slide your hand down until you are able to take his hand in yours. You hold your breath, waiting to see what he does next, afraid you were wrong. After a second or two of silence, you can hear him sigh as he interlocks his fingers with yours. You feel like your heart skipped a beat when he runs his thumb over your knuckles. He looks at your hands and you see that same warm smile from before spread across his lips. You realized you wanted to do anything you could to make him smile like that more.

"I just... I guess I don't get it. I didn't think you wanted to be around me Loki, you never talked to me. What changed last night? Why were you suddenly so worried about me?" you ask him as he closes the distance between the two of you.

"Y/N, you've been doing your best to avoid me since you started working here," he says. "I've wanted to talk to you several times but you were either busy in the lab or with your friends on the team. Anytime I saw you alone, you would vanish from the room as soon as you spotted me. I assumed you didn't want to talk to me so I decided maybe it was better to stop trying... but I always worried about you," he tells you.

You look at him in disbelief for a moment. "I was avoiding you..." you admit and his smile faulters for a moment. "But not because I didn't want to talk to you," you add quickly and his smile reappears.

"You make me nervous Loki. I feel like I barely know you but... I'm just drawn to you. I wanted to get to know you and be around you but I was scared..." you stop yourself and look down.

He gently touches your chin and raises it so you are looking at him again. "What scared you Y/N?" he asks softly.

"I was scared that if I got to know you, I would fall for you more then I already have and then I would be crushed because... because I know you would never feel the same about me," you tell him. It hurt enough to admit that to yourself, you had never thought you would say it to anyone else, especially not Loki. You cringe at how open you are with your feelings and try to avoid eye contact but his fingers move from your chin to your cheek and he keeps his eyes on yours.

"I want you to get to know me, Y/N, and I want to get to know you," he tells you as him thumb lightly brushes your cheek. "I want to court you," he says in a low voice.

"I'd love that Loki," you smile up at him.

"There's that beautiful smile," he says and you can feel your cheeks heating up as you blush. He laughs a bit and you try to pull away, to hide your face in your hands but he doesn't let you. He wraps his arm around your waist, then he pulls you flush against him. Your hands easily find their way to his lower back and he runs his fingers through your hair with his free hand.

You look up at him and bite your lip subconsciously as you can't help look from his eyes, to his lips and back to his eyes. He smirks and leans down, bringing his lips to yours. Your hands grip the fabric at the back of his shirt while his hand settles on the back of your neck. He keeps his other hand on your lower back as his lips move against yours.

"I do have one other question for you," he says as he slowly pulls away, still holding onto you.

"Hmm, what's that?" you ask him, not able to stop smiling.

"Do you want to stay the night again?" he winks at you.

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[alloftheimagines]

billy hargrove | yours

masterlist | tag list | ko-fi

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+

jealous!billy, s4 spoilers, mentions of billy's abusive household, brief references to sex, mentions of eddie hiding from jason after the murders, mentions of death, au where billy survived starcourt and is helping reader hide eddie, smoking, strong language, angst and fluff, casual lovers to relationship

prompt: billy but jealous of eddie? thinking reader and billy stay back to guard/watch over eddie and Eddie’s encounters with reader is like Eddie and Chrissy level of giggling and reminiscing, something billy gets a little jealous of 

tags: @whiskeypowder @lil-stark @m0rning-st4r @findleynovadachs111

Billy Hargrove had just about gotten used to babysitting his sister and friends this year after the events of Starcourt Mall. He’d just about gotten used to the bullshit that is Hawkins’ tiny little monster problem after, well, having one possess his mind for a short time. 

 But as he props himself against the wall with his arms crossed in Reefer Rick’s house-slash-shack, he doesn’t think he’ll ever quite get used to babysitting a grown-ass man. Least of all Eddie fucking Munson, dungeon-whatsit and oldest high-schooler ever. 

You, Billy’s girlfriend, on the other hand, don’t seem to have a problem with it. As Eddie tucks into a box of cereal, eyes wide with a terror Billy knows well, you squat in front of the metalhead, placing a hand over his. 

“Hey. It’s gonna be alright, you know?” you reassure him. “We’ll figure it out.”

Billy’s stomach clenches with something hot and vicious, because that soft voice is supposed to be for him. Supposed to be saved for your midnight talks or car conversations. Hearing you use it with someone else, for someone else…

It’s selfish. He knows it is. Your compassion knows no bounds, and it’s one of the things he loves about you. But he’s jealous — of Eddie “the freak” Munson. He didn’t even know the two of you were close, but judging by the way Eddie softens with your words, it seems you are. 

“They think I killed Chrissy, y/n. How the hell will this ever be okay?”

You tilt your head carefully, eyes fixed on Eddie’s. Billy can’t stand to look. He clenches his jaw, averting his attention to the window instead. 

“Anyone who knows you knows you aren’t capable of this. God, remember when you tried to free all the frogs in the science lab in middle school before they could get dissected?” Your giggle leaves Billy burning, and he clenches his hands into fists. “Or what about when you forced the bus driver to stop so you could help that old lady cross the road?”

Eddie snorts as though sufficiently comforted. “I forgot about that shit. How’d you remember?”

“I just do,” you say. “I guess I never expected you to be half as kind as you were. But you’re a good person, Eddie. People know that. You’re, like, one of the best people in town.”

“Oh, come on…” Eddie shakes his head, though he smirks slightly at you. 

Billy is going to combust if Eddie looks at you like that again. He swears he is. 

“I didn’t know you two were such great friends.” A hint of sarcasm colours Billy’s gravelly voice as he pushes off the wall, motioning between the two of you.

You only shrug. “Not so much in high school. But, god, in middle school? Everyone else was terrified of you and I thought you were so fucking cool.”

The fact you aren’t even talking to Billy, but still to Eddie, only pushes the knife in. 

Eddie scoffs again. “No way.”

“Yeah, way. Hey, remember…” You sink into another fit of laughter, face turning red. Billy rakes his hair back, shaking his head. Are you flirting with Eddie right in front of his fucking face now? “Remember when we tried to skip sex ed by climbing out of Miss Wainwright’s window?”

“You fell straight into the janitor’s mop bucket,” Eddie adds, snapping his fingers with the memory. And then he did an impression of the janitor, which only made you laugh more. Which, of course, made Billy want to shove his fist down Eddie’s throat. 

Billy shakes his head as his patience finally frays. “I’m keeping a lookout outside. Let me know when you two are done reminiscing.” With that, he marches out, slamming the door shut behind him. He never thought you’d make him feel like this: a third wheel, forgotten, invisible. It’s like you didn’t even care he was there. You only cared about making Eddie laugh. 

As the door opens and you step outside, Billy examines his rings in an attempt at feigning nonchalance. 

“Hey,” you say carefully. “What was that about?”

Billy shakes his head, squinting out onto Lover’s Lake. He couldn’t remember why he was here. Why he was supposed to care about some guy while another threat loomed over the town. “Nothin’.” 

“Oh, come on. I thought we were past the whole thing where you get pissed and don’t talk to me about it.” You raise your eyebrows expectantly, but Billy keeps his lips clamped. If you want to flirt with other guys, then he has no choice but to put his walls back up. If you can stop caring, so can he. 

“I don’t know what to tell you.” He pulls out a cigarette, dangling it between his lips and lighting it slowly because he knows how much you hate every moment of it: both the suspended conversation and the fact he hasn’t quit smoking yet. After a long drag that does nothing to calm his unease, he continues, “I’m not pissed.”

You roll your eyes. “You didn’t like that I was talking to a friend. Is that it?”

“I don’t give a damn who you talk to, sweetheart. You should get back in there. Keep your old pal company, seeing as he's so fuckin' great.”

You let out an aggravated sigh, teeth gritted as you watch the smoke curl from his mouth. “That’s all he is. An old friend. And he’s going through shit, okay? Excuse me for trying to lighten the mood.”

“We’re all going through shit.” Billy narrows his eyes as he flicks the cigarette. 

Your silence speaks volumes. Finally, you shake your head in disbelief, disgust curling across your features as though Billy’s the one being an ass. Which, admittedly, he is, but you started it with your fucking flirting and giggling and oh, Eddie, you’re so kind and cool. 

You and Billy have never had the chance to be steady. It took Billy a long time to convince you to go on a date with him, and you only caved after watching him almost die at Starcourt. Though you spend most of your free time together, neither of you has made it exclusive. You don’t trust him, and maybe he doesn’t quite trust himself. He’s never been in a real relationship, and maybe he’s a little scared it’ll change him. Scared you’ll hold more expectations of him than he can live up to. Your interaction with Eddie just proved it. You’ve never called Billy kind or a good person. You don’t have old memories to laugh about. Sometimes it feels like the only thing weaving you together is that one night. July 4th. The day Billy’s world changed. 

“I guess I wouldn’t know. You never talk to me. When you’re done being a jealous asshole, feel free to let me know.” you mutter finally, sourly. It makes him want to wince. He’s pushed you too far, just like he always knew he would. Maybe he’s been waiting for the day you’d give up, see his true colours. The darkness in him, put there by a shitty dad and a whole lot of anger issues. If he was accused of murder, everyone would believe it, not just a few pious jocks looking to pick a fight with a supposed Satan-worshipper. That’s who he is. 

That’s what’s at the root of this sudden, inescapable, ugly jealousy. Because when it comes down to it, you should be with someone good. Someone kind. Someone a little less lame than Eddie, perhaps, but someone far nicer than Billy.

Billy presses his thumb to the corner of his eye, trying to push aside his pride. It isn’t easy. He wouldn’t do it for just anyone. But you’re not just anyone, so before you step back into the house, he calls you back. “Alright, fine. I’m being a jealous asshole.”

Surprise crumples your features. He rarely admits his mistakes, mending your non-relationship with kisses and plenty of foreplay that leaves you weak-kneed and forgetting what you were arguing about in the first place. But he knows this is different. This is a sign of his brokenness, and if he doesn’t attempt to fix it, he’s certain you’ll walk away. You put up with a lot of his shit already. He doesn’t want to see if this is your breaking point. The thought alone leaves him empty and nauseous, a reminder of all the reasons why this was supposed to stay casual.

But it didn’t. He cares about you. You’re under his skin, and it’s driving him mad. 

“Why, exactly, are you being a jealous asshole?” you ask carefully. “Eddie and I are just friends — or we were, years ago. We have a couple memories. Besides, it’s not like we ever said this was a relationship. I’m sure you’ve flirted with hundreds of girls behind my back.”

“Why would you think that?” Angrily, Billy stubs out his cigarette.

“Because I went to high school with you. I saw the way you were. I’m not arrogant enough to believe I’ll be the one who you settle for. That I'll be the one who tames the most notorious lady's man in Hawkins.”

He almost pulls out another cigarette, another bout of rage rolling through him. “If that’s how you feel, what are we even doing here?”

“You tell me,” you say quietly. 

Billy licks his lips, nostrils flaring. He’s speechless. “Damned if I fucking know.”

“Right. Okay. Good to know.” Disappointment leaves your expression to wilt, eyes glistening with hurt. It isn’t fair, he thinks, that you’re the one who gets to be upset when you just told him you don’t trust him and accused him of fooling around with half of the town.

“Don’t pretend you’re the victim right now. Not after what you just said to me. Not after you just sat in there,” one hand on his hip, he points to the house, “and flirted with another guy in front of me.”

You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t flirting with anyone. Jesus Christ.” Flustered, you sweep your hair back. “I don’t even know what you want me to say. If it isn’t obvious already, the only person I want to fucking flirt with is you.” You jab a finger into his chest, leaving him to rock on his heels. 

Billy’s brows furrow, still tight with ire. “Yeah? Well, the only person I want is you, but apparently I’m fucking with every woman in town, so what now?”

“I don’t know!” you snap, and then, as though the words have just sunk in: “Wait, really?”

He would rather be anywhere else than having this conversation right now. He feels too raw, too vulnerable. But he knows he’ll lose you if he doesn’t open up. Sooner or later, you’ll want something more. And he wants to be the one to give it to you. He never wants to stand in a room and doubt his importance to you again. He wants to be yours, and he wants everyone to fucking know it. 

“Yes,” he answers steadily. “Really.”

“You… you only want me?” You say it as though the idea is preposterous. As though Billy Hargrove could ever be monogamous. But fuck, he’s only ever felt anything for you. Nobody else has ever meant a damn thing to him. 

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”

You swallow, inching closer to him and cupping his jaw in your hands. “I just didn’t think you wanted things to be… exclusive. After last year, I thought I was just your way of blowing off steam. I didn’t know…”

He glances at his boots, brows knitted together and hands heavy around your waist. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. Good enough to ask you to make this thing serious. I’m not good like him, you know? I’m out of my depth here. I’ve never wanted this before. Fuck, I’ve never felt like this before. You make me crazy, you know that?”

“Billy…” Your eyes glisten with tears. “You are good. I know you. In here,” you place a hand over his heart, “I know you’re a good man. The best man. You’ve just spent a lot of time pretending not to feel anything.”

He hates how much you see him. How well. Because you’re right. His attitude, his anger… they were taught. They were symptoms of his broken family. But he was certain his heart was already tainted. Now, he thinks maybe not, because nobody born evil could feel the way he feels for you. You make him want to believe he’s something more. Even when he’s an ass, you’re here, sticking around, telling him he’s good. 

He never knew how much he needed that. 

He catches your hand, lifting his gaze back to you. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want all of you,” you admit without missing a beat. “I want to be with you. Properly. I want to be more than just your way of blowing off steam. And I want you to trust that what I feel for you is real. That you’re who I want. Nobody else. I want you to stop closing yourself off when things get hard. I want you, Billy. I want you. Even the bad parts. Even when you’re acting like an asshole.”

He’s lost for words. Nobody has ever offered him that. Unconditional love. A steady, unwavering relationship. A promise to take his bad and still see his good. 

He’d be a fucking fool to push it all away. 

He rests his head against yours, closing his eyes to prevent tears. “You have me. I’m yours, sweetheart. Fuck, I’ve always been yours.”

You kiss him softly, sealing a silent promise. You’re his, too, and you don’t need to say it aloud for him to know anymore.

[afairmaiden]

The Others (Part 2)

For the Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge).

[link to part 1]

Monday, continued

“Do you think... there’s a café open?”

The question came from Nikki, the same girl who had spoken earlier to ask if there were people outside the city. We had learned that she was the youngest among us, just eighteen, and we couldn’t help feeling somewhat protective of her.

We looked at her, and then to each other, and almost in unison, we all pulled out our phones to check the time. It was nearly midnight. With the exception of a few bathroom breaks, and dinner, which had been served across the hall, we had been in the same room since we arrived that morning. We hadn’t even seen our rooms yet.

Gina and the other woman, Skye Harris, had left shortly after the display, telling us to enjoy ourselves, but be ready to report back at eight for our first actual day of training. They hadn’t said we couldn’t explore the rest of the building, but I think we all felt a bit nervous about venturing out for the first time.

A guy named Zay spoke up. “I don’t know. It’s kinda late, isn’t it?”

“Maybe... things are open later here? I mean, we are in the Inner Circle.”

There was a tense moment as everyone instinctively glanced to the corners of the room. Zay broke the silence with a halfhearted, “Uh, hey, that’s not—”

“Ah, right. Sorry,” Nikki called out to nobody in particular.

We didn’t know if they were really listening, but it never hurt to be on the safe side. After all, everyone knew the I. C. wasn’t real. It was just a joke, shared in whispers among factory workers and lab techs on the largely-abandoned outer ring of the city, the youngest residents of dying buildings probably slated for demolition soon. It was a dark thought, one that no one there would have dared to speak aloud, but in that moment I wondered if they too had thought how strange it was to speak of inequality as a thing from ancient times.

But, wasn’t it though? After all, we were here now, weren’t we?

“Alright,” Zay said decisively, “no sense in just standing around. Let’s go see.”

With that, he turned and made for the elevator, and a moment later, we watched as he pulled up the building directory on the screen. We found there were a number of shops and restaurants on floors one through five, offices on six through ten, a full cafeteria on the eleventh floor, followed by a gym, then more offices, and apartments from the twenty-fifth floor up until you hit the hydroponics and aquaculture labs. Both the gym and the cafeteria appeared to be open around the clock, so we all packed in and headed down.

We found the cafeteria bright, white, and open, with two levels, a small stone fountain in the center, and potted plants everywhere. It appeared to be almost fully automated, with over twenty stations offering everything from pizza, burgers, and fries, to specialty coffee, to more high-end cuisine. It was also surprisingly busy as dozens of people, mostly dressed in business casual, were still milling about or sitting, mostly alone or in pairs, at tables or benches, grabbing a late meal.

We must have looked somewhat conspicuous, sticking as close together as we were, but no one seemed to notice. We got our food and ate quickly, feeling out of place, then headed back to the elevator without much conversation, only saying goodnight before going our separate ways.

I found my room without any trouble and actually gasped as I opened the door. First, it was huge, practically a suite, at least twice the size of my old room, with its own bathroom and kitchenette. Second, it was beautiful, the walls shifting from dusty lilac to soft pink, with a thick peachy-pink carpet and matching bedspread and large, fluffy pillows, and sparkling fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. On the wall was a large screen which at first looked like a window, but the view it offered was impossible – a perfectly clear night sky over twin mountains with a lake below and a hint of the sunset in the valley, all entirely unobstructed by buildings. For a long time I just sat on the bed and stared, utterly transfixed by it all, until finally exhaustion took over and I fell into a deep sleep.

The very last thought I had came out of nowhere:

If the I. C. isn’t real, what was with that sign on the door?

Tuesday

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of my alarm blaring at 7:45, leaving me just enough time to throw on the first outfit I pulled out of my bag, brush my teeth, and run a comb through my hair before running out the door and into the elevator, where I found others looking equally bleary eyed and frazzled. Of course, the moment we caught sight of each other, we immediately brightened up, and by the time the doors opened in the training room, one would have thought we were all just radiating with the light of the universe.

We were greeted by Gina and Skye, who looked vaguely amused but generally pleased by our effort, only mentioning that they hoped we found our rooms adequately stocked with everything necessary for a healthy breakfast, and to please inform management if we needed anything.

We began the day with a brief meditation, followed by a series of stretches and simple exercises that gradually increased in intensity and seemed designed to work every muscle in our bodies. The mission, Skye informed us, was still a few months away, but we would need to get busy if we were going to be ready in time.

After a couple hours, we were allowed to go back to our rooms to shower and grab an early lunch. I know I wasn’t the only one who would have liked a nap as well, but Skye assured us our next session would be far less strenuous.

An hour later, we reconvened, feeling sore but looking fresh, and found the room comfortably darkened. We were directed to lie down, close our eyes, and listen.

At first, there was silence. I waited, expecting to hear Gina or Skye begin once everyone had settled in, but minutes passed, and there was nothing. I thought about sneaking a quick glance around the room when I heard a faint shuffling nearby, immediately followed by Gina’s voice, “All eyes closed, please. We are listening.”

I imagined that I heard the echoes of her words in the silence that followed. Time seemed to drag on. I felt myself drifting off, and I’m not entirely sure that I didn’t fall asleep once or twice. It was at one of these times that I thought I heard someone calling my name. I raised my head and looked around, wondering if I had imagined it. I caught Gina’s eye, but she only smiled and nodded. I closed my eyes again.

More time passed. Now I know I fell asleep. I thought I heard the others call out or mumble something occasionally, but none of it made sense.

Twenty-seven. Green. Northwest.

Finally, I thought I heard Gina’s voice whispering to me.

“What was your mother’s occupation?”

“Uh... accountant?”

There was a pause, and then—

“Good job.”

I nodded. It was a good job. It was important. She’d had a retirement package and everything. Then I remembered—

I opened my eyes and looked around, suddenly embarrassed to have answered aloud to what I was sure was only a dream, especially what I saw Gina at the far end of the room. Again, I caught her eye. This time, she smiled broadly, then clapped her hands and announced, “Thank you, that will be all for today. I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow.”

We got up, all looking somewhat confused by the experience and not sure what to make of it, but no one said anything until the elevator doors shut.

“Did you hear her?”

Wednesday

The morning began with a stir as a brand new memo was sent out after breakfast:

New arrivals are reminded to adhere to policy regarding personal hygiene (IE. bathing or showering daily).

We looked around in embarrassment and confusion. The policies always said that, but everyone knew water rationing took precedence. All the same, we hurried back to our rooms for a quick shower, and got back to our classroom just in time to begin.

“Our lesson yesterday was on listening. Today, we will focus on sensing.”

There was no mistaking it now. We all heard Gina’s voice, but not her voice, as she stood before us, in full light, her lips never moving.

The morning had gone much the same as the previous day, aside from the fact that we’d all woken up earlier, eaten a full breakfast, and taken extra time to stretch our sore muscles. We had repeated the same exercises, taking things just a little slower than the day before, then gone to lunch. Now we had just returned for our second session, and in an instant, all the confusion and ambiguity from the previous day vanished.

If I could sense anything in that moment, it was fear. It was strange. The Lightbringers’ abilities had always been something of a mystery. We’d all known, or at least felt, that there had to be more to it than simple sleight of hand and pyrotechnics, and now that the evidence was plain before us, it felt as though she were offering to us a choice between terror and awe. Awe, I decided, was the obvious choice, the safe choice, the light choice, but I could tell some of the others weren’t so easily convinced.

Suddenly, the lights went out, leaving us in total darkness. I felt the tension in the air as I guessed what everyone was thinking – that wasn’t planned – but after a moment, we heard Gina, serene as ever, begin, “Now—”

She directed us to spread out, as quietly as possible, and try not to bump into anyone, but try to feel who and what was around us. It was a slow start as we all stood frozen in place for a minute or two, trying to get our bearings.

I tried to picture where everyone had been – I knew Zay and Nikki, and a handful of other people who stood out. There was Cass from next door, and Trev from across the hall, Kari with the short bleach blonde hair, and Aiden with the tattoos. We were hardly friends, but as I thought about what little I knew about them, their characteristics, their mannerisms, they seemed to come into focus, until I felt almost certain I could guess where they were from the faint sounds of their footsteps or their breathing or something else that wasn’t quite a sound, but more of a feeling.

The others were harder. Fortunately, there weren’t too many of them. We had lost a couple of people immediately after orientation, and a few more after Tuesday’s session. No one knew what had happened to them, and we knew better than to ask. Now we were down to fifteen.

Without names or faces I could attach to them, half the group seemed hidden in a sort of haze, and all I got as I slowly made my way through the room was the occasional feeling that I needed to stop before I ran into someone or something. Gina assured us this was fine for our first try, and encouraged us to keep moving, until we had successfully navigated the room ten times, at which point we were once again dismissed.

We were halfway up the stairs when the lights came back on.

Thursday

“So far, our lessons have focused largely on the passive – listening, sensing, receiving. This will be important if you come into the presence of the Others. We must show them honor by demonstrating openness and receptivity to their communications. But now we’re going to step out and be a little more active.”

Twelve of us sat in a circle on the floor while Gina stood in the middle holding a small box, which she offered to each of us in turn. When my turn came, I pulled out what appeared to be a beaded necklace with a small reddish-black stone in the center. It looked normal enough at first, but as I turned it over, it seemed to give off a faint glow, and I thought I could feel it vibrating slightly.

“For as long as humans have existed, we have been seeking to advance beyond our limitations,” said Gina. “What you have here is the latest step in that journey. There will come a time when you won’t need them any longer, but for now they will help amplify your natural ability to connect. They’ve already been activated, and once they’ve had a chance to synchronize with your particular frequencies, you should be ready to send your first transmissions.”

It took a minute for everyone to connect, and then we began by sort of pinging each other. This proved to be somewhat irritating and highly impractical as a method of actual communication, as it was impossible to know where they were coming from, but after a while, we progressed to speaking, then whispering, then broadcasting. By the time we were dismissed for the evening, we had even managed to project simple images.

A few minutes later, I had just gotten back to my room and fallen back onto my bed when I felt a faint ping. I waited and listened, trying to discern who it was before sending back a Hello?

Bree? Zay. Busy?

The words were clear, if somewhat distant. I sighed and wondered if there was a way to block calls. Skye had been right; the sessions weren’t strenuous by any means, but I felt tired afterwards all the same, and right now I really just wanted to sleep, or at least stare at the window-screen until I dozed off. Still, I realized this might be a test. We hadn’t all hung out since the first night, and rejecting an invitation now could be considered antisocial behavior, which was certainly not walking in light.

I sighed again before taking a deep breath and trying to project as much brightness into my words as possible.

No. What are you doing?

We met the rest of the group a little after five, grabbed some coffee and a quick bite to eat in the cafeteria, then went down to the lower levels to check out what was happening. The shops were pretty nice, but fairly out of our price range, or so we assumed until Cass, almost as a joke, checked her balance and found that a significant sign-on bonus had been deposited to her account earlier in the week. Naturally, we felt inclined to celebrate our good fortune, which led us to one of the nicer restaurants in the building. The sign at the door said the interior had been modeled after photos from a famous early twentieth-century cruise ship, and screens around the room displayed peaceful ocean waves under a clear, starry sky.

We were fairly well matched for most of the night, until Nikki’s partner started to overdo it a bit with the drinks and decided to head back to his room early before he embarrassed himself, at which point she promptly turned her attention to Zay. Under different circumstances, I might have resented the intrusion, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some sort of test, and that I couldn’t allow myself to get distracted by emotions. I was mildly irritated by her seemingly boundless energy, and it came as a relief when Kari mentioned she was getting a little tired, and the others agreed that we’d better get to bed early. Fortunately, we made it back to our rooms without incident a little after nine, at which point I immediately crashed.

Friday

Again, we lay silently in darkness, and again, I was trying not to fall asleep. It was increasingly difficult as Gina instructed us to picture our rooms.

“Think of the color of the walls, the floor, the bed. Do you see it?”

I could almost feel it.

“Picture yourselves there now. Look at the furniture, the decorations. Open the drawers and see what’s inside. Do you see it?”

We all affirmed that we did, and I could almost hear her smile as she said, “Good. Now you are ready to step out. You may—you must—step outside of yourselves, step beyond the limits that formerly bound you. You have already seen that they are not real. They, too, are mere illusions, lies of the darkness from ages past.”

As she spoke, I saw it. What exactly it was, I couldn’t say. It was beyond words. But I understood. I also saw my room and everything in it. I stepped into the hall, listened, sensed what was around me. I returned to myself and saw the light dancing around me as if in celebration.

***

Months passed, and we put our gifts to good use. We did, in fact, begin working, not just at the preserve, acquainting ourselves with the local wildlife and conducting tours, but regularly visiting all the watchtowers posted around the city, taking turns leading the meditations there. These lighthouses on land, we were told, had protected the city from its beginning, and while we were not yet true Lightbringers, advancement would come in time, and eventually we would be able to put on full displays of our own.

Finally, the seasons began to turn, the weather grew cold, and toward the end of October, we were told that the time had come.

There was little warning, and fewer details. Thursday, we got the notice to pack our bags and be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. No mention of exactly when, or what we’d need, or how long we should expect to be gone, so I simply repacked both bags and set them by the door.

Sunday, Zay woke me up a little after four, pounding on the door and yelling that we had to go now. I’d just thrown on my jacket and grabbed my backpack when I noticed my suitcase was missing. I opened the door to tell him I needed a couple minutes to find it, but he had apparently gotten more information because he said it was fine and I wouldn’t need it as he grabbed my arm and pulled me down the hall and into the elevator, where the rest of the group was already waiting, along with half a dozen uniformed individuals I didn’t recognize. The doors seemed to shut faster than usual and for a moment I thought we were falling as we seemed to be hurtling to ground level, but the others seemed unbothered by the speed, and a moment later, the doors behind us unexpectedly opened, revealing not the subway station, but a brightly lit parking garage where a convoy of vehicles was waiting to take us.

We took the tunnel east and surfaced just past the fence marking the boundary between the new city and the old city. The buildings here were smaller, the tallest of them less than half the size of the newer ones, and the roads were twice as wide.

When they said the Dead Zone started exactly a hundred and one miles from the city limits, I thought we’d be there in a couple hours at most, but it quickly became clear that it would take much longer. It took half an hour just to get past the ruins of the old city, and then the road, which was already badly broken up, full of deep holes and debris, went only a short distance before disappearing altogether.

From there we followed what may have been a road once, but two centuries of disuse had clearly taken its toll. What was left of the pavement had been pushed to the sides, creating a sort of wall, now barely visible because of all the grass that had grown up. We moved slowly, the first vehicle scanning for unseen obstacles or threats, and occasionally had to stop to remove a tree that had fallen across the road.

The preserve had been well managed, orderly, beautiful. This was chaos. Everything looked dull, dead or dying, in shades of brown and gray, even the sky dark with clouds. On the rare occasions when the sun broke through, its light seemed to have a strange quality I couldn’t quite describe –not enough, yet somehow too much – and the weather was all over the place. Within a few hours, it had shifted from brisk and cool to unusually warm and uncomfortably humid.

We stopped around noon at a small clearing just over the ridge of a mountain. I thought I should have been able to see something, or at least feel something ahead, but there was nothing. I searched my bag in vain for some food before realizing what little I had thought to pack had been in my suitcase. All I could find was a bottle of water. I sipped it cautiously until it was time to move again.

We stopped again a little after four in a spot where the road seemed to end in a loop. By now the sky was nearly black and the humidity stifling, and I was less careful about conserving water.

After stretching our legs, we were ordered to spread out and start advancing east. We hadn’t gone more than half an hour when I lost sight of the others.

I tentatively tried to connect, and though I couldn’t see anything, I felt the others’ presence. Slowly, however, they began to fade, and with them, all the sound around me seemed to die. I continued walking a little further, then froze as I realized I couldn’t hear my own steps.

I felt a moment of panic, then closed my eyes and tried to collect myself, taking deep breaths and forcing myself to focus on light thoughts, telling myself I was safe and well and peaceful and in perfect harmony with the universe, but as minutes passed, my thoughts only grew more confused, until I struggled to remember what I was supposed to be doing.

Suddenly I heard the sound of branches breaking and saw a flash of light behind me. Without thinking, I broke out into a sprint. I ran blindly, having just enough awareness of my surroundings to avoid running into a tree, and as the sounds and flashes continued and seemed to draw closer, and my connection wavered and finally broke, leaving me blind, there was no doubt in my mind that I was being pursued, chased by someone or something directly into the heart of the Dead Zone. Still, I kept running, until my lungs were screaming from the exertion and my legs refused to go any further. Then amidst the flashes I saw the ground directly ahead of me end in a sudden drop, and moments later found myself sliding down a few feet into some sort of ditch or large hole.

I pressed my body into the wall as hard as I could and struggled to catch my breath, unable to hear anything over the pounding in my ears. For a moment, it seemed that everything had stopped, but I couldn’t stop shaking. I knew the light was dangerous, but the darkness offered no comfort.

A minute passed, and as my eyes adjusted slightly, I realized I wasn’t alone.

“Nikki?”

She met my eyes in shock from where she was huddled about ten feet away, and then her expression shifted and she looked away.

“Sorry,” she breathed.

There was a flash of light, and then everything went dark.

[link to part 3]