#who knew sitting in the dark with nothing but a loud keyboard for noise would be so inspiring? not i.

[sanctamater]

@hoboblaidd; continued from x.

The cold here is different. Older, stranger – it seeps beneath her furs and velvet, settles against her bones. It feels like a death she had avoided, an end she had never faced; and while the walls and stone of Skyhold are not the ones she had grown in; the land is. And the land, like her, remembers; scars of the Blight and all it had wrought still linger – mirrored in the sky; in her own expression; solemn. The good lady looks as though she belongs at a funeral. Perhaps she is already at one.

When the sainted mother thinks of who she might have been, the image is as fogged as her reflection is; distant, unknowable – and no matter how often she wipes at the glass, it never clears; what ifs and could have beens scattered in the earth before her with no open grave to rest in – and though that girl ( that woman ) never existed, Maker – she is too afraid to turn to face what ( who ) she has become; shaped by a dozen different hands, her own too; raw and aching in her gloves. Scrub at something hard enough, and one day it may be clean; but the dirt under her nails is as stubborn as she is.

Most days, she works. For a great cause, she tells herself ( others, too ); a noble cause – something far bigger than any before; buried under paperwork and shipping manifests. It keeps her busy. Too busy to think, to remember; and here she can do nothing but – a moment to breathe in the quiet of the garden. Damp earth, rainwater; incense from the Sisters of the Chantry lit for both the alive and the fallen. Often, she thinks of Elizabeth. Thinks of others, too – nameless faces she cannot quite remember but had been wronged by her all the same; from matters of business to matters of the heart. As with all things, she holds on too tightly – and the familiar rhythm of the Chant does little to soothe her. A breath – in, and out. When she opens her eyes again, she sees him – another lone figure in a place that has become both sanctuary and social. The inner circle has eluded the good lady – though she has not sought it out. How unlike her ( or, perhaps, like her ); to be so removed from the centre of society ( if this could be called society ) was, certainly, unlike her. A self-imposed punishment for a myriad of sins she did not have the strength to give name to. She was, after all, here to serve – and if she did happen to make coin in the process; well – that would do. Solas, she thinks. That must be his name. Apostate usually followed soon after as though the word were a blade itself; and while the good lady knows that many still scorn mages who live outside of the bounds of a Circle; she cannot fault them. After all, she had kept one safe with her for nineteen years. It is with that does she step forward; the words upon her lips said without the tact many might expect from a lady of her station – much less a warning.

“ Forgive me – I did not wish to startle you. ” Lost in thought where she sought to escape it.  Briefly, she glances at the white robes and red hoods of the Sisters and Brothers; Andraste’s children now quiet. The good lady remembers what she remembers. The white-washed, rough walls of the Chantry she had gone to in her youth; time worn – the feeling of her mother’s hand over her small one; how her grandmother had known the Chant by heart. She’d never memorized it. Another breath – and she looks back up to him ( always up ). There is a voice she remembers, too; not her own, no – but his. It haunts her, still. Time itself will walk backwards before you find redemption. Whatever that means. Most days, she tries not to give much stock in to the ramblings of dead men and false prophets; still, it gives her pause. “ It is my own philosophy. ” Her smile is a wry one; a quirk of her mouth and nothing more, gone too quickly in favour of cold impassivity. Untouchable, until she is. It is a philosophy that may yet serve her well; one she has been in service ( in search ) of for near her entire life. Twenty years of looking, and she feels no cleaner than she had the day she’d come out of that river. “The Maker is not one to tell us how to find the redemption we seek. That path is one He leaves for us to discover and follow in our own way.” It would not be redemption if the road to it was an easy one – and the words come easy to her; old habits from a life she’d tried to leave behind. She’d have made a good Reverend Mother in another life, offering comfort to the afflicted. Instead, she is here. “ Repentance can be as simple as truth. ” Yet, it rarely is. That, alone, would be too easy. Perhaps she believed in it for every soul that but her own. Who is the sainted mother to say if she deserves forgiveness? Who is she to say if she has found it? “ Truthfully – It is something we must, I think, find in ourselves. Through deeds or words… And the answer is one only we can find in that path that is most often walked alone. ”

[springdandelixn]

The Shade of Darkness - Part I

Summary: Life in university is what you expected it to be until one night, you receive a visit from someone unexpected.

Warnings: The story contains rape/noncon elements, somnophilia undertones, power imbalance. Proceed with caution if that is not your cup of tea. Age gap. A little fluff, I think lmao

Characters: Dark!Librarian!Vision x F!Student!Reader

Your feedback and likes are highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing! I hope you enjoy this ride with our favorite synthezoid boii 💛

The university library is swimming with students when you walk through the revolving doors. Your backpack hanging from your shoulders and your laptop tucked protectively in your arms.

You knew that the library would be packed at this time with almost all the students cramming for their finals before leaving for the holidays. But the noise coming from the room next to yours was too much to bear. You don’t even know why they were playing such loud music in the middle of the day.

You look around and decide to head to the 7th floor, the one you know where the study rooms are and tables with dividers made for people like you. People who enjoy their own company. People who want to be left alone. 

But just like the lower floors, the place is packed though thankfully enough, quiet. Students with their noses buried deep into their notebooks with only the sounds of their pen tapping and the clicking of their keyboards filling the space. 

You find a spot and to your delight, it was one that had an electrical outlet to it too, saving you the embarrassment of having to crawl underneath the tables just to plug in your laptop.

Once settled, you open up your laptop and grab your notebook from your bag before opening it, plugging in your headset to the auxiliary port of your computer and playing the recorded lecture of your history professor, and begin writing the important notes you feel would appear on the exam. 

After condensing three subjects into bullet points and footnotes, you lean back on your seat and stretch your arms above your head, hearing your back pop from the stiffness from sitting too long. 

It’s probably the longest you had to sit still while studying, although looking down at your notes, you can’t help but think that it’s all worth it for you feel confident, excited even, that you would skate through the exams without a hitch. 

It’s what your parents are proud of you for. That you have the will and patience to study. And frankly, you like studying. The adrenaline that rushes through your veins when the cramming period starts and the satisfaction of seeing the marks on your paper, knowing that your hard work has truly paid off. 

And besides, you’ve been doing this for two years now, going three. And by now, it’s all just routinary for you. Nothing new yet each time special. 

You decide to reward yourself with a cup of coffee from the cafe on the 2nd floor. Even thinking of getting one of their delicious chocolate croissants to give you more energy to finish studying before the day ends. 

Taking your wallet from your bag, you tap the shoulder of the girl next to you and ask her to look after your things, to which she nods in agreement while turning the page of the book she’s busying herself with. 

You make it to the cafe and to your dismay, there’s a line. Not as long as you’re expecting but long enough to keep you waiting for 5 minutes. You pop your earbuds in, The Weeknd keeping you company while waiting in line to order. 

You eventually make it to the front, reciting your order to the employee and tapping your card on the machine to pay. And just as quick, your drink and your pastry are in your hands and you make your way back to your table, except you don’t see it vacant any longer, a boy wearing a black leather jacket now sitting in your seat, your bag dropped on the floor along with your laptop and notebook while the girl you asked to look after your things giggles at whatever he’s whispering in her ear. 

Pulling out your earbuds and tucking them in your pocket, you frown as you approach them, looking down at your discarded things.

“Excuse me,” You whisper, not wanting to cause a disturbance to the other students. “But that’s my seat.” 

“Sorry.” The boy simply says, not even looking up at you, and continues on with his business, leaning closer to the girl as she shows him something on her phone.

You look down at the girl and groan inwardly, patting the guy once again to which this time, he faces you with a scowl. “I’d like to take my seat back, please.”

“Can’t you see we’re busy?” The boy sneers and turns his attention back to the girl. “Go find somewhere else to sit.” 

“I believe she was there first.” A voice suddenly appears from behind you, a voice you recognize, and you turn around to see Victor looking down at the boy, anger evident on his face. “And it’s first come first serve in this library.” He says with annoyance. 

“Look, she was gone and the seat was vacant. No one even told me it was taken.” The boy explains. 

“I asked her to look after my things.” You reason, frowning as you face the girl who refuses to look at you and bend down to grab your laptop from the floor, only to be stopped by a hand on your shoulder. 

“If you cannot follow the rules of this establishment then I suggest you leave or I will have to call security,” Victor says, his eyes narrowed as he eyes the boy. 

“What gives you the right to tell me what to do, old man?” The boy stands abruptly making the chair topple over with a loud thud, causing several heads to turn in their direction. 

“I am the Library Manager here, punk, and I make the rules.” Victor takes a step towards the boy, making you grab his elbow to stop him from getting closer. 

“Victor, it’s okay.” You say in a calm voice but the look he gives you makes you release him and step back in embarrassment.

“It is not okay.” He snaps and faces the boy once more. “So again, if you cannot follow the rules of this establishment, I suggest you fuck off. Both of you.” His eyes then trail towards the girl who immediately packs her things in her bag. 

“C’mon, Darren.” The girl says as she slings her bag on her shoulder and takes hold of his hand. “Let’s just go.” There’s a hint of fear evident on her face. “We’re sorry. Please. We’ll just go.”

The boy, Darren, eventually concedes and grabs his bag, pulling away from the girl and storming out of the study hall while mumbling the word “nerds”, the girl looking dumbstruck at the boy and then at both you and Victor before scurrying away soon after. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say as you place your food and drink on the table and bend down to take your laptop and check it for any damage. “I could have just found another table.”

“With a crowd like this, we both know you won’t,” Victor says as he picks up your bag from the ground and places it on the chair the girl vacated. “Everything is there?” He asks, and you rummage through your bag to make sure everything is in place. 

You nod.

“I was almost done anyway,” You say while tucking your laptop back in its sleeve, wounding up your charger and stuffing it into the front pocket of your bag. “I was just getting something to eat.”

“Well, would you want to join me then? I’m on my break right now.” He says, already taking your backpack and zipping it close. “I saw you at the cafe and tried calling you but you seem to not have heard me.” His mouth slants as he looks down at you.

You met Victor during your second year at university. Similar to the present, you were procrastinating for your finals for your Medieval and Early Modern Europe class, walking the aisles countless times and going back to the help desk, where he was stationed at that time for being a new employee, and asking him once in a while if the book you were looking for was available to borrow and him responding the same thing each time you ask. “No one has returned it yet.” Leaving you hopeless and worried that you would fail your final. 

But to your surprise, he appears at the side of your desk and places a tablet beside your laptop, the title of the book you were looking for staring at you in bold, red letters. 

“You can take this with you and return it when you’re done.” He tells you with a smile, his finger tapping on his name tag, reading the words Victor Shade pinned on his right chest before leaving you to your notes. 

And since then, you have both become friends. Victor always lending a hand with any resource materials you need for your classes and at times keeping you company when you stay in the library til close to review. 

But as much as you like Victor, he can get a bit aggressive, especially when things don’t go his way. Seeing his temper once in a while when you reject his invitations to go out for a drink or when dealing with students that, to put in his words, “disgrace the sanctity of the library.”

You know he only means well and that his irritation towards your continuous refusal only lasts a short amount of time, telling you that he understands your desire to put your studies first and recreation after. 

“I’m sorry.” You say as you tuck your laptop sleeve between your chest and your arm again, taking your drink and pastry in the other hand. “I had my earbuds on. And sure—any place you want to chill for your break?”

“Well, since every student is either in here or in their dorms, why don’t we venture off to the science building? They have that covered garden right?” He suggests as he slings your bag on his shoulder. “It’ll be more peaceful there than breathing in the tense atmosphere here.” You nod in response and walk beside him, leaving the study hall and towards the elevators.

The Garden of Eden that can be found in the life and sciences building is one that you consider a hidden gem in the university. Not only was it not frequented by students and staff alike, but the flowers that grow from within the dome bloomed in diversity, reds, yellows, and pinks blending together in harmony, creating a vision of ethereal beauty in the heart of the grey and white structure. 

Victor places your bag down on one of the wooden benches, taking a seat after which you follow suit, crossing your legs and setting down your laptop sleeve and your drink before taking a bite of the flakey pastry. It’s not as warm as you’d like but the taste still makes up for it. 

“How many exams do you have this week?” He asks as he crosses his leg over the other and rests his arm over the back of the bench, his body turned to face you. 

“Three.” You mumble with a mouthful. “Two on Thursday then my last one on Friday.” You nod in confirmation and take your drink to take a hearty sip of coffee. 

“I see.” He hums and taps his hand against the bench as if thinking of his next question. 

You observe him in your seat, his blonde hair slightly unruly as if he’s been running his hand against it a couple of times yet still looking neat with how it drops to his forehead. The glasses he wears have a yellow tint to them, matching perfectly with his powder blue button-up and the yellow tie around his neck that is covered by a navy sweater, which you can’t help but notice accentuates his muscly physique.

If you didn’t know he was a librarian, you’d think he was one of the professors, especially with his unmatched knowledge of different subject matters, that with every question you ask him, he seems to always have an answer. 

“I was just wondering, that you would finally consider my invitation for drinks down at the campus pub?” He asks, looking a little sheepish as he faces you. “To celebrate your finals and all that.”

His invitation stops you mid-bite on your pastry, lowering it to your lap as you look down and consider his request. 

You’ve been putting off his invitation so long since you met, not only because you choose to study and get ahead in class but the fact that he’s a staff in the university worries you. You’re not blind, he is an attractive man, and you aren’t dense either, feeling that his invitation means more than friends simply going out for drinks. 

And you’ve seen the way he looks at you. How his blue eyes shine with a hint of desire whenever you are within his orbit. The subtle brushing of your hands when you walk close by and how he seems protective of you when he senses your distress. And how he goes the extra mile to help you with your studies, making things easier by providing the materials you need for your classes and most of all for your exams. 

You just don’t want to be the talk of the university. Something you dread even during your time in high school; is that students would find something to use to poke fun at you or worse, be the target of their bullying, and as shitty as it sounds, the university is not spared from such baser creatures.

It’s okay. He’s not a professor. A small voice in your head whispers, making you look up at Victor and see those blue eyes shining once again. And it’s just a drink. Nothing more. 

“Okay.” You mutter and sip on your coffee before fully looking at him and giving him a wide smile. “Friday night then?” You ask.

And the smile he gives you seems to take your breath away. 

“Friday night.” He agrees.

The week passes by in a blur. Your routine consisting of waking up, grabbing some breakfast, attending your classes, studying in the library with Victor keeping you company, going back to your dorm, eating the usual ramen for dinner, and heading to bed. 

Even so, you’ve finally finished your final exam. The weight of academic responsibilities lifting from your shoulders as you leave the lecture hall, confident about your answers and the small thesis you wrote for the final question. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you immediately know who it is. 

‘Do you want me to pick you up at your dorm or should we meet at the pub instead?’ Victor’s message stares up at you from your phone.

‘I can just meet you there. Going to drop my bag and change my coat.’ You type and tuck your phone back into your coat. Your phone buzzes again as you leave the building, assuming it’s Victor for he’s the only one that ever messages you aside from your parents, not really having any friends in university.

You trudge through the snow-covered path on your way to your dorm, seeing several students littering the streets, tugging luggages behind them, and loading them up in the trunk of their awaiting cars, leaving campus for the holidays. Even the frat house five buildings from yours seem to be emptying out with the jocks hollering, already sounding drunk while tossing their bags inside a black van. 

You were supposed to go home for the holidays as well, wanting to see your parents and enjoy the comfort of your own bed in your own home. But your mom told you that they would be spending Christmas with your aunt who lives in San Diego. 

They invited you to go with them, but your aunt’s family is a weird bunch, not the company you wish to spend your vacation with. So you turned down their request and told them you’ll visit in the summer instead. 

Upon reaching your dorm, you drop your bag onto your computer chair and relieve yourself from your scarf and coat, hanging them on the hooks by your door and toeing off your boots, leaving you in your leggings, your sweater, and your blue fuzzy socks before laying down on your bed with an audible sigh leaving your lips, feeling the sleepless nights catching up on you. 

You check the clock above your desk and see that it’s only 5:30. Giving you enough time for a quick nap before you head over to the pub to meet Victor.

You grab your phone and read his last message, tapping on the clock app after and setting an alarm for 6:30. That’s enough time for a nap. You tell yourself as you pull the comforter over your body and slowly drift into a much-needed sleep. 

The winter chill picks up when you make your way to the pub. Your shoes crunching against the slushy snow, making you curse when the water splatters on the legs of your pants.

You’re thankful for the heat though once you enter the campus pub, the place is not as crowded as you expected, just how you like it, and look around in search of Victor. 

You hear your name being called at the side, turning your head and smiling when you see Victor decked in a white button-up shirt and a black leather jacket, his glasses gone but his hair combed back, making him look dashing, especially with the wide smile playing on his lips. 

He’s got an empty pint of beer sitting on the table when you join him, taking a seat across from him on the booth and pulling off your coat to set it down beside you. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.” You tell him, a small frown forming on your face. “I took a nap when I got back to the dorm and I slept through my alarm for some reason.” 

“No need to apologize. I’ve waited almost three years for this. A couple more minutes wouldn’t hurt.” Victor chuckles then holds up his hand to call a server. “What matters is you’re here now and we can enjoy the rest of the night together.” The grin on his face is contagious, making you smile back at his words. 

A server then appears at the side of your table and you order a Peach Bellini, showing your ID when she asks for it, Victor ordering another pint of beer and a plate of nachos to share. 

You look at him curiously when he presents his ID to the server. The woman simply nods, scanning his card after and walking away from their table. Not that Victor is old but anyone who would look at him at the first glance would know that he isn’t that young either to provide an ID just to drink.

“University staff gets 20% off.” He simply answers your unsaid question when he catches you staring at him, a blush forming on your cheeks as embarrassment washes over you.

“I didn’t know you had that perk.” You mumble shyly, peeking up to look at him. 

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He simply says with a playful smirk and frankly, you couldn’t agree more.

You’re left in awe as Victor tells you stories about his life before becoming the Library Manager at your campus. How he used to work for the infamous Tony Stark and helped him create the computer program that powers the Iron Man suits. 

“I felt that I needed something new.” He says when you ask why he decided to switch career paths. “And I’ve always been fond of books. So, I thought, why not work with them.” And you can’t help but agree with his reasoning as well and find the smile he gives you somewhat adorable, a dimple forming on his cheek when he does.

“Have you ever had a relationship before?” He asks after you take a sip of your third frozen bellini, your eyes widening in surprise at the sudden turn of conversation. “I’m sorry—” He blinks when he sees you staring, his eyes darting everywhere but at you. “You don’t have to tell me anything—”

“No.” You confess, a light chuckle leaving your lips. “I’ve never been in a relationship before.” You’re usually shy at such topics, avoiding your auntie when she asks you if you already have a boyfriend whenever she comes to visit your mom back home. But the alcohol swirling within you gives you the courage you never expected. “Have you?” You ask. 

“I’m not certain if it was a relationship we had but I was smitten by this woman in the past.” He says while caressing his pint of beer, the foam still floating to the brim. “We enjoyed each other’s company and I eventually told her of my fears, but in the end, she manipulated me and hurt me. I’ve never looked back ever since and I won’t allow such a thing to happen again.”

You can’t help but feel remorse as he tells you of his experience. Your heart aching for the man before you as you think why someone would do such a thing to someone as attentive and sweet as him. It’s one of the things you fear in being committed to someone. That you’d pour your heart and soul and expect them to do the same only for them to do the complete opposite and leave you broken.

You reach over the table and place your hand over his, giving it a gentle pat and giving him a soft smile. “She’s stupid then.” You tell him. “You seem like a sweet guy. And if she didn’t see that, well, she definitely missed out.”

“Your words are kind.” He says, placing a hand atop yours and giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you. How about you though?” He turns the tables, putting you on the spot with the question. “How come you’ve never been with anyone before? If I’m being honest, you’re beautiful. Inside and out.” His comment makes you blush hard, your hand reaching up to give your cheek a pat. “I’m being serious.” And the look he gives you, how his eyes beam at you makes you know that he truly is. 

“It’s just that—studying has always been my number one priority. It’s what I was taught when I was a kid and it’s what I believe in until now.” You hum as your fingers fiddle with the stem of your glass. “And besides, I don’t really need a man to make me happy. I’m fine on my own and I do enjoy my own company.” You chuckle. “I like being independent.”

“But what if someone makes their interests known?” He asks, his question slightly expectant. And you can’t help but feel that he’s the someone he’s talking about. “Would you entertain them?”

“If I like them back and they understand my desire to focus on my studies, then why not.” You giggle and hide your lips behind your glass. “Though I don’t think I would make a good girlfriend.”

“Why’s that?”

“Like I said,” you lift your glass to your lips and down the last of its contents, giving Victor a full, tipsy smile. “I like being independent.”

The bellinis have truly done their job as you stumble out of the pub in a fit of giggles and walk down the path to your dorm. Victor’s hand is at your elbow, trying to keep you upright, his chuckles resounding in your ears when he tells you you’re drunk, to which you respond in a slur of words, “I’m just tipsy.”

You tried to tell him that you can make it on your own, that you don’t need to take up his time by having him walk you back to your place. But with the way your vision blurs, the trees mixing together in the dead of the night, you’re thankful for his insistence and rely on him to take you back safely. 

You smile when your building comes into view, feeling Victor’s hands rest on your hips as you ascend the three steps to the front door. 

“I’m home.” You say as you face him with a loopy smile, your eyes meeting his as he stands on the bottom step, having you notice how tall he truly is. “Thank you for tonight.”

“It is I who should thank you for finally agreeing to have drinks with me.” He smiles as he reaches down to take your hand in his, feeling his thumb caress your knuckles. “I had a lovely evening.”

Even though you’re squiffy, you feel the tension building between the both of you. How his sapphire eyes bore into yours and the warmth of his hand pulling at your heartstrings. Without a second thought, you lean over and press a soft lingering kiss against his lips. Innocent and sweet. He moves closer and you have no choice but to lean up, your free hand gently pressing against his strong chest as he grips on your coat to hold you in place. 

He moves his lips slowly and you follow his lead, your eyes closing as you breathe him in, the warmth emanating from him enveloping you in a soft embrace, blocking away the cold breeze of winter that brushes against your cheeks.

You pull away and giggle as your lips tingle with delight. It’s your first kiss and you’re happy that it wasn’t sloppy and messy, but gentle and warm. He whispers your name and you feel your heart jump with how his tongue rolls on each syllable. He then takes both your hands in his grasp and lifts them to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he presses a kiss on your knuckles.

“May you have sweet dreams tonight, Darling.” 

“You too.” You whisper before turning back and walking into your dorm, seeing him still standing outside as you turn to climb the flight of stairs. 

You stir awake when you feel a chill run over your skin, your body shivering from what you suspect is the winter breeze blowing through the screen of your window and the unknown sensation pulling at the pit of your stomach. 

Your head lols as you try to pat for your blanket, wanting to shield yourself from the cold but a mewl surprisingly emits from your throat, and the wetness coming from the apex of your thighs completely pulls you from your sleep. 

That’s when you become aware of someone between your legs, your eyes opening wide in a surge of panic as you feel your thighs pushed apart by strong hands, your night shift bunched up at your middle, the assault of their tongue on your cunt relentless and intent. 

“Stop!” You shout as you move your hands despite your groggy state, forcing your body to fully wake up and lifting your hands to slap their head and push them away from you. 

But you’re only met with pain as if you’ve hit something rock-hard, another scream forming on your lips as tears begin rolling down the side of your face, but it only comes out as a moan as your body convulses from the unwelcome arousal, your back arching from the unexpected orgasm. 

You pant heavily unto your mattress, the adrenaline you felt when you woke up seeping out of you in an instant and you shiver when the mouth of your attacker leaves your cunt, and feel the press of their lips on the sides of your inner thighs. 

You’re disoriented and confused. Your tears continuously flowing down your face as you try to think of how they got in and who they are. You made sure to lock your door and you know the building of your dorm to have a security system on it. One only known to its tenants. 

“Who are you?” You whimper as you try to pull your body close. But the way they grip on your ankle prevents you from doing so, making you look up to face the devil in your room. 

Your eyes grow wide when you see a shadow of a man, illuminated only by the glow of yellow light from his forehead, having a glimpse of his crimson skin and the silver lines around his head. 

You recognize him. He’s one of them. The Avengers. The synthezoid, as they called him, that went missing 3 years ago. Whose face was all over the news when Tony Stark made the announcement that they will reward anyone who would give them knowledge of his whereabouts. 

The Vision. 

“Why are you doing this?” You choke out from your tears as he crawls on top of you, his hand taking your thighs and wrapping them around his torso, pressing your cunt flush against his erection. “Please, I won’t tell anyone.” You beg. “Just leave me alone.”

He remains silent. Nothing but the sound of your panicked breathing and his calm one mixing in the four corners of your small room. Seeing no reaction on his face except for the way his eyes look at you in hunger as the yellow light continues to glow at his forehead.

You try to push him away, pressing your hands against his abdomen but he grabs your wrists and grips them tightly in one of his while his other hand reaches down to your pussy, a strangled moan leaving your lips when he rolls his thumb against your swollen clit, stimulating you even further and cursing yourself as your body sings, from his monstrous touch.

He then moves to lift himself and prod his cock against your entrance, a low groan leaving his throat, the first sound you hear from him, when he slowly pushes himself inside of you inch by inch, your teeth gritting in pain as your pussy walls stretch from his size and your body writhing from the discomfort you feel within.

“Please— don’t—“ but your begging stops as your breath catches in your throat when he sheaths himself completely inside of you, your chest heaving as your pussy pulses around his shaft. 

You bite your lips as he slowly pulls back, the fullness of your abdomen leaving you when he leaves only the head inside. But soon after, a cry of pain escapes from your lips when he pushes back in hard, snapping his hips fast as he begins to thrust his hips at a brutal pace. 

The tears begin running down your face once more as you lay on your bed helpless, your eyes shut tight and your hands bound in his firm grasp while he violates you, his cock going in and out of your wet cunt, your juices from earlier lubricating him further, allowing him to fuck you easily, the bed rocking underneath the both of you from his frantic momentum. 

You don’t understand why this is happening to you. You’re a nobody. An unseen entity amidst the sea of people that pass you by every day, and yet, this crimson demon, a being who’s promised to protect the human race, has seen you and decided to bestow upon you this tragedy.

Your eyes then open wide when you feel his weight press against you, your hands released from his grip yet his body preventing you from moving any further. His lips find your neck and he sucks on a patch of skin, bruising the flesh from underneath his lips and making you bare your teeth from the pain when his teeth sink in. 

A sudden pull at the pit of your stomach stirs your body, squirming underneath him as your hips lift from the bed, pressing against his own and your back arching from the pressure. 

His pace quickens even further, his breath on your neck labored and heavy, the low groan on his throat mixing with the sound of your pants. Then something breaks in you, the sensation from earlier making itself known once more as you feel your body go rigid when you reach your peak, a gasp escaping you as your clutch on his arms, his body stilling soon after, feeling his cock push deeper inside of you, the yellow light burning brightly in your room when he releases inside of you, a growl pouring out of his mouth as you feel the warmth of his seed coat your walls deep within. 

His heavy breathing gradually slows as he eases the rhythm of his thrusts, riding out his orgasm and pulling you back down from your unwanted high. 

He eventually pulls out, leaving you spent on the bed and feeling his lips trail kisses against the bruise on your neck and down your shoulder while his hands run down from your hips and to your thighs. 

“Why?” You whimper and close your eyes as you refuse to look at your abuser. But just like before, you receive no response. 

And when you open your eyes, he’s gone. 

You look around the room and see the locks on the door still in place and the window ajar but with the screen still intact. You have no knowledge of what his abilities are except for the fact that he is not of your kind, inhuman, not only for his features but for his actions. 

You make yourself small on the bed, pulling your legs to your knees as you try to rid yourself of the memory of his hands and mouth on you. How his grip tightened around your hands almost to the point of him crushing them.

A chime then fills the silence of your room and the glow of your phone resting on your nightstand grabs your attention. Picking up the device and crying once again when you see Victor’s name on the screen, a good night message with a heart next to it. 

You open up his chat box and see multiple messages from him since both of you parted. Expressing his happiness for such a wonderful evening and his desire to see you once again. 

Without giving a second thought, you press the phone icon beside his name and listen to the ringing at the other end of the line, your heart constricting when he says your name with such joy.

You don’t respond but a whimper escapes you all at once, Victor seemingly sensing your distress when he asks, “Darling, what’s wrong?”

“C-can you c-come ov-ver?” You stutter as you look around your room once more in fear that he would show up again. “Please?” You beg quietly.

“Give me 10 minutes.” He says in a rush and you end the call, sending him a message with the number code of your building, not caring anymore that it’s against the rules to share it, for if someone can simply get inside and ensue chaos, there’s nothing stopping anyone from doing the same.

You always wanted to be alone. Simply enjoying the solace that your company gives you, the peace of having fruitful conversations with yourself. But after his visit, after doing what he did, a being people expected to protect you from harm and not inflict it, an Avenger, you don’t think you’d want to be alone anymore. After the damage he’s inflicted, you don’t desire to be alone ever.

You sit on your computer chair in silence as Victor fusses over your room. The light from your lamp revealing the bloody sheets in his hands, evidence of the nightmare you’ve lived, as he discards them into your hamper. 

You’re changed too. Wearing a pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that swallows you whole after cleaning yourself in the dormitory bathroom, crying on the floor while rubbing your skin raw, trying to remove any remnants of his touch while Victor stayed outside keeping watch. 

You haven’t told him what happened yet. You don’t think you have the courage nor the energy to relive the trauma. To see the face of the devil that took what he wanted from you. But from the way he blanched when you opened your door, his eyes wide while looking down at the blood that stains your inner thighs and legs, you know that he has an idea of the monstrosity that’s happened. 

Once Victor finishes changing the sheets, he kneels in front of you, his blue eyes full of concern as he carefully takes your hand and presses a light kiss on your bruised wrist. 

“Do you want to go back to bed?” He asks, but you can’t find it in you to speak. So you nod your response and slowly, he helps you off the chair and to the bed, your tired body dropping onto the mattress unceremoniously and Victor pulling the comforter over you. 

You feel his hand gently caress your hair and you cannot help but cry once more. A mix of emotions surges into you, leaving you hollow, the confusion running in your head as you keep asking yourself why it happened to you. What you’ve done to deserve such misfortune.  

“I’m here now, Darling.” He whispers softly, feeling his lips press against your temple. “I’ll protect you.” 

The feel of his hand on your head slowly lulls you to sleep, your eyes drooping when the exhaustion finally takes over you. Darkness bathing your room when you hear the click of your lamp, and the glow of yellow bouncing on your walls is the last thing you see before you fall into oblivion.

[skyeet-the-writer]

The Love Among Us

Chapter 1-- I’d Never Snitch On Daddy

so i haven’t seen many corpse husband x reader stories on here, so i decided to upload one myself. i’ve been watching jacksepticeye’s among us videos and when i heard corpse talk for the first time, i was like, “hol up” and now i’ve been obsessed with him. also, go stream his music on spotify, it’s amazing. enjoy! x. 

 corpse husband x female!reader

summary: while playing among us, y/n watches corpse kill felix in o2. when his body is reported, however, she doesn’t tell who killed him. 

 word count: ~3.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of death (not real death), mentions of murder (not real murder)

EDIT: before i wrote this and after i published it, i did not know that corpse did not like to be referred to as “daddy”. had i known this, i would have not even thought of posting this. and since i know now, i won’t refer to him as such in the future. thank you. (10/19/2020)

EDIT 2: this is the first part to my corpse x reader series. i will be adding chapters as we go!

next>

4 rounds before the incident

“I was in coms with PJ!” Sean exclaims. 

“He is doing the liar voice!” Felix shouts with a laugh. 

“I’m not,” Sean tries to say, but everyone talks over him and the voting time ends. Everyone left alive, though it was only four people, had all voted for him and he yells at them as he gets ejected. 

stinky was not the imposter

2 imposters remain

The round ends and everyone unmutes themselves. 

“Lizzie, you saw Felix kill me and you did nothing!” Roomie yells as soon as the round ends and the imposters are revealed. 

“Yeah, because I was the other imposter.”

“Oh. Okay, well that makes sense.”

Everyone laughs and Ken starts the round again. 

“Wait, can I invite y/n to play? She’s doing her twenty-four-hour stream and she just finished playing Monopoly with Mark, Bob, and Wade,” says Lizzie, looking down at her phone as they all appear back in the waiting room. 

“Yes,” Corpse blurts out and there are a few laughs and chuckles. 

“You were quick to answer, Corpse,” Sean teases. 

“Shut up,” Corpse mumbles and there are even more laughs. 

Lizzie smiles and taps into her phone. “I’m gonna invite her.”

~

“I can’t believe that you actually made that deal, y/n,” Wade is telling you after ending the second round of Monopoly that you’ve played with them. 

You smile and cross your legs on your chair. “Look, I was going bankrupt and it seemed good at the time. Besides, Mark was going to win anyway, he owned half of the board.” Your phone buzzes beside you on your desk and you pick it up. “Lizzie texted me.” There’s a sound effect that plays in your headset and you look up at your screen and smile. “Thanks to _lorieplays _for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot. Thank you so much.”

“Do you want to play another round?” Marks asks. 

You shake your head, reading the text from your friend in England. “No, I don’t want to lose to you again.” You laugh. “Nah, Lizzie wants me to play Among Us with her and a few others. It was fun playing with you guys.”

“It was even though you took all of my money,” Bob snaps. 

You laugh. “Yeah, yeah. See you guys later.”

“Bye,” says Mark.

“See y--” Wade begins but you cut him off when you disconnect from the call. 

“Oops.” You put a hand over your mouth and laugh. “Sorry, Wade. Okay.” You straighten up and glance over everything, making sure it’s all working properly. “I have to pee and I think my roommate ordered pizza, so we’ll be back after this short break. Enjoy this live feed of my pet rats.” You giggle and switch the stream over to a view of your two rats in their cage where you have a camera set up. You take your headset off and head out of your recording room. 

Every two months, you have a twenty-four-hour livestream where you play games with your friends from all around the world. Despite being only twenty-five, your Youtube channel had grown exponentially in the past three years and you’ve had the chance to meet lots of other Youtubers like Markiplier, PewDiePie, and your close friend, LDShadowLady. 

Currently, you’re on hour twenty of twenty-four and you’re beginning to feel the effects of not sleeping for a whole day. You had been drinking coffee and energy drinks for the past four hours and that seemed to perk you up for two hours max. But your roommate had ordered pizza and that would hopefully wake you up. 

After going to the bathroom and grabbing an entire box of pizza, you return to your recording room and sit down. You put your headset back on and eat a slice of pizza before switching the views back to you. “And we’re back. I hope you guys enjoyed my rats because I don’t. They keep me up at night.”

You read a comment while loading up Among Us and laugh. “No, they’re not dead. They’re sleeping. They do that a lot when they’re not fighting.” 

When you finally get into the game and entire the code, you spawn in. You also quickly join the Discord chat and wince when nearly ten voices hit you at once. 

“y/n!” exclaims Lizzie and the other voices die down for a moment before rising to greet you. 

You wince again but laugh. “Jesus, you guys are loud. Hey, Lizzie.” You move your character to the customize tab and go to try and switch your color. But then you frown and realize that you’re stuck with being dark blue. “Damn, I wanted to be white.”

“Do you want to switch?” Corpse asks. 

Your eyes widen you your stomach flips. You hadn’t noticed Corpse was in this game. Immediately, your chat became flooded with keyboard smashing and lots of “omg my shipp” and “y/n rlly said ‘anna oop-’” 

“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind,” you manage to stutter out and take a bite of pizza as Corpse’s player comes over and the white option becomes available. You select it and also select the goggles in the hats menu. 

“How’s your stream going?” asks Sean. 

You shrug. “Pretty good. I’m super tired, though. I literally almost fell asleep while playing Monopoly with Mark, Wade, and Bob.”

“You went to college, right?” You’re pretty sure that’s Roomie. 

“Yep,” you affirm with a nod even though they can’t see you. “You’d think that those all-nighters writing papers and studying for finals would make me able to do this.”

There’s a laugh in the group and the round starts.

3 rounds before the incident

You scratch your eyebrow and sigh in relief when you’re the crewmate. You mute yourself and slide up in your chair. 

“I like being the crewmate,” you say, heading towards admin as a habit. “It’s a lot less stressful than being imposter.”

After doing your tasks in admin and fueling the engines, you stumble across a dead body in the lower engine and a vent closing. 

“Oh,” you say, and press the report button. You unmute yourself and begin with, “So I saw a vent close but I didn’t see who went in.”

“Who died?” asks Lizzie. 

“Felix,” says Sean. 

You smirk. “It’s always yellow that dies first.”

“Where was the body?” Ken asks. 

“Lower engine,” you reply. 

“I was in medbay with Corpse doing the scan so it wasn’t him,” PJ says and Corpse makes a noise of confirmation. 

This makes your cheeks heat up and you smack a hand over your mouth. Your chat explodes again but you decide to ignore it. 

“And I was doing wires in cafeteria,” Lizzie says. 

“Sean, where were you?” 

“I was in reactor doing the simon says thing,” he answers. 

You sigh. “I hate that one. What about you, Ken?”

“I was with Roomie in electrical doing the power thing. You know, the one where you have to divert it somewhere else.”

“So do we skip then?” asks Lizzie. 

“No one is super sus, so I’m going to skip,” you answer. 

When no one is ejected, you mute yourself again. “I dunno why, but Sean seems pretty sus. Because I didn’t see him on the way down from upper engine. But I guess he could have gotten there in time.” You shrug and run over to the trash chute in the cafeteria. “RIP to Felix, though.”

After doing the trash there, you head down to storage, running into Corpse doing the wires in there. You wait there to clear him and once you do, you run a few circles around him to get his attention and he follows you over to the trash in storage and watches you do that. After that, the two of you head over to electric together and do wires there. 

Suddenly, there’s a body reported and you unmute yourself. 

“Sean just killed Lizzie in front of me!” exclaims PJ. 

“PJ killed Lizzie,” Sean retorts, flipping the blame. “I watched it, he didn’t realize I was there and murdered her.”

“I watched PJ do the scan in medbay, he’s cleared,” Corpse says and you find yourself smiling for no reason. “Sean, you killed Lizzie.”

“I knew he was sus,” you say, grabbing another piece of pizza. You look at the box and your eyes widen. Had you really already eaten half of it?

“Wait wait, how am I sus?” Sean asks. 

You take a moment to swallow. “Because when I was doing fuel earlier, I was running down from upper engine and didn’t see you in reactor. Sure, maybe you could have gotten there earlier, but it was super weird.” 

The discussion time ends and PJ immediately goes to vote for Sean as well as you, Corpse, and everyone else still alive. Sean ends up getting ejected. 

stinky was an imposter 

1 imposter remains

“You’re such a detective, y/n,” Sean says when he gets ejected. 

You laugh. “I just play this game too much.” You then mute yourself and smile. “I am a genius.” 

You end up finishing your tasks quickly after that and then stand in the cafeteria and eat another piece of pizza and read some of the chat. 

“’ What am I going to do after this?’ I don’t know. I might play some Minecraft. Should I have a poll on Twitter? I’m stuck between public Among Us games, Minecraft, and taking random quizzes on Buzzfeed.” You smile and hear another sound effect and something pops up on the screen. “Thank you to coochie man for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot.” You laugh at their name. “I love your name, by the way.” 

There’s some rattling in the cage behind you and you turn around to see one of your rats drinking water. You turn back to the chat and read another comment. “’ Do you have a crush on Corpse?’” You blush and smile, biting your lip. “I mean, his voice is hot. I’ve never met him since he lives in San Diego and I live in h/t, but yeah, I guess I do. I’ve been listening to his music for the past few days and it’s really good, you guys should go check it out.”

You look up and unmute yourself when a body is reported. “Who died?” you ask. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you already done with your tasks, y/n?” Corpse asks. 

God, even the way he says your name is making you blush. “Yeah, I get them done quick.”

“She does that,” says Lizzie, “She always gets her tasks done quick.”

“Ken is dead by the way,” says Roomie and your snort, smacking a hand over your mouth. “I found him in the hallway by navigation. Where was everyone else?”

“I was in cafeteria doing nothing,” you say, leaning back in your chair and spinning around just a little. “I think I saw PJ downloading while I was in there, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, I was downloading,” says Ken. 

After more discussion, Corpse points out that Jaiden had been following him and it looked like she had been faking tasks. 

“No I haven’t,” she says. 

“That sounds like something the imposter would say,” you hum with a smirk. “That’s pretty sus, Jaiden.”

Everyone else agrees and you all end up voting Jaiden out. 

jaiden was the imposter

0 imposters remain

You cheer as the round ends and a blue victory screen pops up for the crewmates. “Good game, guys,” you say and play again, waiting for the host. 

~

1 round before the incident 

“Oh my god, I’m imposter again?” you groan and sigh when you spawn back in. ���I was just imposter, I don’t want to be it again. I’m so bad at it,”

After another short round of you and Felix losing to the crewmates, you all agreed to play two more rounds before Sean had to leave. So you move your character to admin where PJ is and fake the card swipe before moving over to the admin security thing where you could see who was around where. Luckily, no one appeared to be near admin, so you quickly kill PJ and escape through the vent and come out through medbay. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whisper over and over, running down to storage. “That was clean.” You fake getting fuel and go back up to the upper engine. 

When PJ’s body is reported, you see that your fellow imposter, Sean, had reported it. You stay silent for most of the round and only say that you were in the fuel area when it was reported. 

“Yeah, I saw her run past electrical earlier,” Corpse says. You blush and glance at your exploding chat and shake your head. 

After everyone skips the round, you mute yourself once more and head towards navigation. “I hate this.” You drag the last syllable and watch Lizzie enter the room. You wait a moment before walking towards her and killing her, jumping into one of the vents. You let out a sigh and flex your fingers. “I’m so stressed.” You exit out of the vent into shields and your heart stops when you see someone else in there but you realize that it’s the other imposter, Sean, and you relax. 

You run past him and go to the trash compartments and pretend to unload those. And that’s how the rest of the round goes. You kill someone, someone reports it and you vote someone off. Eventually, you and Sean do a double kill and end up winning the round.

You unmute yourself. 

“Let’s go!” Sean exclaims and you smile. 

“I can’t believe you killed me, y/n!” shouts Lizzie. “I thought we were friends.”

You laugh. “There are no friends in this game. I’m not loyal to anyone in this game. You could be my best friend and I would fucking murder you.”

“That’s cold,” says Roomie as everyone else spawns back in. 

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“Wait, PJ disconnected,” says Sean, and you all end up waiting for him to rejoin. 

In that time, you look at your chat and say, “Hey, do you guys have any questions for who I’m playing with. I’m asking you, chat.”

“I swear if someone asks about my hands, I’m leaving,” Corpse says and everyone laughs. 

You laugh louder when you read a comment and read it aloud, “_Ironlady _says that you should be a hand model, Corpse.”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you hear Corpse say over everyone laughing. 

“No, stay!” you exclaim, trying not to laugh. “C’mon, don’t leave.”

He sighs deeply and your brain goes fuzzy. “Fine. I’ll stay for you.”

You beam and your tummy turns. You ignore the whistles and remarks from everyone else and stand beside Corpse. You suddenly wish that the little bean characters could hold hands. 

When PJ joins the server again, Ken starts the round and you cross your fingers, hoping to get crewmate. 

0 rounds before the incident

You mute yourself and sigh when you’re a crewmate. “Thank god.” You let out a breath and go over to admin with everyone else. You swipe your card and go to the cafeteria to do some wires there. 

The game turns out to be rather uneventful. A few people die and two people are voted off before the game gets truly interesting. And that happens when you walk in on Corpse and Felix. 

“I’ve had this song stuck in my head for days,” you’re saying, walking from electrical over to O2. “And I can’t get it out of my head. Maybe singing it will help.” You hum the first part. “Don't go in there, you'll become one. Freaky creatures, monster party. Eyes of yellow, scales and feathers, tails in tethers. Turn the lights off. Bend the nightmare, you control it. Artful dodger, easy does it. Shut the closet, get under the covers. Snakes and lovers. Turn the lights off.” You do a little dance for a moment and continue hum the song, glancing at the chat as you go towards O2 after doing wires in storage. 

“Like, I know the song, it’s just been stuck in my head,” you explain. “And it kind of annoys me--”

But you stop as you enter O2 and watch Corpse murder Felix. Neither one of you move and you don’t know what to do. “Uhhh.” 

Then, without thinking, you turn straight around and make your way away from the scene of the murder. “I didn’t see anything!” you shout to no one. “I suddenly can’t see who murdered Felix.” You smack a hand over your mouth and stand in the middle of a hallway. “Oh my god, what do I do? I don’t want to snitch on Corpse, he’s hot.” You scratch the back of your neck and shrug, continuing on to reactor. “I didn’t see anything.”

You’re in the middle of doing the simon says in reactor when Felix’s body is reported. You unmute yourself and fidget with the sleeve of your hoodie. You know exactly who killed Felix. 

“--was in O2,” says Jaiden and you focus back into the conversation. “And I didn’t see anyone around.”

“I saw you heading that way, y/n, but I know it wasn’t you because I saw you do the trash in storage.”

You look at the screen when Sean talks to you and you chew your lip. “I know who killed Felix.”

“Who?” asks almost everyone at the same time. 

You close your eyes and swallow. It’s just a game, why are you taking this so seriously? Suddenly, a song lyric pops into your head and your stomach flips. You imagine yourself saying it and no one knows who you mean except for him. 

You open your eyes. “I’d never snitch on daddy.”

There’s a laugh in the chat and you blush fiercely, your livestream chat blowing up once again.

“I think we know who it is, then,” says Sean, laughing. 

“Yeah,” agrees Lizzie and your eyes widen. 

“Wait, what?” you ask, watching everyone vote almost as soon as the discussion time ends. “Wait, hang on, who--”

“We know who you’re talking about, y/n,” PJ tells you. 

You vote for yourself and your brain goes blank as you see that everyone voted for Corpse. He even voted for himself. They knew. They all _knew _about your feelings for Corpse. 

The round ends with Corpse being voted out and the crewmates win. There’s some talking, but you stay on the victory screen. You’re trying to decide if your mad or embarrassed or both. 

“I didn’t know you’d say that, y/n,” Corpse says, effectively breaking you out of your trance. “I thought you were gonna snitch on me.”

“You heard her,” teases Lizzie and you can tell she’s grinning. “She’d never snitch on you, Corpse.”

He laughs and you feel something in a certain place. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die of embarrassment.” You put your face in your hands, listening to your friends tease you in the chat. You suddenly want to jump out your window and run into traffic. 

“Don’t die,” comes Corpse’s voice through the onslaught of teasing. “I’ll be sad.”

“Fuck!” you shout and slam your hand on your desk, shaking your equipment and scaring your rats. “I’m so sorry, Corpse, that was really weird, I--”

“Stop.” He interrupts you and the chat goes silent and you look up at the screen even though you can’t see him. “It’s okay. It was funny.”

Your eyes widen and then narrow. Funny? He thought what you said was funny? How could he think it was funny?

But then he speaks again and he sounds oddly flustered. “Uh, I gotta go. Um, it was fun playing with you guys. Bye, y/n.”

“Bye Cor--” but then he disconnects and you’re left talking to no one. “--pse.”

There’s a long moment of silence until Felix breaks it. “I can’t believe you just watched me die and didn’t do anything about it.”

There are some laughs and you smile faintly, rejoining the game. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”

“Are you okay, y/n?” asks Lizzie. 

You blush and swallow. “I don’t know. God, I’m so weird.” You run a hand through your hair and adjust your headphones

“No, you’re not,” Roomie assures you. “He has a crush on you, too.”

Your eyes widen and you scoot up in your chair. “He does?”

“I mean, he called you pretty once during a game and said that he watches your videos a lot, so maybe.”

You groan and sink in your chair. “I’m gonna go, I need to run into traffic now.”

A few people laugh or chuckle and Lizzie asks you if you’re actually going to leave. 

“Yeah,” you tell her. “But not to run into traffic. I’m going to go play Minecraft to soothe myself.”

“Aw.” You can practically hear her frown. “Okay. Bye, y/n.”

“Good luck with your stream,” Ken tells you. 

You grin. “Okay, thanks, bye.”

When you exit the game and leave the chat, you scream. You actually scream and it’s loud. Your roommate even knocks on your door, asking if you’re okay. 

You look at them and nod. “Yeah, totally fine. Probably about to have a mental breakdown, but I’m fine.”

“Okay,” they say and lean on the doorframe. “But I’m not cutting bangs for you again.”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, okay, fine.” They leave and you turn back to your stream, feeling like you’re about to cry. Corpse knows you have a crush on him. And it seems like he has one on you as well, but now you’re embarrassed because you called him ‘daddy’ on stream.

You rub your eyes. “Well, now I know what’ll be streaming on Twitter tonight,” you tell the chat. 

[wendimydarling]

Cover the Mirrors

Summary: Amber is earning a masters degree in mythology and folklore; when a handsome stranger sweeps her off her feet, she’s left wondering how, and struggles to keep up with his lifestyle.

Pairing: Vampire!August Walker x OFC (first person reader)

Word Count: 6826

Warnings: Alright, we ready to get into the menu of delights we will be reading today? Okay but seriously, if you are triggered by anything on this list, it is your responsibility to not read this work of fiction. The warnings are as follows: manipulation, subtle exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, mention of oral (male receiving), biting, clawing, choking, blood, male violence, gore, non-con, rape, spitting, fear play, primal play, breeding, mention of death, torture, and potentially cannibalism, if you squint.

A/N: Okay so this story is based off of this thread where @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ gave me a fic title, but I added another twist to it that I’d been brewing for months; I was excited about it but now I’m not. Whatever, I’ll give it to you anyway. Sources for my vampire lore came from here and here. Cover art was made by me; August was drawn by the amazingly talented @cheyentjj​ and has been used with her permission. Thank you so much to everyone who brainstormed with me, and a special thanks to @agniavateira​ for betaing! 

“If you look at the Slavic region, vampire folklore runs rampant. One especially interesting specimen is the Pijavica. The Pijavica (translated “leech”, or “drinker”) was a rare species of vampire— traditionally male, and a powerfully strong, cold-blooded killer. The potential for conception is most commonly believed to be through the incest of the deceased with his mother during his life, though some believe that one can be created through the exceptionally malicious and evil acts of the deceased before his death. 

The birth of a Pijavica is attributed to many different causes, including suffering an “unnatural” or untimely death such as suicide, excommunication, improper burial rituals, or even simple causes such as an animal jumping or bird flying over either the corpse or the empty grave, being conceived on certain days, or being born with a caul, teeth, or tail.” 

I paused my typing, fingers leaving the keyboard in order to brush loose strands of hair from my face. Around me, the baristas of my favorite coffee shop were buzzing like worker bees in an old hive; they were gearing up for the lunch rush, and I realized I’d been here four hours already. 

This place had long been my go-to study zone. It was small; there was just enough hustle and bustle to keep me from descending too deep into the abyss of studying and yet, it had the respect of the patrons that a library does. The owner, Fred, made sure that conversations were kept in hushed tones, courteous to those of us who needed to work in noise instead of quiet. 

“If ya wanna be loud, go sit at a Starbucks!” He’d huff at those who didn’t heed his warning.

My eyes took in the familiar surroundings as I stretched. An oversized wood-burning fireplace filled the wall next to the vintage cash register; it was sandwiched between two built-in bookcases housing stories of all kinds that were meant to be read and enjoyed. The old stone clackling ran all the way up the wall, and a custom mantle made from an old oak tree that had fallen in Fred’s backyard sat delicately above the firebox. Yes, this shop was magical. It held a special place in my heart, and I’d visited so often that old Fred had deemed the table I sat at as “my table”. It was always kept reserved for me. 

I reached for my coffee without looking; my brain needed more caffeine. I’d spent months on this master thesis, and yet for some reason, the notion of vampires was such a struggle. I didn’t understand the fear of those who lived back then. The origins of bloodsuckers were chaotic, the “treatments” laughable and still, people were willing to kill their own offspring over such nonsensical superstitions. Cold drops of stale roast hit my lips in a harsh reminder that I’d finished my previous dose. I sighed heavily and dropped the cup to the wooden surface of my table. Eyes closed, I laced my fingers around my neck and drew my elbows together to stretch my spine. Coffee. I need more coffee.

“Having trouble?”

A man’s baritone, smooth as whiskey interrupted my thoughts. My body jolted at his leisurely tone, and I nearly tumbled off the chair as my eyes snapped open to view the intruder. Sitting across from me was anything but a man; I was in the presence of divine artistry, two breathtaking orbs of gray-washed sky centered below auburn curls that adorned his perfectly symmetrical face. A sharp nose pointed to his strong jaw, while an amused smirk tugged at the corner of lips that I’m certain could send even a nun to her bedroom for self-maintenance. He wore a crisp, pinstripe suit, the buttons of his dress shirt undone sinfully low, revealing a smattering of additional curls. 

My oversized turtleneck sweater and leggings suddenly felt subpar.

“The name’s Walker,” he mused further, gesturing a large hand toward the empty paper tumbler that was now lying on its side. “What were you drinking?”

“I--I um,” I fumbled with my words, embarrassed by my sudden inability to form a proper sentence. “I had a flat white? With two extra shots of espresso.”

The man named Walker had the cup in his hand and was out of his chair before I could blink; he was already ordering another coffee by the time I managed to process his intentions. I watched him hand the barista a bill I couldn’t see, but by the shocked expression on her face at the man’s declination of the change, it must have been a sizable amount. He sat down at the table again and stared at my chest unabashedly, making it clear he wasn’t just looking but imagining as well.

I should have been offended or felt objectified, but instead I felt drawn into his gaze.

“Having trouble?” He asked again, gesturing this time at my laptop.

“How long were you sitting there?” I blurted out, still too flummoxed to answer his question. Walker laughed and I swear, time stood still. Never in my life had I heard something so beautiful.

“Long enough.”

His reply was short and cryptic, a dismissal of my burgeoning curiosity. The barista chose that moment to bring two orders of coffee to the table, offering both of them to Walker by mistake. I took in her awestruck countenance, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if my face matched hers I’d sink to the floor and die of shame. That notion shook me from my stupor and I was finally able to address his question.

“It’s my master thesis,” I explained, taking a sip of the scalding liquid he handed me. “I’m a History major, with an emphasis in mythology and folklore.”

I took another sip and tapped my phone, large numbers greeting me on the screen. Numbers that told me I was extremely late.

“Oh my god I have to go, I’m so sorry!” I apologized, scrambling to pack my things. In my haste I knocked my drink off the table. Resignation sunk in deep, submission to the knowledge of further humiliation at the impending spill. None came however, as Walker caught the drink in his hand before it crashed to the dark tiles.

“Thank you,” I murmured, gawking at him in bewilderment. Who was this man?

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, standing to help me collect the remainder of my books. “I’m interested in your thesis, could we perhaps discuss it over dinner? I don’t want to keep you from your next engagement.”

“I—” I stared at him, his face open and inviting. I’d been asked out before, but never this abruptly, and never by someone who looked and behaved like him. It sounded like an adventure…or a good story to tell on girls’ night at least.

“You know what, sure. Why not?”

I scribbled my number onto a napkin and slid it his way, grabbing the rest of my gear and heading toward the door. As I pushed against the hard metal, Walker’s large fingers caught my wrist, wrapping around it like ivy wraps around a lamppost. They were cool to the touch and yet somehow, my entire body immediately felt heated.

“We forgot first names,” he chuckled, “I’m August.”

I grinned sheepishly, pulling my arm from his surprisingly firm grip. The clank of the metal door handle resonated with the introduction I threw over my shoulder as I left the warmth of the shop and the handsome man behind.

“Amber.”

It took August a full week to call me. I felt like a fool; Did I leave on a poor note? Had I offended him somehow? Did he simply decide to change his fucking mind? I was kicking myself for saying yes; how could I have agreed to go on a date with a complete stranger? Now that I was no longer in his flustering presence, I began to see reason again. I knew nothing more than this man’s name, and the fact that he was more than likely rich. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all I knew, and I had every intention of telling him off.

I was in my apartment when he called. Still stuck on my thesis, I was currently unable to determine how best to explain the theory behind the sexual appeal of vampires. In my frustration, I hung upside down over the side of my bed, reading a book that discussed the many different works of literature revolving around vampirical romanticism and hoping the blood rushing to my brain would help me ascertain how to go about my explanation. The book was written by two authors who essentially argue the whole time, one of them convinced that the human fascination with vampires stems from the cannibalistic nature of bloodsucking or that it alluded to other bodily fluids such as semen, whereas the other stood firm in his belief that it held a much simpler cause; it was nothing more than the presence of oral fixation and sadism that caused the fantasy to plant its seed.

My phone vibrated but I ignored it, too engrossed in my book to be bothered with answering. I was so close… the answer was right there, it just continued to escape me. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated a second time to notify me of a voicemail that I put the pages down and picked up the electronic device.

The moment I heard August excusing his delay in calling to a work emergency, I immediately sat up and hit redial. There was something in his voice that made my heart quicken and my pulse race; it made the hair on my arms stand on end. I regretted sitting up so fast as it rang, the blood surrounding my brain draining quickly into the rest of my body. August answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Amber.”

“I—hi.”

I rolled my eyes then flinched in pain, congratulating myself sarcastically on how pathetic that response sounded with a slap of my palm to my forehead.

“Please, allow me to apologize again for waiting so long to call,” August insisted, seemingly unphased by my lack of vocabulary. “I still intend to take you to dinner, that is if you haven’t written me off completely.”

“No it’s fine, I totally get it,” I assured him. I had completely forgotten my earlier annoyance. He had explained it after all, and it could happen to anyone.

“Perfect. I’ll send a car tonight then, at seven. Wear something revealing please, I wasn’t able to see that pretty little neck of yours last time.”

My insides shook with an unexpected pang of shocked arousal at August’s request. The sexual confidence saturating his tone had me instantly reduced to nothing more than a deep desire for him to drag me to my knees by my hair. Why I wasn’t offended by the dominantly abrupt way this man spoke to me, I’ll never know. I put on the best flirty air I could manage in my stupor.

“I think I can manage that. Might have to charge you though.”

August laughed for the second time since I’d known him and I smiled, proud that I’d caused such a melodious sound to grace this earth.

“I like your spirit; you’re gonna be fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I—okay bye,” I managed to say before he hung up. I stared at my phone stupidly, as though I thought he was going to call again. Instead, the large clock face glared up at me like it always does, an ever present reminder that I live on a different plane of time than the rest of the world. I fell back on the bed, thinking about the man named August.

He likes my spirit? I hadn’t really shown him much, I’d been unable to do anything but stammer and trip over my words like a schoolgirl would when confronted by the cutest jock at school. What could he possibly see in me? The woman I truly was, the one I knew was underneath the bumbling idiot finally answered me. You’ve got three hours, Amber. Show him what you’re made of.

Resolve set in, and I bounced off the bed and walked toward my closet. For whatever reason, he’d chosen me, so I was going to let my confidence in that thought override all the self-doubt that was threatening to surface. I pulled my favorite dress from the hanger and set out to work. He wanted revealing? Then revealing is what he’d get, but I was going to do it my way.

The car was punctual, though I was less so. I scrambled to put diamond studs in my ears while being driven to some unknown location, my nerves making my hands shake. Once again, the notion that I could be driving to my death crept up my spine, but I brushed it off. Rich men send cars, it’s what they do. And I am an intelligent woman, I wouldn’t let myself be put in that situation.

Would I?

Touching the final stroke of Red Wine lipstick on my lips, I pulled my loose curls over my shoulder to expose my neck and put my things in my vintage black clutch, staring out the window at the ancient building that housed the most expensive club in town. I was suddenly grateful I’d chosen such a fancy dress. I fidgeted with the soft hem of the sleeve at my wrist, drawing it back and forth between my fingers while I waited for the driver to come to a stop.

I saw August there waiting, looking sharp as ever in another expensive three-piece suit, buttons undone just as low as the first time. This time however, I felt much better matched to his attire, and my confidence rose right next to my excitement. August came down the steps to open the door and I took his hand, hiking the burgundy velvet up to my thigh so that I could exit the car smoothly. The heavy fabric dropped to the ground the moment I freed it from my grasp, allowing August to study how I’d chosen to honor his request.

August drank in my covered form, taking in the way my dress hugged my curves and accentuated what it needed to. His eyes darkened as they lingered on the single large triangular section of bare skin that started at my shoulders and came to a point between my breasts, and I watched his tongue dart out of his mouth softly. He looked downright hungry. August stepped closer, fingertips grazing the flesh on my collarbone before he fastened his grip onto my nape and inhaled the hair at my temple deeply, pressing his lips to my ear.

“You are simply mouthwatering,” he growled, low and possessive. His hand released my neck and slid down to the small of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. My insides quivered at his touch, fragrant drops of dew pooling rapidly in the flimsy lace that guarded my mound from potential intruders.

“You wanted to see my ‘pretty little neck’,” I teased his earlier arrogance, lifting my skirt to traverse the steps leading inside, “I thought I’d frame her for you, give her the spotlight.”

August cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement, sensing my challenge. His fingers dug into my hip a little harder than necessary as he guided me through the establishment with nothing more than a nod to the hostesses. Apparent jealousy marred the face of one, and I thought I saw a hint of worry on the other. We were gone before the emotion could register in my mind.

I was escorted to a private booth in the upstairs of the establishment. While the first floor was crowded and full of people, the second floor was empty; August had requested it for our use alone. I could hear the hum of nightlife below, the haunting, non-lyrical melody of a soft alto wafting over the balcony as we walked past, the whispered promise of an enchanting night. A few tables and chairs were strategically placed on the floor, hugged by back-to-back rounded booths on either wall. Light ethereal curtains hung on either side of them, offering privacy from the guests who would typically sit in the next box over. August led me to the corner booth nearest the balcony so that we could look upon the stage if we chose.

“Our table, milady,” he joked, leaving a wet kiss on the back of my hand. Though the charade was seemingly in jest, it could not have been farther from it. His piercing eyes never left mine and I gasped at the feel of his brazen tongue on my skin. The suggestion of what he could do with it hung thick in his gaze, lacing the air with the succulent first tendrils of decadent tension. Playing along, I took a sharp breath and curtsied. I stayed low as August stood to show him the appeal of my figure at this angle, tilting just my head to look up at him. He stood there, head held high like a king, and the smile I received at my display was downright sinful.

“What a treat you are,” he murmured, cupping my chin briefly. My breasts swelled as I stood, consenting August the claim to chivalry by way of settling me into the alcove. He swept my hair over my shoulder again, trailing a single finger down my neck in admiration before taking his own seat. My insides were nothing but a pile of kindling, and every touch he gave was a spark that threatened to ignite the dry leaves into a burning flame of need.

The courses came and went just like those moments, every phrase emphasized with physical intimacy of some kind, whether it be just a gossamer brush of his fingers on my ear or an intentional grasping of my hand. He went as far as to boldly stroke the back of his knuckle along my cleavage, making me dizzy with desire. Each touch was avaricious—like he owned me—and I had zero qualms about letting him.

We ate our fill, but August made no move to leave the comfort of our small corner. With the noise of people below dulled by the far reaches of our seclusion, it was easy to converse. I told him more about my master thesis and the Pijavica, how they could read minds and enjoyed the power of persuasion, how they were impervious to all but decapitation, and how only their offspring could kill them. He listened intently, sharing tales of his own career. It was how I discovered that he was a doctor.

“I don’t practice anymore though, I prefer to study and learn. Specifically, I’m attracted to tears.”

“Tears?” That struck me as odd; it wasn’t often you came across someone who had such a unique field of study. “Why tears?”

August swirled the whiskey in his glass and downed it abruptly. He subtly indicated to our attendant for another before continuing his explanation.

“I’ve always had a fascination for the small things, things that people don’t seem to think matter; the mind-body connection, you know? For example,” he brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, “Did you know that the cellular structure of tears looks different based on the type of tear?”

August cupped my neck with both of his hands, tilting my head this way and that, his calm features set in measured focus as he spoke.

“Basal, reflexive, emotional... they all look different.”

I closed my eyes, letting him caress my skin. August’s touch was intoxicating, addicting. Even his scent was an aphrodisiac to my senses. I couldn’t get enough of it, lured ever closer to his sturdy frame, letting him manipulate my body how he saw fit. He nuzzled my hair, his soft spoken words dripping with lust into my ear.

“In fact,” he went on, “Even among those categories they differ, dependent on the stimuli.”

I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips surrounding the pulsepoint in my veins as he spoke, my jaw his destination. A hand snuck under my skirt, skimming along my trembling skin toward the seeping treasure that awaited him at the end of his journey. I spread my legs willingly, inviting him into my deepest of secrets. August hummed as he went on, sending spirals of tingling vibrations through my chest.

“The sting of onions, the sadness of grief… the satisfaction of overwhelming pleasure.”

“August…” I breathed, but my voice was severed as August simultaneously laid claim to my mouth and my womb. Thick fingers penetrated me in the same moment as his probing tongue, and it was in that moment I knew I was lost; August Walker could pull everything from me and I wouldn’t care; I’d want it, need it. He had spent all night teasing me, testing me, manipulating me and filling me with nothing but a desire for more, leaving me empty and wanting. He had succeeded, I now craved him above all else in this world.

August lifted my skirts, hoisting me with little effort to straddle his lap and I cried out in shock. The sound of my sudden impalement on the thick steel of his manhood was camouflaged by the crowd of people below; no one heard the echo of carnal awakening that sang through the air. When had he undressed? I bit my lip as he sank deeper into my core until the salty bitterness of copper and iron stung my chin. August’s eyes fell to the red droplet, darkening until the only color left in his pale irises was the very absence of light. With a hideous growl he ravaged my mouth, tasting every inch of my bruised lips with the hunger of an animal that’s been caged for far too long.

Thrill and terror tangled themselves in my mind, weaving an intricate web of wanton desire inside of me as August took me right there in the booth. Time itself seemed to halt, the room disappeared. Were we still in the club? Was it still the dead of night? Did I still require oxygen to breathe? Or was my life source now August’s touch, the light in my very soul dependent upon his kiss?

I didn’t notice when we left, nor when we arrived at a house that overlooked the city. I didn’t notice the lock on the basement door, or the fresh garden in the yard. I didn’t notice the continual rising and setting of the sun. I didn’t notice when I grew hungry, nor when I grew tired. I didn’t notice, not anything but passion, need, and desperation.

I didn’t notice.

Sleep drained from my limbs slowly. I awoke to black silk caressing my skin, dim sunlight shining through the wall, diffused by a covering of clouds that hung in the sky. It confused me that it was coming through the entire wall, until I realized that said wall was simply one large window, and the room I found myself in was built into the rock of an obsidian cliff overlooking the city. The room was minimally decorated in dark tones that coordinated with the nature outside, save for a striking, golden painting of a woman crying on the far wall. I clearly wasn’t home, and last night’s events slowly returned to the forefront of my mind.

August.

August was, without a doubt, the most attentive lover I’d ever had. Memories of his lips, his scent, his god-like physique that was surely carved from marble entertained my thoughts, returning my mind to the pleasure I’d never experienced in my life. Chills ran up and down my skin, alighting in wonder as my hand drifted to my sex. My fingers found my petals, swollen from overuse, aching in the dull agony of satisfaction. I stroked them gently, soothing the pleasant tenderness, moaning softly as the blood rushed to swell my clit once more, my other hand slipping beneath the silk to join in the heavenly edging torment.

A sharp, sudden sting at the brush of my inner thigh caused me to cry out, my hands snatching away from their play. I sat up, peering beneath the sheets to discover a semi-circle of divots cut into my leg. Is that a… a bite mark? I pulled at the skin and felt the dried blood crack, a small pinprick of new red seeping through the scab. I lunged from the bed to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner and look for other signs or markings, but what I found made me gasp.

Bruises peppered my neck, chest, hips and thighs. A few other crescents were scattered amongst them, standing out against the dark patches that shaded my skin. I took a physical inventory then, feeling the soreness in my jaw from being stretched by his cock, the ache of my neck from having my hair pulled, the shaky feeling of muscular fatigue in my legs from being tensed by orgasm after orgasm. I thought I detected a slight sheen on my skin, but I couldn’t tell if that was from the tremulous bliss of a satisfying fuck, or if it was the sweat and oil caused by said satisfying fuck. Either way, I looked happy and content. I grabbed August’s dress shirt from the floor and threw it on as I left the room to explore.

The bedroom led to a hallway, the wall to my left still nothing but expansive glass that showed off the impressive view. On the other side were large, black and white abstract prints, hung evenly spaced against dark panels. To the left of each was a shadow box with an ornate glass vial inside; each bottle was thin, no longer than my palm and differing in design from the others. Tiny, intricate patterns were painted on the outsides in white, blue, and gold, and gold stoppers sealed each one. When I entered the main room, I discovered a curio cabinet that housed at least a hundred of them, and I leaned in to look at how varied each one was.

“Victorian tear catchers,” August’s voice was suddenly behind me and I whirled sharply, startled. He chuckled at my alarm and I laughed with him, enjoying that glorious sound.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, turning back to look at the delicate glass. August pulled me against his naked chest, nosing my hair and kissing my neck.

“Yes you are,” he whispered, earning an eye roll from me. August chuckled and opened the cabinet.

“Would you like one?”

“Really?”

I looked at him, stunned. He simply nodded his head in the direction of the vials and I examined them, selecting one that had a white pattern on it that looked like lace.

“Mmm, a good choice. Perhaps I can collect tears of ecstasy for you,” August whispered. The thrill of what he was implying awakened my senses, and I let him lead us slowly back toward the bedroom. I felt like teasing him, so I delayed a bit by asking about the art on the wall.

“What are those?” I pointed to the first print, a cross-hatching pattern that looked like it was made of sewing pins.

“Those are tears of grief,” he stated, stopping in front of each as he walked me gradually down the hall.

“A yawn,” he said of the next, a white background with dark, fern-looking splatters. August traced his mouth along my jaw, his hand dipping beneath the button of his shirt to play with the sensitive nipples he had rediscovered. I keened as he continued shifting us toward the kitchen, struggling to keep my composure. The next print was a much darker gray, and it looked like it was covered in snowflakes.

“Any guesses?” August asked, mouthing my earlobe in tandem with the flick of his thumbs over my hardened nubs. I whimpered, my knees weak in his lustful embrace.

“Uhm… cold air?” I rasped as he sucked on my neck. August chuckled through his nose, the vibrations of his voice rippling through my chest to connect with his teasing fingers.

“Onions.”

“Yeah okay.”

I tilted my head so that I could kiss him, but suddenly the thought of onions turned my stomach. I lurched, pulling away and gagging slightly. Instead of concern, August smiled knowingly, seemingly unbothered by my retching.

“I see morning sickness has set in. It’s a little early and I had hoped you’d be able to avoid it, but alas, that’s not the case.”

My head swam suddenly, confusion mutilating all thought. I backed away from him.

“Morning what? What are you talking about?”

August took a step toward me, placing a hand on my belly and lacing his fingers in the hair at my nape.

“Women always taste better after they’ve conceived. And I can keep them longer; they make much more blood when they’re host to a fetus.”

I pushed against him, turning away and vainly attempting to process his words. Pregnant? Taste better? Blood? My eyes focused on a card I hadn’t noticed earlier in the shadow box, a single word printed on it.

Bridgette

“Isn’t it ironic,” August mused, tracing my collarbone with a thick finger, “That five weeks ago, you had a chance encounter with the very thing you’ve been studying for months, and now you carry his child.”

The room spun. I couldn’t think; my brain refused to process the nonsense he spoke.

“Five—five weeks?! No that’s not possible, our date was last night!”

“It’s more than possible, sweet morsel. Think about it.”

Bile rose thick and acrid in my throat then, threatening to spill. Memories and time started filtering into my mind, replacing the fog with everything I’d lost. The last puzzle piece clicked into place, confusion all but disappeared and I was left with nothing but the cold, terrifying truth. Pijavica. Vampire. Monster.

I’d fallen into the clutches of a monster.

I did the only thing I could think of; I slapped him as hard as I could and took off through the house, ignoring the sharp pain of a chunk of hair remaining in his hand. My heart pounded in my chest, desperate to be free of this sudden nightmare. I slammed into the front door and grabbed the handle, a strangled sob catching in my throat when it wouldn’t open.

I rattled the door knob, panic consuming every fiber of my being. Suddenly, it wasn’t just my life I was fighting for; apparently there was a life inside of me that needed protecting. The child of a Pijavica that was depending on me to escape, so that he could come back and kill his father. I have to get out. I gave up on the door in anger, spinning around and looking for another way.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

I heard August’s voice again, but he was nowhere to be seen. His voice came louder, penetrating my mind. I have to keep moving.

“It was because of your name; they match your eyes.”

I whimpered at his words, sneaking my head around a corner to survey the living space for some form of an exit.

“Amber has a historical application, you see,” he went on, louder. I dashed over the floor, desperate to be gone from him. Door after door remained locked, and my terror grew with each attempt. Every now and then I could hear August, whether it be a rustle of fabric or the knock of his foot on the wooden floor. The scholar in me knew that it was on purpose, that he was luring his prey, giving chase to his food, and yet my rational mind refused to take charge. I was being led by my flight response, and his jarring monologue wasn’t helping.

“Throughout history, whenever a goddess cried it was typically tears of amber, save for the goddess Freya, who cried gold. You met her in the bedroom.”

His laughter echoed through the dark walls of his lair, and chilled me to my core. It was no longer a beautiful sound, but grating and horrible. I was nothing but a petty human to play with, some toy that he could eat when he tired of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I came to the last door. Dear God, please let this one open. To my utter relief, the door swung wide and I was met with stairs. Stairs went down, and we were on a cliff. Down was good. Down meant freedom.

I clambered down the steps and flung open the door at the bottom, stumbling into the room and falling to the floor in horror and fear. There in front of me, was nothing but mirrors. A maze of mirrors, each one showing me my trembling features, mocking me, letting me know just how fucked I was. I turned back, intending to go back up the stairs and try another way, but August’s silhouette stood at the top, preventing me from going back into the house. I heard a scream and realized it was my own.

Scrambling off the floor, I took off into the maze, blinded by my tears.

“Each of those girls made it this far you know,” August taunted. I heard the slam of the door and nearly choked as I ran. “You’ll die in this room, just like they did.”

His nonchalance, his continual unconcern about chasing me, his arrogance that he would no doubt catch me made me so angry. I raced from path to path, growing ever more frantic every time I reached a dead end. I didn’t even know if this room had an exit, I just knew I had to keep moving. I tripped over something as I rounded a corner, screaming when I saw what it was.

“I see you found Bridgette,” August chuckled, and I looked up from the skeleton to see his hideous face marred with a sinful sneer. I gasped and took off again, turning this way and that. Hitting another dead end, I doubled back and ran smack into August’s broad torso. He caught me and held me close as I screamed, ripping his shirt from my body. He spun me around, pinning my wrists between my back and his belly, trailing his fingers languidly over my naked frame in an inspection of his handiwork. My jaw was gripped in an iron vice and August forced my gaze to the mirror.

“Do you see what I see?” he mocked. I could only stare in horror, for nothing but my own terrified expression stared back at me.

August had no reflection.

“Out of all the patterns in the world, do you know which tears are my favorite?” August continued to torment. He inhaled my hair deeply, snaking his tongue along the length of my cheek, tasting the stains my tears had left in their wake.

“Fear.”

I heard August growl as I fought against him, his iron grasp caging me against his cool skin, more of the cursed moisture pooling in my eyes. Glassy drops fell, retracing a new path toward my chin but August just kissed them away, shoving me to the floor when my knees buckled of their own accord. He let go of my hands to fidget with his slacks, pulling me back toward him every time I tried to crawl away as a parent would to a petulant child. On the third attempt he snapped my knee, a scream tearing from my throat in my woeful submission to his desire.

Finally free of his clothes, August lifted my hips, lining his rigid cock up against my sweat-soaked folds. He dove into my treasure without care, forcing his way into the depths of my belly, stretching and tearing my walls until he was fully sheathed. Strong arms wrapped around me again, and I felt two sharp points prick the junction of my neck and shoulder. I cried out and thrashed in fierce protest, knowing that small pinch was just a warning of oncoming pain.

August’s teeth punctured my skin easily, shredding muscle and sinew until they hit bone. I howled in pain as I watched blood drip from the wound, a familiar crescent shape joining its brothers on my body. Searing heat shot through my neck with his first draw of thick plasma; the violent removal of blood causing an intense burn that I felt all the way down to my injured leg. August released my neck and I clapped a hand over the fresh wound.

I looked over my shoulder at him; his head was tilted down, mouth still full of my blood; the lack of a reflection behind him unsettling to my senses. August opened his wicked maw slowly, dark scarlet trickling from his lips onto the junction where my hips met his, run through by his sword. He looked up at me with a nasty grin, bloodstained fangs curdling my stomach. I closed my eyes and turned away as he swiped a hand through the mess. His fingers penetrated my core alongside his cock, deaf to my sobbing objections.

“You’d better open your eyes, pet… This needy little cunt is dripping, I’d hate for you to miss it.”

August emphasized his sick joke by grasping my hair, shoving my head to the floor, forcing me to look once more into the polished glass. My desperate wails for mercy were all that kept me grounded as I watched him thrust, my battered hole be stretched beyond capacity. Nothing but empty space plundered my core, crimson air bruising the very place within me that only just last night had been treated with such tenderness and care. Not last night. His slick fingers found my mouth and violated it effortlessly; no amount of pressure I could apply would break through his tough skin.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

August pulled me up and took to my neck with fervor, latching onto the broken sliver of skin like a leech. The more he drank, the weaker I became, until there was no resistance left within me. I could see the color drain from my bloody face, I could see black slowly creep into my vision, but I was powerless to stop it. August was in charge, he held my entire existence in his hands, and he intended to extinguish it. I closed my eyes again, accepting my fate.

I was going to die.

One of my favorite places to visit is a small outdoor cafe, very near the coffee shop where I met Amber. Mmmm. Amber. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that tantalizing woman.

She lasted so much longer than all the others, you know. I was able to feed off of her nearly three full months as she hung there in my basement, until the last drop of her tantalizing nectar was finally extracted. She smelled of carraway and saffron, tasted of sweet mulled wine, and with the rich, heady, piquancy of her fertile womb seasoning each sinew, every inch of her opulent flesh begged to be consumed. I must admit, I should have dispatched of her sooner, but fascination overtook my curious mind as her own was consumed by insanity.

First it was freedom she asked for, and then death. Sometimes she would beg to speak to her mother one last time. But by the end, she only asked for one thing.

“Please,” she would whisper, “Please… Cover the mirrors. Just cover the mirrors.”

She asked so nicely, but how on earth could I hide such beauty? Her tears were just as rare, you see. They hold a beauty unmatched by any of the others that hang on my walls. I’ve never seen such a fear pattern like hers; it is more exquisite than the dawn of a misty spring day in the countryside, more beautiful than a woman at the height of euphoria. And they way they sparkled against her skin, lustrous tracks that wound down her temples and through her hair, glinting in the mirrors with each slow rotation of her inverted body... well, it was as if I was living among the stars. Adding her ashes to my garden was such a shame.

I sat at that little cafe, eyes closed, viewing the world through my enhanced scent. Each drop of bitter coffee, the pollen of a nearby bee, the oil in the bike chains of two clumsy humans as they rolled past; each note and fragrance alerting me to its owner. A familiar scent reached my nose and I turned my head sharply, focusing on it.

Carraway… Saffron.

I smiled softly, opening my eyes to greet the woman that now sat at my table. The honey irises that had intrigued me all those months ago met mine and I chuckled low.

“Amber.”

Read on AO3.

[maybedefinitely404]

For You Became My Lighthouse

Genre: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

Pairing: romantic Prinxiety

Content: food/wine, Patton and Logan offscreen, anxiety attacks, argument, crying, fear of breakup.

Word count: 4k

Note: Not proofread. We die like men. Also part two is coming soon~

5:24

It definitely wasn’t every day that Virgil spent the early evening dancing around the kitchen while making dinner. But today was no ordinary day, and he was just too damn excited to stay still.

Figaro sat on the floor in the bedroom doorway, licking his paws and glaring disdainfully at the speaker system that had disrupted his nap. Virgil spotted the dark cat and grinned, dancing over to scoop him up. He hummed along to the music, bopping the disgruntled cat to the beat (much to his chagrin). Once upon a dream, Figaro might have fought tooth and nail at being used as a dance partner, but living with Roman for years had worn down his resolve. And after Virgil had entered their lives, he’d completely given up fighting their excuses for attention. Instead, the cat just yawned and went limp.

“Aw, did I wake you up, Figgy?”

The cat did not answer. 

Virgil let him hop from his arms onto his scratching tower and went back to slicing spinach on the counter, humming along to the music. He wanted it louder, loud enough that it numbed the excited tremble in his hands and drowned out his internal butterflies, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with noise complaints. Again. 

Instead, he opened the drawer in front of him and ran his fingers over the small box he’d placed in there hours ago. As he’d done countless times since, he opened the lid to make sure that the ring inside was still there, still perfectly centered and shining as brightly as it had been when he’d picked it up earlier that morning. 

Roman would never expect him to propose. Ask anyone who knew them and they’d agree that the romantic, outgoing, type-to-propose in their relationship wasn’t Virgil. Plus, he’d dropped no hints. Any time he met with Logan to plan, or went to the jewelers, and the million other things he’d had to do before this, he’d chalked it up to ‘having a bad day’ or ‘needing time alone’. 

He felt… a little bad, knowing in the recent months many of Roman’s attempts at dates had been turned down, only half the time due to actual bad days. But it would all be worth it in the end. The plan was to start with dinner; the meal they’d had on their first real date, followed by Virgil suggesting a walk. As they put on their jackets, he’d sneak the ring box into his pocket, and innocently lead them past a cafe for dessert, “coincidentally” the spot where Roman had asked Virgil to move in with him. Finally, the park, strung up with fairy lights and electric candles Logan and Patton had set up just before. It was their perfect mix of solitude and ‘extra’. Virgil would propose, and Roman would hopefully say yes, and everything would be perfect and amazing and-    

The oven timer beeped. There was fifteen minutes left for the dough to set; time to make the filling for the ravioli. But he’d barely started cooking the spinach when his phone chimed, alerting him of a text.

Hey V, dinner and a movie tonight? You can choose.

Virgil bit his lip and sighed, thumbs hovering over the keyboard for a second. As old as the excuse was getting, he needed to side step Roman’s plans one more time. Just one last time.

not feeling well. anxietys been all over the place. sry. 

He laid the phone back on the counter and returned his attention to the frying pan, flipping the greens and watching them wilt slowly. One eye on that, he pulled out his other ingredients from the fridge. He’d rather be ahead of schedule than behind. 

Ding ding.

Yeah, shocker. What else is new.

Virgil felt his heart drop. That wasn’t… at all in character for his boyfriend. Yeah, he’d used the excuse more often lately, but was it that much? He stared at his phone, hardly breathing, trying to think of some way to answer that, when a burnt smell reached his nose. 

“Shit,” He hissed, trading his phone for a spatula and turning the spinach once more. It was just on the brink of being overdone, just the edges turning a tad too dark, but nothing he couldn’t save. He scraped the pan’s contents into a bowl to cool and dumped it in the sink. The hiss and steam of the hot pan in water made him wince (he’d been told a million times it was bad, but he couldn’t recall why), but he left it on the bottom of the sink to fill and soak. Scrubbing dried spinach off it tomorrow would really put a damper on the ‘recently engaged’ mood.

“Mrow?”

Virgil shut off the water and turned to the trill, cursing when he realized Figaro had abandoned his tower in favor of sniffing the food on the counter.

“Figgy, no! Get down!” He plucked him away from the bowl just as he looked ready to pounce inside, much to the cat’s annoyance. “You would just spit it out, you big baby. Don’t look at me like that.” It probably wasn’t safe to keep cooking with the cat around anyways, so he went to their room and left him on their bed with a soft order to behave. Figaro blinked once at him with indignation before the door was closed, and Virgil hurriedly pulled out his phone.

Real mature, not answering. 

Virgil took a deep breath to push down the rising anxiety. He’s… probably just playing around, right? It’s probably meant in a lighthearted way but he was just misinterpreting the text harshly. It’s not malicious. Right?

sry, put figgy away

He paused for a moment, before shooting another quick text.

ur not actually mad right?

The typing bubble appeared.

And went away.

And popped up again.

And vanished.

That was enough confirmation to get Virgil’s heart pounding, all hope that Roman was just fooling around out the window. He was typing again, and this bubble was staying for longer, but now it was too long to be a simple affirmation.

I don’t know, Virgil. You used to actually contribute to this relationship, and now I’m the only one really trying. We barely ever go out, for like a couple months now. You always dodge my plans. I miss the old you, because right now I feel like I barely know you. I’m getting sick of it. 

Now Virgil properly couldn’t breathe. That sounded like the beginning, if not the entirety, of a breakup if he ever heard one. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck his stupid ideas, his stupid plans, fuck all of it. This is his fault, and Roman’s about to dump him, because he took his overdramatic proposal too far and it was about to end their relationship.

I’ll be home late. 

Okay, that wasn’t… a breakup? Unless, of course, he was going to do it in person, and needed time to plan how it was going to go. 

Cognitive distortions, is that what Logan had called them? Magnifying? Is that what was happening right now? There was a solid chance that Logan would agree with him, say that he wasn’t actually sure what Roman planned, and it would probably be okay, but it was very hard to be objective when he was in the middle of it.

how late?

Another deep breath. He placed the phone next to his mixing bowl, screen up so he would be sure to see the notification, and absentmindedly added in the ingredients he’d pulled from the fridge earlier. Shit, did they have thyme? 

Of course they did, he’d gone shopping for all the ingredients like two days ago. He needed to get out of his own head. 

The final timer went off, signaling the dough was ready to be used. Before he unwrapped the ball and got his hands covered in the stuff, he checked the lock screen on his phone. Nothing. 

It was fine, it was fine. 

Rolling out the pasta into one thin sheet took far more effort than he would have thought, and it took embarrassingly long before he was able to lay it out on the big ice cube tray he was using in place of an actual ravioli mold. He checked his phone. Nothing. 

Once he got the hang of filling the molds without making a huge mess, it was actually an easy process. He finished three and a half trays-worth before running out of dough and filling simultaneously, but that’s more than enough for the two of them. No answer yet. 

ro?

He set a pot on the stove full of water but didn’t turn it on; it would just be one less thing to do when he was ready to cook the ravioli. For now, he placed the pasta in the fridge so it didn’t dry up. Roman generally got home from work at six, which he had prepared for, except on late rehearsal days when he was held back an extra hour. That’s what Virgil consciously chose to believe; he meant he’d be home late because it was a longer day. He wasn’t answering now because he was on stage. Technically it all made sense, but it wasn’t enough to relieve the icy grip around Virgil’s lungs. 

romans gonna be late. push back an hour?

Logan sent back a thumbs up followed by his ‘-Logan’ sign off. Virgil sent a quick apology but didn’t bother to check the response when his phone lit up, focusing back on his plate of raw ravioli.

So, at five to seven, he’d boil the pasta and warm up the tomato sauce. It had been finished that morning and had been waiting in the fridge all day, because Virgil was a firm believer that it would taste better having had time to sit. Plus, he’d been excited, and had needed something to do with his hands. 

But now he needs something to do with his hands again, but instead of excitement, it’s a tingling discomfort spreading through his limbs and curling in his stomach. Convinced that there was nothing else in the kitchen he could do, he untied the apron and pulled it over his head, pleased at the stark black button up he’d successfully kept flour-free. The satisfaction doesn’t last for long.

Now that he’d acknowledged his shirt, it was impossible to ignore the way it wrapped far too tight around his neck. It’s fine, he thought as he unbuttoned the top button, I still look okay.

He may as well set the table. Patton, similar to Roman in regards to going above and beyond, had insisted Virgil go all out for the dinner. Stark white table cloth, silverware set perfectly next to the plates, and a tall, white candle as the centrepiece. Virgil had cringed a bit at the idea, but after being assured that Roman would love it, he’d reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t his style but, well, the night wasn’t supposed to be about him, no really. 

Watching TV did nothing to relieve the knot of uneasiness in his stomach, even when he unrolled his weighted blanket from the side basket and huddled into it. It brought a calm familiarity with it, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could pretend that someone was holding him. Patton’s soothing words, or Logan’s gravity, or Roman’s warmth or Roman’s safety or Roman’s gentleness or Roman-

6:53

Time to throw in the ravioli. He shut off the television, he hadn’t been watching it anyways, and turned the water on to boil. As it heated, he scuttled back to the table, some of his excitement returning. Sure, things had been tense on the phone, but Roman would be home any minute, and the rest of the night could go as planned. He pulls a small crinkle out of the white fabric and recenters the candle, stepping back to admire his work. It’s okay. If Roman had done it, it would probably look better, but who cared. It was fine. 

7:01

Virgil sighed, looking over his final creation once again. A part of him was cringing with the cheesiness of it all; the lit candle, food already plated, a bottle of wine fresh from the fridge. Getting a new wine may have been too much of a giveaway, so the feature was a half finished bottle from their last date… a few months ago. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if it would pair well. He didn’t even like wine. But it was Roman’s favorite, so it would have to do. 

He’d bitten three nails down to the nub by the time he figured he could add the tomato sauce over top. Roman was never later than seven, so the pasta wouldn’t even have the time to get soggy. 

In a combination of unfortunate events unlike any Virgil had experienced before, the tomato sauce bubbled the moment he grabbed the handle, dozens of pinpricks of heat burning his hands. He yelped and dropped the saucepan in favor of grabbing his scalded hand, jumping back as the pot hit the side of the counter and sent tomato sauce flying directly into the open drawer next to it. In his search for a match to light the candle, he’d left open the drawer containing the ring box, and in moments, the velvety exterior was coated in a fresh layer of marinara. 

“Fuck!” Virgil shouted. 

Heat be damned, he grabbed the box from the steaming puddle around it and rushed it to the sink. Running it under water would just be asking for the situation to be worse so he tried to scrape off the mess with a dishcloth. Was this even salvageable? 

No, it turned out. The white velvet had stained a shitty orange in a way he definitely couldn’t play off as the original color, and even though the interior (or god forbid the ring) hadn’t been touched, he found himself trying to fight off tears. This wasn’t fucking going well, and now… 

7:28

Roman was never this late, not without telling him. Virgil checked his phone and, nope, only the previous message from Logan and a newer one, asking if they could set up yet. He sent a quick:

no, hes not home yet

Panicking was not a move he wanted to make right now, despite how his brain was trying to convince him otherwise. Roman was probably stuck in traffic, right? And Virgil was always getting on him for texting and driving, so that could be why he hadn’t said anything. Sure, the route from the theatre to their house was barely ever busy, and yeah, it was way too late for there to be real holdups, but there was a first time for everything.  

He made quick work of cleaning up the disaster of marinara sauce, surprised that a decent amount was salvageable. Apparently in his panic he’d righted the pot before it had all spilled, so there was maybe just enough for the meals. The inside of the drawer was a stained, orange, mess, and the area under the burners was caked in dried sauce, and that was just too much work for right now. He slammed the drawer shut and threw a towel over the element. Out of sight, out of… well, not out of mind, but maybe it would take a backseat on ‘worries for the night’.

Might as well get a head start on dishes, he thought, since the thought of texting Roman is daunting and his whole body is aching for something to do. One second more of standing still and he may very well have combusted. He couldn’t even summon up the will to turn on music, the mood from before totally vanquished. If he could just get that burnt pan done, perhaps the tension in his chest would ease up a bit. 

But he cleaned the pan, and the rest of the dishes, and scrubbed the sink, and Roman still wasn’t home. At some point when he’d decided to just finish all of the dirty cookware he’d rolled up his sleeves, which he quickly lowered and rebuttoned around his wrists. The dishes were drying; nothing left to do there. 

He swallowed thickly. How was the shirt still too tight around his throat?

Virgil unbuttoned the next one down, hoping to ease the ball of fear in his throat. It didn’t help.

The food was lukewarm, at that point. It was still edible. It was microwaveable. It was fine. Again, the thought crossed his mind to text Roman, but what if he was driving? He might check it and get pulled over, and that would not help the uneasiness in their relationship right now. What if the phone’s light distracted him and he got into a car accident? He couldn’t lose Roman, not when their last words had been so strained, and it would be his fault on top? Not a chance. He’d be home any second now. He had to be. 

Virgil quickly found himself under his weighted blanket once more, watching whatever sitcom was on with dissociated interest, arms wrapped around his waist in a vice grip and feet bouncing under the covers. This time, though, the television worked less as a distraction and more as grating noise in his skull and he muted it, but that didn't stop the sudden stream of noise. Water was running through the pipes under him, some of his neighbors were shouting, and the fridge was humming and the lights overhead were buzzing and it’s all so loud-

His sound blocking headphones were also in the basket next to the couch and he shoved them over his ears. The world went quiet except for the sounds of his shaky breathing; breathe in, and out, and in, and out…

8:07

With the thick padding over his ears, the only sound he could hear was his breathing. It was somewhat reminiscent of Darth Vader’s, seeming far too loud, but also a steady foundation for him to ground on. Without the outside distraction, it was far easier to focus on his breaths, to slow them down, to get into a rhythm of long inhales and longer exhales. Bit by bit, the swarm of butterflies that had clasped around his heart gave way, allowing the anxiety to morph into numb sadness.

If Roman had come home on time, would they be in the park already? Would they be engaged? Maybe they’d already be back home, sharing the news to their families. Roman would probably already be gushing about wedding ideas as Virgil nodded along in amusement. They probably could have convinced Patton and Logan to come home too, and they could have had a great rest of the evening, finishing the bottle of wine and reliving the past and…

Were they even going to get engaged at this point?

He fumbled for his phone and sent a text to Logan.

plans off. sry

The headphones were overly effective in silencing the world, now amplifying his thoughts too much, so he slid them off. He took a deep breath, the sound now camouflaged in the rest of the apartment’s noise. A lump formed in his throat as he took in the arrangement of the dining room, and the more he pushed it down, the harder it was to stem the tears that were steadily filling his eyes. 

Virgil didn’t like feeling helpless, but that was all he felt at that moment.

Fuck.

Without forethought, he rubbed at his eyes, and instantly froze.

He drooped his head with a sigh that bordered on a groan, reluctantly lowering his hands from his face. Mixed in with his intercepted tears were the smudged remains of his makeup smeared across the web of his hands. 

Might as well; everything else went to shit anyways.

Usually, Virgil didn’t spend more than a minute removing his makeup. But that day, he spent an inordinate amount of time scraping off every streak of color until his face felt raw, watching his hard work be erased. He’d spent forever getting it perfect.

Even after he finished, he couldn’t get himself to move. That familiar weight of anxiety was settling again into the pit of his stomach as rushes of adrenaline, but he found it impossible to tear his eyes away from the mirror. As he stared into his own eyes, he vaguely remembered reading somewhere that looking at yourself in low lighting could trick one’s brain, causing the face to morph into something totally different, oftentimes not human; monstrous. Something about the brain trying to find faces everywhere, and creating them where it can’t see one properly. 

This didn’t happen to Virgil.

All he saw in the mirror was someone who had messed up his hope for a future. 

Huh. So maybe a ‘monster’ wasn’t too far off.

He laughed humorlessly and finally flicked off the bathroom switch, reentering the living room. The candle was still burning strong on the table, a good half way down. Virgil blew it out.

9:12

The state of apathy Virgil had sunken into was violently replaced with sharp anxiety when he finally bothered to check his phone, realizing it was past nine o’clock. Once more he considered asking Roman if everything was okay (heh, as if anything was okay) but he was quickly reminded why he hadn’t in the first place. Light distracts a driving Roman, bad things happen, it’s all his fault… 

Instead, he replied to Logan’s response.

Why? Virgil, what happened?

-Logan

we had a fight

His feet led him by their own will, pulling him to the wall so he could flip off the lights, dousing the apartment in darkness. Using the light from his phone screen, he stumbled to their room- or was it just Roman’s now? Would he have to move out? Oh god… where was he going to live?- ignoring Figaro’s mewls for pets. 

What did this fight regard? 

-Logan

idk. a bunch of stuff.

He stripped out of his formal shirt, hands shaking so bad he could barely undo the buttons, and exchanged it for his favorite hoodie. It may be too hot to sleep in, but he felt the need for comfort more than he was concerned about heat. 

Virgil dropped onto the bed next to the clothes, finally relenting to Figaro’s complaining and stroking down his back. In the stillness of a silent apartment, it was suddenly harder than ever to not completely break down. At least he wiped off his makeup.

This was over dinner?

-Logan

no. over text. he never came home.

He allowed the first tears to fall.

Maybe this had all been building up for a while and Virgil had just been too dumb to see the signs. Was this the night he lost everything? Would the one person he never grew tired of, the only person he had truly loved, leave him? He didn’t know what he’d do without Roman and somehow, he didn’t think he’d have a hope of ever finding someone like him again.

The tremors and blurry vision made it difficult to type.

i think romans going to break up with me

It took barely half a second after it sent for his phone to start ringing, Logan’s name showing up on the caller ID. 

Later, Virgil wouldn’t even remember pressing the answer button. The moment he heard Logan’s voice over the phone, his unusually concerned voice overlapping with Patton’s questions, the dam broke. He sobbed his way through an explanation the night, the text messages they’d swapped, and his snowball of anxiety.

To no surprise, the two on the other line immediately offered to come over, but Virgil declined. There was still the tiniest part of him, the littlest hope, that Roman was still going to walk through that door any second. If (when, when, when) he came home, they would need to talk, and it would complicate matters if Logan and Patton were there. 

When he eventually yawned in the middle of a sentence, he was encouraged to go to bed. He really didn’t need to be convinced; he was more than ready for this evening to be over. After promises that he’ll update them first thing in the morning, and multiple reminders that Patton loved him, he was left alone in the apartment once again. 

He curled into a ball on his side of the bed and cried himself to sleep.

Part two HERE!

[zotlel]

Fall Into You (M) - 02

pairing: jaebeom x you

genre: romance, angst, series, eventual smut

synopsis: Your love life has been filled with nothing but bad experiences. Determined to give up on the idea of finding the one you meet a man who is desperate to change your mind and have you see him as more.

word count: 5.0k

Your skull feels as if it weighs over a hundred pounds, while your body was floating down a murky river of despair. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes. All you know in this moment is that you need water. Now. 

Mustering up as much strength as humanly possible you swing your leg from your bed and hurry over to your bathroom. Hangovers are when you are at your lowest as a human. Craning your neck under your sink faucet you try to capture as much water as possible and allow it to slide down your throat. Once satisfied you shut off the water and try to steady yourself. Peeling one eye open at a time you notice that you were still in last night’s attire and also neglected to remove one of your boots. 

Last night? What happened last night?

Your brain begins to reel back in time to remember just how exactly you became as blackout drunk as you did. Last night, you can remember that Sofie and you were going to one of Dominic’s new restaurants, Jake couldn’t come. 

Okay, yes, this is good, now what else?

You neglected to eat dinner since you were worried about feeling bloated in your tight pants you were wearing. Opening your eyes again you look down at your jean-clad legs to confirm this much was true, and that also explained why you became so drunk so quickly. Dominic kept sending over tequila shots, his way of trying to harass you for the night the two of you hooked up while drunk off tequila, but you could never reject free drinks.

And then something else, something important happened.

A man!

Yes, that was it, a man came and sat in the booth with you when Sofie said she wanted to leave. You remember talking a lot to him and thinking he was incredibly handsome, but God you just could not remember his face or name for that matter.

His lips pressed deeply against yours as he cradled your cheek, heat spread over your body as desire licked at your loins. 

The flashback of kissing a total stranger last night has you smacking your forehead in embarrassment. How can you not even remember who you kissed last night? Did it stop there? Or did you also sleep with this man?

Jesus, you really were a train-wreck.

You groan to yourself when suddenly you hear something coming from your bedroom. Dread fills your body as you slowly turn to find the cause of the noise. This really could not be happening to you right now. Slowly you make your way to your bedroom to see a stray man with dark hair stretching his limbs in the morning light. Well, that confirmed your precious worries of whether or not you had sex last night. You never stayed the night with men, let alone in your bedroom, you must have been drunk out of your mind.

You stay still in the doorway as you watch the man slowly turn to meet your eyes. Not only was there a strange man in your bed, but it just had to be him. Jaebeom smiled lightly at you while rubbing the remnants of sleep out of one eye. You felt as if you were going to be sick.

“Hey, did you sleep okay?” Jaebeom asks you in his gruff morning voice.

You suddenly felt so exposed, so vulnerable, even while still in your clothes you felt as if you were naked to a crowd of a thousand eyes. His eyes were light, and slowly your memories of last night began to stitch together. Sofie wanted to leave when Jaebeom noticed you two, he had approached you wanting to apologize for New Year’s, but you were more interested in him than hearing any sort of apology. You talked for what felt like hours while he just listened and looked at you, with those same twinkling eyes. You may have also cried, hard to say for sure.

“U-Uh yes, fine,” you cough awkwardly. How can you be standing in the same room with someone you cried in front of and then proceed to fuck? The discomfort was sweeping through your body like a tidal wave, “I’m really sorry for last night.”

“Trust me there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Jaebeom says as he starts to fix your bedding.

How could you let this happen? Was your self-discipline really so low that you would go back on your word about no hookups in a mere week? Albeit that Jaebeom happened to be one of the most gorgeous men you have seen, it was no excuse. This was your time for healing and being alone, just like Sofie said. How can you ever be trusted?

“Everything okay? You look like you’re about to be sick,” Jaebeom must have noticed the worsening expression on your face as you scolded yourself internally. You bring a hand to your forehead attempting to get a grip of reality. The world felt as if it was spinning and flipping all around you like you were in some sort of tortuous drying machine. 

“I’m just feeling really shitty. I think it’s best if you leave,” you tell him.

To your surprise, Jaebeom nods his head in understanding and begins to make his way past you towards your bedroom door without any sort of complaint. You figure it would probably be best to walk him through the hall to your front door just in the case of your roommate being scared to death by a stranger in the apartment. Silently you tread behind Jaebeom, his shoulders were wide as they sloped past your narrow hallway, you couldn’t help but admire.

As the two of you begin to reach the door Jaebeom suddenly stops and turns to you. He says nothing as he only just stares into your eyes. You began to feel so small in his presence, the way his eyes looked so desperately at your own, searching for something you knew you didn’t have. With shame filling your body you instead turn your eyes to the floor, Jaebeom realizes your discomfort and reaches his hand to the doorknob. 

Still, with his back to you, he says something just loud enough for your ears, “If you ever need anything, call me. I saved my number in your phone.”

“S-Sure, thanks I will,” your body feels hot at his words, he nods once before leaving your apartment, shutting the door softly behind him.

You stand there unable to move from your spot as you process everything that just happened. Your hookup with Jaebeom, your lack of memory, his genuine concerning tone, and most of all how kind he was. Your brain felt like mush as you struggled to get a grip on this strange man. In your whole history of one-night stands, this one was by far the most confusing for you. 

Once you are able to clear these headache-inducing thoughts from your head you look up and see you have just about twenty minutes until you have to be at work. As if an alarm went off in your brain you begin to hurry down the hall and speedily rid yourself of the remnants from the night before. As much as you did enjoy the occasional, oh who were you kidding, the frequent cocktail, you prided yourself in always being professional and punctual when it came to your career. Let’s face it, you were a competent woman playing in a man’s world and those people would do anything to see you knocked down a peg. 

You make quick work of straightening out your business attire and smoothing your hair into a low bun, you could worry about makeup while on the subway. You leave the door in a huff and begin to make your way to the station. All the while you could not help but try to rack your brain about the events that happened the previous night.

You moaned softly into his ear as he began to slip his fingers inside your panties, dripping with desire he slowly drew a finger around your arousal.

Your hand that had been applying mascara stops at the memory. You sit dazed while the subway softly rocks you back and forth as it trugs along the underground tracks. This was bad. Not only did you sleep with Jaebeom, but you also very much enjoyed it according to your memories. The moments the two of you shared were incredibly vivid in your mind. But oh, did you long for his touch. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since the encounter but your body was already yearning for the way his body felt on yours.

Fuck, this was bad, you thought.

You could deal with all kinds of men and the memories they left you with. The memories of disgust, anger, heartbreak, even resentment. But you had absolutely no idea what to do with this feeling of longing. Longing for a man you barely knew was not something you were going to allow yourself. Was your resolve really this weak?

The subway announces the arrival of your stop breaking your internal melodrama and effectively allowing you to shift your gears into work-mode. If you can just get through this workday you will probably never even have to see that man again. And if you did then you were going to tell him exactly how you felt. 

No not felt, what you knew.

You know that for both of your sanities you could not even begin to humor the idea of having any sort of relationship with him. You were not looking for any sort of man in your life. Whether that be a boyfriend or a friend with benefits type. You needed time alone, and for him to enter your life at this time is just wrong on every level. 

You settle into work easily enough once you reach your office. The familiarity of your workspace helped kick any lingering thoughts out the door. The sounds of quick fingers against keyboards, a smell of old coffee and ink cartridges fluffing through the air, and of course the heavy stares of your male colleagues as they picked apart your every step. You pay them no mind as you settle into your office and log into your desktop.

“Would you care for some coffee Ms. L/N?” Stacy, the new intern had just popped her head into your office the moment you sat. Stacy was smart and diligent, she stayed late to do the higher-up’s paperwork and always made sure to hold her tongue. Good girl. It just upset you dearly that a person of her capabilities was stuck with no pay and fetching coffee.

“Yes Stacy, thank you for asking,” you replied back.

She smiled sweetly at you before exiting your office. Waiting not a second longer you begin to check your work email as usual responding to your clients. Your fingers ran fast across your keyboard as you simultaneously would respond and keep one eye on the market to see if you had lost any money for any of your investors. The green arrows that flowed steadily at your bottom screen gave you a sense of relief as you began to allow yourself to sink into your work and forget about everything else.

To some, the work you do may seem dull. You understood why exactly they would think that, but it was so far from the truth. You found such a thrill in the way the stock market worked. The uncertainty of it all kept you hungry to know more. Because let’s face it, nobody, not even stock managers like yourself, knew if you were about to lose all of your assets or turn someone into a millionaire. It was quite a thrill for you, and if you were being quite honest, you had a damn good intuition about these types the things. Which is how you became the youngest stock manager in your division with a million-dollar reputation at your back, but you weren’t much for bragging. 

You would question yourself as you looked around the room at your coworkers. Most of whom lived in penthouses and rolled up to work in their glittering Mercedes. How was it that you carried most of the company’s reputation on your back alone, yet you were still living in a two-bedroom flat in the meat-packing district? You looked up from your computer as you remembered, no woman as competent as yourself has come as far as you have in this company. Therefore you had to tread a new road for younger women who would surely come after you.

Stacy walks into your office quietly as she leaves a fresh coffee on a coaster near your workstation. You forced a tight smile as a thank you. You had to pave the road for people like her. Because here was a brilliant mind fresh from Harvard business and yet her biggest responsibility was remembering how everyone took their coffee. 

You try to ignore these disgruntled feelings as suddenly your phone begins to ring. Snapped from your thoughts you reach for the device to answer the call.

Before you speak a gruff voice is heard through the speaker, “Y/N can I see you in my office?”

Your boss’s voice is low as it rumbles out the request. Right away, you tell him as you set the phone back down and begin to make your way towards his office abandoning your fresh coffee. You make your way towards the end of the younger manager’s offices until you are perched directly in front of massive double doors. You knock twice before entering, seeing your boss up from his desk gazing out of his floor-to-ceiling window.

Mr. Hobbes was considered a young man for his CEO position at your company. You were never sure of his exact age due to his overwhelming need to keep his life as private as possible. His hair was just on the brink of becoming an ashy tone but still had flicks of golden locks throughout. Hobbes was always nicely shaven and had a distinct green smell that just screamed “wealth.” He was one of the only men in the office who never tried to hit on or belittle you. Therefore, he was tolerable.

“Come join me,” Hobbes calls out to you, never looking away from his window.

With a deep sigh, you make your way over to stand near him and overlook his office view alongside him. The two of you stood silently next to each other and just watched. The people, cars, birds, and just about everything that made movement outside. It was odd. Standing as close as you were to one of the most powerful men in the country you would think it would shake you. Yet you felt absolutely nothing.

“You have a brilliant mind,” he begins next to you, “Did you know that?

“Haven’t thought too much about it, I just try my best just like everyone else,” you respond back honestly.

At this Hobbes laughs, “You haven’t thought too much about it.”

He then turns to you. His deep turquoise eyes staring you down, blue eyes were your least favorite color. They felt cold and distant, madness could be hidden behind them. Hobbes’s eyes were different, instead of the cold, you could feel a warm breeze on an ocean. He was a comfortable person to be around.

“Well, would it be terribly rude of me to start asking you to think about it? To think about your future,” he asks you.

“Not rude at all, I would just like to know your reasoning behind these questions.”

Your boss walks away from the window to take a seat at his large mahogany desk. Wordlessly he requests you to sit across from him in one of the smaller chairs. You make your way over to sit politely hoping to God he couldn’t tell that you got dressed in less than five minutes this morning. 

“I want to make you the head of recruiting,” Hobbes says to you.

You can’t help but let your eyes widen at his words. Head of an entire department. Sure you were good at what you did but you had only been working at this company for three years. This was surely too soon for such a big promotion.

“Head?” You ask him again to which he nods. “Sir, with all due respect, am I not under qualified for that sort of position?”

“I don’t give a damn about qualifications or years of experience. I care about numbers, and yours are good, no, they’re the best.” He begins to say, “I need more brilliant minds like yours so I figure why not take the best manager we’ve got and have her show the newbies how it’s done.”

To say you were complimented would be an understatement. You were shocked that Hobbes felt this way about you. While working at the company he mostly had kept to himself, rarely would you see him out on company dinners or even speaking during meetings. He was withholding so much power that you never dared to get on his bad side.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything yet,” Hobbes says. “Take time to think about it and come back to me with an answer by the end of the quarter.”

You nod your head at this, thanking him first you begin to stand and make your way towards his door. Before you are able to leave, your boss calls your name, you turn to see he had been following close behind. 

“Don’t let yourself think you are incapable,” he tells you. “I know talent when I see it and you’ve got it, Kid.”

You smile bashfully trying to avoid his eye contact. He laughs lightly at you before patting your shoulder gently in an encouraging way. You then turn to walk away once more and return to your office.

“That’s a good girl,” Jaebeom whispers in your ear as you feel his cock penetrate your dripping core from behind.

You turn back around shocked and look at your boss. Hobbes was staring curiously at your expression waiting for you to speak.

“I’m sorry did you say something?” You ask, afraid for the answer.

“I said you’re a smart girl Y/N,” he smiles lightly before turning his back to you and returning to his desk.

Your cheeks are hot from the misunderstanding as you quickly make your way to leave his suffocating office. Quick feet down the hallways as you desperately try to reach your office without having anyone notice your frazzled state. Slamming your office door your back meets the cool surface as you try and regain your normal heart-rate from the erotic memory.

You put your head in your hands to attempt to grab a hold of your subconscious. This situation was worse than you thought. How can one night of sex with Jaebeom be haunting you this much? Was it really that incredible? You sit back as you laugh at your own question. It was more than incredible. It was the best you have ever had.

You decided it would probably be best for you to drown yourself in work for the rest of the day. You needed so desperately for something to help distract you from your wandering mind, thank God statistics and economics had absolutely no sex appeal.

Time ticked on throughout your office. Your eyes stayed glued to your desktop screen but you could tell that the lights had begun to dim settling into the night around you. Fellow workers could be seen stretching their sore limbs high in the air before they gathered their things to leave. Quiet goodbyes were exchanged amongst the masses as everyone decided their life outside of this office would be a much greater place to be. 

You on the other hand could not let yourself be spared a single moment to yourself. It was the moment when the sensory lights had triggered to turn off in your office that you finally took in your surroundings. Once again you were the only person left in the office. With a big sigh you lean far back in your chair, elongating your spine against the back of the chair you begin to finally feel the exhaustion in your body. 

Deciding it was probably best for you to leave, you quickly gather your things and make your way out of the building. The bitter January air had you holding your coat closer to your body to try and conserve as much heat as possible. The other people passing you along the street seemed unaffected by the weather, it was after all a Friday night. Your workplace happened to be in the dead-center of the hippest club scene in your city. It was fun for you to watch people as you made your way to the underground subway station. With your headphones in, a soft calming melody played to assist in healing your slight headache as you watch young men and women laugh and hang off one another. You smile lightly admiring the way they all looked so alive and happy. 

The ride through the subway was nothing out of the ordinary. You would occasionally catch yourself dozing off only for the loud blaring station announcements to wake you from your short-lived slumber. On your cold walk home from the subway station to your apartment, you couldn’t help but think about how nice a hot shower sounded.

Lost in your own world you hardly notice there was a certain new constant man in your life sitting on the front steps of your apartment. Quickly you remove your earphones from your ears, just then he notices your presence. Jaebeom looks up to you, smiling slightly, he rises to his feet until he is standing right in front of you. He smells like spring rain.

“Jaebeom, what are you doing here?” Suddenly feeling incredibly insecure about your appearance under his hot stare you make quick work to smooth down your frizzy hair.

“I just needed to talk with you,” he says, the heat of his words causing a cloud to release with it in the chill of the city night.

“About what?”

He laughs slightly at your accusatory tone. Jaebeom takes in the scenery around him, the dimly lit neighborhood streets illuminated where the two of you stood. Softly rubbing the back of his neck Jaebeom tried to calm his own nerves. 

“Well, we had a really good time last night, right?” Jaebeom asks you now, looking you directly in the eyes. You blush at this, remembering all the flashbacks you had been getting during your busy workday. It was now your turn to get shy as you look to your feet, too flustered to meet his stare. A slight wind worked its way between your bodies as if to wrap the two of you in one cold embrace.

“I just wanted to come here and ask you properly,” he says, causing you to look up at him curiously. “I wanted to ask you on a proper date.”

Jaebeom speaks while searching your eyes nervously, afraid himself that he may have misread the connection the two of you had. You yourself could not deny the chemistry you felt with Jaebeom. Sleeping together was one thing, but you were nowhere in the right headspace to be dating right now. If only you had met him later when you were fixed.

“Jaebeom I’m flattered really,” you begin to say, already cringing at your lame line. “Us hooking up last night was a mistake on my part. I am not in the right place to be with anyone.”

You continue your rant as Jaebeom looks perplexed.

“Sleeping together, dating… I can’t do any of it right now. So I’m sorry but I just don’t think this,” your hand waves between your two bodies for emphasis. “Is going to happen.”

You realize what you said was harsh. Hell, if you were on the other end of this rhetoric with a guy you really liked you would be crushed. Unfortunately, you had to be this upfront with men. You’ve tried subtly in the past, and somehow these guys just never understood that you were not interested. After much trial and error, you have discovered being upfront, albeit harsh, was the best solution.

“I-” Jaebeom begins to speak but then suddenly laughs. You stare at him with confusion. You expected a certain reaction from him, but laughter definitely caught you off-guard. Jaebeom can hardly contain himself as he turns to try and calm himself. Meanwhile, you stood just waiting to hear his explanation for his strange reaction. 

“That explains this morning then I guess…” Jaebeom says to himself causing your patience to dwindle.

“I totally understand you not being ready,” he finally calms himself down enough to speak with you. “But Y/N, we did not hook up last night.”

Your head recoils back in shock and confusion, you stare into Jaebeom’s eyes trying to see if he was somehow using this as some sort of power-play against you. When looking at his eyes though, all you could find was sincerity. 

How can this be true? You distinctly remember separate occasions of him from last night while sleeping with him. Come to think of it though, you were fully dressed when you woke up, and so was Jaebeom. Can you even remember coming home with him? Your mind was completely blank.

“After the restaurant, I walked you home,” Jaebeom can sense your confusion from your facial features and decides to fill in the empty space. “Once I got you home you asked me to come inside to make sure you got to bed. You started to get really upset once we got to your room so I lied with you in bed for a bit until you calmed down, and then I must have fallen asleep after then.”

Your cheeks are burning bright red, as you do in fact remember everything Jaebeom just said to be true. You remember sobbing once you got to your bed, you remember asking him to hold you. If you could die from embarrassment, you would already be standing in your grave.

“But I remember things from last night, I remember us kissing and you-” you try and salvage your shameful memories, but have a hard time getting yourself to say that you remember him fucking you.

“And I?” 

“You, touching me…” You look up at him and see a tinge of amusement on his face at your shy confession.

“Well I have to say, I am truly flattered you had a very vivid dream about me,” his smirk on his face is accompanied by a red tinge in his cheeks thinking of the two of you becoming intimate. 

“But I can assure you we just slept next to each other, I would definitely remember if more happened.”

He laughed lightly clearly finding this whole situation to be just one big misunderstanding. This was so angering for you to hear though. Jaebeom was now openly mocking you in your eyes for the thoughts that attacked you all day.

“I’m so glad you find this amusing, now if you don’t mind I would like to go inside and forget last night ever happened,” your words hold little meaning as the anger controls your tongue.

Jaebeom looks surprised at your reaction as you attempt to move past him. He can now clearly see you did not find this situation funny in the least bit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jaebeom is frantic as you pass by him trying to reach your door. Softly he grasps your wrist causing you to look back and see his pained expression as he worries if he has hurt you.

“I understand you’ve gone through a lot,” he begins to say. “I just know what that feels like and it’s nearly impossible to go through those feelings alone.”

“You know absolutely nothing about me Jaebeom. Don’t feel special just because I used you as an emotional dumpster when I was too drunk to realize what I was doing.” 

You can feel the peak beginning to approach in your anger and it almost scares you. The last time you blacked out from your anger, it took more than apologies to recover the damage.

“You need to back the fuck off,” you spit venom at him.

He seems completely thrown back from your harsh words. His eyes are pleading with you, worrying that he might have upset you beyond repair. Behind all this banter Jaebeom cared for you as a person and he wanted more than anything for you to see him as more than just another man. He would never even think of trying to control or suppress you. He wanted so much more from you, he needed to know so much more.

You were not ready like him. Not ready to leap forth into another unknowing relationship with a man. He was the right person, but now was definitely not the right time. 

Silently he lets your wrist go as you hurry inside your apartment. Slamming the door you rest your back against it trying to control your breathing. The look on Jaebeom’s face was hurt. You had hurt him. Regret crawled its way up your chest making you feel absolutely nauseous for the way you handled speaking with him. The man had confessed to you for fucks sake. And you have the audacity to get upset with this complete stranger and hurt him just because you were embarrassed? 

This was a new low of yours.

[phantom-curve]

Second birthday is such a cool thing to call that! 8 or 35 if you are feeling so inclined.

Thank you! When I was a kid my mom always tried to call it my rebirth-day and I was like no❤️ I went with some Willex whump (with a fluffy end) for this one! Set in the gimme a chance AU, featuring pro-skateboarder Willie and anxious Alex. This is also a bit of a companion piece to the #8 prompt I wrote earlier!

#35: kissing their bruises and scars (Trigger Warning: mentions of injury, mild description of panic attack, and mentions of a car accident. Rated T for language) 

Alex generally tried not to think about worst case scenarios when Willie was competing. If he let himself, it was way too easy to imagine all types of situations that ended with Willie broken and bleeding at the base of a halfpipe while Alex stood helplessly on the sidelines. It didn’t help anything for him to obsess over what could happen, especially because at this point, Alex knew skateboarding was as much a part of Willie as drumming was a part of him.

It was just that ever since Willie had gotten his first sponsorship and moved to the pro circuit six months ago, he had started taking bigger risks. More complex tricks and a lot less hesitation to go big when he was representing the brands that were paying his bills. And that meant longer hours practicing and a higher chance of injury on a daily basis. Alex wanted to be a supportive boyfriend, the kind that would show up at the skate park to cheer and not have a panic attack every time that Willie wiped out, but he wasn’t. He was just an anxious guy in love with a dude who seemed determined to break every single bone in his body.

Things only got worse when Willie started traveling for competitions. He was gone almost every weekend, and Luke had finally convinced the manager at the bar he worked at to let Sunset Curve preform regular Saturday shows, and so, more often than not, Willie would be somewhere else in California flinging his body down an insanely tall ramp with nothing but a helmet and some pads to protect him while Alex was trapped in LA losing himself in the familiar pattern of sticks against drums in an attempt to control his raging anxiety. It had about a 68% success rate. That success rate increased dramatically when Willie called Alex the second he knew his set was ending. It plummeted on the nights Alex didn’t hear from him until much later, or worse, heard from a different skater entirely.

Tonight was unfortunately one of those nights.

When their set ended, Reggie called out the same line he had coined after their first performance, a couple audience members chiming in with him because they actually had a bit of a fan following now, and Alex wasted no time in grabbing his phone from the fanny pack he kept behind his kit during shows. Instead of it lighting up with a picture of his boyfriend’s face, he was met with a series of missed calls and text messages from the guys Willie was rooming with for the weekend. He tried not to panic, tried to breathe in deeply to a count of five, holding it for just as long before exhaling again. It kept the anxiety at bay for as long as it took for him to unlock the phone and read the last missed message.

Don’t worry, bro. They’re gonna airlift him back to LA so you can just meet him at the hospital whenever.

Panic hit full force. What the actual fuck had happened to his boyfriend?! Alex’s fingers were shaking too much for him to open the other messages, his vision going blurry and a distant ringing sounding out in his ears. It took him longer than it should to realize Luke was crouched down in front of him, Reggie hovering just beyond the drum kit.

“You have to breathe, Lex. C’mon, follow me.”

Luke inhaled deeply before letting his breath out in a loud woosh. Alex tried to copy him, but his chest felt too tight, his throat closing in the more he tried to open it. Luke kept talking, his voice low and calm.

“Try again, we can do it together. We just have to breathe, nothing else.”

Alex inhaled with Luke that time, not quite as deeply and not quite as steady, but more air than he had managed to get before. It took several long moments before he was able to match Luke completely, the fog starting to clear from his brain, surroundings snapping back into focus.

“Great, good, just keep breathing, okay? I’m gonna go grab the office keys and we’ll take a minute in there to talk, okay?”

Alex nodded, not exactly wanting Luke to leave but knowing whatever his best friend was saying logically made sense. Reggie slipped into the space Luke had been occupying, breathing in the exact same pattern, and Alex refocused on him. When Reggie stood, Alex copied him, reaching out to grip the back of Reggie’s red flannel as he led them both off of the stage and down the hallway to the office in the back of the bar. Alex dropped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.

“Lex? Can you tell us what’s going on?”

Reggie’s voice was soft and quiet, like a gentle melody. Alex let it wash over him, knew his boys would be able to help if he could just figure out how to get his mouth to form the words it desperately didn’t want to say out loud. He fought to speak for a few moments before finally just thrusting his phone forward. A hush fell over the room as Luke and Reggie scrolled through the texts and Alex was suddenly grateful that he wouldn’t have to read through them himself. After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, Luke cleared his throat and spoke.

“Okay, so good news or bad news first?”

“How can there possibly be good news?”

Alex’s throat felt raw and scratchy, the words coming out broken and strangled. Luke and Reggie exchanged a quick glance before Reggie sat next to Alex on the couch. Not touching, but close enough for Alex to feel comforted all the same.

“Willie isn’t dead or dying, so yes, there is good news. Which one do you want first?”

A significant amount of the panic left Alex’s system at the reassurance that his boyfriend was alive and going to stay that way for the time being. It hit him all at once, sending him into Reggie’s side as he let out a cry of relief. Reggie’s hand stroked up and down Alex’s arm, a low hum sounding in the back of his throat. Luke spoke again.

“Okay, so good news is that Willie is probably already back in LA, he’s at the best hospital he can be at, and he’s going to be fine.”

Alex clung to the words like a life raft. Willie was going to be fine. He turned it into a mantra, repeating it over and over again until he felt like he was back in control, no longer on the precipice of drowning. He disentangled himself from Reggie’s arms, took a deep breath, and met Luke’s gaze.

“I’m ready. Gimme the bad news.”

Luke let out a long breath before sitting down on Alex’s other side.

“The guys were in a car accident. They didn’t even make it to the competition. Willie was in the passenger seat and he took the worst hit in the collision. The other guys got taken to a local hospital, but they had to send Willie to Cedars-Sinai because of some special orthopedic department there. Max said they mentioned he would be admitted to the post-trauma floor.”

A car accident. He didn’t even make it to the competition. Alex had considered himself prepared for the worst when it came to Willie and his chosen profession. He had told himself that loving Willie meant accepting the risk that came with skateboarding, especially at the level that Willie did it. He had not once considered the fact that Willie could be hurt in some type of freak accident that had nothing to do with skating. The life raft slipped from his mental fingers, hurtling him back into the sea of despair once again.

“We got this, okay?” Luke was still speaking. “Reg is gonna call an Uber and take you to the hospital, and I’m gonna get Dante and Felix to help pack up stuff here and then come meet you. It’s gonna be okay.”

Luke’s words painted a path for Alex to follow, a way to move forward without having to fight so hard to do so. He nodded, allowed himself to be bundled out of the employee entrance and into the car Reggie had called. Clung to Reggie’s flannel again as they traversed the white hallways of the hospital, eventually making their way to a nurse’s station situated on the post-trauma surgical floor. Alex didn’t even let himself think about what that string of words implied. Not until Reggie nudged him forward to speak with the blonde-haired woman with kind brown eyes sitting behind the welcome desk. He forced himself to clear the lump in his throat and scrape some words together.

“Hi, I’m uh, my name is Alex. Alex Mercer? I’m looking for my boyfriend Willie? William, actually, his name is William Stewart. He was...he was in a car crash.”

The words came out in starts and stops, cracking at the edges as Alex forced them through numb lips. The nurse nodded, her fingers tapping across the keyboard in a sharp staccato.

“He’s out of surgery, but might still be a bit groggy. The limit is one visitor at a time, so your friend will have to wait out here.”

Alex turned to Reggie with a blank stare.

“You got this, Lex. Remember, he’s gonna be fine. I’ll be right here, and Luke is on his way too. Whatever you need, okay? We got you.”

Alex nodded even though the movement itself felt like a lie. The nurse smiled softly at him and for one split moment Alex wished he could call his mom, hear her comforting voice the way he used to when he was a scared little kid. But he had Luke and Reggie now. And Willie, who was alive somewhere in this hospital.

“He’s in room 604, just down the hall.”

Alex forced his feet to move. Forced himself to count the numbers on the wall until he found 604. Forced himself to open the door and enter the room.

Willie looked so small on the bed, his dark hair a mess across the stark white pillowcase, his leg encased in plaster and suspended from some contraption that hung down from the ceiling. He turned his head at the noise of the door opening, eyes half open and soft with sleep or maybe painkillers. The smile on his face was a mere shadow of its normal sunshine.

“Hey, Hotdog.”

Alex wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and curl into a ball and absolutely lose it. But instead, he walked to the side of Willie’s bed and sat down in the chair next to it that seemed to have been waiting just for him.

“Have you been crying? Please tell me you weren’t crying.”

Okay, Willie was definitely on drugs. Because of course, Alex had been crying.

“Yes, I’ve been crying! Are you kidding me?”

Willie winced slightly and Alex was instantly swamped with guilt.

“No, okay, let me try that again.”

He took a deep breath and reached up to brush a few stray hairs away from Willie’s face. There were a number of cuts and bruises marring his skin, a few of them hidden under bandages.

“Hey pretty boy, I’m so glad you’re not dead. I’ve never been more scared than when I saw that text from Max. I thought you cracked your head open on a halfpipe or something, what the hell happened?”

Willie tried to shrug and grimaced, like it hurt. Alex’s hands fluttered uselessly above his boyfriend’s body, unsure where would be safe to touch. He settled for grabbing the hand that Willie offered which was thankfully unmarked, nothing but some leftover scars from catching himself at the skatepark.

“I think our car flipped? There was a lot of crashing and my leg really fuckin hurt. It’s still hurts.”

Willie frowned, clearly addled from the leftover anesthesia and whatever they were giving him for the pain. Alex pulled his hand up to press a series of kisses across Willie’s knuckles, making sure to cover each scar at least once.

“You can’t die on me, Wills. I fucking love you, okay? I know you do insane stunts and regularly let yourself get beat to crap at the skate park, but you can’t fucking die on me in some stupid car accident. I’d lose my goddamn mind without you.”

“You love me?”

Willie’s voice was soft and awed and Alex suddenly realized he hadn’t ever actually said those words out loud before even though they’d been living in his brain for months now. When he looked into Willie’s eyes he saw a hint of wetness there, and his heart melted.

“Yes, I love you, you fucking dork. I’ve been in love with you for months.”

Willie grinned, dopey eyed and pink cheeked.

“Well, I’ve been in love with you for like, ever. So, I win. Gimme a kiss for my prize.”

Alex laughed and rolled his eyes, but obliged, nonetheless. Willie might not remember this interaction, but Alex would never forget it. A look of absolute peace settled onto his boyfriend’s face.

“I knew you’d come. I knew as soon as that car hit us that when I woke up, you’d be here. You’re the best boyfriend ever, that’s why I love you. And you’re so hot. Like, really hot.”

Alex’s cheeks burned, his heart kicking into overdrive.

“C’mere,” Willie nodded his head to the side and tried to shuffle over, like he was inviting Alex to climb in next to him. He made a disgruntled sound when the contraption his leg was in refused to budge, frowning up at the suspension system.

“That’s so lame, what the fuck? I wanna cuddle.”

And Alex, unable to resist even when he knew it would probably be better for Willie if he did, climbed up to wedge his body into the small space between Willie and the guardrails on his bed. He tucked one arm behind Willie’s head, pulling his face into the space between his neck and shoulder. Willie let out a contented sigh, his breath sending shivers down Alex’s spine.

“You smell like you,” Willie whispered, the sound happy and relaxed. “I love you, Lex.”

“I love you, too.” Alex sighed, kissing his way across every single cut and bruise he could reach without moving.

Willie settled into place, his body going lax and soft snores sounding out against Alex’s chest within moments. Alex let his own head fall to rest against the top of Willie’s, finally allowing himself to believe everything would be okay. When the same nurse came to tell him that his other friend had arrived and maybe it would be best to come back in the morning, he accepted it without complaint. She gave him a final moment to say goodnight, Alex taking the time to make sure Willie was tucked in tight before kissing his temple softly.

Willie was going to be okay, and Alex was going to spend the rest of his life making sure he was always the one there to kiss his scrapes and bruises.

Send me prompts for my second birthday!

[neverendingstories00]

Past The Point Of No Return (Ch.1)

Summary: Your the young and fiery Cryptographer for M16 who happens to be the obsession of the mysterious and disfigured Safin. When you threaten to bring him down, he makes sure to drag you down with him.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Minor descriptions of blood/violence

A/N: Please Read!! I haven’t seen any Safin x reader fics, so I decided to write one myself. Ik the movie comes out in November, but I cannot wait. I’m in love with this pyshco man. This will be a mature story by the way and I’ll try updating as soon as I can! I’ll add warnings before each chapter starts. Just take a few notes in! Ik the movies come out in November so this is pure speculation on Safin’s origins/motives. Bond is back in business and took back 007 while Nomi took 008. Reader is a Cryptographer for M16. Your codename will be C but y/n will come in soon. Also, Reader is female. Hope you enjoy!

The Pandemic had caused discord throughout London. It didn’t seem like it would infect the globe in less than three months. But when Q had gotten the virus, the office had shut down in less than twenty-four hours. If you weren’t a field agent, then it was required to work from home. For someone like C and Q, it wasn’t a big deal. All of there work required communication from electronics. But evil was always on the rise. It never stopped. March had dragged into June as the Pandemic only worsened. y/n wasn’t one for social interaction, so thriving in isolation wasn’t the worst thing on the planet.

M16’s biggest threat was the infamous Safin. Even Q couldn’t encrypt any information on him, nobody could. Safin was a prime example of an anarchist. He refused to let some Pandemic stop his reign of terror and thirst for world domination. His movement of so-called “absent authority” was causing terror in post-soviet countries. Violent protests, property damage, the list when on. The anarchist targeted smaller countries that wanted to break free from there governments. Bond called Safin “a man who wanted to play god because he was bored”. Safin was a true anarchist (and a possible sadist). Information on his past and whereabouts were near impossible to find. He would insult M16 constantly since he knew he was winning the game of cat and mouse. It seemed like Safin was going to keep upsetting established order until the brink of a civil war.

But you were always one step ahead.

C, or y/n, was a Cryptographer for M16. After Bond’s hiatus, they had been recruited for there work in the military. You were the perfect candidate; bilingual, hands-on, young, intelligent, and fiery. One of the many languages you spoke was Morse code and other military languages. Not even Q, the smartest man in M16, was fluent in all of them. But with your aid, he caught onto it quite well. The Cryptographer and Quartermaster had made quite an efficient team and friendship. While Q gave orders and signals to the double’s oh, you stayed in the back, encrypting the signals and decrypting codes. Having a Cyrptographer was truly an aid for M16. You were praised by all of agents for your hard work and loyalty to the world of espionage. Enemies and other organizations envied for the cryptographer.

Before the lockdown, you had noticed a pattern in the protests. The leading agitators would all wear bandannas covered in the phonetic alphabet. Any normal person could see nothing in this. But with years in the military and language, you quickly followed onto the pattern. Q had noticed it as well along with the other double oh’s. The only people who spoke the phonetic alphabet in M16 were you and a few agents, and not even Q could decipher such a code. The message said many things, mainly gibberish. But you did not give up so easily. Whenever you saw a challenge, you attacked it with rigor. After rearranging for hours on end, ten codes had stuck out to M16 that could be a lead in bringing down the anarchist.

ROMEO OSCAR MIKE ECHO

CHARLIE ALPHA CHARLIE ALPHA CHARLIE ALPHA SIERRA

ALPHA MIKE SIERRA TANGO ECHO ROMEO DELTA ALPHA MIKE

OSCAR SIERRA LIMA OSCAR

  TANGO OSCAR KILO YANKEE OSCAR

HOTEL OSCAR NOVEMBER GOLF KILO OSCAR NOVEMBER GOLF

MIKE OSCAR SIERRA CHARLIE OSCAR WHISKEY

CHARLIE ALPHA INDIA ROMEO OSCAR

All of them happened to lead to capital cities across the world, which happened to be countries that were infested with Safin’s anarchism. With even more research, Q managed to pinpoint possible gatherings for the terrorists. It could be a break in the case. Each double oh was sent to these locations. 007 and 008 were both flown out to Rome. The location was near the Spanish Steps. Even after the pandemic, the area had been bustling with civilians and protestors. You and Q had been in charge of guiding them to the location,

“You’d think during this pandemic, these bloody idiots would stay inside.” Bond said as he moved past the crowd of angry protestors. He wiped dust off of his grayish-blue suit.  Safin’s message of tidying the world of “corruption” sent shivers down any sane person’s spine.

Nomi was ahead of him, dressed in a white chic jumpsuit and cat sunglasses. “The wicked never sleep, Bond.”

He huffed, frustrated. Of course, when his vacation had been occurring Q would call for his aid. “Q, how much further?”

“Maybe if you would pick your pace, then you would get there in four minutes instead of forty.” Q responded.

C could hear Nomi chuckle, and followed along with her.

Bond annoyingly huffed, “I truly haven’t missed your remarks, Q.”

“Gentlemen, settle down.” You interrupted, able to see where the agents were through the bodycams.  “Keep your guard up. Your getting stares from some protestors. Oh, and do pick up the pace.”

The two agents squeezed through the crowd. Nomi had noticed them being followed. But thanks to Q, they lost them through Rome’s small puzzle-like streets. Upon losing them, the agents had left the lavish streets of Rome and into the more sketchy and depressed areas. The further they walked the more life began to disappear. Bond and Nomi stuck out in there designer outfits in the slums of Rome.

“On your right,” You stated. The agents stopped, looking upon the building. Nomi took her glasses off to examine the building. It was broken down, dark, and covered by boards.

Bond sighed, “Bloody hell. This it?”

“Unfournelty,” Q said. “Head in the back, there’s an open entrance.”

Nomi and Bond turned to the back of the building, noticing a piece of wood covering the wood. Bond attempted to move it, but his age was beginning to show. The young and muscled Nomi tore it down, letting them enter the broken down building. On the side, it was dark and empty. Shining the light of his rifle, Bond noticed a kitchen that was covered in dust and spiderwebs.

Q and C heard faint noises, which sounded like music. Nomi moved close to the stairs and could hear it coming from the upstairs. Along with the music was a light.

“See anything, double oh eight?” You asked, looking through her bodycam. The song sounded Italian. It could have been singing, or just a record player.

“A light. You think we have company?” She asked, pointing her rifle upstairs.

“Seems like it. Investigate, Keep your weapons at bay.” Q ordered.

Bond had led him and Nomi up the creaky wooden stairs. The music had become much louder. At the end of the hallway was a door closed, with light emanating under it. The two agents tiptoed to the door. Bond placed his ear against it, hearing only the sweet Italian love song. Q and C couldn’t tell what was behind that door. It could be Safin, his goons, anything.

Counting down to three, Bond and Nomi kicked the door down, guns prepared for anything. But the room was empty. It had been lite by a few candles with a CD boombox, blasting a loud Italian song. Bond examined the room for anything suspicious while Nomi went over, kicking the boombox quiet. She picked up the CD player, examining the front.

“E’ la vita?” The female agent muttered, turning the DVD over. The other side had been written in morse code. C found this odd, squinting her eyes to see. The handwriting was neat and done in an expensive ink. Not only was there writing, but it seemed like it was a list of more global cities. It seemed oddly familiar. “Why waste good ink on a CD?”

“Double oh eight, can you r-”

Bond interrupted, “BOMB! GET DOWN!”

All C could remember is Bond running towards Nomi to cover her before both of there bodycams had glitch out. She panicked, trying to reconnect to them. Q had a status of all of the double oh’s, and each of there bodycams began to flicker out. Then Q and you had realized the worst of it.

Safin had set them up.

“Fuck. It was a fucking trap.” You huffed, running a hand through your hair. They had truly hit a dead end. “Q, any signal? I can’t reach them.”

“None. I’m trying to get their signals. There cams both locked out before the explosion.” Q replied. He was just as frustrated as his co-worker. Suddenly, both of there computers froze with glitched screens. “Not only was it 007 and 008, but the other double oh’s went out.”

C could hear Q cursing under his breath, the sounds of him furiously clicking his keyboard. “Shit, Shit, Shit..”

“Q, what is it?”

“He hacked us. Safin inflated the sys-”

Just like Bond and Nomi, Q’s signal that gone out. It had all be planned. Safin wanted for all of us to happen. The other agents had probably been killed. Sitting in front of a glitched-out screen, you let out a small sigh and slumped back into her chair. Singlehandedly, you had fucked up.

“Not such a clever girl now, are we?”

Raising your shoulders, y/n arched her neck back to avoid the sharp blade that was too close for comfort. The voice was velvety with a slight accent to it. From the videos M16 had received, you knew it all too well.

It was Safin himself.

“I-it was a trap..” You stuttered, unable to talk to the knife around your neck. Safin’s hand was on C’s shoulder, holding her from getting up. C heard footsteps from behind. Great, now you were truly defenseless, being held by the world’s most feared Anarchist. In the corner of your eye, y/n saw the white mask he wore to conceal his identity. It looked like a porcelain doll prop straight out of a horror film.  “A fucking trap.”

“Your little friends are gone now, No one is here to protect you now” Safin whispered into your ear. He was too close for comfort. He took an inhale of your Chanel perfume, admiring your breathing pattern. He thought y/n was so gorgeous this close. After months of waiting, Safin was so close to her, yet far. The woman who had threatened to bring down him was now enwrapped in his arms with a knife to her neck. But she wasn’t scared. Her breathing was heavy, but Safin had noticed that she was rather calm for having a blade held to her throat.

You chuckled at his “weak” response, “I have your locations all on record. M16 will bring you to your knees, you monster.”

“A monster?” He marveled, amused by Y/n’s comment. This man was a true psychopath. “My dear, you truly live up stubbornness. You lead all of those double oh’s into there demise. How innocent does that make you feel?”

“Says the one who wants to kill millions.” Y/n hissed, venom in her voice. You felt the guilt pull at your heart. “I saw your plan. You’re killing Europe city by city. Fooling the post soviet states and moving up towards the Medterrian. Your delusional.”

“Your ignorance is their power.” He purred into her ear. He massaged y/n’s shoulder to relax her (as he held her down). “You are a very talented girl, wasting her intelligence on foolish old m--”

Seeing him lose his guard, you reached for your mug full of hot coffee and threw it back at his mask. He lost his footing and fell backward as the lower piece of his mask cracked off. Wasting no time, you pushed yourself up and ran behind the desk to the front entrance. Q’s flat wasn’t far away. If you took the right routes and stayed out of action, then he could help her. As she neared towards the entrance, a sharp sting echoed through your knee to your thigh. Tripping on the edge of your carpet, your tripped and scraped your head against a coffee table, falling to the ground. You tried to stay awake and fight, but eventually succumbed to the darkness.

Safin pushed himself up, noticing that the bottom part of his mask showed his chin and lips. He turned to see y/n’s body by the door, her navy slacks stained by blood.

Safin cursed under his breath, walking over to her body to check if she had a pulse. Thankfully you did, but it was light. “Who shot her..?”

His henchmen did not respond, holding their weapons.

“I SAID WHAT ONE OF YOU IMBECILES SHOT HER?” Safin yelled, pure fury in his voice.

One of the men, donned in black and holding a sniper rifle, stepped forward. “It was me, Safin. You said tha-”

The man with the sniper rifle was shot in the neck and fell backward, choking on his own blood. Each of the henchmen jumped back. They knew when Safin raised his voice that he was going to die.

A small sigh escaped Safin’s lips as he pushed back his hair. Safin turned to face Serrano, his right-hand man. He was tall and lean with dark skin and emerald eyes. “Serrano..”

“Yes, Safin?”

“What did I explicitly say to you to tell these idiots before we entered C’s flat?”

Serrano responded, “Not to bring her back dead, but alive and injured.”

“And what do type of girl do you see laying on the ground?” The anarchist pointed to the ground, showing Y/n’s body. She had a bruise on her forehead and a bloody thigh.

“An injured girl, sir,” Serrano replied, looking down in embarrassment.

There was an awkward between the anarchist and this men before he commanded, “The lot of you, take the girl and prepare the car. Serrano, wipe all of her devices and anything that can track her. We leave on the submarine by dusk.”

The men nodded as the muscule grabbed C’s motionless body and carried her out. Serrano destroyed her phone, computer, and any camera or electronic that lingered in the flat before they left the crime scene. Entering the range rover, Serrano sat in the front with the driver while Safin sat in the back with the unconscious Cryptographer.

As they began to drive to the docks, Serrano asked, “Safin, what do you see in this girl? She is not James Bond or Madeleine Swann.”

“I see a source of information. This girl is not some receptionist or analyst.” Safin explained as he looked at her sleeping body. Your face was more relaxed than it was thirty minutes ago. There was something so intriguing about the Cyrptographer that Safin couldn’t pinpoint. “She fell into her very own trap, letting us access all of the M16 databases. M16 just lost there most valuable asset.”

“A bargaining chip?” Serrano questioned.

“Not just a bargaining chip, but an intelligent girl who is going to be vital to us.” He explained, “Unlike Bond, she is not redundant. She has many values, I know of it. You will see, Serrano. The world will open it eyes to y/n.”

Safin couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The remaining sunlight from the purple sunset shined on her face. Seeing your face, he knew Y/n not only ordinary on the inside but the outside. A woman that was much younger than he was made him feel less bitter about the world. He had a lonely life and seeing a young and beautiful such as yourself made him drop everything to the floor. The way your floral smelling [y/h/t] [y/h/c] hair fell out of the small bun and rested on your shoulders, [y/s/c] glowed in the sunlight, and the sweet aroma you wore drove Safin mad. Unknown to your knowledge, he had been watching over you for quite some time. You had a desk job, but occasionally accompanied the double oh’s and even had taken out some of his henchmen in the past. Y/n was a girl who not only knew how to decrypt some of the hardest codes to M16 but could defend herself if needed. Safin’s mere intrguement with you had grown into an obsession. Now the woman he obsessed over was sitting less than a foot away from him. Upon seeing the cryptographer, he knew that he needed you. He wanted y/n more than anything in the world. M16 didn’t deserve such talent. In Safin’s eyes, all they had ever done for y/n was hold her back from being your best self; by his side.

“I’m sorry they hurt you.” He cooed, pushing a glossy lock to get a better view of y/n’s face. “I have freed you from there incompetence. I know you will demand to leave and mindlessly say that you hate me. But I promise you my sweet, you will grow to like me and your new home.”

Safin felt like he was the luckiest man in the world.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 28

First time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Hulk interaction Hulk interaction Hulk interaction. Plot is thickening. Feelings. Operation Baby Thief! A wild Coulson appears. Lokireader besties <3 There's just a lot going on.

Bruce hulked out within minutes of my confession.

As I stood in the middle of the common room, partially hidden behind Loki and scrunching the fabric of my hoodie, I had no choice but to observe the reactions of various Avengers to the fact someone might have... Predictably, Sam, Tony and Stephen looked like kicked puppies. I trusted Loki to handle that part. Steve, Bucky and Natasha had murder on their mind and Thor, Pietro just stared at me, aghast.

I noticed the tinge of green before anybody else, perhaps, because I'd been used to automatically seek comfort from Bruce. My interactions with Hulk, however brief and few and in-between, were positive. As much as they could be with a someone's alter-ego that possessed the emotional intelligence of a twelve year old. So I could safely say that what startled me was the noise of Bruce transforming and not the Hulk himself.

The Hulk growled, zeroing in on me - I remembered of Loki, who stood frozen, and their mutual disregard. The decision was prompt - I stepped out from behind the Asgardian, waving shyly at the large green creature. He was LARGE. Like, I could comfortably sit on one of his shoulders.

"Hey, Hulk. I'm alright, don't worry big guy," I took unhurried steps towards the agitated creature. He seemed to be satisfied with my statement, giving me another once over and growling quietly in the back of his throat. An idea struck me: "Wanna get out of here? The gym has more space, we can sit and talk there."

The stares I was getting were downright incredulous. Here I was, an average human being, fearlessly making my way over to the destruction machine that was the Hulk. I knew he wouldn't hurt me - on purpose.

"No," He growled. "We find bad man. Then Hulk smash." The green creature raised, I had to admit, valid points.

"It's going to be pretty boring though. We have to sort through the security footage, then probably traffic cams, then hold Steve back from going in there in Terminator mode..." I listed off all the logical steps of the investigation until I reached the Hulk. My neck was going to get a crick in it from tilting it so I could see his face. "I'd rather..." I didn't get to finish my sentence as I was suddenly picked up. One large hand gently cradled me to Hulk's chest, akin to a kitten, the other hand landing right under my butt.

I heard a collective exhale from the team, acutely aware of the way they were eyeing me and Hulk.

"Boring," The green creature agreed. His face briefly contorted in what I perceived to be an intense thought process. "Necessary." The word had to come from Bruce; it slipped out with difficulty off the Hulk's tongue, stiff.

"Not you too, big guy," I giggled-slash-groaned, giving a playful slap to the hand wrapped around me. "Fine. Let's get this over with." I looked around in search of a spot for Hulk to park his butt somewhere. The ceiling was barely tall enough for him to comfortably stand.

I needn't have worried as he simply sat down cross-legged right where he stood, still holding me to his chest. "Now," He announced, looking expectantly at Tony.

The engineer chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, you're right, big guy. Let's find this sonuvabitch." Tense snorts and sounds of agreement filled the room, drowning out the noise of Tony tapping on his keyboard and communicating with Friday.

I poked Hulk in one green, large finger. "Maybe I could sit on your shoulder?"

He nodded, letting me crawl all over his green, hard chest and arms to sit on the large expanse of his left shoulder. It was comfortable as far as shoulders go; inwardly, I squeed like a mad woman. I was friends with the Hulk and I was sitting on his shoulder! Lost in my fangirling, I absentmindedly began messing with his dark hair, only noticing it when satisfied rumbling started coming from his chest. The Hulk was... Purring?

"Puny Banner upset," Hulk declared shortly after the team found the man who drugged me and started tracking his movements. It wasn't someone who'd been invited to the party, which meant there was a serious security breach - it was all hands on deck kind of situation.

"Yeah, I can understand that. I'm pretty upset too, the hangover I got was terrible, I threw up in Loki's apartment," I said, frowning. "And my boys are going to mope now," I rolled my eyes.

"Banner says he will talk with them," Hulk replied, placing hand over my legs. "Hulk will help Banner."

I couldn't help it, I snorted. "Gonna smash some common sense into them?" He grinned at me, too mischievous for someone who was described to be a mindless destruction machine. "I think they're beyond that."

"I can hear you two talking shit about me and I do not appreciate it," Tony piped up suddenly, shooting us a hurt look. To be fair, his shoulders looked considerably less tense and the cloud over his face had dissipated by a little bit. Me and Hulk managed to erase at least some of the guilt away. I think. Stephen, however, still remained frowning and closed-off.

"You're stupid, Tony." Hulk answered, sounding a little bit smug. I gaped at the exchange together with Natasha and Steve. It seemed like Hulk's sense of... Humor was a novelty.

"Hey, don't pick on my dumbass white boys," I chastised the green... Man, side-eyeing him. "Only I can pick on them. If someone else does it, I'mma throw hands if I have to."

"Puny," Hulk replied petulantly, poking me with a finger, making me sway in my spot. I rolled my eyes fondly, settling in to mess with his hair again for the sake of having something to do with my hands. The brief exchange helped to get my overactive brain off the case but the tranquility didn't last very long.

Natasha and Bucky left to interrogate the guards responsible for the security breach, Loki shooting me an apologetic look and following the two. I smiled back, knowing the Asgardian wasn't fully comfortable being around the Hulk due to his previous experiences with the big guy.

"Wait, hold on. That guy. I know that guy." As an array of faces appeared on the large screen, a familiar pair of mismatched eyes stared at me from it. Hulk tensed under me and the team turned towards me expectantly as I shrunk slightly under their combined gaze. "The one with anisocoria - with the weird eyes. He works at a coffee shop near my school, actually he only started working recently, few months ago. He tried to flirt with me but Peter said he felt weird about the guy so I stopped going to that café." I explained the situation as eloquently as I could, seeing Clint's eyes widen at my story.

"Are you sure?" Stephen Strange raised an eyebrow. "Because that man is a mercenary that we have been looking for months."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "A what now?" My ears were ringing. Hulk growled quietly under me, evidently sensing my distress.

"A hired man," Clint typed on his phone rapidly. "Mostly sells not-so-harmless trinkets on the black market. Hydra, AIM, you name it. Anything for the highest bidder." Clint muttered. "I'm calling Peter, maybe he can tell us something more. This is an Avengers level threat." The Hawk's jaw was firm and his face was hard.

"Already on it," Tony looked shaken. I understood him - someone like that had invaded his tower, his home. Hell, I myself felt like someone had spit right in my soul. It was my home, too, to some extent.

"Let me down please, Tony needs a hug," I whispered to the Hulk, who begrudgingly did as I requested. I padded over to Tony, wrapping myself around him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He always was my comfort; expensive cologne and motor oil filled my senses as my arms clutched at his chest from behind. I didn't expect reprocitation - Tony wasn't the one for emotional vulnerability.

"He could have gotten you," He whispered, almost inaudibly, fingers shaking where they typed rapid-fire commands.

"Bold of you to assume I would have gone down without a fight," I answered as calmly as I could. "He is either dumb, or reckless or has nothing to lose. Planning a coup in the middle of your tower..."

"Or he's showing us that he can just do that," Clint supplied unhelpfully. "The guard who let him in just has been found dead and his family is missing. Natasha texted, she's calling in SHIELD. This is now Operation Baby Thief."

I couldn't help the snort that escaped my lips. "Baby Thief, really?"

"Nobody's stealing Princess," Tony barked, finally turning his head and pressing a sloppy kiss to my cheek. "Not if I have to do anything with it."

"I will make sure the pathetic mortal scum never walks," Thor finally piped up, voice low. In the distance, the harsh noise of thunder and pouring rain echoed through the city.

I frowned but withdrew from Tony, finally feeling well enough to do something. My hands itched to help and as appealing as snuggling with Hulk appeared, my brain had gone straight into overdrive. "Should we take a blood sample to find out what he dosed me with? It's not Roofies, and the hangover is too shitty for it to be anything like Ecstasy." I mused out loud, pacing in the small space between the Hulk and the nearest wall.

"That is a sensible idea," Doctor Strange piped up, giving me an appreciative look. "We'll wait for Romanoff," One angry look at his own scarred, shaking hands, Stephen went back to the book he was reading. He needed a hug, too, I decided.

"Puny Banner will do it," Hulk suddenly announced, reaching out for me.

I obliged, giving the green giant a hug. "Maybe we can go play in Central Park once it's warmer, whatcha think?" I looked up at him, brain just so full of different things. Ideas bounced off one another like ping pong balls.

The Hulk grinned and... Well, I didn't see the transformation, my eyes shut themselves as soon as I felt the flesh under my palms begin to shrink and expand. It wasn't that I was afraid, rather, the feeling was so bizarre that my racing brain had to automatically shut down in fears of being overstimulated.

"Hi," Bruce supplied meekly, an adorable blush staining his cheeks. I didn't resist the urge to kiss and hold him close, and we stood there with him holding up his pants with one hand and clutching my hoodie with the other until Tony cleared his throat.

"You good, Brucie-bear?" The engineer gave a distracted smile towards us, not taking his eyes off the keyboard.

"Yes, Tones," The scientist replied easily, adding with a frown: "I'm glad me and Hulk finally agree on something." With that, he departed in the search of normal pants and the tools needed to acquire my blood sample.

I gave it without much fuss, waving to Bucky, Natasha and Loki that had returned with a middle-aged, balding man in tow. The shared look of amusement between Steve and Bucky and the man's starry-eyed look towards the Captain let me deduce it was one Agent Coulson, the very same man Tony couldn't stop telling stories about, the one with the Captain America trading cards.

So, mayhaps, me taking place in Stephen's lap while Bruce filled up three whole vials full of my blood wasn't exactly the smartest way to go about it. Tony found it amusing, Steve was shaking his head in fond annoyance and Stephen himself struggled to maintain his indifference, yet, the blush betrayed him.

"Agent, what brings you to our humble abode?" Tony snorted, seeing the man raise an eyebrow at the display of affection.

"Operation Baby Thief," Coulson replied with a sigh. "I see the Baby is secure. Keep it that way." Oh, the man was cheeky. I liked him already.

"The Baby has a Tony, a Sorcerer Supreme and a Hulk," I retorted haughtily. "And a functional brain. Fuck that guy."

"Indeed," Coulson snorted. "Tell me, what do you know about the Hamptons incident?"

I blanched, immediately tensing. Bruce withdrew the needle and pressed a bandage over the wound, running gentle fingers over my arm. Everybody must've noticed my surprise, turning to me with their faces full of expectation. Stephen's touch was calming, slightly trembling at the nape of my neck.

"Not much, to be honest. I was about thirteen when it happened and my mother tried to hide it from me," I chewed on my lip, looking away. "What I managed to find out is that there was a robbery that resulted in two deaths, my father being one of the suspects because he was high as hell on coke and he was found sleeping in the same room as the open gun safe," I recalled the memories of mother angrily screaming at dad, calling her law firm colleagues late at night. "I don't need a law degree to know the evidence was flimsy. Dad got a drug charge, his buddies got the same and both the killer and the gun were never found." I exhaled loudly, tapping my foot on the floor, supressing the need to pace.

Coulson nodded, opening a thin manila folder and producing an image of a small, wooden box with carvings that looked like runes on it. "Have you seen this object?"

I felt my blood run cold, my vision swam. "Yes," I swallowed dryly. "That's my end-of-the-world box. I buried it in my grandparents' backyard two years ago."

"End of the world?" Coulson asked, alarmed. "Did you open it?"

"No," I shook my head negative. "I found it in my room at one point and every time I looked at it, it felt... Wrong. Like it was a glitch in a computer game. I couldn't sleep, so I stuck it in my closet and that gave me terrible nightmares and sleep paralysis. I took it with me when I went to visit Gramps and buried it three feet deep under the cherry tree." My hands were shaking once again; I had forgotten about the box but my body remembered the primal, untameable terror that I experienced in it's proximity. At fourteen years old, I just thought I had an overactive imagination or something, too many horror movies, hormonal storms.

"That is a magical artifact," Stephen's voice was quiet and concerned. "A very dangerous, destructive at that. How long were you in it's presence?"

"About nine months, give or take."

"And you didn't open it once, not even a little bit?" Tony had caught on the trend, almost a hysterical edge to his voice.

"No, and I think I know why," I looked to the side. "I saw Wanda on the TV, and, like, magic was confirmed to be real, so I guess I was sure whatever is in there, it wasn't good. During that time, my parents told me I was sleepwalking but I can't remember any of it. I might have wanted to get that box to someone of your... Specialty," I briefly messed with the sleeve of Stephen's shirt, exhaling loudly when his hand grasped mine and held it with care. "I think that box messed with my head... Because I swear that I had no recollection of it until you brought it up," I realized suddenly, my eyes shooting up in blind panic. What else have I forgotten?!

"That is astonishing," Loki's baritone exclaimed. "Nine months is a long time to resist the pull of such a strong artifact." My best friend stated with a great deal of respect.

People in the room started talking all at once. Stephen and Tony declared I needed to get checked out by a professional - Tony meaning s doctor and Stephen meaning a healer of the magical kind; Bruce scooted over and pulled my frozen body in a solid hug; Steve and Bucky planned out to get the box from my grandparents' house, debating whether to take Loki or Thor with them; the SHIELD part of the team discussing the intel and further plans to catch the rogue mercenary.

The door opened quietly.

"Hi everybody, hello Mr. Stark," Peter was disheveled, his ratty backpack in one hand and an enormous sandwich in another. "Got here as fast as I could. What's up?"

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[exoxobsession]

Spring Days || 5

Genre : Fluff, CollegeAU!, Angst, Cursing

Pairings : Kai x Ji-Eun (You)

Word count : 1.3K

Summary : Friends become strangers, trust is gone, he betrays their friendship, she moves on. What if they meet again? Will they become friends or stay as strangers with memories?

A/N: I know there’s not many moments between Jongin and the OC, but, please bear with me. I’m trying my best. But I promise in future chapters there will be! And the breaks are a bit too much, IK. I’m sorry!

Part: 1 |  2 | 3 | 4 | 5

“Why do the 12 of you stay here, at this house?” you tilted your head looking at him waiting for him to answer why they were here instead of their own houses. “Well, it’s just that we were all very close friends for the past 3? No, 2 years, and instead of those stinky dorms Junmyeon told us we could stay here,” he explained, you turned to look at the endless city lights blinking in the distance.

“It’s beautiful.” you breathed out. “Yeah, right? None of the guys understand why I sit here. It helps me calm down and stop overthinking.” he whispered.

You told him some things your parents didn’t know. The whole night you stayed up just talking, it was surprising for you to open up to someone so easily.

You woke up to the loud knocking on the door, with your name being called. The door opened to Chanyeol, hair messy, hands rubbing his eyes. You turned towards the wall, wrapping the blanket around your body, not ready to get up yet. A loud sound rang through your room. Turning around, you saw Chanyeol on the ground, “Oh my god, Chanyeol! Seriously?” you groaned, not getting up to help him.

Some boys rushed into the room, probably startled by the noise, “You’re supposed to help me.” he whined while rubbing his ass. “Too lazy.”

You walked into the bathroom to freshen up. You went down to the kitchen hoping to calm your angry stomach. Before you even stepped in, someone pulled you by the forearm, dragging you outside.

Chanyeol didn’t know what to do. He was confused; you were talking fine until Jongin came. He saw something change in your face, your eyes got teary and you changed the subject.

He knew what happened between you two after the last night on the rooftop. He needed to the other side, Jongin’s side. Maybe he could get Jongin alone and talk to him. Or maybe- “—Ji-Eun, maybe in a bitter war.” he snapped out of his thoughts when he heard your name. “What?” he said a bit too high.

“I said that something’s happening between Jongin and Y/N. Remember how she looked at him. She looked like she could kill him there.” Baekhyun explained. “I don’t think that’s the case.” Junmyeon reasoned.

“Maybe they’re exes?” Luhan said. “No.” Everyone turned to Chanyeol, “I mean, no one knows, right? We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. They just could be friends, or maybe enemies, but never exes. Wait, what? No. We should just let them solve it.” he continued. He mentally hit himself. “Okay…” thankfully everyone just scattered thinking it was his normal behavior.

It was soon evening by then and everyone settled in for an ‘important meeting’ that was called by Junmyeon. “The semester just ended and my father called me and said that he was going on a trip to Hawaii and I was wondering if you wanted to tag along.” The room remained silent. You heard only the tapping of the keyboard on your phone. Everyone turned to look at you, you just looked at the boys who were facing you. “What?” you whispered, suddenly scared.

“Why are you looking at me?” you tried after no one answered your former question. “Nothing, Eun, they were just wondering if you wanted to tag along,” Chanyeol said casually. “Oh, no, I’m fine, you guys should just go, plus my parents might arrive next week, and… and… yeah.” you ran out of excuses after the last sentence.

“She’s coming.” Chanyeol glared at you then turning to Suho. “What? Chanyeol, since when do you make decisions for me? You Yodhfhwjdjf” he put his hand over your mouth, muffing the insult.

“Ji-Eun,” he called from the other side of your bed.

“No.”

“Ji-Eun!” he whined, throwing his arms around like a little child.

“You’re a big baby, Chanyeol.” you shook your head as your eyes never left your phone. You didn’t want to go, and your reasoning was pretty simple. One - You didn’t know them. Two - You were trying to avoid a certain someone.

Chanyeol just didn’t get it. He was convincing you, or at least trying to convince you to go with them. “Why should I come though?” you asked, looking at his pouty face. “And don’t do that, it’s disgusting,” you added.

“Meanie. It’s going to be fun, and why do you wanna stay here instead of traveling?”

“You know exactly why,” you said, glaring at him.

“You shouldn’t be like that. It’s like your refrain yourself from having fun because of him.”

The doorbell rang, saving you from answering. Grabbing your phone and keys, you made your way down, knowing who it was. “Hey!” you said to Yeona, who was standing there awkwardly.

“Going somewhere?” Junmyeon asked. “Yeah, just going out, that’s it,” you replied while latching your hand to her and dragging her out.

“You do not know how grateful I am right now,” you said while buckling your seatbelt. “Where are we going?” you asked as she took you down an unfamiliar road. “Chae.” was all she said, but you understood what she meant.

“Is she okay?” you breathed. “She’s fine but, her grandma isn’t as good, ever since…” she didn’t need to continue. A cafe came into view as she pulled over.

“Chae-young…” you exclaimed as you hugged her. “It’s been years! I missed you!” pulling back, you saw tears in her eyes. “She’ll be fine, don’t worry,” you assured her.

You came home around 7; you met her grandma. The clouds started closing in. Maybe it was going to rain. Closing the door of ‘your’ room, you sat on the bed thinking of your grandma.

I miss her. You thought.

“It’s raining, granny. We should stop somewhere.” Your 12-year-old self advised. But she didn’t listen. Instead, she said it would be fine, and she’s done this many times before. It was a tremendous storm, thunder and lightning flashing. 

“I’m scared,” you admitted. “Don’t be dear, it’s fine, granny will take you to your house no matter what.” 

But she didn’t take you home, she didn’t come back home after that. Never, ever. If you said you missed her, that would be an understatement. You thought about how she took care of you, how she was there when you had nightmares. Only if you didn’t insist on going home that day, she would’ve been here.

Suddenly the room went dark, you heard someone shriek downstairs. Putting your hand out, you tried looking for your phone. Finally, finding it, you turned on the flashlight making your way down.

“There’s a blackout, probably because of the storm outside,” Kris informed all of you. Storm? You gulped. Someone pulled you down to sit while Kyungsoo lit up a candle. “You okay?” Luhan asked you, to which you just nodded. A thunderclap made you flinch. Calm down Ji-Eun. 

You heard another series of loud booms and claps, which made you shut your ears tight. Tears escaped as that night’s memories came back. Arms wrapped around you, and you knew who it was. The familiar, yet distant feeling, the smell of his cologne.

“It’s fine,” he said, rubbing your back up and down. The tiniest ‘Jongin’ left your lips. “I’m here, shh. Do you think she would like it if you were crying like this?” A sob slipped out as you heard another clap of thunder. “Let’s get you some sleep. Come on now,” he said as he led you upstairs.

You fell for him again. You let your guard down, and he used the chance. One day and he has you running for him again. One day and he broke down all the locks on your heart. “Get on,” he said ever so softly. Obeying him, you laid down. “Jongin-”

“Shh… just listen to me for once.” 

Having him play with your hair while you slept was only in your fantasy. Maybe if you just forgive- no, you shouldn’t do that after everything he’s done. After everything, he put you through.

You decided you would think about that tomorrow and enjoy the current moment.

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 13

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, slight smut

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Warnings: Anxiety, low self-esteem, discussions of sex, mention of (f) oral sex, sexual anxiety

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I hope you all enjoy this! As usual, if you do...please reblog and leave me a comment! Or send me an ask letting me know your thoughts, I’m glad you’re all loving Flower!Hobi!

; Flower Masterpost

-

Staring at your computer screen, a deep sigh leaves you as yet another email notification pops up in the corner. Clicking on it with as much enthusiasm as you’d give towards picking up a slug, you watch as it directs you back to Outlook and brings up the email. It was from your boss, who was literally sat across the small room from you, asking you to call a client and check whether they were still available for a meeting tomorrow.

Pursing your lips, you bring up her previous email that includes the client’s contact details and input their number into your work phone. Holding the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you tap your pen against your mouse as the dial tone fills your ear.

You really hated your job. 26-years-old, with a degree and you were just stuck doing the work people better paid than you didn’t want to do. Chewing on your lip, you contemplated looking at the list of job sites you’d begun to frequent lately, wondering whether or not you should apply for a new job.

The prospect of a job you actually loved and enjoyed was so foreign to you that it felt almost like a mythical unicorn right now, but you knew they existed. Hoseok loved his job, despite how everyone berated IT departments in every company. So you knew that there was something out there for you. 

But what was it? And how could you get it when you had no relevant experience in...well anything except for the modern day equivalent of pen pushing? Some days you were rushed off your feet doing everything for your boss, acting like a secretary, personal assistant and administrative assistant all at once.

Getting tea and coffee for work meetings, sitting in and taking notes, writing up meeting notes and distributing them, arranging meetings and visits and so much more. It was all boring and dull. The very idea of doing this for the rest of your life was simply unimaginable but you just...couldn’t get the courage to put yourself out there and apply for something better.

You were afraid of rejection and you were even more afraid of getting accepted for a job and then finding out you couldn’t do it. 

Almost without even thinking, you talk through with the client and make sure that they’re still okay for the meeting that was prepared for tomorrow. As soon as the phone clicks back into the cradle, you’re opening a response to your boss and sending her a quick email to let her know that it’s still on and that you’ve checked the room is still booked for them.

And then you just sit there a moment, staring at the screen and wondering what to do next. You had some menial tasks that needed to be done; photocopying documents for their meeting, forwarding invoices and so forth. But you just didn’t want to do any of it. 

That was nothing new though, you never wanted to do anything at work.

A sudden flash of colour out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and look over to where your phone lay on the desk, just above your keyboard. One of the only good things about this place was that no one complained about phones being used as long as you were doing your work too.

And the green that lights up the screen can only mean that someone has sent you a message on WhatsApp. Licking your lips, you glance up at your boss before unlocking your phone quickly and clicking onto the app. 

Upon seeing Hoseok’s name your grin turns even broader, feeling a little better already. He didn’t often text during the work day, often being far too busy to waste time on texting. Unlike you, he was permanently busy.

Hoseok [13:38pm]: Guess who got promoted?

Hoseok [13:38pm]: It’s me! I got promoted :D

Smiling even wider, you quickly texted back as pride fills your chest. Amazing how you’ve only been dating for four months yet you feel so happy and proud of him already. You’d known that he had a meeting today with his managers and he’d been a little worried, unsure whether or not they were going to be laying people off or not.

Y/N [13:39pm]: Yaaaaaaaaay. Can you boss people around now?

Hoseok [13:40pm]: I already boss people around

Hoseok [13:40pm]: Now I just have another department to boss...and more money :D

Y/N [13:41pm]: I is jealouz

Y/N [13:41pm]: (;﹏;)

Hoseok [13:42pm]: I still can’t get over how you text sometimes, honestly

Hoseok [13:42pm]: ANYWAY, it’s more money to spend on youuu :D and Kasumi

Y/N [13:43pm]: Hush, more money for you to spend on gigs

Hoseok [13:43pm]: :O don’t tell me how to spend my money >:[

And then you get a photo sent. Your phone’s setting means that you need to accept it before it downloads, image pixelated at first before becoming high quality. Clicking on it again, you frown momentarily before your eyes widen and your throat goes strangely dry suddenly.

He’s in an all black suit; black jacket, a silk black shirt and a skinny black tie to compliment it all off. It makes the hint of tattoos you can see pop vividly with their colours over the top of his shirt collar and the bit of wrist you can see on the hand that’s pointing at the camera. And it all complements his dark hair wonderfully, today actually styled properly and pushed up elegantly to reveal his forehead and let the astonishing beauty of his face be seen properly.

His face though, isn’t the pure sex his body is emanating. Instead, he’s got a comical expression in which his face is scrunched together, lips pursed in faux anger to go with his last text. But you don’t care, you can’t care.

Hoseok in a suit is...oh god. It’s everything, and you feel things for him suddenly that you’ve never really felt for anyone before from just seeing a picture. You...want to do things to him, right now. 

The strength of your reaction actually makes you pause, looking up from your phone as you assess yourself to try and comprehend what you feel. And what you wanted was for Hoseok to send you a serious photo of him looking like that.

Y/N [13:49pm]: You’re in a suit?

Hoseok [13:50pm]: Yeah, manager meeting

Y/N [13:55pm]: Can you...send a serious picture?

Hoseok [13:56pm]: ...you want another selfie of me?

Y/N [14:00pm]: I mean...you don’t have to

And then you get another photo sent through, causing you to swallow thickly as you download it. You end up biting your lip harshly as you try to stop yourself from making any kind of noise out loud. No one had noticed that you hadn’t done a lot of work in the last fifteen minutes, but they would notice if you made the kind of noise that wanted to erupt from your throat.

Hoseok had evidently known where your thoughts had gone from your awkward text back to him, and he’d pulled out all the stops for you. Part of you wondered where on Earth he was that he could take pictures like this without getting strange looks from his colleagues but an overriding part of you didn’t care.

Because holy shit, your boyfriend was ridiculously fucking attractive and how in the hell had you pulled him?

This photo has him in almost the same angle, only two of his fingers frame the pink tongue that pokes out of his mouth, white teeth pressing against the back of his tongue ring while his eyes are dark with intent. There’s no playfulness in this picture, at least nothing that could be done in public. 

No indeed and you squirm slightly in your seat, contemplating the wild fact that you were horny at work. This has never happened before and you didn’t really know that to do! But how could you not be? The way Hoseok was looking at the camera was the exact way he’d looked at you all three times he’d gone down on you so far.

And he knew it, given his suggestive pose with his tongue. In fact, you’re suddenly sent back to last week when he’d gone down on you in bed. You still weren’t even remotely comfortable asking him to do anything like that yet, but apparently he’d been wanting to so you’d shyly agreed once more.

Not that you were opposed to it or anything.

But those eyes he was giving the camera are the exact same he gave you from between your legs. And that just was not fair, because what were you supposed to do about this in the middle of work? You had just under three hours left to work before you left and he wouldn’t even finish till six.

Y/N [14:07pm]: Handsome

Y/N [14:08pm]: Are you still staying over?

Hoseok [14:10pm]: That’s all you gotta say to that, you wound me. And yes, be around 7

Y/N [14:11pm]: <33

Putting your phone down, you stare at your computer screen that has gotten three new email notifications since you got distracted. You don’t click on them though...instead you just chew on your lip, tapping your fingertips against the desk slowly as you think.

Maybe tonight...maybe…

-

The quick rapping on the door lets you know that Hoseok is finally here, half an hour late. Opening the door to him, you don't even get a chance to say anything as he brushes past you, kicking his shoes off and apologising profusely.

"I'm sorry, they kept me an extra half an hour 'cos some idiot basically broke his laptop and then there was traffic so I haven't been able to go back and change." He's taking his coat off, hanging it up on the little rack on the wall before looking at you and letting out a deep sigh.

"Oh I'm so glad to be home. Today has been so fucking stressful, maybe I should have turned down that promotion and it’s not even been a full day." You don't even get time to consider the fact that he just called your place home because he's suddenly leaning forward, giving you a quick kiss before moving into the kitchen.

Watching after him, you simply stare in bewilderment. You're not entirely sure that you could speak right now, hit by the double whammy of his slip of the tongue and his clothes.

It was true that Hoseok had pretty much spent the last month near enough living at your place, only going home a day or two a week but you hadn't realised he'd felt that comfortable here. You felt a shy warm happiness bubble in your chest at the thought though, looking down at your hands as you bite your lip to stop smiling like a little girl.

But what really turns you into an excitable mess is his outfit. He's still wearing the suit from earlier, his hair tousled from where he'd obviously been running his hands through it in the stress of his work.

And if he'd looked hot in his photos, he looked damn near sinful in person.

Which is why you simply watch him with wide eyes, moving into the kitchen slowly and resting a hip against one of the counters as he peers into the slow cooker that you'd set up this morning before going to work. It was just a simple beef stew with a hint of red wine, the scent delicious but you found that wasn't what was making your mouth water.

Not tonight.

"So...I didn't...know you had a suit like that." The words are incredibly stilted, sounding unbelievably awkward in your mouth and you inwardly cringe. Particularly when you see Hoseok stiffen, ever so slightly beneath the delightful black fabric that outlines his lithe body beautifully.

You knew that Hoseok had been incredibly patient with you. Probably more patient than most men would have been, not even slightly pushing you and making sure that you are completely comfortable with every moment. He didn't ask for much and you often felt bad that he seemed to give up so much in exchange for the eternal patience he gave to you. 

But he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to thrive on what little advancement in your relationship he could get. You still got shy when he gave you oral obviously, but you were far more eager to say yes compared to the beginning.

And tonight...tonight you wanted to finally let him get the pleasure he’d willingly denied himself to keep you comfortable. Especially when he looked like that.

It wasn't just a 'giving him a good time' too because you like him, a lot, but also because quite simply...for the first time ever...you wanted to have sex with someone. You desperately wanted to find out what he felt like inside you. Feel him thrusting within you and in turn explore him to find out what made him jerk, made him twitch and made him moan.

Oh god yes, you wanted to hear him moan. The very idea of him making those kinds of noises because of you was intoxicating and you squeeze your thighs together, fully in the knowledge that you were probably wet already. 

You have no doubt that Hoseok can tell there’s something different, an unusual kind of tension in the air as he turns around slowly, brow raised. Glancing away, you find yourself playing with the label of a Coke bottle on the side, fingers picking until it came away.

Part of you wanted to be brash and forward, boldly tell him what you wanted but as soon as you consider doing it, it felt like an iron band wrapped around your lungs. Breathing was made a lot of harder suddenly and you couldn’t get any words out, your limbs feeling cold and tingly with nerves and anxiety.

Oh how you wished desperately that you could be a bolder person because you just knew that you weren’t at that level of confidence yet with him. Even if you felt no expectations from him. You just weren’t there, and that’s why you were hoping he’d understand and take the lead once more. 

And Jung Hoseok, your wonderful boyfriend who you still believe is far too good for you, does so. You have no idea how he knows that you want to do more than cuddle or talk, no idea how he can tell that you’re struggling to get across your desires but he does.

He smiles slowly, the corners of his lips turning up in a smirk at first before turning into that beautiful smile that makes your heart flutter. Moving slowly, he walked over to you and you press yourself into the counter, eyes widening as you took in the long and loping stride.

Without so much as a word, he stands firmly in front of you, leaning forward just enough to place his arms on the counter, trapping you between them. You can feel the heat of him, the way his leg’s brush against yours with how close he is and the way his jacket slides along your stomach slightly. Combined with the fresh scent that was so unique to Hoseok and the dark look in his eyes, you felt completely overwhelmed by him.

Overwhelmed, in the best way possible.

Leaning down, Hoseok moves close enough until you feel the tip of his nose brushing against yours, the movement deceptively soft given the sexual tension that’s so thick between you both. Biting your lip, you force yourself to remain quiet to see what he does.

“I have more suits than you might realise baby. Why? Do you like it?” His voice is annoyingly light, innocence laced into every syllable that matches his perfect, angelic face too well. Smiling, his eyes widen ever so slightly as he waits for an answer but before you can even say anything, his arms move a little and you feel them pressing against your waist.

“Y-yeah, it...it looks good.” You stutter out, body heating rapidly as you lick at your lips, mouth absurdly dry. And before even realising...you’re pressing your face against his black shirt, feeling the soft silky material rub at your cheek while all you can think of is what the firm chest beneath it looks like.

Hoseok seems to pause for a moment before his hands move to rest on your hips, hesitantly stroking along them. Almost instantly you cringe forward, the feel of his hands so foreign and a subtle panic rushes through you as your mind screams at where he’s touching. The place you dislike on yourself, the place society has taught you isn’t beautiful.

But he touches you with so much care, light and gentle. He doesn’t push further with you, simply let the moment hold despite how tense you both are. You know what he’s doing, instinctively understand because he’s done this your whole relationship so far. He’s letting you get used to him, decide whether or not you feel comfortable with what he’s doing...what he’s offering.

Pressing your ear to his chest, you close your eyes and inhale deeply, shakily as you fight the demons of insecurity over yourself and your previous sexual experiences. Originally, you’d considered perhaps returning the favour to him and giving him oral sex. But now, hearing the strong beat of his heart and the warmth that has comforted you for many nights now...now you want more.

So you let him know, in that quiet and shy method that he must have become so used to. Your own hands tremble slightly as you move your head back just enough before you press them to his chest, hesitantly just letting yourself feel him like this for the first time. And then your fingers move to his collar, the top two buttons already undone.

Finally, finally you glance up at him, feeling unbelievably frightened that he might push you away, decided he didn’t want it. Didn’t want you. 

It had been years since you’d done anything...you knew this and he knew this by now. But you knew that he was far more experienced, so experienced in fact that it scares you a little. You felt like you’d be judged against others and found wanting, even if you knew that Hoseok wouldn’t do that.

“Hoseok,” You start, words meek and quiet. “I...erm, I want...I mean...I don’t…” 

And Hoseok moves his hands to cup your cheeks, smiling at you sweetly, so sweetly. It’s so reminiscent of when he’d gone down on you the first time and you get the urge to suddenly cry at how caring he is. How lucky you are.

“It’s okay. I know...you’re not hugely experienced and you’re not confident. That’s fine, I don’t expect anything from you. We don’t need to do anything, I was just teasing. If you want, I can just go do-”

“No. No, not today. I don’t...I don’t want that. I want...I want you.” This time, the words are a tiny bit more confident but rushed out. “I just...sex...I’ve never really...understood why people like it. You know? It just...felt okay. Maybe it was me but like...yeah, I mean...you know. It was…rushed and you’ve done so much more than me and-” Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to interrupt you, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he lets out a shushing noise.

Suddenly, surprising you entirely, he backs away and gently takes your hand to lead you back to the couch. Without a word he gets you to sit down before doing so himself, taking both your hands between his own with a quiet sigh.

“Okay, I just...want us to talk for a moment, so that neither of us get confused or offended or anything. So...yes, I’ve had a lot of sex, I won’t deny that. It doesn’t mean I’m gonna judge you though. You’re my girlfriend, the vast majority of everyone else was not. I’m incredibly turned on by you and I wanna beat my chest like a neanderthal knowing you want me too. I know you’re shy and you’re not confident of yourself, which is just plain wrong by the way because you are unbelievably beautiful. I just...I don’t want to move too fast for you and have you regret it. So...talk to me. Please.” You’re sure this man really isn’t real, because surely no one really existed like him in real life. 

“Why are you so patient?” You blurt out, brow furrowed in confusion and he looks just as confused for a moment before smiling.

“Because being pushy doesn’t get me anything? Except upsetting you and making you close up. And then if you do anything for me, then it’s because I’ve pushed and pushed until you feel forced to do it. So I’m patient. I don’t really mind, I like your company and it’s strangely rewarding seeing you slowly open up to me. I’m not doing anything for an ulterior motive.” He’s so earnest that you can tell he’s being honest but it still confuses you. 

Not that you’re going to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything. 

So inhaling deeply, you squeeze his hands and gave him a tight smile before talking. Something about Hoseok has always been comforting and reassuring, like he won’t judge you and you know he’ll be the same this time.

“I haven’t...slept with anyone in years. You’ve probably realised or...maybe I told you. But...well. I mean,” Your hands feel so clammy in his. “It wasn’t really good? I never...you know, with anyone. It just...felt fine. Good enough that I’d do it again but not so good I actively wanted it. Thought something was wrong with me because of that. I’ve accepted there isn’t...maybe even wondered if I was asexual for a while or something. Maybe I still am? I don’t really know. I just...I like you...a lot...and I like doing...things with you. I’ve never...you know…”

“Orgasmed?”

It’s a simple word and he says it so casually but you find yourself squirming at it, feeling warm and embarrassed about it. Not only talking about orgasms but also admitting that you’d never had one during sex before. So you simply nod, unable to get the words out and frowning in frustration at yourself.

“Hey...hey look at me,” Hoseok says gently, squeezing your hands till you do as he says. “Don’t feel embarrassed about it. It’s not something to feel bad about. This probably isn’t what I should be saying right now...but I’ve had a lot of sex, with...a sizeable amount of women. Do you know how many times they orgasmed during sex?”

Frowning, you wonder momentarily whether you’re meant to feel better with the knowledge that he’d been with a lot of women. Or that some of them had even orgasmed with him. But you sensed he was trying to make a point, and Hoseok had never been cruel.

Slowly, you shake your head.

“Not that many of them to be honest. I wish I could boost my ego and say I have a 100% strike rate but...I don’t. Sometimes girl’s would cum, most of the time they didn’t. I had to go down on them or something. And I’ve never had a single woman orgasm from penetration alone, they all needed some help. What I’m trying to get across here to you, and very badly because there’s nothing less sexy than hearing about your partner’s...escapades but...please don’t think that you’re always meant to orgasm during sex. Sometimes you might, sometimes you might not. I know that for some women, they just enjoy the feeling because they can’t get there. Sometimes, I don’t even orgasm. I’m not in the mood or something or I get bored...or I’m too drunk.”

That makes your eyes widen in shock and surprise. You hadn’t even though guys could just...not orgasm during sex. It made you realise how little you really knew, and suddenly you felt a little embarrassed about your lack of knowledge about sex. But he wasn’t being condescending or demeaning, so you decided to take the plunge and ask him.

“R-really? You...I didn’t know guys...I thought you just always did.” Hoseok laughs at that, looking so attractive that you can’t help but bite your lip. Even though you’re having a serious conversation with him, you still can’t mask the desire you have for him. Damn him for looking so good in a suit.

“The vast majority of the time? Yeah, it’s no problem. But sometimes like...I’m too tired to bother anymore and I just don’t want to carry on. Sometimes I’m a bit stressed and can’t get there which then leads to anxiety that I’m not. I try not to take it to heart but...you don’t need to be embarrassed. If you wanna orgasm then we can definitely try, if you don’t feel like it, then we don’t need to. It’s entirely up to you, I swear.” 

Silence falls between you both and you stare at your hands, swallowing thickly. He’s offering you so much, and part of you feels bad. But at the same time...you want to just enjoy him without the stress or anxiety of not performing like you thought you were supposed to.

Clenching your jaw, you make the decision and nod your head to yourself. Yes, you were doing this.

So without a word, you grab onto this small flame of confidence he’s lit within you and let go of his hands, instead using them to grip the lapels of his jacket and pulling him forward. His eyes widen for a second and he lets out an ‘oomph’ before you’re kissing him.

It’s not pretty at first, almost painful from the force and you both take a few seconds to reacquaint yourselves with each other before it finally starts moving smoothly like usual. Only this time, the kiss is far more intense than anything you’d had before with him, almost as if you were trying to devour each other with the force and intensity.

Pulling away momentarily, you look at him and groan softly at the desire in his eyes. You’ve seen him in moments of pure lust before, but he’s bordering on unrestrained here. And you want that, so you pull him back in, moulding your lips to his own and feeling the tingle of excitement that runs through you.

“Not here, not here. Please, I really wanna fuck you on your bed.” Hoseok gasps out as he pulls away once more, trying to avoid your grasping hands with a breathy laugh. 

You don’t even question it, getting up quickly and practically tugging him into your bedroom in your eagerness. The sheer laugh of delight he gives you as you do so invigorates you, bolstering the confidence that’s spurring you on and you hope it lasts.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him into a kiss once you’re in the safe haven of your bedroom, you prepare to trust him with your insecurities once more.

[szallejh]

First Steps

Blink of an Eye - Part 1

Took me quite a bit to update the next chapter, sorry for that! It’s not that it hasn’t been written yet - I simply wasn’t at home (:

I don’t even know if anyone wants to read this. Anyway! If you do, enjoy ~

-   -   -   -

I sat down on the grass to try and sort out the absolute mess in my head.

After I had closed my eyes and taken a few deep breaths, I realized that I had no other choice but to accept my current situation. Even if this did end up being a dream, or some kind of bad trip, I was at least safe for now. And on the off chance that this was now my new reality, I figured that I didn’t want to endanger my life any more than necessary.

I threw a glance down at my body. What I saw was the typical Asuran body structure: slim shoulders and nothing that appeared to be breasts. From the waist down, it looked to be all sorts of clumsy.

Perhaps it wasn't the most desirable-looking figure compared to human standards, but maybe the male Asura had different definitions of beauty instead?

The thought made me giggle aloud, the strange sound of my new voice catching me off-guard in the moment.

That’s still not my voice! I thought. But with each syllable, the voice grew to be more familiar.

A hum escaped my throat. It's the same as tiring your voice to where it sounds terribly hoarse. It'll reach a point where you can't even remember how your voice sounds in a healthy condition.

Eyes looked down to observe what I was now wearing.

My clothing was very simple. I wore a cream-colored shirt which was corded up to the top and was fitted with blue shoulder pads. The cloth was garnished with pastel blue and pink geometrical figures.

A skirt of similar color sat snug on my waist, the front of it opened to reveal a pair of dark brown pants underneath. The material was comfortable, and soft to the touch. Also sitting around my hips, was a dark wide belt which was equipped with a few smaller bags. Opening one of them had revealed some copper, silver and even a handful of gold pieces.

I lifted up a foot, looking down to see my shoes were made of dark leather and crafted in such a way that allowed my claw-like toes to be freed.

With a raised arm, I spread my digits outward to look at the gloves they were now sporting. The material was in the same color of my shirt, and decorated with blue cubes.

Well, not too bad for a start.

A backpack sat nestled in between my legs, its contents containing a few food supplies, a filled water pouch, and a map. There were also a bunch more items stuffed into it, but I had never seen them before so I had no clue of what each of their purposes could be.

In a side flap was an attached hammer, which was quite impressive and rather heavy. It had the typical-asuran designs too. I reached down to grab hold of it in my hands, figuring it to be a rather suitable fighting weapon.

Wait a moment!

While only virtual and with my keyboard, I had fought many times before. But I had never actually held a real weapon before, and my combat experience was practically non-existent.

This was the real world of Tyria though, and that meant I wouldn’t be able to skip fights completely.

The thought of potentially really hurting someone with this hammer made me feel fairly uncomfortable.

Or rather, I could get hurt in combat myself.

I shoved the thought away and hastily plugged the hammer back into its flap. The sun still stood high in the sky, but I figured that I couldn’t sit on this meadow forever.

First things first, I needed to search for an accommodation for the night. And then I would start working on gaining control of my new life.

With a sigh I stood up, and shouldered the backpack. I kept an eye out for a location that could be proven promising for a night quarter.

Just a few meters beside me was a winding path that led into the landscape. From what I could see, it was leading towards the direction to a few cubic buildings. With a nod, I followed the path, staying attentive and watching the nearby surroundings.

Who knew what dangers hung around this place, searching for prey?

Occasionally there would be bundles of trees outlining the area, the similar-looking foliage granting me some sense of familiarity to my previous world.

On the left side of the path I was walking on, I spotted a small platform hovering in the air. Stony footbridges led towards it, its construct sheltered by three pyramidal frames filled with glittering blue diaphragms in the center.

The closer I came to the platform, the louder I could hear a steady, humming and buzzing noise filling the air around me. I figured its source had to have been the structure's glittery blue middles.

Floating all around the platform were small cubes. Some of them were overgrown with pink and blue plants, a few even covered with vines that were wired to the ground.  

Although I had seen this more than once before in-game, it had never made such a majestic impression as much as it did right now.

Slowly I ascended one of the footbridges, unsure if the construction was truly as steady as it looked.

Above I could see two golems standing guard. "Whoa!" I muttered, not wanting to mess with them. Luckily for me, they seemed to be in some kind of standby-mode which was made apparent by their beeping and lack of obvious care when I walked by.

Curious as I was, I reached out to stroke one of the vines growing on the platform with my hand. Startled, I retracted my hand very quickly when it constricted under my touch.

You've never been the one for plants... I thought to myself. I carefully descended the platform, suddenly glad there hadn't been any rain recently to turn the mossy stones into a slippery trap.

To my right was a classic laboratory which appeared to be housing a brisk-looking business. Everywhere I looked were Asura. Their appearances were diverse, and they bustled around while calling numbers and random tidbits of information to each other. If not that, then they were cursing aloud or beckoning to some absurd thing.

I didn’t dare to disturb them in their work, and continued walking towards the center of the town. There was little chance that a lab such as the ones I just saw would offer hotel rooms, which meant I needed to find better options.

Along the way, a few stray Asura and their golems briskly walked past me in a hurry, but none of them seemed to pay much attention to the stranger walking through their settlement. Few gave much greeting, and I kept my head hanging while muttering the occasional 'excelsior'.

While walking along, I started to feel anxious about my ability to find a rightful place in this new world.

How am I going to earn money to live? I asked myself.

I didn’t have the faintest notion of how golems worked, nor did I understand the techniques of something similar. With that lack of knowledge, I assumed most were going to call me the biggest-Skritt brained idiot in all of Tyria.

I sighed.

Perhaps there could be some dirty work that wasn't already completed by the golems around here.

At least I hoped so.

I threw a glance down to the coin pouch around my waist from when I had dropped into this new world. I still had a few gold coins, which meant I could possibly manage to get by for a couple of days. Hopefully by then, a better path would have revealed itself for me.

After walking through the town some more, I finally arrived at the city entrance. It was a big triangle made of stone, its sides both flanked by pillars of light.

Soren Draa, I remembered. At least that meant I was near Rata Sum, the main city of the Asura. And my midsection suddenly felt like it was doing somersaults.

I liked Rata Sum the most out of all other Tyrian cities, thus I couldn’t wait to see this masterpiece of architecture. Not only that, but to see the everyday life of the Asura who lived there with my own eyes.

I just had to walk through a simple portal in Soren Draa and...

I swallowed. What would portal-travelling feel like? I just hoped it wouldn’t feel similar to my previous arrival here…

Awestruck, I passed the light pillars and went through the city gate. A comfy sound originated from the pillars, similar to that of a technical humming. It wasn't loud enough to cause a bother, but it lingered all around.

Soren Draa on its own was a real masterpiece. A city - half built in stone with towers and floating hammocks. There were even hovering cubes that seemed to be planted with trees! Blue lights surrounded me everywhere I looked, and the sounds from the nearby labs assaulted me on all sides.

It was a choir of cries, clanking, beeping, humming, and golem's heavy metal steps echoing loudly on the stone.

I assumed I must have looked quite silly then, standing there with my mouth open and looking around in sheer awe.

Another Asura who had been standing just a few feet away and watching my astonishment finally spoke. "Each time you come to the city, it's a treat to the eyes, isn't it?"

Startled, I forced myself to close my gaping mouth once I realized someone had been watching me.

"Eh... yes. Absolutely fantastic. It's just as amazing as the first time I saw it", I said, staring at the ground to hide the blush ascending my neck.

The Asura shook his head in amusement, and when I finally dared to lift my head, he had long since disappeared back into the bustle.

Huh. Maybe I shouldn’t behave so stupidly next time, if I don’t want to be the main attraction today, I thought, staring towards the area the curious stranger had just been.

I straightened myself out and continued along the street, now attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible. I climbed an impressive amount of stairs, quickly taking notice of a portal at the end of the street which I knew would lead me to Rata Sum.

But seeing the intimidating portal was more than enough to snap me back to the reality that evening was coming, and I still wanted to rest a night before I hurled myself into the next possible adventure.

I glanced up to the sky, noticing that the fair blue color from the afternoon had now been replaced by varying tints of yellows, violets and pinks. The colors painted the clouds in whimsical patterns, and it created a window to look upon the first shining stars of the night.

When did it get this dark?

With another quick look around the area, I observed a pyramidal entrance just to the right. Even from the sliver of a doorway, I could see quite a few tables and chairs littered around inside. Above the entrance was a sign, which tagged the location as a tavern.

I blinked at the words, surprised I was even able to read the Asuran writing. Perhaps I didn't know how to work a golem, but at least I could read a strange new alphabet.

Happy to have finally found a place to stay for the night, I veered to the right to enter the tavern. Compared to the outside, it was far more bustling and busy-looking on the inside. But there were still a few empty tables, which meant there was a very good possibility that there would also be some available rooms as well.

Single-mindedly, I walked straight towards the counter to see a slightly-miffed looking Asura standing behind it. From the glance she threw at me, I wasn't sure if it was unfriendly or just annoyed.

The Asura had brown hair that was tied to a simple knot above her head. Her eyes were a dull-blue color that seemed to lack much expression behind them. But her ears - they were gigantic!

I knew that most Asura had really big ears, but these particular specimens had surpassed anything that I had seen so far. If they didn't extend out as far as they did, then they likely would have reached all the way down to her midsection.

“Excelsior. So, what do you want?” she spoke, her voice far louder than what I had expected from such a tiny body.

What did you expect from someone who works inside a tavern? A place that is almost always incredibly noisy?

I then cleared my throat. “Eh, I... I am searching for an available room tonight. And if that's possible, then maybe something to eat and drink as well."

I was readily made aware of how impolite I must have just sounded, but the Asura behind the bar didn't seem to mind. She toddled over to the wall behind her and took a key from it which was carved with the number 13.

Always a good sign.

She handed me the key. “That'll be a room for one night and one meal, which makes your total three silver.”

Nervous, I fumbled around the inside of my pouch until I was able to find the correct amount of coins before handing them to the innkeeper. She nodded, appearing satisfied before pointing me towards the direction of one of the empty tables. I walked over and sat down, waiting for my meal to arrive. It felt good to be able to sit after all of the tedious walking from today, and I rested my head upon my arms and closed my eyes.

It seemed these upcoming days were going to be incredibly long and possibly just as tiring.

[floatingpetals]

Call of the Mountains || Ch. 7

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Werewolf AU!)

Warnings: A sprinkle of spice towards the end, other than that nothin’

Word Count: 2700+

Summary:  (Werewolf-AU!Stucky x f!reader) Life had begun to overwhelm her. Work was insane and her life was a mess. There was a tug in her soul that called her to take this trip, deep into the forest away, where there was the peace and stillness of nature. She didn’t know why, but she knew she needed to listen. It was meant to be a relaxing trip, but one misstep on some moss sent her tumbling into the rapids of the flooded river. She thought she was gone and the earth decided it was time to reclaim her. She didn’t expect was to be pulled from the river nor the creature that saved her. Her entire world is turned upside down and all it took was an accidental step to the left. (18+ Only Story)

A/N: Are you ready?! Are you ready?! Are you ready?! (Imagine this in an announcers voice) Cause things are starting to pick uppp!!! Gah I’m so excited about this chapter. FINALLY. Things are happening and I am HERE FOR IT. I hope you all enjoy and as always please reblog and let me know what you think! Even it’s you smashing your face on the keyboard I will adore it!( I swear even though I forget to reply I read all your comments and I love you all so much!!) Ennjjoyy!!! 

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Series Masterlist

A deafening boom sent Y/N’s eyes flying open wide, her heart in her throat. She shot up in the bed, gasping in a panic. What the hell was that? She stared around the dark room in wait. A flash came from the window, lighting the room for a split second. Another rumble grew, softer this time and swelled into a louder crash that vibrated the room. Y/N’s stomach dropped. The storm had come.

She shoved the blankets off the bed and ran to the window, throwing open the curtains. A groan bubbled up in her throat. It was dark but she could hear the rain beating against the window, the wind roaring through the trees. No, it can’t! Yes, the clouds hovered above when she fell asleep that night, but she hoped it wouldn’t rain. It couldn’t. Yet here it was. Every bit as treacherous as it looked hanging above.

There was another clap of thunder that caused her to jump with a start. And then she heard the groan of the power shutting off, the light from the alarm clock on the bedside table going black. Shrouded in darkness, Y/N felt her stomach drop. There was an annoyed curse from the hall and a thump before quickly retreating footsteps.

Stumbling over to the door, she grasped around for the handle. Peaking around the corner, she could barely make out anything in the darkness. The occasional lightning strike lit up the hall, showing she was alone. She took in a deep breath and stepped carefully into the hall, running her fingers along the wall. She followed the hall, only stubbing her toes twice and cursing wood baseboards before she came to the living room.

The shades had been pulled up on the windows and showed the room when the lightning struck through the sky. She vaguely made out two large shapes in the kitchen by the back door huddled together. Even over the rain pelting on the rooftops above, she could hear their soft murmurs as the spoke to each other.

“Shit, this is worse than I thought it would be.” Steve, she realized, muttered irritated.

“I’m just annoyed the generator went out.” Bucky exhaled.

“Tony said it was all good the last he checked. The backup generator should have flipped on when the main stopped working. I don’t understand. One of us needs to go check it out.”

Y/N felt around the living room, making sure she didn’t trip over the furniture and made her way quietly across the room. Her eyes had begun to adjust, and she could finally make out Bucky and Steve standing side by side glaring out the windows

“I’m not going out in this!” Bucky bit back sharply.

“What happened?” Y/N called out behind them. The two men nearly leaped out of their skin. Bucky yelped and spun around, while Steve slammed against the windowpane in fright. The twang from the glass pulled a snort from her lips, and Steve shot her an irritated glare. Struggling to stop her giggle at their expense, Y/N bit her lip and apologized. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Jesus, doll.” Bucky clutched his chest and sucked in air. “When the hell did you get there?”

Y/N shrugged. “Not long. Something about a generator?”

Steve, still pressed against the window, grunted.

“Generator went out and now the backup isn’t working. We were deciding who gets to go check it out.”

“In this?” Y/N asked in disbelief. “Absolutely not! We can go without power until this passes.”

There was a growl, intense and furious. Y/N jumped at the sound, the rumble from the growl vibrating in her chest. What in the world? She thought dumbfounded. It sounded like a growl from a dog, an incredibly angry canine. Did they have a dog and she didn’t see it? What made it so angry?

“You’re telling us what to do now?” Steve snarled.

“Steve.” Bucky snapped and stepped between them. “She’s right. We can barely see two feet in front of us as it. The winds are fast enough it could bring down a tree and we’d never know until it’s on top of us. We don’t need to go out until it blows over.”

The rumble came back, not the thunder above, but the rumble from the enraged snarl. Y/N’s breath caught, and her body began to shake in fear. She glanced around the room, trying to find the source of the sound. She didn’t know where it was or what it was, but she knew danger when she heard it. It was so close she could feel the power in the vibrations shaking her bones.

“Steve,” Bucky urged, dropping his voice low. He placed a hand on Steve’s arm. “Stop. You’re scaring her.”

Steve huffed and pushed him aside, stomping around Y/N towards the stairs. She watched his shadowy figure move without hesitation up the stairs out of her sight, taking the dark cloud he wore over him with.

“Sorry about him.” Bucky sighed. “He’s a little… edgy. This was a freak storm.”

Y/N trembled slightly, still shook up over the mysterious noise. Bucky must have seen her tremor, he reached out and gently rubbed her arms. What was Steve’s deal with me? She thought miserably. He’s hated her on-site, and she had no idea why.

“He hates me…” Y/N mumbled. She heard Bucky inhale sharply. He tugged her into a hug and held her tight.

“No, he doesn’t,” He reassured. “Steve’s always been a little careful with new people. He just has to sit and get to know you.”

Y/N really doubted it. She pretty much got the message loud and clear. Steve didn’t like her and most likely wouldn’t be changing his opinion anytime soon. Knowing there was nothing else he could say on the matter, Bucky decided it was best to leave the living room and move from the spot of discomfort. Gently nudging her back to the hall, Bucky held her securely against his side.

“Let’s go back to bed. Like you said, we can’t do anything about the generator till the storm passes. Might as well get some more sleep.” He said softly.

Y/N nodded and leaned against his side. His heat soaked into her body, chasing away the strange chill she felt from earlier. Her breath caught when his impossibly warm hand settled on her hip and pulled her closer. His thin t-shirt did little to hide the pure slab of muscles he was made of and she could feel everything pressed against his side. The smell of a citrus body wash and a smell she could only pinpoint as him hit her nose and warmed her insides.

Her cheeks started burning when her mind began to wander. Nope, nope, nope she thought quickly. She can’t think about that right now. Bucky was just being nice; she didn’t need to go and salivate all over him just cause he was making sure she got to her room safe. Right, focus on that, she thought. He seemed able to cross the large room and miss all the furniture. She chalked it up to him living here long enough to know the layout like the back of his hand.

“Fortunately, we have a new generator that we can hook up if the other two don’t work.”

Y/N snorted. “You have a back up for your back up?”

“Well!” Bucky chuckled. “We wanted to prepare ourselves, and clearly, this is proof enough we aren’t totally crazy on getting the third one.”

“Yeah okay.” Y/N laughed and nodded. “Fair point.”

He stopped at her open door and gave her hip a gentle squeeze. She titled her head towards his face and could see the soft grin on his face as he stared back. The storm still raged on outside, but inside there was a stillness in the air that made Y/N’s stomach flip. It occurred on her that she didn’t feel out uncomfortable in his arms. In fact, she felt almost at home against him. There was a pull to him she couldn’t ignore, welcoming and warm. She hadn’t realized they both were leaning in until she felt his hot breath against her lips.

A flash of lightning light up the hall, briefly giving her a glance of Bucky’s face. Dark grey eyes bore into hers, the lust unmistakable in his stare. It tempted her to close the distance and finally give in to the call. A second later the crash of thunder overhead made Y/N jump, effectively cutting off whatever spell she was under.

Reluctantly, Bucky let her slip from his grip. He fingers drug over her hip, skimming across her skin from her shirt that had ridden up under his arm. It sent a jolt down Y/N’s back. She had to step back, to get away from this. She was stunned how her body reacted and how willing she was to lean in and press her lips against his. From the look in his eyes, Bucky wouldn’t have protested.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Bucky said softly and pulled back. Y/N whispered a soft goodbye, barely audible over the rain on the roof above. She didn’t move until Bucky’s door clicked softly behind him. Jerking out of her stupor, Y/N flung herself into the room and shut the door behind her. She was trying to forget how her legs began to tremble and her insides turned to molten lava at the heated expression he sent her way before shutting his door.

Nope, she thought and threw herself on the bed. There is no chance in hell this could ever happen.

Right?

Bucky shut the door, his grip on the metal handle so tight his knuckles went white. He almost lost control. He never lost control. His wolf, the animal inside him he’s spent years having solid control over was howling at him to go back and take what was his. Mine. Mine. My mate.

His breath caught in his throat. No that couldn’t be right. She wasn’t his mate. There was no way. For one, she was human. And two, she was human! His wolf had to have it wrong. She wasn’t his and never would be.

Nevertheless, even Bucky couldn’t deny that something changed. Maybe it was because she was human that he didn’t notice it before. The pull he felt, the little tug in his heart that drew him to her. It’s why he stopped at the waterfall.

There was something about her smell that intrigued him, and then something about her that caught his attention. If he hadn’t caught her scent in the wind, would she have ever slipped? Maybe she was meant to, and perhaps if he ignored her call, there was no doubt she would be at the bottom of the river. Instead, he listened to the little voice. It led him to save her, spend all day with her, holding her and watching over her as he fretted about her injuries. He felt the tug but that could have been his compassion attracting him. Why is it now that his wolf had it’s full attention on her?

Bucky sank down on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall of glass windows in front of him. He didn’t see the rain pelting the glass or hear the wind howling through the trees. His mind only lingered on her.

Perhaps it was her being so close, sharing the same space as her. She didn’t smell like it yet; she had only been in the guest room for a short time. But it was enough time for her smell to start to twist and merge with his. Even now, he could smell her if he focused. It was soothing and cozy. Like home.

Earlier, she somehow managed to sneak up on them in the kitchen. They didn’t hear her come up, she had to have stumbled through the room in the dark and no doubt should have run into a few things. Even the rain couldn’t mask her stumbling. Only one person could ever fly under their radar, a shifter’s animal would only ever be at ease with the presence of someone that it didn’t see as a threat. He didn’t hear here because his wolf knew already. It hit him like a ton of bricks. Now the reaction he had when he saw her at the waterfall made sense.

Holy shit. She’s my mate.

Falling back against the mattress, Bucky felt all the air rush from his lungs. He found his mate. Somehow, luck decided to go out and find her for him. 

He went over the emotions he felt standing at the door with her, holding her against his side. It felt so right like everything had finally fallen into place. He could smell her so strongly, could see each and every breath he took. His eyes were better than hers after all. He could see the dark as well as he could in the day. So he saw it all. The way her breath hitched when he tightened his grip on her waist. How her eyes darkened, and pupils grew when she leaned in. Her smell was growing thickly sweet, like honey waiting to be devoured. He was so close to tasting her, his wolf was howling for a kiss. But the spell broke at the clap of thunder and he needed to run. He had to. She was injured and in a strange location. He couldn’t take advantage of her. He wouldn’t.

Even with his wolf snarling in his mind, Bucky knew he couldn’t act on this. Not when it meant he thought of Steve. Steve showed no signs of her being his mate. And that’s what worried Bucky the most.

They were a set pair. Odd as it was, two alpha’s a pair. In nature, it would never happen or ever work out. However, it worked with them. They grew up together and did everything together, despite being from different packs.

Steve and Bucky’s fathers were both close, they had gone to the same college and met through their classes. Their mothers would always roll their eyes when remembering the two older alphas in school. Steve’s mom had mentioned once it was like seeing twins separated at birth with how similar they were alike personality-wise. It was what made things work between them. The two decided to move to the mountains with their packs but have their own respective territories.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to meet up with pack members from the other. It helped give them more protection, to trade off watching over the younger members. That’s what Steve and Bucky did. Steve was smaller, hadn’t quite gotten into his skin just yet, which meant Bucky made it his business to watch over his friend until he could hold his own in a fight. To them, it just made sense. Of course, like in any pack, there were always those few who didn’t like the notion of another pack being so close to their territories, but over time and after many disputes, they grew to appreciate and recognize the good it brought.

When it came time for Steve and Bucky both to step up and take over for their fathers it only made sense to combine the packs. Steve and Bucky were a pair, one wasn’t far from the other. The packs had time to brace themselves for the strange but obvious decision. It wasn’t until they became one pack that Steve and Bucky recognized what this meant. It hadn’t dawned on either of them until they both stood side by side as Alphas.

While they might not be physically attracted to each other, they realized there was a bond between them. Bucky was attuned to Steve’s emotions and vice versa. If he thought about, he always had been able to feel Steve’s emotions, even as kids. For instance, Bucky could feel the rage and frustration Steve had constantly boiling under the surface. Bucky had been worried about him for a while now. 

Going further back, he could still remember with Steve before they-. No. Bucky shook his head cutting that memory off in its track. He wasn’t going to remember that. It was a mistake. A mistake that made Steve how he was now. A mistake that he wished they could take back.

Groaning, Bucky rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. Anything to stop Y/N’s smell from invading his senses. He’d have to keep fighting this pull, to ignore the call, he needed to. He couldn’t regret something if he never acted on it.

Right?

Call Of The Mountains Taglist: (CLOSED!!!)

@sophiabulbu69 / @honeyloverogers / @jessieray98 / @wtfisthiswebsite / @storyteller-le /  @itty-bitty-dancer /  @steebrogurz / @chook007 / @peculiarlittleprince / @hae-bee / @bunniotomia / @itsevalace / @tanelle83 / @sunmoonandbucky / @elizabeth-marie-moon / @ragnarsdrapa / @lazinessisalliknow / @rippedpiece / @lanabgil / @sister-of-stars / @grimmlytimelord / @opaque-daydream / @vitamingrant / @marvellover1819 / @cobalt-gear /  @e1e4n0r5 / @andy-blur / @aactuaaltraash / @kyrah-williams / @flowerchild1216 / @go-river-flows / @yimi-papril / @lanabgil /  @samiiicg / @juliae03 / @fantua / @hungoverhellhound /@lille-kattunge / @lbuck121 / @the-olive-alexis-stuff / @caramelunicorns /  @toc1985 / @imamom-makingadifference​ / @smileyishere92 / @nickie-amore / @justmevoldemort​ / @vitamingrant / @agirlruinedbybands / @womanontheedgeofnothing / @sarcasionmew / @xxlilqueeniexx / @sailorstupidsblog / @dontforgetthepieh / @thewintersoldierswifu / @one-girls-life /  @mom—nicole / @capandbuckylvr / @mcdanno71 / @ahappylilybug2019 / @neverforget-whereyoubelong / @whatdoyxumean /  @peach-acid / @nickie-amore / @boomshakalaka8 /

[mandymc]

can't make you love me:

Dan Jones/Reader

Also on AO3 :)

Summary: You're falling for your boss, Daniel Jones, who just sees you as nothing but a release for his stress.

Notes: Dan fucks you hard but is a bad boyfriend. You're his assistant. (Just go with it.)

Warnings/Tags: Shameless Smut, Boss/Employee Relationship, Vaginal Sex, Desk Sex, Vibrators, Blowjob, Spanking, Rough Sex, a bit of edging and orgasm control, light bondage???, some angst???, you love Dan and he loves his report.

Chapter 1: Mr. Jones

 Your foot is tapping and you're biting your lip, watching as the right hand on the clock above your head is inches away from the exact time he said to come to his office and bring coffee. You hope you got it right, you frantically scribbled down, in your little lined notebook what he specifically asked for.

Black. Two sugars.

Your thighs clench together, they always do when you think of him, your boss, in his deep voice, ordering you around. You hate what he's fucking doing to you, you weren't always like this, horny as hell at work, you were professional, then he came around, and you developed a stupid little crush, your skirts started getting shorter, and he noticed, and punished you for it, you remember the first time your pussy walls seized around his dick, he bent you over his desk, and spanked you, grinned to himself at the evidence of his large red handprints, and squeezed your cheeks together, slid his cock between, no one had ever fucked you like that and you were certain no one would ever again.

Naturally, you assumed him fucking you to tears every day on his desk meant that your feelings were reciprocated, and it would go somewhere, dinner, the movies, anywhere away from the office, and the stacks of paperwork.

Tick tick

But you knew it, he knew it, it was an unspoken mist in the air, he could never flat out say it to your face.

His work, his report comes first, always. And you would be fine with being second, but you're not sure you're even third. It's been weeks since he's even acknowledged your existence.

  You lay the notebook on the seat beside you. No way he could see it, and you know he'd be curious too, probably mock you for writing all those dirty little thoughts, no, he wouldn't just mock you, you think, knowing your superior he would make you read it all aloud in front of him.

Tap tap.

One more second.

You shake off the nerves, not today, you think, you are better than this, and you're going to show him what he is missing.

Knock, knock.

"It's open."

You hear him say, voice all too familiar yet all too distant.

 You shut, lock, the door behind you, and stand up straight, placing the cup of coffee on his desk, firstly, you notice the dark-purplish circles under his eyes, caffeine, the only thing keeping him alive, it seems.

"Just as you requested, Mr. Jones."

Eager and patient, you take in every bit of him, hanging at what he will say next, like a thread. But his face is glued to the computer and his beautiful eyes refuse to meet yours.

A mumbled, "thanks" is all you get.

You pout, sit on the edge of the wooden desk and lift your pencil skirt up just a bit, just enough so Mr. Jones could see your lack of panties.

He's typing on the keyboard, and with all the politeness he can muster, he shoos you away, like you're a fucking, fly buzzing, vexing him.

"That's all, you can go now."

You huff.

"I-I-I please, I want you...so badly-" you're interrupted.

 "No, I am working."

 "Mr. Jones...please, I've been so wet for you since I woke up, and you took my vib-"

 He stops you again, focus still solely on the document.

"Yes, I have your vibrator, it's in the drawer here, and because you are such a horny slut, you violated HR rules, and just had to bring it to the workplace."

"You told me to."

"Yes, and I'll decide when you can use it, now go away"

You unbutton your shirt, slowly, taking your tits out of the bra cups, your tongue darts out to try and lick at your nipples, you know he likes that.

But he must not like it enough because your boss is still ignoring you.

"Dan...please, I know how stressed you are, please take it out on me..."

No response. Nothing. Silence.

 You move the stacks of paper aside, and you spread your legs in front of him, lifting the skirt higher, and your hand traces down, down to your clit. 

And that gets him, Dan snaps and finally, he stops you, his hand digs into your wrist. He's actually looking at you now, handsome as ever, and his cologne smells so goddamn good. 

You wince, he's a lot stronger than you and he's standing up now, having enough of your antics, and taking both your wrists behind your back, he manhandles you around the other side of his desk, bending you over, pushing your head flat in the papers.

His name plate falls to the floor with a loud thud, but he doesn't give a fuck right now, not when he's tearing at your useless skirt and eyeing your bare ass that is completely healed from last time. Dan needs to hit you now, he's aching for that release, just as much as you. 

"I told you to go away."

With no warning, a loud smack echoes through his office. And another, and another. He spanks you so hard, you jolt forward, nipples brushing against the cold wood.

"Mmmmore...please."

Dan nestles in your neck, breathes hot in your ear, and rubs at your labia, slicking up with every grumble he makes at you, his voice shaky from being so pent up.

"That's what you want?...so desperate for an ounce of my attention?"

He growls and with his full strength, spanks your ass again, you grab at the desk for dear life.

Tears start to form already in your eyes at the stinging, and Dan doesn't rub or soothe at the redness forming, instead, he grits his teeth, squeezes and pinches your ass cheeks, and with his other hand works his belt loose and pulls it out.

 He holds your wrists back together with his one hand, and wraps his belt, ties them so tightly together, making you unable to move, and he almost grins to himself when you try to wiggle out. 

Another smack.

"Stay still."

But you want to tease him, you wiggle again and try tilting your head so you can look at him.

He smacks the forming welts on your ass, you cry out. He won't tolerate that today.

"I said-" he pauses, "stay- fucking still."

He presses your legs together, wanting your pussy as tight as possible, he's quick, unzipping his fly and pulling out his hard cock, Dan wouldn't admit that he's been this hard since the second you walked in.

He gives his cock a few tight strokes, and rubs your juices around your clit, teasing you, he can't take his eyes off your cunt and how it seems impossible for him to fit, how you always struggle to fully take him. It's his favorite part, watching how you split open so wide around him, how it almost hurts you every time.

"Please..."

Your whisper is all he needs, and he pushes past your lips and watches as his cock pierces into you, and the little noise you make, he goes lightheaded, overwhelmed with the drive to fuck you silly on his desk. He groans, and adjusts his tie, lifting up his shirt and digs into your hips, thrusting with vigor.

"Oh...oh my god...that's so good, fuck"

You whine.

Dan's head tilts back, and he slams into you over and over, you hear his skin slap against you. Slap, slap. It's incredible, but he wants to go deeper. He squeezes your cheeks apart, and you sob as he pushes all the way into you, you feel his balls smack against your clit, stuffing you full, a smile starts to tick upon his face when he sees your tight little asshole almost bulge out with every thrust. He feels himself about to cum, and after a few more deep thrusts, he's growling and pulling out of you, your pussy gushes and contracts at the sudden lack of fullness.

"Come here, on your knees, suck it."

Grabbing you by the hair, Dan pulls you off the desk and sits you on your knees in front of him, he's stroking his cock in your face and pushing the head into your lips, moaning around him, you taste your own tangy juices and do what you're told, you suck.

Your boss quietly mumbles out, "yes, ah..goddamnit, such a good fucking slut." Wrapping your hair in his fingers, he's forcing your head down, and you gag. He does it again, and holds your skull, slides his cock in and out until, he's just too thick to handle and you gag again. 

He pulls you off, and lifts you by the waist, sitting you back at the edge of his desk, you hiss as your ass stings at the impact, Dan's kissing into your neck and spreading your legs apart.

"You want me to get the vibe? Put it on your little bud while I stretch you?"

"Fuck, Dan, please..."

Instantly, he's at his desk, pulling out your vibrator and laying it beside the ruffled papers. 

 He's on you again, breathing hard in your ear. "I'm going to make you scream, let everyone hear how much of slut my assistant is." 

"Dan..." 

He pushes you down, lifts your legs and your ass hangs at the edge. Dan grabs at your tits, and his cock dives into you again, thrusting perfectly, upwardly, aiming for his swollen head to nudge against your G-spot, it's so good, too good, he knows exactly how to make you cum in minutes.

The noise you make is inhuman, you look up at him and you're full-on crying off your makeup, you feel the warm, knot in your lower abdomen, you're getting so close, and he knows it.

 Dan reaches for the vibe, turns it on, and sets it on top of your clit.

The thrusts are brutal, he's hitting your cervix now, and doesn't slow down, not for a moment, all you can manage is a pathetic "please, please." He turns up the setting, and raises his foot up on the desk, giving him leverage to pound you even deeper. 

You hear him breathless, "Cum...now.." 

The vibe is at its highest setting, and he rolls his hips, balls smacking against your sore ass. 

"Let me feel it, cum...cum..for me." 

You close your eyes and before you can finally give in to the bliss of the most blinding orgasm, he turns off the vibe.

The build-up warmth, it all crashes down, you whine. 

"I change my mind, a little longer", he grunts, you hate him, want to kill him. 

"Please...please." You try begging for him, you swallow, "I'll be good, I won't" you choke out a sob, "I won't bother you again, Mr. Jones, please." 

He holds back a groan, "Is that..so?"

"Yes..yes..god, please just let me cum."

"You'll stop dressing like a slut? Stop having me focus on this...perfect.. tight...pussy...instead of my work...?" 

"Yes!..please!" 

"Fuck." 

He spreads open your cunt, and turns the vibrator back on, at it's most intense, rolls it in circles on your sensitive nub of nerves. The simulation, how stretched he's made you, his dick rubbed deep against your spot, it's too overwhelming, and once he mumbles in your neck to "cum on his cock" you convulse, legs shake and you scream, his name, over and over, squeezing him in. 

Dan looks at your face as it contorts in euphoria, he coos at you, trying his best not to spill all his seed in you as you cum so unbelievably hard around him. 

Your breathing comes back down, and his pace doesn't stop. You shake from the sensitivity of your clit thumping, as he keeps the vibe there working it through every second of your orgasm. 

He finally shuts it off, and tosses it to the side, he holds your knees up to his chest and fucks you, deeper and deeper until he feels his balls tighten and he's close, and you can tell, the ever-present stern look on his face softens. 

"Please, I want it...I want your cum, give it to me." You whisper.

He places his forehead on yours, large hands on both sides of your head and he closes his eyes. With a couple more thrusts, he's a goner, holding you in place so you take all of it, you feel the warm spurts inside you, so deep, you thank your luck you're on the pill.

Dan shudders, curses, and his lips press against yours, finally, he's never kissed you before. 

Your tongue meets his, and he's biting your bottom lip, cock still twitching, busting his entire load in you, and it's a big one, you already feel it seeping down your inner thighs. 

 "Fuck..." He doesn't look at you, just breathes into your mouth, until his orgasm subsides.

Finally, after a long moment of staying inside you until he's soft, he pulls out, a few drops of cum fall on your thighs. 

 He leaves you like that, Dan pulls up his pants, adjusts his tie, and fixes his hair. As you're still shaking, his cum dripping down your thighs, he goes back to his seat, takes a deep breath, and leaves you spread out, hands tied on his desk. His attention goes back to the computer. Your tears dry, and you roll your eyes, start to wiggle out of his belt. 

"No, you're going to stay like that until I'm done." 

"But..." You wiggle again, but Dan smacks at your hand.

You know the number of hours, how long he works, up to 3 days straight, sometimes longer. 

You huff, it's going to be a long while before your boss frees you. You roll to the side and he doesn't speak to you again, the only thing you hear is the keyboard typing. 

  ____________________________________________________

  Two weeks later, you sit beside his office again, watching the clock, waiting to see him. You're writing in your notebook, hearts, and scribbles alongside, Mr. Jones, written repeatedly. You know he neglects you, treats you as some kind of pocket pussy. But you still want more, more of him, more of anything he'll give you, the rare times he decides to give it. You glance at the clock again, your heart flutters, it's almost time.

Tick tock. 

You know it. You should hate him. But you know the truth. It's written on nearly every other page. 

I love him. 

I love him

I love him. 

[purelyfiction]

Title: The Return of A Royal

Summary:  Elia helps Din and Grogu track down the supposed Jedi she knows of, after nearly running off with valuable beskar she pawns off of her sister's ex-partner. Cara digs into Elia to gather more information, trying to decode any doubts that the two might have after Elia's attempt to disappear. After arriving to Nevarro for fueling and lodging before heading to their next destination, Elia drunkenly opens up to Din about her sister and the past she misses from Esno, alongside a few other things. Din attempts to get her to her suite for the night so they can have an early morning where he finds himself lingering much longer than he'd expected.

Word Count: 3,940

TW: alcohol use, tipsy behavior - a whole bunch of flirting, some fluff perhaps

Chapter 3: Truth Ties

The Mandalorian's patience was wearing beyond thin. Elia had led them down some stupid mission for her own personal gain when really she had the answer that he'd been looking for the entire time. As they all meet back on the Razor Crest for yet another trip to another location. As the ship starts back up again, Din pulls Cara to the side and grunts. "I need you to keep an eye on her. We're going to Nevarro for fueling and lodging and the first thing in the morning we're headed to the Jedi. Once we've got them - she's out of here." He snarls, the brunette looking to her companion with a firm look.

"Understood. You don't have to tell me twice." She's hesitant to say much else, all things considered. The trip begins once again and Din seemingly locks both women out of the cockpit, needing to calm down. Cara sits across from Elia with a tilt of her head as the woman seemed to stare off in the distance. "Why'd you lie?" She quips, Elia's head jolting to meet the Marshal's face.

"I-... I know my dad's been looking for her for a bit. If he knew," a hand raises in the direction of the cockpit where the Mandalorian had run off to, "do you really think he would've brought us there? Not to mention I was going to give him half the payment. He refused the full payment I offered him in condolences for being difficult. He thinks that I'm lying to him again about the Jedi." Cara analyzes her expression, seeing a rather clear show of sincerity and nods.

"Do you know where she is?" The bounty hunter grows quiet and bites her lip. Brown eyes look up as her hands fall open from their clasped position, a shrug reflecting her shoulders.

"Not really. Mari disappeared when I was young. Even then, she was kept from the palace." She explains, Cara cutting in.

"Right. Your father is a king. That means you're a princess then, doesn't it? Why didn't you stay put with your dad?" Eliaden gives a bit of a laugh.

"I mean, technically yes. He's not really got a kingdom anymore now does he?" She looks to her hands lips pressing together in a similar manner that her hands do. Esno had been gone for years now, and Elia doesn't really remember much of it. "The King wasn't... isn't very affectionate. He pushed my sister and I away and had us in a wing with my mother - had Mari sent away." Cara's suddenly reminded of the information that Din had provided the two of them earlier.

"He says that Mari has Force abilities. Mando doesn't really believe him... but if we find her she might be able to help us-" A very loud laugh comes from Elia and Cara's face falls.

"Yeah well, good luck with that. The Empire was the one who got their hands on 'er. I'm not sure she ever made it out. Even if she did she never trained. If the Mandalorian is looking for a Jedi she's not it. Father wanted to get her to, it was one of the reasons he sent her away. Claimed that he didn't want anyone to find her. Got her books and teachers to try and let her hone it but it was mostly a waste of tax credits." Elia reaches to the thermos resting beside her, hearing the Child coo softly. She gets up, pouring a cup of water and handing it to him carefully. She returns to her spot and the Marshal speaks up with more questions.

"You still didn't answer me. Why didn’t you stay with the King and your mother?"

Elia takes a long sip of water before letting out a disgruntled sigh. "Like I said, he isn't super affectionate. So after we evacuated Esno, my mom and I led normal lives until my father joined us. A few years after the loss of the kingdom my mother passed away due to illness. By then, our royal status was insignificant and I couldn't sit around and watch my father mope about the loss of his daughter and wife. So, I took off with a bag over my shoulder, my dad's clothes on my back. I found the freighter, started training with members of the Guild and haven't left since. I haven't talked to him since I left and he hasn't tried to reach me." Elia's face seems to fill with a great shift in emotion. Cara decides to retreat with her remaining questions, watching Grogu as she stands moving to join Din in the cockpit.

When she surfaces and falls into the seat beside him, neither of them say anything, sitting and watching the stars move as the ship traveled through the endless darkness. Din can feel her eyes seemingly burning through the beskar of his helmet - not that it was possible, but he knows the motherlike scowl is on her features. "What."

"She's got her reasons. And she's got some bad news for you." She offers, the male immediately looking to Cara with no hesitation.  

"What could that possibly be." His voice is tense, annoyed since he'd finally felt some resemblance of resolution before the ally joined him.

"Mari's not a trained Jedi. Her father is lying to you. So, even if we did find her, there would be no real payment. The entire job is a falsification." She explains, beginning to speak again as a Mando'an curse exits the modulator of the male's helmet.

"What's your next move?" She leans onto the knee pad of her trousers, looking behind her as a metal noise comes from the cargo bay and a giggle radiates. Din seems to follow the noise as well, assuming the giggle means there was nothing to worry about.

Fingertips drum against controls with hesitation. He's unbearably quiet, deep in thought before he clears his throat. "Same as it has been. Nevarro, fuel and rest. We'll locate the Jedi she's talking about and get her back to Mon Cala and it can be the last we see of her." With the bitterness that leaves his tongue, Cara gives a nod, mentioning something about trying to get some shut eye and to let her know if he needs anything. She curls into the leather passenger seat in the cabin, Din slowly returning the nod as his gaze returns to the task at hand.

It's clear that Din has a great amount of distrust for the woman residing on the ship. He has every right to as well, considering she'd exploited both he and Cara, wasting their time to get a personal gain sorted and withholding information that they desperately needed. Despite that there were some other underlying things that didn't really settle in Din.

She pissed him off, certainly there was that. Yet, there was also the same cunning mind that he'd admire in any other bounty hunter. It was the quick witted responses, the sass in her actions, the intelligence from hours in libraries and studying - the sharp tongue that translated spite in the words of the Mandalore, the slight sway of her head with each step she took that matched the same motion of her hips...

Whoa. Din's breath hitches slightly, swallowing the foreign lump in his throat as he shifts slightly. Cut it out, Din. It wasn't like he ignored these things typically. They just never lingered long enough to bother him. Or at least the people didn't linger long enough. He'd had plenty of encounters with women who'd needed a night to forget about the world and Din had been more than happy to oblige them in that. It was rare for him to be the one wishing for such things. He tells himself that the emotion that was fueling these thoughts was primarily disdain and annoyance - but somewhere locked away in that armor of his was the truth.

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

After arriving to Nevarro, Cara agreed to take in Grogu for the night so that Din could get a proper night of rest and be able to handle everything he needed to do before he took Elia home and found the Jedi. At this point, Mari was the least of his concerns, especially since the King didn't seem to have any motivation for the Mandalorian to fulfill the request. There was a low chance Mari was alive, no known location, no reward, and no assistance for Grogu and Mando in the end. The job in his mind was a complete failure.

He'd opened the ship at the nearest fueling station, not really giving much attention to Elia when she was quick to storm off the Crest with a clear action in mind. It'd been quite some time since he'd seen her and he'd hoped she'd swung by and put in a request for rooms for the two of them. Though, he seriously doubts that she would have been so sensible. He enters the Inn that he'd spent more than a few nights in previously. Nevarro had once been his home and the main source of the family unit the Tribe had been for him for so many years. Now, it was a much different place but still held so much familiarity. As he approaches the check-in desk, he's quick to ask the clerk for two rooms. The male points behind him to the Inn's plaque keyboard behind him - filled with hooks that held no keys. "No rooms? Really?" He scoffs, a light fist coming to meet the desk. "Thanks, I guess." He retreats from the lobby with the best next course of action.

The cantina is rather busy for the time of night, however, he figures that it made sense. There were a few gambling parties around the room, partners and groups drinking and dining - rather calm. He's scanning for a sufficient seat to sit and place an order to take away with, only to spot the very brunette who'd disappeared rather quickly from the ship upon touchdown. Din slowly approaches, watching her actions with a slightly tilted head. He notes the pairs upon pairs of empty glasses in front of her, one or two somewhat empty plates of food. She's leant into the countertop, an arm lying flat onto it, the other one being the sole source of support that keeps her upright. Her face focused on the glass in her spare hand, the material of the cup rolling on it's base as she moves the cup around in a circle. "Elia." The voice is cold and firm, enough to grab her attention and yet she doesn't move. He tries again, louder and with her full name this time. "Eliaden." It's this approach that gathers her attention, causing her to jump and look to him with rightful surprise. Her petite hand falls over her features, fingers pressing on tired eyes before the hand falls as the young woman sits upright.

"Sorry... I ugh, needed to get a bite." Elia's voice is soft, matching her expression as she leans into her hand and looks to Din. The slightest form of a smile meets her lips and the former bounty hunter feels that same stupid feeling from earlier. Bangs fall in her eyes softly, full cheeks accompanying kind eyes. The red blemish along the left one a cautious reminder of what had occurred earlier that day. He's careful as he takes a seat next to her.

"That's not something worth apologizing for." He notes, an arm leaning to the counter in a similar manner that hers had been in, prior to his arrival. "I wasn't able to secure any room at the Inn. I have a few materials back on my ship that can suffice for the night, or I could ask Cara if she has any..." His voice fades as the woman starts moving to shift a hand into her back pocket. The change in balance causes her to lean a little too far and Din is quick to reach out and grab her shoulder to catch her from falling to the floor of the cantina. A giggle leaves her as she completes the action she'd planned on making, her hand withdrawing with two keys from the Inn falling to the counter with a soft clink.

"Thanks. I got us rooms. Figured you would be a little preoccupied." She returns to her seat, pressing her lips together to seemingly stifle a larger smile. Din fails to stop his own chuckle from his mouth, realizing the truth of the matter.

"Are you drunk? " He retreats his hand on her shoulder, now realizing he was still holding onto her. Not that Elia had particularly minded the support. A hand moves to her uninjured cheek, leaning her arm into the counter slowly, a finger falling to the side of her nose as she cups her face, a bright giggle leaving her. Elia's gaze meets where Din's eyes would have met her own, only for her head to slowly shake.

"I mean... my criteria of drunk stretches a bit further than this. Tipsy, however, is up for consideration." Din's hand raises to reach under his chin, using the back of his hand to scratch at the underlying beard through cloth material that covered what the helmet didn't.

"Oh is that the case? Three, four... six drinks later?" He truly can't help the smirk that's hidden under his gear, the inflection in his voice matching it even if it wasn't clear. Elia is rather surprised to see him in such a relaxed state of discussion - especially considering her brilliant plan from earlier that led to the sore bruises on her skin. She knew he wasn't too fond of her and he had every right to be upset with her. She'd lied to him about the altercation, tried to run off without helping. It was her discussion with Cara that made her long for a buzzed mindset and some quiet time to think. It made her think back on a past she longed for, before she was on her own, seemingly lost in the galaxy, finding any port that would keep her stationed for a night. And with each empty glass, her mind wandered further.

It brought her to the initial meeting with the Mandalorian in front of her from earlier that day. There was a glint of allure and perhaps fascination. She'd heard so much about the famed bounty hunter, the tales and rumors of fighting within the Guild, going against a job - taking payment with him despite falling back on what he'd been assigned to do. Knowing what she knew and the gleam of light that came from the reflection of the beskar on the built frame - she was intimidated and rather interested. That only worsened with the introduction of the only known characteristic of the human under the armor - the voice. It was new, unrelenting and beyond attractive to Elia. She knew she needed a favor out of the man but she'd be a downright liar if she'd not let her mind wander. Especially with the down time they'd had traveling to their first destination. And then the altercation. Makers be damned there'd been something in that alleyway that left her mind reeling.

And now, here she sat, pulled out of the fascinations and ideas she'd let run wild for the time being by the very man on her mind. Every part of her knew there was no way anything between them would ever come to fruition, not after the stunt she pulled this afternoon. Yet, she's slightly hopeful, as she can see so much beyond the very hard, steel exterior. Elia finally turns off her inner monologue, returning the reality in front of her to give the Mandalorian a response finally.

"Yeah... maybe. It just... it let me think back. Cara had been asking some stuff and it just... put me in a weird spot?" She offers, Din waving a hand to offer a continuation. The woman lets a snicker past her lips, before looking to the bartender briefly as she starts on again. "My father kept me and my sister separated from the kingdom. My sister moreso since her presentation of her powers," she offers, taking a small sip of the drink in her hand, only for gloved hands to slip it from her and to the other side of the counter. Elia gives a scoff, the two of them laughing before she continues, a smile on her face, "anyways.. it brought me to before I was on my own. I had this sister I seemingly never knew because she was whisked away and I spent ages reading and studying for a world I never got to see. So, after Mari's disappearance and my mother and I's evacuation, I finally got to see the galaxy, what the communities and other worlds were like, versus reading them from a book. So, I guess that's kind of why I never looked back after Esno was destroyed. I had no royal duties, no real place.. I was free to be someone else." She explains, looking from her hands to Din. She'd expected a much different tone when she did look to the Mandalorian again, only being greeted with the blank and menacing vision of the helmet instead. Suddenly, she's feeling beyond ridiculous to be giving out so much of herself to someone she wouldn't know in the next day. So she stands, a little wobbly, pulling credits from her pocket. "We should probably go to the Inn. I know you want to get out of here early tomorrow." She speaks rapidly, thanking the bartender before quickly starting to the exit of the cantina.

Din sits watching her move from her seat, rather confused, feeling the annoyance starting to arrive again. Now what was her deal?  He stands, leaving a small amount of credits for the bartender for the trouble of taking up a seat at the bar. "Elia." He starts off following her, feet catching up with her rather quickly. He tries again, the woman ignoring him and finally reaching her door for her accomodations for the night. As she starts to work at the lock, Din reaches out, his arm blocking her attempts to get into the room. She groans and steps back looking up at him with a wavering gaze.

"Please just let me into my room, Mando. I didn't need to just... unload all that onto you. You don't give a shit, and come tomorrow night I'll be back on my own ship, you on yours finding the Jedi you're so desperate for."' Her voice is seemingly harsh and the taller of the two of them is beyond confused.

"Would you give me two minutes? You never asked me what my thoughts were on what you'd said." He defends, looking to her, his own eyes meeting the young womans. It was moments like this that made interactions like this so much harder. He wants to appear a lot less... menacing. Less distant, but he knows he can't express that though a reflection of metal.

"Okay fine. What's your thoughts on my pathetic life?" She quips, arms crossed, key in hand as she watches him. Din pulls his arm from the door frame, moving cautiously as to not startle her as he takes the key from her hand and opens the door to the room.

"Take a seat and maybe I'll tell you."  With the door shut, Mando moves to the refresher, grabbing a glass and filling it with water before entering the bedroom and handing it to Elia before sitting across from her on the bed. "Thanks." She grumbles, taking a slow sip before Din clears his throat.

"You didn't need to tell me all that, you're right. But you did, and that's that." He speaks before starting into his next tangent. "As for my thoughts, your past isn't what you might think it is. It'll be deemed different for everyone who hears it. Just know that it doesn't devalue it because you feel lesser because of it." It's rare for the older of the two of them to be so transparent, yet it was one of the few ways he knew how to ease other's fears of him. To become more human. Elia looks at him, hands cupping the glass in her hands, head falling to look at the liquid. She looks up to him again with a weak smile, a nod of her head accompanying it.

"Well... you've given me something to reflect on the next time I decide to go six drinks in." She teases, giving a small giggle, letting Din seem to relax a little. He joins her in a nod as silence falls over the room. Elia sets the cup down before getting up and letting her hands fall to her sides. "Alright. I'm gonna call it a night, yeah?" She suggests, the Mandalorian giving a silent agreement before joining her in standing. The silence returns only for Elia to stop him when he turns her hand reaching out to take his. "That... wasn't a request for you to leave." The two stand dangerously still, only unil Elia lets her hand fall before turning to the other side of the room. "Nevermind. Have a good night, Mando." Din looks at her as she pulls up her bag to her bed, starting to gather what she'll need for the night. He turns towards the door, opening it and pausing in the doorway. A hand reaches up for the light panel and switches it to the off position. Elia's eyes move to the doorway where the only light lingers. Din speaks up.

"Can you see in here?"

"With the door open, I can..." She's not following his thought process in any manner. The male figure then shuts the door, falling back into the room once again, quickly reaching up to the release on his helmet, pulling it from it's position. He sets it on the nearest surface he can find, letting his eyes adjust to the dark as best as he can before finding himself in front of Elia.

"How about now?" He asks as still gloved hands find her waist slowly. There it is again. The same voice that had caught her attention that very morning. Yet it was so much clearer, so much kinder, more human. The woman's breath catches in her throat as she speaks.

"I- No, I can't see." Her voice is no louder than a whisper, scared that any higher volume would turn him away. A snicker leaves the other before a hand lifts from her side.

"Good." The feeling of soft and worn leather is introduced to Elia's cheek as Din cups it, bringing her closer to him until their lips meet in one of the slowest moments either of them had experienced in days. Elia's scared to reach out, lingering so heavily in his presence, the hand holding her waist being tugged closer to him. The same hand begins to trail up her side until Din's hand is guiding hers to his arm, as he pulls away softly. "I can stop now. Otherwise, you're more than welcome to put your hands on me." Elia lets out a small sound, that neither of them can identify. Maybe it's one of disbelief, or excitement, she's unsure of but she pushes past it with a snicker.

"Don't dream of it, Mando." She retorts, being the quick one now as her hand gingerly reaches up behind his neck to bring him back down to her again.

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (19) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hi pals! so this was probs one of my top 3 fav chapters to write out of the whole fic. it’s got so many things that i just love, and i so hope u will love it too. i should probs make it clear that this isn’t the end of the fic! it’s going to have 21 chapters, so there’s two more to come after this (omg only 2????? bitch wtf???? WTF???). thank u guys for all the love my ask box gets flooded with after every chapter, i’m always so so excited when i see it so thank u so much, i really appreciate it!! here we go with n19f19 xoxo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: there were confessions of love in a karaoke bar.

this chapter: a month on from the events of last chapter and with final exams and dissertations looming, Brooke thinks she can avoid Vanessa until graduation without having to confront anything that’s happened between them. this proves difficult when she’s trapped in the library with her.

***

Brooke was fine. She was more than fine, actually, she was good. She was calm, serene, fucking zen. If it wasn’t for the dissertation she had to hand in a week from now she would have ascended to Buddha-like status, doling out study tips to her friends like proverbs.

Brooke had always been good at exams. She’d been a straight-A student back in Canada, the whole process of revision coming naturally to her. She’d bought designated ringbinders for every subject, poring over textbooks and copying information out in messy cursive until she’d filled her whole refill pad. When she’d walked into the big assembly hall on exam day, she didn’t get the usual churning of her stomach or shaky hands that her friends had always described. It was almost as if the hall reminded her of taking ballet exams when she was a girl- she knew what to do, she had all the information in her head somewhere, and all that was required of her was to think and write.

Essays, however, had never come easy, which was a shame as they essentially formed the basis of Brooke’s degree. There wasn’t the fast-paced element to essays as there were to exams, and lengthy deadlines gave Brooke time to overthink, redraft, panic, delete, then do the whole process over again. She’d never fully got the hang of them; add in the fact a different tutor marked what she’d written every time and her grades were practically a lottery. She knew this element would follow her throughout her career- writing, fashion design, God even her ballet exams from years ago- it was all a form of art, and art was subjective. She knew there were designers out there that were universally respected, but none were universally liked. Nothing was universally liked. In an exam, there was a set of right or wrong answers, but essays were open to interpretation. An interpretation that her degree classification depended on.

Stretching and feeling her spine bump against the hard plastic chair, Brooke let out a huge breath. She could still see her Mum’s face if she remembered hard enough, when she’d told her her very first mark on her very first uni assignment back in first year; the way the woman’s face had faltered a little but forced a smile and a congratulations. It was the first mark below 70% Brooke could remember in a long time, and her Mum’s disappointment still stung. Brooke was currently sitting on a 2:1, but only just. Her dissertation was going to cement what degree she received and Christ, Brooke would be lying if she said the pressure wasn’t getting to her ever so slightly. It was at the stage where she was taking a beta blocker each morning before spending most of the day in the library. Sometimes she’d take another in the afternoon if she felt herself starting to panic. Maybe that was the reason she was so chill.

Looking at her laptop and the block of black text against white digital paper, she rubbed her eyes and glanced through the huge floor-to-ceiling pane of glass to her left. Her own sleepy face gazed back at her, the view rendered invisible due to the pitch black outside. Brooke didn’t dare look at the time, but she knew it had to be late if it was this dark at the end of April. Casting her eyes to Nina, she couldn’t help but give a snort of a laugh.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brooke asked, looking at the exploded rainbow of colour-coded flash cards that were strewn across the girl’s desk and spilling out onto the floor. There were scribbly neon post-it notes stuck all over her laptop screen and Nina probably had half the library stacked up in high-rise tower blocks on her desk. A quick glance at her screen showed Brooke that Nina had roughly sixty tabs open.

“My goddamn best.”

Brooke let out another laugh as Nina gestured helplessly at the mess in front of her. “Jesus Christ, Brooke, how the hell am I going to be a teacher if I’m this disorganised?”

Brooke gave a little shrug and raised her eyebrows. “I dread to think what your classroom desk is going to be like.”

“Probably going to accidentally kill a child on my first day. Nudge over a big pile of papers on my desk, boof. Dead,” Nina giggled, then let out a huge laugh and instantly clamped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. The action made Brooke laugh out loud too until the pair were having a silent laughing fit in the exact place they weren’t supposed to be making any noise.

To be fair, the top floor was pretty empty given the late hour they were there. The few people that were left were already packing up their things and leaving, laptops shut in a manner of resignation. The yellow strobe lights that hung above gave the whole place a clinical glow, and the patterns on the fuzzy green carpet all seemed to merge into one. As Brooke ran a hand through her hair and was about to check the time on her phone, loud chimes rang out over the speakers built into the ceiling.

“Would all students please be aware that the library will be closing in ten minutes, that’s ten minutes. Thank you.”

Brooke almost jumped out of her skin. She blinked, then looked at the four numbers in the bottom right-hand corner of her screen. “Nina. No way is it almost midnight.”

“God. I’m not even surprised anymore. At this point it feels like we live here,” Nina groaned, cracking her back in a way that made Brooke wince then rolling her shoulders. “I guess we should head back to the flat.”

Brooke’s ears pricked as she heard a commotion from the other end of the floor. It sounded like a thunder of footsteps and a hissed argument. Turning slowly, Brooke’s heart sank as she saw exactly who she’d hoped she’d be able to avoid until graduation day.

Silky and Vanessa were standing at the printer a mere two sets of desks away from her and Nina. Silky seemed to be printing something out and insisting she wouldn’t be long as Vanessa tapped her heel against the carpeted floor impatiently, her Converse almost wearing a hole in the floor. Despite the late hour her makeup was still perfectly applied, and her hair was half hanging loose over her shoulders and half swept up into a haphazard topknot. Brooke pictured Vanessa growing frustrated at her desk, fretting over some form of past paper and tearing her hands through her hair, tugging her brown locks up and securing them with a hair tie. Brooke hoped she wasn’t too stressed about her finals. She remembered that when they were together Vanessa had had some form of big essay due, and she’d sat up in bed exhaling and worrying, typing furiously with her long nails crashing against the keyboard of her laptop like angry waves. Brooke had quietly brought her tea, wordlessly pressed a kiss to her temple, and Vanessa had cast her a soft smile that had made Brooke’s heart set alight.

Just then Silky looked across the room, saw her, and began to wave. Fuck. Brooke watched as Vanessa cast her gaze over to where she sat. Her eyes widened when she laid them on Brooke and she tilted her head to the sky, barely hiding a gigantic roll of her eyes as she followed Silky over to Brooke and Nina. Brooke had in the time it took for the girls to reach their desk to decide how she wanted to play this. It was a tough decision. Because in the month-and-a-bit since their dalliance in the hot tub, and an even shorter time since her crying meltdown to Scarlet in the Swan toilets, Brooke had developed a hard, harsh exoskeleton for herself that involved channeling all the love and regret she felt for Vanessa into venom, poison and dislike. If Vanessa wanted to be petty and unkind and rude to her, then fuck it. Brooke would be the exact same back. She’d tried it out already- responding to thinly-veiled barbs in the groupchat, ignoring her if they saw each other. Brooke didn’t want to act that way, didn’t want to do any of it, but she forced herself to do it in the way a small child had to be forced to eat vegetables; it was what was good for her. Good for them both. It was better that Vanessa hated her. She’d tried loving her and look where the fuck that had ended up.

The issue was, the frosty behaviour she’d return to Vanessa was uncontrollable. She knew it was causing vibes and tension in the group, splitting them all up and causing cracks and fractures in a time where they were meant to be closer than ever. Yvie had had words with her, as had Nina. It hadn’t got them anywhere. Brooke had tried to reach out to Vanessa, offered her so many olive branches that Vanessa had just started beating Brooke black and blue with them. Brooke knew it was for the best if she acted like the complete bitch that Vanessa thought she was.

“Hey, sisters! What you both doin’ here so late?” Silky asked cheerfully as she reached the girls. Brooke stuck a smile on her face, tried not to look at Vanessa and then failed. Her thick eyelashes were cast to the floor as she scuffed the carpet with her shoe. Brooke felt a stab at her heart. Luckily, Nina took over.

“Christ, I was just saying to Brooke it feels like we’ve moved in here. My diss is due on Friday and I’m stressed out of my mind. What’re you guys up to?”

Silky waved a thick stack of paper at Nina as if she was showing her evidence. “We were down on floor one but the janitor’s chucking people out. I needed some readings and figured he’d get up here last, so I just came to the top floor to use the printer.”

“Yeah, and we’re done now, so let’s go. I need to pee before we leave,” Vanessa muttered to her flatmate, her voice dull as she still didn’t tear her gaze from the floor.

Nina’s cheerful smile faltered. Silky, to her credit, looked embarrassed by Vanessa’s sulky behaviour. To Brooke’s dismay, Nina shoved all of her index cards onto her laptop keyboard and slammed it closed. “Well, hey! We were just leaving. We’ll come with you.”

Vanessa’s face twisted into one of discomfort. “Nah, Nina, really, it’s fine. I’m gonna head to the bathroom anyway-”

“We can wait for you! It’s no big deal!”

Brooke’s heart sank. Great. An excruciating walk back outside with the girl that hated her most in the world. Just as she was about to bullshit a reason why they couldn’t, Silky enthusiastically agreed. Brooke watched Vanessa bite her lip in frustration, give a forced fake smile and nod. They were both united in the fact that it was a situation neither of them wanted to be in. It was the closest Brooke had felt to Vanessa in a while.

Nina and Silky filled the silence on their way to the library toilets. They were only beside the lifts so not that far away, but every step felt as if it lasted a million years. Finally, mercifully, the girls came to the toilets and Vanessa ducked inside. As they waited, Brooke just wished and hoped she’d be quick so the awkward situation would be over sooner rather than later. One minute turned into two, and Silky became impatient. Brooke watched as she wrenched open the door and yelled inside.

“VANJ, C’MON! THE PLACE IS CLOSING SOON!” she shouted into the room, muttering under her breath something about Vanessa having a bladder like the Hindenburg. Brooke tried to be patient and cast her eyes up to the ceiling. Looking back into the floor of the library, she was alarmed to find it completely empty, void of people. It could have been that she was startled, but she gave a shout into the bathroom too.

“Vanjie, hurry up! Jesus!”

At this point Vanessa was standing blasting her hands with air from the dryer. She shouted something back at Brooke that Brooke couldn’t hear over the air jets, but she could hazard a guess as to what it was. Finally, Vanessa stormed out.

“Fuck me, will you girls hop off my dick? Can I not pee in peace without you rushing me along? We’ve got ages! It’s fine!”

And then everything was suddenly plunged into darkness.

Brooke gave an involuntary cry of fear, felt someone grab her hand. Looking down at her interlocked fingers and then up to who it was connected to, she was shocked to see Vanessa, her face illuminated in the green fire escape sign and completely petrified. All at once she seemed to realise what she’d done and dropped Brooke’s hand like it was made of hot metal. Nina had fallen silent, her expression one of shock, and Silky was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Fuck,” Brooke found herself saying. Her mouth had gone completely dry.

“It’s fine. It’s fine, they’ll just be turning off the lights before they lock up. Let’s just hurry up and get the lift,” Silky reassured them, but Brooke didn’t miss the worried frown that was set on her face as the four of them walked quickly. Vanessa reached the button first, scrabbled at it with her fingers. The little white light that usually illuminated the panel didn’t turn on.

“Oh my God this can’t be happening,” Nina whispered, her voice panicked and fast. Silky rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but the frown on her face was deepening. Reaching out, she pressed the same button firmly, jamming it into its little metal pad. Nothing. The girls stood in silence for only a few seconds, listening for the metal whirrs and clunks that the lift usually made on its way up or down the building. Nothing came.

“Stairs,” Vanessa said simply, her voice full of worry as she suddenly dashed in the direction of the stairwell. The three other girls followed and all pretence of remaining calm and walking was truly out the window as their trainers squeaked over the linoleum, feet thumping harshly against the steps as they tore down flight after flight. Brooke’s pulse was speeding so fast she thought she would have a heart attack, and the bones of her feet began to hurt more with every step she launched herself down two-at-a-time. Breathless and frantic, they finally reached the bottom floor, Vanessa crashing through the double doors at the bottom of the stairwell and speeding across the lobby to the main entrance. Brooke was hot on her heels, her heart now painful in her chest and her breath coming in thick, uncomfortable wheezes. Any hope she’d had sank to the floor with her gut as Vanessa pounded the automatic doors and almost wrenched the fire door off its hinges in an attempt to get out. It was to no avail.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Nina repeated, her hands flying to her face as it blanched in fear.

“Fucking shit- HELLO? HELLO? WE’RE STILL IN HERE!” Silky yelled at the top of her lungs to nobody in particular.

“Guys, I don’t like this,” Brooke said, hearing the shake in her own voice as her eyes darted around the huge, dark building frantically.

“No shit, really? I’m having a fuckin’ whale of a time, personally,” Vanessa hissed, casting a glare her way before going back to shaking the doorhandles in a futile attempt to open them. Brooke felt her face curl up in a sneer, all the fear she’d felt previously moved into a convenient little box and replaced with all-consuming anger.

“Ugh, JESUS, Vanessa, of course, of fucking course, we’re literally locked in a uni building with no way out and you choose to start picking a fight with me. Big fucking-”

“ENOUGH!” Nina shouted, Brooke taken aback. She had known Nina for almost three years now, and in that time she’d never heard her shout. Well, she’d heard her shout with happiness or joy or fear, but never anger like this. She felt like one of her primary school kids as Nina continued. “Both of you just shut the fuck up for one fucking minute! Can we at least just find a way out of here before you start a fucking domestic?”

“I’ll take the cafe,” Silky said decisively, shouting to the others as she ran in the opposite direction. “Nina go right, Brooke and Vanjie go left.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes, looking again at Vanessa whose gaze mirrored Brooke’s. Relenting and not wanting to risk another telling-off from Nina, Brooke obediently tore off in the direction Silky had told her to go. She weaved her way through desks and bookshelves, checking every window only to find them all locked. As she was losing hope, the dull, green light of a fire escape sign caught her eye. Brooke sighed with relief as she tore towards it. This was surely a guaranteed way out. Reaching the tall door, Brooke slammed her hands on the cold, metal bar that lay across it, pushed down, and waited for the cold night air to hit her face and calm down her panic.

Nothing.

Brooke frowned, trying again and pushing harder at the bar. This time she got her shoulder involved, leaning all her weight against it. It didn’t so much as budge.

“We’re outta luck. They’re all locked from the outside.”

Brooke turned to see Vanessa walking purposefully towards her. Her tone was frustrated, but not towards her at least. Brooke felt relieved. She was beginning to regret snapping at Vanessa earlier, even if she was meant to dislike her. She wondered if she felt as scared as she did. Brooke thought about how Vanessa always hid her fear, remembered the time they watched some shit, gory horror movie at hers when they were together. Brooke had flinched and squealed and buried her face in Vanessa’s hoodie every two seconds while Vanessa had laughed at her, told her it was all fine and fake, but Brooke could feel Vanessa’s heart beat fast in her chest and her stomach muscles tensing every time a new horrific sight appeared on screen.

Vanessa leant against the bar that Brooke had tried, punctuating it with an angry kick of her foot. “That shit’s illegal, you know. Locking a fire door. We could sue fuck outta them.”

Brooke couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Yeah I’m sure we, twentysomething students with collectively hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of debt, have both the resources and the influence to sue the university. They’d shit themselves.”

She watched as Vanessa looked at her, a glare about to appear in her dark eyes, then disappearing as she allowed herself a small smile and a single snort of laughter. There was a pause of silence. Brooke decided to fill it. “Let’s find the girls, maybe they found a way out.”

As they passed by the floor-to-ceiling windows again, Vanessa suddenly gasped and tore off to bang on the glass. Brooke followed her eyeline and was overjoyed to find what looked to be a janitor, finishing up and walking away from the building. She joined Vanessa and pounded her fists against the window, shouting randomly if only just to make a noise. Her hope began to die, however, when instead of noticing the absolute cacophony of noise the girls created, the man simply got further and further away. Brooke watched as he got his phone out, a long earphone cord attached to it. She slumped against the glass and let out a helpless moan.

“Fucking shit bitch ass motherfucker!” Vanessa hissed in anger, pounding on the glass with her knuckles one last time. Brooke watched as she took a step back from the window, flexed her fingers and gave a hiss.

“You okay?” Brooke found herself asking. She could already feel herself frowning in concern as Vanessa nodded briskly, shaking her hand out and sticking the knuckle of one finger in her mouth.

“Fine. Just got a lil’ over-enthusiastic, cut my finger,” she spoke around her knuckle. Brooke felt a pang at her heart. She took a step towards Vanessa.

“Let’s see?”

Vanessa gave another laugh, harsher and more sardonic than her first had been. “It’s fine, Brooke, I don’t need you to kiss it better.”

Brooke held her hands up, unable to help the way her eyebrows flew up her face. “Okay, I’ll just go fuck myself!“

“Yeah, do that,” Vanessa muttered quietly, sitting on a desk beside the window and pulling her legs up to cross them. Brooke, in lieu of snapping back at the girl she’d once called her friend but had never called her girlfriend, did the same. They sat in a hostile silence, thoughts running around Brooke’s mind as to what she could do or say. So many options flooded her head that it was hard to see any of them clearly for what they were. It turned out she didn’t need to give any of them that much thought, however, as Nina and Silky soon appeared from the other end of the building.

“Oh, good! You’ve not killed each other,” Nina said brightly upon her return. Brooke snuck a quick look at Vanessa, then rolled her eyes.

“Guess you’re as shit out of luck as we are?” Silky asked, her voice quieter than usual by at least a few dozen decibels.

“Can you believe they locked the fire doors? Fuck them, man, imagine there was a real fire?” Vanessa spat bitterly. Nina sighed heavily and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“We could try calling someone?”

Brooke frowned. “Who could we call?”

“The police?” Nina said immediately, her naivety causing the others to burst out laughing.

“And say what?! Hey listen, we know you’ve got murderers to catch but we’re locked in a uni building, could you bring round a big battering ram and knock the door down?” Brooke laughed, not missing the way Vanessa laughed in response and feeling a twinkle of pride light up in her heart.

“Well, could the fire brigade get us out?” Nina suggested, Silky groaning and pulling her hands down her face.

“Nina, you need to lower your expectations of what an emergency is. Four dumb uni students trapped in the library is not gonna be considered an emergency. We’re not in danger, we’re all breathing, and none of us have been set alight. That counts the big three out immediately.”

“What about a locksmith?” Vanessa shrugged. Brooke screwed up her face.

“Ah, for those locks that automatic doors have on them,” Silky deadpanned. Brooke laughed at the comment, clearly a little too loudly because Vanessa was back scowling at her again.

“Hey, they do so have locks, bitch.”

“I don’t think you can ask a locksmith to open a house that isn’t yours,” Nina frowned. Brooke raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her.

“I love my house, the university library.”

“Shut up! You knew what I meant,” Nina protested, as the other girls gave a laugh again.

“Surely there’ll be some phone number online for the janitor or something?” Brooke thought suddenly, Silky quickly taking out her phone to check. There was a moment of silence as the girls held their breath in hope. Finally, Silky let out an overjoyed cry.

“Cleaning supervisor main area- based in central library! Yes ladies! We’re fucking outta here!”

Brooke smiled so hard that her face hurt as Silky held her phone to her ear. Thank God. The nightmare was over, she could go back to her flat and not be literally trapped in a building with her ex. She would soon be-

The four girls jumped as a faint ringing of a phone could be heard from out in the lobby. For the hundredth time that night, Brooke felt her heart sink.

“I don’t really know what we expected from that,” Vanessa sighed, looking every inch the kicked puppy.  

It was quickly decided that their last hope were the girls who weren’t in the library, although this went down the drain fast as it was discovered that Yvie was over at Scarlet’s flat and they were both asleep, neither Akeria nor Monet were picking up, and Plastique had gone home to revise.

“What about Monique, Vanj? Could we try her?” Nina asked. Brooke was confused at the way Vanessa’s face twisted in discomfort, a little line setting deep on her forehead.

“Nah, she, uh…she won’t pick up,” she said simply, Nina nodding quickly and neglecting to ask any more about it. It didn’t stop Brooke from being intrigued.

“What the fuck are we gonna do, then? We can’t just spend the night here,” Silky’s voice was disbelieving. Brooke gave a resigned shrug.

“Silk, I don’t think there’s any alternative. It’s only a few hours, the place’ll open up again at six. We can go upstairs and sleep in those little pods they have for group projects. Then by the time we wake up again, it’ll be morning and we can all go back to the flat,” Brooke explained calmly, although inside she still had a lot of anxiety rattling about and the dark of the library wasn’t helping.

The girls reluctantly agreed that it was probably the only thing that was left for them to do. In nervous silence they climbed the stairs to the first floor, where Silky immediately set up camp in one of the pods, stretching herself out along the seats that had once been cushioned but had been flattened by hundreds and thousands of sets of bums over the years. Nina took one and set her laptop back up again, arguing that she’d actually been on a pretty good streak before she’d had to pack up and wanted to see if she could churn out another thousand words before she went to sleep. Brooke peeled off from the girls and took her own pod, her tall body unable to fully fit along the seats. As she attempted to sleep, one thing kept stopping her as it usually seemed to around this time of day. She sighed, tossed and turned as she thought about Vanessa. It had all gone so badly wrong. The more she tried to get her off her mind, the more memories she was reminded of. Hurting Vanessa was easier than loving her; snapping at her and being snarky made Brooke feel bad and a bit of a bitch, but loving her and torturing herself for what an idiot she’d been made her feel ten times worse, as if her heart had been removed from its sheath in her ribcage and been stomped on, kicked about, stabbed with a blunt knife and dragged through broken glass. Any attempt to sleep was futile. Brooke’s eyes hurt with fatigue as she sat up, rubbed them and stretched. She would go and see if Nina was still awake, maybe sit up and annoy her for a while.

As she crossed the floor she noticed a small movement out of the corner of her eye. Vanessa was sitting on the floor by the window, her legs crossed and eating a packet of crisps she’d managed to procure from somewhere. Brooke thought she looked so tiny compared to the huge pane of glass and the world that sat outside of it. Now that the lights were off, Brooke could see every detail that lay beyond the window- the soft yellow glow of the streetlights that faintly illuminated the park beside the library, the pink and white marshmallow cherry blossom trees that lined each path. A memory shot through Brooke’s mind like a lightning bolt- the eight of them in second year after their exams had all finished, having a barbecue in the park as the sun beat down and frazzled them all to a crisp, the smell of sausages and weed carried on the light breeze and the warmth in Brooke’s heart as Vanessa had teased her about something, the girls all laughing at Brooke’s embarrassment and protests.

God, they’d all been so happy.

Without really knowing what her plan was, Brooke walked over to where Vanessa was sitting and sat down cautiously beside her. The other girl looked at her, as if she was deciding whether to glare or smile. She ended up doing neither.

“Can’t sleep either?” Brooke chose as her opener, immediately regretting it for the cheesy line from a film it was. Vanessa gave a sarcastic chuckle, gestured around her.

“Apparently,” she said simply, Brooke looking at the carpet and kicking herself. There was a moment where the cogs in her brain whirred quickly, trying to come up with something else to say. Vanessa surprised her by speaking again. “I ain’t been sleeping too good lately anyway, though, so. I guess it don’t matter.”

“Me neither,” Brooke felt something click inside her, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she spoke again. “Vanessa, we need to talk.”

Vanessa kept her eyes trained on the pane of glass in front of her. “We are talking.”

“God, Ness, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” Brooke sighed, her face pleading. Vanessa’s head snapped round to face her and her eyes were what could only be described as murderous.

“Hard? Don’t fucking dare talk to me about hard,” she said, slowly and carefully and causing Brooke’s heart to frost over in fear. “This year has been shit, absolute shit, the shittest year of my life. You broke my heart- no, fuck that. You broke me. I had to take my goddamn feelings and put them all back together again, start from scratch while you swanned about absolutely fine. I am having to fight to get my average up because of the days I spent in my flat crying instead of going to lectures. Do you have any idea, Brooke, what this has been like for me?”

Brooke was silent as Vanessa continued relentlessly. “And then I finally got myself to a place where, hey, maybe I could be friends with you again! Then what happened? All the old feelings came back, didn’t they, and then we fucking…slept with each other and-”

“Hey, no,” Brooke jumped in, frowning and unable to listen to what was to come. “Don’t try to pin that on me, Vanessa, that was all you. It wasn’t me that fucking…straddled you in the hot tub and stripped off and talked about the sex I was having with other girls, was it?”

“Oh, no! You’re right. You’re correct,” Vanessa smiled sarcastically, soon getting replaced with a scowl. “You only got with me incredibly intensely in front of seven of our closest friends, who knew all the shit that’s gone down between us and watched like a fucking soap opera.”

“Well I didn’t hear you complaining at the time!” Brooke bit back, causing Vanessa to fall silent and play with a thread of her ripped jeans. Brooke let out a breath she’d been holding, took in a huge gulp of air. “Look, this is…this is off to a bad start.”

Brooke watched Vanessa’s throat move as she swallowed, her eyes cast downwards. Brooke was good at holding in her feelings, bottling them up like her life depended on it. She was terrified of feeling too much. She had no idea how this conversation was meant to start, but she knew she had to have it.

“Vanessa, I am sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but for what it’s worth, I am. I’m sorry for going about everything the wrong way. I’d never…done anything like this before, never properly seen anyone like I was seeing you, so I didn’t know how to behave. And fuck, maybe I was leading you on, and I’m sorry for that too. I just didn’t know what I wanted. Well, I thought I knew what I wanted but then I just…didn’t any more. I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t realise how much you liked me until it was too late,” Brooke cut herself off, sighing and feeling a bubble of sadness rise up in her throat. “Fuck, I’m trying to put it all the way I want it but nothing’s coming out right.”

Vanessa was looking at her, she knew it, but Brooke’s gaze had dropped to the floor. She brought her knees up to her chest. There was so much she wanted to say to Vanessa but none of the sentences she constructed in her head seemed to be sufficient.

“That night. You said that you missed me,” Vanessa’s voice was soft and small as she spoke, stripped from all the venom it had held before. “Did you mean it?”

Brooke jumped in instantly. “Yes.”

Vanessa was now looking at the floor, picking at her shoelace. “And did you mean…as a friend, or…just the sex, or…”

Brooke took a deep breath. I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. The words were so close to coming out, but she stopped them. Now wasn’t the right time, nowhere near the right time. She tried to think about what the perfect response would be, sighed, scrapped it, and decided to just simply speak. “I miss you as…everything. I miss you as whatever you want to be to me. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. I just miss you for all that you are, the person you are. I miss us,” Brooke paused, realised her last remark was slightly risky. “Interpret that…however you want.”

Brooke snuck a gaze at Vanessa. A thought struck her as memories ran round her mind, and now she had started talking it seemed she couldn’t stop. “Do you remember after we…after lazerquest. Yvie’s birthday. We met up and we spoke about things and you said something. That whatever happens, we’d be friends always. Do you remember?”

Vanessa gave a little laugh. “You can wear a set of armbands in a current, don’t mean you won’t drown.”

She saw Brooke’s confused look, shot her a bashful smile. “I never expected to…end up feeling so strongly for you at the start. Didn’t expect to get as crazy about you as I got. Man…I wish you could turn feelings off.”

Brooke felt herself frown, a deep regret settling in the pit of her stomach. “I wish that too.”

She didn’t miss the brief look of surprise that flashed across Vanessa’s face. In the lull in conversation that followed, Vanessa wordlessly pushed the packet of crisps towards Brooke. She took one. Chilli heatwave wasn’t her favourite flavour, but it was a peace offering, and she’d take what she could get.

"So I stopped sleeping with Monique,” Vanessa commented, shrugging a little. Brooke blinked, almost choked on her crisp as she raced to get a reply out.

“Uh, yeah, I did notice you were a bit weird about things when Nina said you should call her.”

Vanessa pushed some hair out of her face, puffed her cheeks up with air and blew out harshly. “Monet kinda told me…she was catching feelings, and obviously I wasn’t there for that. So I said to her we shouldn’t keep going.”

Brooke felt a little twinge of pain for Monique. The poor girl had a crush and was just caught in the crossfire. “And how did she take it?”

Vanessa stared through the glass, her gaze steadfast. “I could tell she was sad. Disappointed. She didn’t start cryin’ or nothing, but…God, I still felt bad. I liked her, you know, she was a great girl. Maybe there’s a parallel universe where she took my heart and patched it all up again and we ended up together but…that’s not what it was for me. And the more she said she understood and that she hoped I’d find happiness, the worse I felt for having to tell her I wanted something different.”

Brooke nodded. She wanted to tell Vanessa that she knew the feeling all too well, but she didn’t want to interrupt her. Vanessa turned her head slowly, finally making eye contact with Brooke, and her eyes were the softest they’d been in a while. “I guess what I’m sayin’ is…I know now what it must have been like for you to break it off with me. And yeah, it completely fuckin’ wrecked me but…you did what you had to do. So…I forgive you, Brooke Lynn.”

Brooke couldn’t quite believe Vanessa was in front of her saying all this. Instinctively she wanted to launch herself forward and hug her, thanking her for her change of heart. Just as she’d convinced herself she was almost going to do it, Vanessa spoke again. Her voice held a slightly more steely note to it now. “But I don’t forgive you for kissing me or for that night in the hot tub. That really fucked with me.”

Brooke fought the urge to snap a childish you started it at her and instead said a soft okay. She also fought the urge to reach out and place a hand on top of Vanessa’s. The building was still pitch black and silent and the girls had reached a conversational purgatory. Vanessa had forgiven her for some of her mistakes at least. This was the closure Brooke had wanted. Despite herself, she found herself opening her mouth. There was so much still unresolved.

“You must kind of hate me for that."

Vanessa snorted, tilted her head to the sky. "I do and I don’t.”

A small silence. Brooke knew what she wanted to say, knew what topic she wanted to breach, but it meant plunging head first into the icy chill of the great unknown, and as much as she wanted to talk about it she was terrified of doing so.

“Is that because part of you loves me?”

It was out before Brooke knew it. Vanessa had frozen, her body unmoving with her head still positioned towards the ceiling like a terrifying Exorcist yoga pose. Brooke could immediately predict it, could practically hear it- Vanessa’s quick, sarcastic response, don’t flatter yourself, her getting up and thundering away to another part of the building in some angry game of hide and seek. She couldn’t face any of those options, so Brooke continued talking. “I was in the bathroom at the same time. In the next stall along from you and the girls. I heard you say that you never got to tell me. Did you mean it?”

“Why are you asking me this, Brooke? Is it to add insult to injury? Is it not enough knowing that the girl you broke it off with can still come crawling back into bed with you so easily, you have to rub salt into the wound by getting me to fucking…” Brooke heard Vanessa take a big deep, shaky breath, felt the tears prick at the corners of her own eyes. “…admit that I’m in love with you, yes, okay? I love you. What’s the reason?”

“Because I…fuck,” Brooke jumped in then immediately stopped. She felt her jaw wire itself shut, almost paralysed with fear. She didn’t know if she could verbalise everything she was feeling. “I’m not good at talking about this stuff.”

“No shit, Miss Marple,” Vanessa quipped bitterly, her eyes back looking at the carpet and avoiding Brooke’s gaze. The lack of eye contact helped Brooke. She carried on.

“You know, I used to lie in bed before I went to sleep and rehearse what I would say to you to tell you I liked you,” Brooke gave a laugh, remembering when things were more simple. “Except none of it worked out that way. And now I’ve actually got a second chance at it, I’m almost too frightened to say it. I completely fucked it with you, Vanessa. You’re an absolute one of a kind person. Your smile just makes me happy whether or not it’s directed at me. The love and loyalty you have for your friends makes me proud of you. You’re so determined and hard working and you’re smashing your degree. And you’re kind. You see the good in everyone and you’re not afraid to feel and tell the world all about it. All these things that I just…love about you. It took me being away from you and making the biggest mistake of my life, and that night when we were together like everything was back to normal, it took all of that to make me realise that I’m…fuck..”

Brooke almost hadn’t realised she was crying until a sob bubbled up in her throat, almost choking her. It was almost like her body’s survival mechanism, trying to save her from the potential rejection she might face once the words were out.

Fuck it.

“I’m in love with you. I love you so much that it scares me. It scares me more than being fucking…trapped in the library in the pitch black with no way out,” Brooke let out a hybrid of a laugh and a sob. By now, Vanessa had lifted her gaze to look at Brooke, and Brooke had shifted hers so she could protect herself from Vanessa’s reaction. “Because I don’t want to hurt you again, and you deserve better than someone like me.”

“Then don’t,” Vanessa said quietly.

“What?” Brooke whispered, confused. She tugged the sleeves of her jumper over her hands and jammed them under her eyes, used them to stop the tears from escaping.

“You said you don’t want to hurt me again. Then don’t,” Vanessa repeated patiently. Brooke blinked. She had no idea what that meant, so she went with the knowledge she had at hand.

“I love you, and you love me,” Brooke said softly, finally meeting Vanessa’s eyes. “Can we…do something with that information?”

Vanessa let out a loud blast of a laugh, making Brooke giggle even though she didn’t know what was funny. “God, that’s the most Brooke Lynn Hytes way of asking me out ever. Can we do something with that information.”

Vanessa’s smile was infectious. It lit up Brooke’s heart and she wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her gently, to make Vanessa hers properly this time. As her smile faded though, Brooke felt her hope fade too. Vanessa let out a world-weary sigh. “Brooke, I don’t…I don’t know if I can do this all over again.”

Brooke’s heart dropped to the floor and shattered. She wanted to say something, fill the silence and reassure her, but nothing came out. She had opened up, and it had all been for nothing. This was her karma- she had broken Vanessa’s heart and now here was Vanessa breaking hers. She felt crushed. Lacking the energy to do it properly, she nodded her head once, the action small and probably barely noticeable.

It was so quiet that Brooke could hear Vanessa swallow beside her, hear her breathing deeply to calm herself down before she spoke. “You never hear it in the movies but sometimes…sometimes love isn’t enough, you know, sometimes you need to put yourself first, and sometimes the person you love ain’t necessarily the one who ends up making you happiest.”

Brooke felt her chest grow tight, felt ashamed as her head hung to the floor. She saw two tears fall from her eyes and drop onto the carpet, making identical, miniscule ponds.

“But then also,” Vanessa continued, the but aspect causing Brooke’s heart to dip and soar upwards as if it was on a rollercoaster. “I love you for a reason, don’t I? The way that you say shit that’s all sarcastic and funny. The way you make me laugh. The way you’re always blunt and truthful, and when you say nice things to me it feels like you’re just saying a fact. The way you got this childish, immature streak to you that makes everything feel like an adventure when I’m with you. You listen in the best way, ‘cause you never try an’ force advice down anyone’s throat. You’re always so concerned about everyone you care for and want them to be happy…and even though you ain’t good at expressin’ it, I know you have feelings and I know they scare you. You’re like a fuckin…model, you’re so beautiful and perfect. So that’s as simple as it has to be, right?”

Brooke looked up and saw tears in Vanessa’s own eyes. All the honesty was so raw and painful, like burnt or grazed skin, and it hurt and stung as if it was real. It was real. Brooke hid a sob, took a deep breath. “I don’t, uh. I don’t know where we take this.”

“I want to be with you. I want to love and be loved, feel my heart fuckin’…burst like it’s made of confetti,” Vanessa continued, letting out what could have been a sob or a laugh. “But I want to be happy. I don’t want to be hurt again. I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too,” Brooke nodded, feeling the tracks the tears were making down her face. She sighed, the pain in her heart too heavy for her to carry. “Fuck, maybe we’re just not meant for each other, maybe we got our chance already. Maybe nothing should come of this-”

“But, fuck, I love you, Brooke! And you love me,” Vanessa sighed in exasperation, her mascara collecting under her eyes as her own tears continued to fall. “And that…that means something.”

“I love you,” Brooke repeated, in case it counted for anything. It meant the world to her. Vanessa gave a sad smile, reached out and took Brooke’s hand and laced their fingers together. She squeezed Brooke’s hand twice, and the simple gesture made Brooke hopeful that everything was going to be okay.

“Shit, I waited so long to hear you say that and now it’s like…” Vanessa began sadly, trailing off. Brooke didn’t push her to finish her sentence. Instead, she squeezed her hand like Vanessa had done with hers. The action seemed to work as a prompt, because she spoke again, tilting her head with curiosity. “What do you want outta all this?”

Brooke knew immediately. “I want you. I want us to be us again.”

Vanessa let out a soft sigh, paused. “Okay, well. I don’t know what I want right now, Brooke. An’ it’s gonna be hard to start again. So you’re gonna need to give me time to decide.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait for you. You can take all the time you need,” Brooke reassured her instantly. “I’ll still be here.”

Vanessa’s hand shifted in her own. Brooke watched as she frowned a little, cast her gaze her way again. "You mean that?”

“I mean it. Whatever you decide. Whether we’re worth an extra chance or not. I’ll wait for you.”

A small smile crept onto Vanessa’s face as Brooke waited for her reply. “That’s the most romantic shit anyone ever said to me.”

“Well, it’s just the truth,” Brooke muttered, feeling her cheeks grow hot and glad that the dark room would hide her pink blush. Then, getting an idea and feeling a little spark of that childishness and immaturity Vanessa seemed to love so much, Brooke let go of Vanessa’s hand and held out her other one for her to shake. The other girl looked at her, a funny, confused smile on her face as she took her hand and shook it obediently.

“Hey. I’m Brooke Lynn,” she began, trying to suppress her smile as she spoke. Vanessa giggled, falling back a little then leaning forward.

“What are you…”

“Starting again. What’s your name, beautiful?” Brooke teased, all the darkness somehow bursting into colour as Vanessa laughed beside her, swatting her on her arm with her hand. She hadn’t seen this Vanessa in so long; happy, laughing, cheerful and playful. Brooke could’ve cried with how much she’d missed her.

“This is some dumbass shit, you know that?” Vanessa giggled, but Brooke could see the blush on her own cheeks illuminated by the streetlamps outside. Vanessa appeared to see her expectant face, laughed a resigned laugh and indulged her. “Nice to meet you, Brooke. I’m Vanjie. Well, Vanessa, but everyone calls me Vanjie.”

“Can I call you Vanessa? It’s pretty. It suits you.”

Vanessa laughed again, making Brooke give a chuckle too. “Bitch! You never flirted with me this hard the first time.”

“Well the first time we were friends, so I couldn’t flirt with you. Not properly like I wanted to anyway,” Brooke laughed, taking a Dorito and throwing it at her playfully. Vanessa squealed, toppling herself out of the way. “You, on the other hand, flirted all the time.”

“I’m a flirtatious person! You shouldn’t have taken that shit personal,” Vanessa protested, attempting to look offended but unable to wipe the smile off her face.

“So Vanessa,” Brooke carried on, trying to stop herself smiling as she carried on with the charade. “What are you studying?”

They carried on like that all through the night, being silly and getting to know each other again right from the very beginning. They had missed out on so much conversation over the past few months that it was actually nice to catch up, to re-establish herself in Vanessa’s life. She was looking at graduate jobs in events management for after uni and thinking of moving home to save money. For a fleeting moment Brooke almost suggested that they move in together but she was glad she had the sense not to verbalise that, a thought that was perhaps better bottled up and saved for another time. After all, Vanessa hadn’t even decided if she wanted to be with Brooke or not yet. Brooke had to cling on to the hope that maybe she would, because she had nothing else. Well, that was a lie. She had Vanessa’s smile and her laugh, the twinkle in her eyes when Brooke made a deadpan comment. She had the way Vanessa opened up to her, told her how scared she was of trying to navigate the world on her own after she graduated. She had the way that Vanessa shuffled close to her when the sun eventually began to rise, its glow a burnt orange ombre into a soft yellow which faded into the gentle blue of the morning sky. She had the way Vanessa’s head fit perfectly into the crook of her neck as, worn out and exhausted, she closed her eyes and dozed off in Brooke’s tentative arms.

Most of all, she had the fact that Vanessa loved her, and Brooke loved her back. And even though it hadn’t been the movie scene confession Brooke had been expecting, that fact, the sunrise, and Vanessa sleeping softly against her chest was enough for her for the moment.