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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Fake Fiancée - Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer write letters back and forth, both of them slowly starting to fall in deeper. Category: Smut (18+) Content Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, masturbation (male and female), sexting, face sitting Word Count: 6.3k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello!! Sorry this has been so long in the making, but for a while my inspiration for this story absolutely disappeared, and then I tried to think of how to bridge the previous chapters to the final one with absolutely no luck. And then I re-read Part 2 and got stuck on the letter, thus this chapter was born! I didn’t want to drag this miniseries out any longer than 4 parts, and the letter format combined with other inner monologuing and description really allowed me to do that in an interesting way that hopefully doesn’t feel rushed!

It was so much fun and very refreshing to write. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you all for being so patient while I get my shit together 😅 Love you guys! Enjoy 🥰

***

We've been sending letters back and forth for about a month now.

If I'm being honest, it took me about two weeks to decide whether or not I actually wanted to send one back, but could you blame me?

Here was this guy I couldn't stop thinking about after a one-night stand, only for him to catch me—months later at the same exact bar we'd met in—flirting with his friend. And then after our sexual encounter that night, all the things we said, the connection I thought we had, all of it...

He left it all behind the next morning, only to send me a letter in the mail.

I was pissed.

Sure, it was a nice letter, but the fact that he'd reduced what we had down to a piece of paper and scribbled ink had made me angrier than I cared to admit.

In retrospect, I may have overreacted.

Over time I started re-reading his words, and the more I thought about it all, the more I started to regret my anger. And more than anything, I just wanted to see him again. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when all I could picture was his pouty face and nervous hands. His sunbeam of a smile peeked through the clouds of my anger here and there, and the longer it settled, the more it bathed me in a warm light that should have made me happy. But all it did was make me long for him.

Once I'd actually started writing that first letter back, I wondered why I hadn't jumped on the opportunity in the first place. I mean, after all the cliché shit we'd experienced in our short relationship thus far, adding love letters to the mix was just as perfect as you could get, right?

Spencer,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally write you back. Truthfully I wasn't sure I wanted to write you at all, but your letter kept drawing me back in. I couldn't stop re-reading it, imagining you sitting down somewhere and contemplating every word as you wrote them down. I wondered if you'd thrown out hundreds of pieces of paper after messing up when you could have just as well typed out a letter without wasting them.

And then by that point, all I could think about was just you.

I always pictured what your living room looks like, or your kitchen table, or your office, or wherever you sit down to write. I wondered if you looked like one of those hopeless writers in the movies that have a scruffy face, coffee stains on their white tee shirts, and messy hair that hasn't been washed in days due to lack of inspiration.

But in the end, the image that won out over all the others was just you as I remember.

I'm not going to lie, that image most of the time was your body above mine while I held my hand to your throat, but for the sake of romance I guess I should probably tell you what it was every other time— the outfit you were wearing the first time we met.

When I think of you, I think of your hand nervously clutching that beer bottle for dear life and the other one occasionally pushing your glasses up your nose. I think of your eyes every time they'd look away from me, probably to keep yourself from staring too long.

But the thing that always gets me the most is your smile— even when it comes in little flashes, after you've said something you probably thought was lame. You covered it up with that perfect smile.

I've dreamt of that smile nearly every night since I met you, and I wouldn't be opposed to seeing it in person again.

I'd love to meet you for dinner some time.

But since you did manage to "more or less abandon me twice now", I think it's only fair that you make it up to me first.

Make the next letter a good one, and we'll see what happens.

Yours, Y/N

P.S. I hope my handwriting is as pretty as you hoped. I'd hate to disappoint.

***

Y/N,

I'm incredibly grateful that you've given me a chance to redeem myself. Every night since I last saw you has also been spent wondering what your house looks like on the inside... What you looked like reading my letter (perhaps at your kitchen table?)

And this might sound silly, but I've also wondered what your bedroom looks like. You may be laughing at me, because I've been in your bedroom, but in my defense I was a bit preoccupied to really take notice of my surroundings— I was simply surrounded by you.

But since I've been to your home, I figured it was only fair that I invite you to mine, possibly for dinner. I don't know how to cook much— in fact I'm pretty awful at making anything that's not a can of Spaghetti-Os... But one of my co-workers is an excellent chef, and with a recipe from him and some practice under my belt, I'm sure I can pull it off.

But by "some" practice, I mean probably weeks or months of practice. So hopefully that gives you ample time to mull it over.

Perhaps in the meantime we can get to know each other through our letters. And who's to say, it might spare us the awkward "getting to know each other" stage of a first date. Though, pretty much every stage of every date is awkward for me, so it might not help at all.

Regardless, I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you again.

I do get called away for work quite often, however. So I apologize in advance if I can't get back to you as soon as I'd like.

But in any instance, you're still welcome to text message or call me. I know it isn't as romantic or personal as handwritten letters, but it's certainly practical.

Yours, Spencer.

P.S. Your handwriting is just as beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. And you could never disappoint me.

That being said, if you somehow decide that this letter wasn't up to your standards and reject my offer, I may just find myself in the deepest despair imaginable.

***

I was definitely way too in my head about this.

It was just a text. Sure, it was a risky text to send, but I had no doubt in my mind that it would be fine in the end.

So why was my stomach churning just thinking about sending it?

Some might have chalked it up to my fat ol' crush on Spencer, but I knew it ran deeper. It had to do at least a little with my history with Patrick... The man stood me up and sent divorce papers to my place of work rather than to my face... And as much as I liked to think I was completely over it, we'd been together for years, and it really did a number on me.

I didn't want to ruin this new thing with Spencer so badly that I was overthinking everything.

So even though I could see his face opening the text, my heart doing jumps at the mere thought of it, a bigger part of me worried that it would be a step too far in the wrong direction. I didn't want him to think I was only in this for... sexual reasons. Which, don't get me wrong, have been pretty damn great so far, but I really did want to get to know him and see where this went.

In the end I decided to hold off. I settled for something a little lighter.

Spencer,

Don't feel too bad about your cooking skills. I've been through my fair share of burnt frozen pizzas to know how you're feeling. So the fact that you've given yourself the opportunity to practice and learn a recipe just for me is extremely romantic, and I appreciate the thought.

I won't stop you from following through, though I'm telling you now that no amount of slaving away in the kitchen will make me change my mind about you. We could probably eat stale crackers on the floor and I'd still find you utterly fascinating.

Maybe that's a bit too extreme, but I hope you get my point.

Anyway, I'd love to come over for dinner some time. Whenever you think you're ready to show me those improved cooking skills, you just let me know and I'll happily make my way over.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of sending more with my letters. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that I'm very crafty. And don't feel like you need to send anything in return, though I'll let you know if I ever change my mind.

Yours,

Y/N

***

In the bottom right corner of the letter, right next to her signature, was a red lipstick stain in the shape of... well, her lips. It was common sense to know that they were hers and no one else's, not just a stamp or a drawing, and rather her actual lip stain... But even without it, I would have been able to tell by their shape.

Was that pathetic?

I could hear her, picture her in front of me, hovering above me with red-painted lips in the shape of a smirk, visibly cooing as she called me names... I could feel the ghost of her fingertips trailing up my throat and tilting my chin up to look at her as she rocked her hips teasingly into mine...

The whine I let out truly was pathetic.

You pathetic, needy little thing, I could hear her say...

My hands clutched the paper so tightly I thought I'd tear it, but it didn't matter when all I could see while staring at it was her luscious, red lips... Her voice was right there in my ear, like she was really beside me, watching me...

Oh, God, what would she do if she saw me right now? Staring at her lipstick stained paper and subconsciously grinding down into my chair...

You pathetic, needy little thing...

My hips jolted with a small, broken shout of her name, and in no time the front of my pants were flooded with warmth. I felt her eyes burning into me from the void, sparking to life with amusement as her voice crept into the deep corners of my brain and whispered praises to me.

Ohh, what a good little whore... Getting off to the thought of me... That's it, sweet boy... Come for me...

By now my eyes had squeezed shut and the letter was crumpled in my hand, the other reaching down to add much-appreciated burning friction to my crotch as I rode out my orgasm. My whole body tensed and shuddered at every sensation, from Y/N's image behind my eyes to the sweet warmth that pooled in my underwear and soaked through onto my hand.

Holy mother of—

The next time I saw her, I was screwed. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. I'd surely go red the second I laid eyes on her, and she'd know right away what I was thinking and feeling.

Simply put, it scared and excited me at the same time.

She'd utterly and thoroughly wrecked me, and if she didn't already know it, she certainly would soon.

Y/N,

I'm not sure what you intend to send in addition to your letters, but if it's anything near the sentiment of your lip stain, then you might have to refrain in favor of my poor, fragile heart.

See, it aches for you. It's bad enough I think of you always, but the moment I saw the shape of your lips on that letter, my heart almost shot straight out of my chest. Maybe it was the familiar shape of your lips or the implications of its place next to your name, signed after the word 'yours', that sent me into a tailspin, but whatever the case...

I'm pretty sure I've completely fallen under your spell.

I suppose I should also tell you that my heart wasn't the only part of my body that came to life at your added signature. I assure you, it took no time at all for me to come undone at the thought of your lips pressing gently against the paper, imagining that they were instead pressing to my skin... I didn't even have to touch myself, really. It just happened. Because of you and you alone.

I hope that wasn't too forward, but I felt it necessary that you know just how much of an effect you have on me.

If I could see you again in a millisecond, it wouldn't be soon enough.

That being said, I am determined to spend as much time as possible to perfect this dish for our dinner. Because you deserve nothing but the best, even if you insist that you could settle for less.

It's the least I can do.

Yours, Spencer.

And a week and a half later, when I didn't get a letter back on time, I was sure I'd messed up for good.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, yelling at myself for even thinking for a second of being that detailed in a letter without any consent. Sure, she'd taken it a step up by signing off her letter with a kiss, but I'd been absolutely idiotic in telling her that I got off to it.

I was honestly well and truly prepared to show up at her house with a big bouquet of flowers and an apology so wordy and probably too long for anyone's liking, in hopes that she'd forgive me for making this huge mistake.

Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed.

My phone chimed as I was pacing, my lip near bloody with how hard I'd been chewing at it, and I saw an unknown number attached to a text message and photo attachment.

The photo wouldn't load (I would have to plug it into my laptop and transfer the image there to see it— a fact which always irked Penelope to the core), but with the sentences I saw above the file, I almost knew exactly what I'd find when I had the means to see it.

There. Now we're even... Who says text messages can't be romantic and personal? XXX, Y/N

I felt like Bambi as I scrambled to my laptop three rooms over, stumbling over weak legs with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My heart raced faster than it ever had as I started everything up and retrieved the right cord for my phone. With a few shakes and stumbles here and there, I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading my phone.

I probably would have left the apartment to do it immediately after seeing her photo attachment, but the moment it loaded up on my screen, my brain and body lost all ability to function properly.

A familiar burn coursed through the lower half of my body and tightened my chest at the sight of her, open and exposed and... wet.

My laptop screen was completely taken over by the image of Y/N's pussy, visibly glistening and aroused. A manicured hand—her hand— was in frame as well, middle finger resting snugly between the supple skin of her wet lips.

The fact that I only tasted her once felt downright cruel.

I tried to imagine it again— my face buried between the softness of her thighs. As much as I wanted to lay her down and indulge myself as long as possible, taking all the time in the world to slowly devour her and truly explore her for myself, what ran through my mind then was something more in the vein of our dynamic thus far.

My mind wandered, specifically to a place where I was the one laying down as she sat down directly onto my face and gave me what she thought I deserved. My hands were tied to the bed, maybe handcuffed. All I knew was that I couldn't touch her, and it bothered me. So I whined, and every time the sound left my mouth, she would let up, lifting further out of reach and causing me to instinctively reach my head up to chase her.

You greedy little slut... Take what I give you...

Desperately seeking her approval, I told her I'd be good and rejoiced when she lowered herself down to me again, allowing me to me completely wrapped up in her once more. My tongue lapped and lapped, gathering as much of her as I could before she'd inevitably leave again.

But she never did.

Somehow I kept my quiet, even though it was extremely difficult, and ate her out like my life depended on it. She glided smoothly over my face, coating more than just my lips in her arousal, and it thrilled me to my very core.

Every time I breathed in I could smell her, every time she groaned out my name my stomach fluttered, and it wasn't long before she was clutching my hair, shaking above me while I drank her in and repressed my whines.

My hips were uncontrollable though, bucking up into nothing and begging for any type of stimulation.

But then suddenly it was there— Her hand, firmly wrapping around my dick and gliding over it beautifully with a slickness that she must have transferred from her pussy. I could still taste her as I cried out her name, her movements quickening with every second until—

I didn't even realize I was actually alone until my eyes opened, cum coating my hand, my heartbeat heavy and loud, and the laptop screen in front of me a shade darker signaling a long period of inactivity.

I'd done it again...

And now we most certainly were not even.

I glanced over at my phone—plugged into the laptop—and then down at my lap, and my stomach knotted as my next move rang clear as day.

***

I woke up the next morning to texts from Spencer, and my heart picked up speed, a gentle warmth blooming through my chest at the sight.

I thought maybe he'd thank me for the photo I'd sent. Maybe he'd return it with an influx of messages along the lines of Oh my god, Holy fuck I miss you, and the like.

But what I wasn't expecting was to see a photo in return, of his hand that I'd dreamt of nearly nightly, wrapped firmly around his cock and all of it completely covered in cum.

Below the photo were three messages in a row, and each one gave me more butterflies than the last.

Sorry for low quality. No smartphone.

Also sorry we're not even anymore.

But I'm not sorry I did it- you're too perfect to resist.

***

Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you haven't gotten a letter from me in a while. And I know we've kept in touch through texting and calling while I was swamped at work, though now that I have some time off, I'd love to write you again. As much as I enjoy our virtual conversations, I still find sending letters to be my preferred method of communication (only second to speaking with you in person, that is).

Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make.

I want to see you again. In person. I'm not completely confident in my cooking ability yet, but if you wouldn't mind the potential of it tasting awful, I'd love to have you over. I promise you nothing but the best, and I know that's a high promise, especially considering I probably haven't sold you on the meal, but it's true.

I'd do anything to please you.

And I really do mean 'anything', I hope you understand that.

Yours, Spencer.

***

The thought of seeing him in person again after so long made my hands way shakier than I would have liked. It made no sense the longer I thought about it, because it was obvious that we liked each other, and seeing each other in person wouldn't be a problem. Because it'd never been a problem before.

It irked me.

Still, I knocked on his door and physically shook out my hands, praying I could keep my cool when he finally opened the door.

But I should have known better.

One second I was staring at a large plank of wood, and the next I was staring into frantic eyes, golden and sparkling just as I remembered, but with an added glimmer of fear that matched the shakiness of my hands.

I don't know how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but the longer we did, the more we relaxed. His fear was gone, and the shaking in my hands turned into a dull hum that longed to reach out for him.

Still, I refrained, settling on a simple, "Hey, pen pal..."

By the way he looked at me, silent as ever, I started to wonder if that was a stupid thing to lead with. So I opened my mouth to apologize, to say anything else, but he beat me to it.

"Y/N... I... H—Hi, you look... incredible."

"O—Oh, thanks... Thank you, yeah, I um... figured I should... dress up a little. I know we're not going out anywhere, but I thought it might be nice."

He doesn't need to know that, Y/N, stop talking!

I gave him a small smile and a nervous laugh in an attempt to stop myself, hating how I was so nervous around him.

Spencer didn't seem to mind, though. He let me in and closed the door behind me as I quickly glanced around his apartment. It was littered with greens and browns, books everywhere, and I'd never felt more at home.

"Is it, uh... What you expected?"

"Hmm?" I turned to meet him, his soft voice pulling me from my wandering eyes.

"My apartment."

"Oh! Yeah, it's very you... I love it."

The compliment had his cheeks turning pink, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than kiss them over and over again.

And just like that, once again we were caught just staring at each other. I didn't know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn't know what I was thinking either. All I knew in that moment was that Spencer Reid was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and I wanted to give in.

I was so wrapped up in the idea of feeling him that I almost didn't hear him speak. I wouldn't have heard him at all had it not been for his lips moving.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started dinner yet..."

"That's okay," I reassured. Or, at least I tried to. Really, though, I think it sounded more like I was uninterested in what he was saying, my voice flat and lifeless as I continued to stare at him.

Suddenly we were closer, and I had to look up higher to see his face, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the way he looked down at me.

"You're sure?"

"Mhm."

"I can start it now if you're getting hungry."

Food isn't what I'm hungry for, is what I thought. I almost said it, too, because he was even closer now, his hands coming out to touch mine. If they were humming before, they were certainly blaring with life now, growing hot under his light touch. And it took everything I had not to look down, because it had been too damn long since I'd seen his hands in person, and I wanted them on me immediately.

He could tell, too. He could sense my urgency, feel the longing radiating off my presence, and I knew this because I could feel his, too. His eyes practically dared me to say what I was thinking, and so I did.

"Don't you dare."

It was hard to tell who moved in first, but it really didn't matter.

I was here, in his apartment, feeling his lips glide over mine with reckless abandon, and that's all that mattered.

His hands gripped my waist so tightly I would have thought he was trying to hold me in place, to make sure I wasn't ever going to leave his sight again. And if that was the case, I would have let him hold me there forever.

My hands, meanwhile, clutched at his hair, forcing myself closer and closer to him with every sharp tug. I reveled in the way he whined into my mouth with every little thing I did, whether it was a tug of the hair or a roll forward of the hips, or even a swipe of my tongue over his.

He was putty in my hands yet again, and just like every time before, it turned me into a fucking goner.

Being with Spencer wasn't like anything I'd ever known. And the only other thing I'd known was Patrick. He didn't want me, not really, and even though he was good to me in the beginning, it was never like this.

I didn't come over to his apartment with shaking hands. I didn't send him fucking love letters almost weekly, and I certainly didn't get kissed like this...

Spencer was drunk on me, and I wasn't any sober myself.

"That picture you sent me..." I mumbled over his lips, still keeping myself as close as I could while I got out what I needed to say. "Where did you take that?"

We kissed for a few more seconds, unable to stay apart, before he answered, his voice just as breathy and brimming with desperation as mine. "My office. Just down the hall."

I kissed him again, hard, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. They widened when I said, "Show me."

He dragged me through the apartment on rushed legs, and I almost laughed at the urgency, only stopped by the realization that I was just as urgent. It occurred to me that perhaps my laughing at his urgency might just be a slight turn on for him, given our history with my playful degradation, but still I pulled back— Tonight felt... different.

It didn't feel like we were headed in the direction of me calling him my dirty little whore throughout the night, and it was something I was more than okay with. In fact, I welcomed it, excited to see where this new night would take us.

We ended up in his office, which remained more or less the same aesthetic as the rest of his place. In the middle sat a small desk with a laptop and some papers scattered about on it, accompanied by a tall floor lamp and a rolling desk chair.

"Where were you exactly?" I mused, gripping his hand tightly and buzzing at the way his fingers flexed against my own.

"In the chair... I pulled the photo up on my laptop."

"Right. No smartphone."

Spencer hummed in confirmation before dragging me along to the chair, and I fucking giggled as he plopped down and practically pulled me right on top of him, the chair rolling back a foot or two. I went down for a bright, messy kiss that ended with his hands clutching my ass over my skirt and my own cradling his face.

His growing bulge nudged right up into my inner thigh, and I groaned lightly in his mouth, my fingers dragging softly down his jaw and neck until I reached his shoulders.

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrow, and I rocked my hips forward with a sly grin, hoping to get my point across. "When you were looking at my picture, in this very chair, what were you thinking about?"

Seeing his eyelids stutter and his tongue dart out at my movements sent a rush through me, and I moved my hips once more to emphasize my urgency.

"I... I thought about you... riding my face. You tied my hands..."

"Oh?" I sighed, rocking forward again and humming into his neck. "Well, that can definitely be arranged if you want it bad enough..."

"Please, Y/N, yes... Please..."

The need dripping from every syllable made it near impossible to breathe, and I was suddenly very inclined to give him everything he wanted. With or without the begging.

So I reluctantly peeled away from him and stood up on weak legs. Staring at Spencer as he sat there, leaning back in the chair with disheveled hair and obvious desire in his eyes, made it all the better when I took my panties off from under my skirt and motioned for him to come forward. "On your knees?"

I would have demanded it in any other situation, but I was feeling a bit more sweet this time around.

And he seemed grateful for it, sliding the chair back further and getting down in front of me. I reached out and played with his hair, trying my hardest to commit his beautiful face to memory. I wanted it burned there for the rest of time.

"Hands?"

Spencer offered his hands to me, and I hummed happily, doing my best to tie his hands together with a makeshift knot from my panties. It wasn't really tight or secure, but it was enough for him to whine as he set them in his lap.

He watched intently as I dropped my skirt—a bit redundant now, but I thought it'd be a nice way to get him more excited. Plus I wanted to see his face (or at lease what I could see of it while it was buried between my legs).

I stepped forward then, looking down at him with a smile while my hands reached out to comb through his hair. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

The look in his eyes right before I came forward and hovered over his face almost made my come on the spot.

But as fun as that would have been, I was glad for the way my body held off and settled for a beautiful, burning increase of pleasure that dragged out the longer he swiped his tongue through my folds. Actually, I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be moving, riding his face like he'd thought about.

I willed my eyes open and clutched Spencer's soft locks of hair beneath me, gently rolling my hips and grinding down further on his face. The groan he let out not only felt good against my skin, but it sounded like pure bliss, eliciting a small whimper of my own as I tightened my grip in his hair and rocked faster.

"God, I missed having your mouth on me, baby... You're... so good..."

The longer I spoke the more breathless I became, not because the words didn't come easily, but because I truly believed them to be true.

Spencer really was so fucking good, his tongue the most delicate, divine object of the universe as it drew out every ounce of delight from my body. I may have been the one above him, calling the shots and directing him where and how to please me, but he was the one who clung to my soul like static and politely guided me towards damnation.

I wasn't even sure of my surroundings to tell you the truth. As my body tensed and took me through one of the most blinding pleasures I'd experienced in weeks, My eyes were squeezed so tightly it's like I saw the universe. All I knew was Spencer's lips sucking my clit and my hands deeply rooted in his hair as I shouted incoherently, stars swirling around behind my eyelids.

Truly, for all I knew, we could have been in space. It wouldn't have made any difference.

But eventually it came to be too much. I was reaching a limit I didn't want to get to so quickly, and so I flashed my eyes open and tried to adjust to this brand new atmosphere, unweaving my fingers through pretty brown waves of hair and stepping back to assess the situation.

What I found was the most beautiful man I'd ever known, panting like he'd just ran a marathon and yet harboring the most intense joy and desire a person could hold. He was on his knees, bound hands writhing in his lap as he awaited further instruction and licked up as much of myself on his face as he could before I stopped him.

Under normal circumstances, I would have wanted to absolutely ruin him. That adoring, desperate look in his eye would have spurred me to more devious endeavors, but all I wanted in this moment was to make sure he was satisfied. I wanted to take care of him, to let him know that I longed to make him feel as worshipped and adored as he'd made me feel.

I got down to Spencer's level, quickly removing the fabric from his wrists and hauling him to his feet, where he now towered over me, still waiting for words to address and instruct him.

Instead, I leaned up with soft hands upon his cheeks and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that changed the tone entirely. It was erotic still, of course, what with my arousal infiltrating my taste buds and eliciting a soft sigh from the both of us, but our urgency manifested in sweeter ways... Softer lips, gentle touches of the face, and an exchanging of breath that was so smooth and seamless it felt like we were floating on air.

I was finding it hard to breathe again, but it wasn't an issue in the slightest. In fact, there was nowhere else I'd rather have been than right there, kissing Spencer Reid like we had all the time in the world.

When the breathlessness was a little too much to bear, we pulled away, though only leaving just enough space to breathe. Our lips stayed briefly connected while we caught up, and his hands found their way to the sides of my face. The way they practically engulfed my whole head brought a brief smile to my lips as I finally gave him the words he was looking for.

"I'm so glad I met you," I whispered.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

We kissed each other again, naturally and with so much ease that I wondered how I had ever lived without him.

And then, as my hands slid gently down his chest, I felt it.

Something that felt very much like a ring attached to a necklace sat right where his heartbeat resided, and I knew exactly which ring it was.

"W—" I pulled back and circled the shape of it with my finger through the shirt, then looked up at him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Spencer looked briefly panicked, pulling away a little and fishing down the front of his shirt for the chain. "Oh... Um, yeah. I, um... I forgot to take it off, I'm sorry. I..."

"You... kept it?"

I observed the diamond as it laid flat on my palm, still attached to the chain and around his neck. Honestly, after all this time I figured he'd never found it or gotten rid of it, seeing as he never brought it up. And yet there it was, glittering in the palm of my hand as my other one presses firmly against Spencer's rapidly beating heart.

"Y—Yeah... It um... It was really the only physical thing I had to remember you—Well, at least until we started sending letters... And I guess I just... W—Wearing it has become such a habit that I forgot to take it off."

"You never take it off?"

I could tell he was nervous, and rightfully so given I wasn't really letting on how I was feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he answered my short question in such a small whisper I'd have thought he was trying not to get in trouble.

"No."

"Why?"

My words certainly weren't helping ease his anxieties, so I remained close, dropping the ring and focusing rather on his eyes. I softened the look in my own and glided my hands down to hold his. His fingers flexed against mine, squeezing them for dear life as he sighed out in relief and flashed me a soft smile.

"Because... I wanted you close to my heart."

With a smile that mirrored his eyes, full of enchantment and pure adoration for the person in front of me, I didn't use my brain and instead focused on what my heart was telling me, consequences be damned.

"I think I might love you..."

Spencer squeezed my hands tighter, that relief spreading out to all his features and brightening that beautiful smile.

"Funny... I was just thinking the same thing."

Our lips met once more, and I swear it was like nothing bad was ever going to happen for the rest of time.

I'd never felt that way. Not once with Patrick did my heart feel settled into place, even during the great parts of our relationship.

And now here I was, with a man who sent me love letters and kept every physical reminder of my existence, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world and slowly mended my wounded heart.

He held me close the whole way to his bedroom and never let me go until the morning. Though, even then his arms outstretched towards me and his fingers flexed, needing to grab onto any part of me that he could find.

And as I was sure I always would, I welcomed him with open arms.

***

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simpz-art-stash · 3 years

Text

Late beginnings

Summary: Mac goes out for a drink, and happens upon some advice he takes into consideration about his skewered relationship with Wukong. Before finally taking some action to mend the long burnt bridge. (Author’s note: I barely did any beta reading for this so if it’s worded strangely that’s just how I write without the normal filter on. I’m country so HOWDY) Next Page ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- The night was late, but he didn’t care, he might as well have been nocturnal with the way his whole life revolved around the whole stereotype of shadows and shit. He’d walked into a bar he’d passed through a few times before, donning his human disguise of course beforehand, and walked in without sparing anyone else a glance. Before planting his rear in one of the stools seated at the front bar, ordering a drink to get the night started. “I’m really looking forward to seeing that new Monkey King movie with the trailer they just released. You saw it too right?? The whole style of the film is on par with their most recent game- OH, you think they’re gonna make a game of it?? I bet you they wiiiill!~” Ugh, great, just what he’d come here to avoid.

Mac’s eyes glanced to the blabbermouth boasting about whatever new movie was being made about his ex, to see two girls residing a ways down near the other end of the bar a few seats away from him. Both looking to have had a fair night themselves already if any of the cups and plates hanging around their spot was anything to go by. “Probably. I hope it’s better than last game that came out on the Brick 360, the bugs in that thing were gross to deal with.” Their friend commented back. Before looking down at their phone and claiming that it was getting late and that they had to go. “Yeah I’ll see ya Monday!” The chick waved their friend off a lazy farewell after they’d paid their bill before going back to their drink, now taking less tedious sips as the mood seemed to smooth out from their conversation prior. “I see someone’s a pretty big fan of that ol’ man.” Macaque piped up from where he sat, earning the attention of the stranger he’d directed his comment towards. “The Monkey King yeah?” Sparks danced in the chick’s eyes at the recognition of the name, before the stranger perked up and beamed a smile back at him, “You betcha! I’m a total nerd for that legend.” ‘A legend, hah.’ “S’the whole reason I moved to China in the first place.” She jabbed a thumb at her chest, “All the way from America!” Mac whistled, “That’s a pretty far leap to take, even for a legend. What, you hopin’ you’ll get the chance to see em’ or somethin’?” He sneered, taking his glass and lazily swirling it in his hand. “I wish!” She laughed, “Nah I mostly just moved here for work. If anything though it’s cuz a them for where I am now. I’d never even heard of him till about five years ago!” Mac blinked, lowering his drink from his lips, “You’re joking…”

“Not at all! No one hardly knows the story back home. Only reason I found out was cuz I just started gettin’ into anything monkey-related as a hobby.” She pointed at him, “Don’t laugh either, it’s a wildly popular standpoint to have these days online.” Mac quirked a brow at that, he’d hardly touched the internet these days save for whenever he needed some quick info on something he couldn’t find elsewhere. He held his hands up, “Hey I ain’t judging…” He smirked a little to betray the look that he totally was though. It was kinda funny how ironic it was him being there right then. She squinted at him, “Anyways...Yeah, I’d seen stuff of him online, but I’d never paid much attention to it up until recently.” “What made you change your mind?” Mac boredly probed, taking a sip. She simply shrugged, “I was in a dark headspace, guy made me laugh.” He paused, “Wait, seriously??” “I mean have you HEARD half the crazy shit he’s done??” ‘Babe I’ve LIVED through half the shit he’s done.’ “Like, literally, the guy is HILARIOUS. My favorite story out of them all being one where he literally tricked THREE taoist immortals into drinking his own piss!!” She burst out laughing while Mac choked on his drink a little, not having expected to hear that of all things. Sure he’d heard a few of the shenanigan’s his peaches had gotten up to throughout his journey to the west but he’d never heard that one before. Nor had he the patience to read through all that mess of context that had been published either. “Ahhh man, it still gets me…” The chick sighed with a few leftover laughs as she wiped a tear from her eye. “What about you? What’s your favorite story?” She asked. And suddenly Mac felt like he’d been put on the spot as he stared back at her. “Come ooon, surely there’s one that’s gotten your gut rolling.” She pried. ‘Plenty, but there ain’t no way in hell I’d tell a soul.’ “Bahh...there ain’t the first one that comes to mind that I’d like. Honestly I’m not even much of a fan.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Whaaat?? Aw come on! There’s tons of cool n’ funny stories!” “Heh..can’t imagine what you find so charming about a guy who’s too good for his own friends.” Mac spitefully twacked himself mentally for spewing something so personal like that out. Ugh, and he hadn’t even finished half his drink yet… The chick sitting to his left seemed to tilt her head a little before she squinted at him. Her silence being what brought his attention from his drink to her as he blinked back with a quirked brow. “What?” “Your eyes, they’re like raging storm clouds.” She pointed out. He blinked, not really sure how to feel about that. The only one who’d ever really pointed that out to him before was… “...So?” “Nothing!...” She shrugged, turning back away towards her own drink as if no conversation at all had happened between them. Whatever...he had his fill of shit to drink to either way. The night might’ve been late but he was just getting started. “He makes me laugh though.” She pointed out, earning her a glance. “All his stories n’ stuff. If there was ever a man I’d want, it’d be one who could always make me laugh.” “Hmph, not one for strength?” He took a long sip. Ignoring the bitterness of others fawning over someone he’d come to love before he’d gotten so popular. “Strength is fine n’ all, but it can only take a relationship so far..you gotta have more pieces to put in that crockpot of a relationship if you wanna make it taste good. Stuff like patience, honesty, a little bit of everything to help it all come together to make it juuuuust right.” “Hm…” “It can’t be all just you putting the stuff in there either, it’s gotta be a contribution from both gardens. Otherwise you’ll just barren your lands and be left with nothing to spare yourself or others in your life with.” She glanced at Mac, “Relationships are tricky like that, but they should always be a 50/50 split~” She winked. That...actually sounded like pretty sound advice. Something he’d heard a little here and there before but never so simply laid out. Though it made sense from his standpoint, fairness n’ all that. But he’d been that way with Wukong before and it had never worked out, all the bickering and such, so what had gone wrong? “Can I...ask you something?” Mac inquired. “Shoot.” “What’re your thoughts on..a relationship that seemed fine, but then the other changed so much that everything about it fell apart?” “Mmm...care to sprinkle in a lil more context?” The chick eyed him. Mac’s face scrunched up a little, no idea why he was asking some random mortal for relationship advice of all things. “Hey man. We’re both probably never gonna meet again after tonight, so if you’ve got skeletons in your closet, your best place to let em’ out is here. Bartenders are known for being the most well kept secret keepers in all the world after all~” She winked at the bartender in question who simply looked the other way with a look that might’ve suggested such a fact as truth. “Hm…” Ah screw it, “Alright alright…” He sighed and put his drink down, “There’s..someone. We used to be real close, we were strong together but then uh..shit got real and he had to go deal with it. But when he came back he uh, wasn’t the same as before, an I might’ve sorta assumed he was cheating on me so…so we kinda fell out.” The chick nodded, “Ahh..the classic misunderstanding of change and cheating, a tale as old as time.” She seemed to hum a moment before she turned from where she was seated, if not to hop down off her stool and plop down on the one right up next to him. “Uh-” “Shhh, lemme see those eyes.” She squinted, leaning in and staring deep into his. It’d would’ve been really unnerving if she hadn’t said anything about them before, now he was a lil put off that he might’ve been asking a witch of all things for advice… “Right. Well, at least you feel bad about it. So there’s that.” He blinked and his brows furrowed, “Wh- of course I feel bad about it, it was his fault-” He suddenly had a finger pressed to his lips. “Nope! Nooononono, you do not get to throw all the blame elsewhere like that sweetheart. There ain’t no way in hell you’re gettin’ a second chance with them if you keep that up.” She pulled her hands back. His face scrunched up and he found himself crossing his arms, if he had his tail out it would’ve been irritably swaying behind him right then at just how annoyed he was getting at this weird lady and her words. “Oh yeah? An what do you think’s best then huh?” “I dunno if you’d be up for that kinda challenge…” She idly fiddled with an imaginative piece of lint off her sleeve, which only seemed to irritate Mac further at the thought of him not being able to handle Wukong of all people. Like sure he’d gotten his ass handed to him before but he could still hold his own! “Try me.” The chick glanced back at him with a smirk, which caught him off guard for a second before he shot her a glare back. “Alright, but it’s definitely not gonna be as quick or easygoing of a recovery as you might hope it’ll be. Nor is there even a chance of you recovering it in the first place. But, you at least got that spark enough to try so who am I to deny?” ‘Hmpt, dam right I got a spark.’

“First of all, no more blaming, if you’re gonna tackle this properly, you gotta do yourselves a favor an quit it with the blame placing. Sure it’s easy, but it ain’t gonna get you nowhere but back to square one. It’s all in the past, the now is now. So push forward to fix it and put it behind you two so you can focus on the more important things.” “Easier said than done…” “Hey man, even if they don’t follow the same ruleset at first you could always work things out to make it one later on. I’m just tellin’ ya right now so you won’t just go diggin’ yourself a deeper hole.” Honestly at this point he was pretty much six feet down under, death to him would’ve been a mercy right then. “Fine…” He rolled his eyes. “Next up, apologizing…” -----------~----------- “I thought I told you to stay off my island.” Mac didn’t really glance back from where he stood high up on one of the breathtaking ledges that which Flower Fruit Mountain bolstered. His arms crossed, eyes sternly held against the leftover warmth of the late afternoon sun as it shifted the skies hues from blue to blood red. Hopefully that would be the only tinge of red the Mountain would see after today. “I know.” “What, no witty remark? Give me one good reason-” “I just wanted to talk.” Mac stated plainly. “Why the hell should I give you the chance?” “...” Mac wasn’t sure if he could come up with a good enough reason after the shitshow he’d caused him the last few centuries, most recent being his spat with him between MK. “I’m sorry.” That seemed to catch the king off guard, as he paused in his vicious glare to stare at the other. “Excuse me??” “I’m.Sorry.” Mac turned finally to Wukong, that look of fiery malice having softened immensely upon meeting their eyes. “I was wrong for what I did and I’m sorry.” Wukong’s face looked like it had had a stroke with how frozen in place it was, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Hurting everyone around you just to get back at you, I was wrong for doing that. And I just wanted to apologize.” Mac’s face twisted a little, the words coming out a little rougher than he’d liked, but he’d managed to get three steps in so far… “If you think a few sorry’s are gonna be enough to make up for all that crap then you gotta nother’ thing comin Mac.” Wukong finally shook off the surprise and crossed his arms with a steely gaze. “Nah I know they ain’t worth shit with as long as it's been...which it’s been..a really, really long time come to think of it..nearly 3000 years…” Fucking yikes. “What’s your point?...” Wukong raised a brow at him. “My point is...my point..” What was his point? To make amends and hope they’d get back together? To go back to the way things were? That couldn’t be done with the way things were now. Wukong had a successor, a moral compass, a lotta shit that Mac didn’t. A lotta shit that he wanted but never could figure out how to get his own. His face scrunched up a little and he sighed, “I..just wanted to make things right.” “Oh-hoh? After so long you finally decided to admit you were at fault? Sorry Mac, but it’s waaaay too late for that.” Wukong huffed, “Honestly, this is probably just another one of your stupid tricks if anything. The old Macaque would never throw himself down like that.” “Well maybe I’ve changed!” Mac exclaimed suddenly, his temper flaring a bit as his eyes flashed lightning. “3000 years later? As if…” Wukong rolled his eyes and turned away, “You’ve still got that same look in your eyes you always do whenever we fight. Do me a favor and just keep away from the hot springs this time yeah? The last time you were here you sent a whole dam boulder over there and smashed half the pools.” He waved his hand dismissively. “And I happen to take my once a month bath’s very seriously.” Mac’s nostrils flared a little at just how flamboyant Wukong was acting towards him and his attempt to make amends. How he just saw his attempt as a joke and nothing more, it pissed him off. Wukong had changed and everyone had accepted him, well not everyone, but still, why couldn’t the same be for him? Had he really fooled himself into believing that there was a chance he and Wukong could be together again? His shoulders slumped a little. Of course, who was he kidding. A 3000 year old pit of grudges wasn’t about to just up and disappear at the wave of a white flag. This was Wukong, the same guy who still playfully pestered the gods and demons around him for past conflicts that had happened between them. -----------~----------- “But you can’t just go, ‘ooo I’m so sorry for what I did.’ Nah, you gotta follow the five steps.” The chick claimed. “Yeesh, this a learning course now?” Mac tilted his head to the side. “It is if you wanna make things right.” She claimed matter a factly. “The five steps have never failed me before and have worked wonders for any an all my relationships. Might not quite have the same range of effect you’re going for but it’ll at least be a good start.” “Heh, you got the guts to back up that case?” Mac sneered. “I will if you don’t manage to screw it up.” The chick pointed out. “The five steps go as follows.” - express sorrow (I’m sorry) - own guilt (I was wrong) - name specific wrongs (I did X) - name impact (I hurt you) “And finally...” -----------~----------- “What can I do to prove myself to you?” Macaque asked finally. “What can I do to at least make it to where we can..not fight anymore..and just talk?...” Wukong stood there for a long moment, his features unreadable as their silence was muffled by the wind bellowing between them both from being so high up. “You really are serious about this aren’t you?...” Wukong’s head shifted ever so slightly, but not enough to where Mac could get a reading on his emotions. “I’m tired of fighting and waiting and thinking that if enough time passes things’ll go back to the way they were...when they never will. Trying to hurt you isn’t gonna make the old you come back, no matter how many times you beat me down...It’ll never be the same.” Mac admitted finally. A quiet gust settled down between them, before Wukong seemed to let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. “Can’t believe it took me 3000 years to beat the sense into you.” He turned and looked back at the other, where he no longer held a look of seething hate, but more akin to that of the same tired look just as the one Mac wore. Mac felt a sliver of guilt wriggle its way into one of the cracks of his heart and he glanced away, pulling a hand back and scratching his head. “Yeah well...your kid hit me pretty hard last time, enough to knock it in place.” A small smile crept a little onto his face. “Hm~ He’s gettin’ pretty good at hittin’ stuff with that old stick.” Wukong’s eyes glinted a little at the appeal of how proud he was for MK having taken Mac out the way he did. A little over the top and flashy, just like him.” “He’s got a pretty strong master to thank for that…” Mac found himself yearning a little for that same glint to be reflected on his memory the same way as MK’s. Not that he couldn’t see himself holding the same appeal for MK the way Wukong did, kid was strong, just a lil desperate in some of the cracks that shaped his outline. Something Macaque found that was easy enough to take advantage of, and something Wukong held a blind eye to. “Hm.” Wukong’s reply pushed him out of those thoughts for the moment as they shared a brief look between one another. A glimmer of reconsideration flashing between the two before Wukong finally turned his head away to drink in the sunset before them. “One chance.” Mac felt his heart nearly stop at that answer. “I’ll give you one chance, but if you screw this up, don’t even think about showing your face to me again.” Wukong replied, “I mean it this time…” Mac swallowed a little and nodded. Anything, he’d be willing to do anything to gain back what little trust he could from Wukong. “Good...you can start making up for it by apologizing to MK.” Mac blinked and sputtered a little as Wukong turned away and began to make his way back down the mountain. A smile playing on his lips while Macaque groaned to the heavens about his next trial.

#shadowpeaches #LMK #lego monkie kid #my fics #Sun Wukong #Macaque #AND MEEEEE #BECAUSE I SAID SO #>:3c

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writingsfromhome · 3 years

Text

Water under the Bridge (Josslyn II)

A/N: Okay! Here it is!!!! This was fun and made my heart hurt a little but maybe I’m just being emotional. And can you guys believe it’s been over a year since I posted Josslyn?? Where has the time gone?? I don’t think we’re on the sacred timeline anymore........Anyway thank you anon who suggested this storyline, and hope y’all enjoy! <3

Josslyn (Original)

------

We’re going to have the best weekends evr, Regan texts me even though she’s just in the other room. Schedules were released for our summer semester and Regan and I had managed to get Fridays off. Summer was going to be so fun, and after two years doing college together we were experts at managing our workload to have fun on the weekends--even if that meant sacrificing a few nights’ sleep.

We’ll make summer our bitch, I text back. I hear a chuckle from her room.

Help me pick out a fit? she texts. I want to tell her Adam would love her in whatever, but I head to her room instead and watch her try on a dozen outfits before settling on the second. I tease her about Adam--they were going steady since first year, but she still got so nervous about him sometimes. Adam’s college was a train ride away so he would come down at least one weekend a month.

As for my own love life, there’d been no one steady. I did the whole hooking up and dating scene in first year but I was romantically burnt out by second. Nowadays, I could go home with someone if I chose to, but I also didn’t mind if I didn’t. My active endeavor to find a boyfriend had stopped when I realized I was trying to fill a gap. Instead, I was learning to be happy on my own.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you?” Regan asks. She was taking the train to Adam’s college and staying with him, there was this big start-of-summer party and she’d been trying to convince me for weeks.

“I don’t feel like being a third wheel,” I tell her honestly.

“You don’t have to!” She goes over her one argument again. “Gaelle’s roommate isn’t even back until next week so she has a spare room! She said you should come. Plus,” she ties her hair up, “it’s the weekend before the semester starts so have some fun.”

I make a noise, and she turns to look at me, totally judging me. It makes me laugh. “That’s why my version of fun is to.binge Netflix and-”

“Y/N!” She groans.

“Fine! I’ll go.”

Two words that would change everything.

***

By the time we get to the campus, Regan and I had come up with a dozen things we could potentially do this summer. I’m high on excitement as we meet up with Gaelle, and the three of us head to Adam’s place.

The sun is almost set by the time we leave, most of the sky is dark but a streak of orange stays stubbornly on the horizon. I pause to take pictures before we’re rushing off.

We approach the frat house--if you could call it that. It was half glass with a very modern structure. The greek symbol on the side of the house was the only indicator it wasn’t a millionaire’s summer-house.

“Since when did frat houses get so modern?” I ask. “This is...nice.”

“Wait ‘til you see inside,” Adam says. And he was right, even the drinks were fancier with their own guy behind the bar...although he was taking the occasional shot and getting progressively drunk.

We settle in an area close to the music and get swept up into the party atmosphere. Some people were beyond drunk already and I enjoyed the slight buzz of the drink in my hand. The views from inside with floor-to-ceiling windows were amazing.

Pretty soon, Adam and Regan break off. We move towards the centre of the party where the typical party shenanigans were happening. We tip back our drinks and pretty soon I’m straddling the line between tipsy and drunk. I find a cute boy with blonde hair and deep brown eyes and makeout with him until he gets too handsy.

“Ugh!” I give him one last shove and look for Gaelle but I’d lost her too. I search for a bathroom but they’re either occupied or have a lineup. This was a huge ass house, one of the bedrooms had to have one.

I open the first door to shouting.

“It’s called locking the door!” I shout drunkenly as I close it. The next room actually is locked, and the next one isn’t but I wish it was. “Eugh.”

I climb up to the topmost level, three doors--one was locked with the sound of people inside and the second is a bathroom. I was grateful people hadn’t made it up this far.

As I wash up, and touch up the mascara that was crusting under my eyes the door shakes as someone bangs on it from the other side.

“Dip! What the fuck are you doing in there? Everyone’s waiting for you!”

My heart pounds at the sudden noise and the deep voice demanding me to open up. The rush of adrenaline sobers me for a moment as I rush to open the door, “Sorry I didn’t realise anyone was...waiting.”

My words slow down and freeze altogether as I realise the fist banging on the door belonged to...him. Harry. He seems just as surprised as me, straightening up before a smile slowly inches across his face, it was almost sweet bordering on predatory. “Y/N!”

“Hi,” I say awkwardly. There was a lot of history and also not at all. I was also, I decide, too drunk for this. Act sober, this is not the night to run into this fucker.

“You-you’re the last person I was expecting to--excuse me it’s... good to see you! You look--you look as beautiful as ever!”

The events from high school that created this tense history between Harry and I was one of the worst things possible to happen to teenage Y/N. The thing is though, that I’d totally bounced back after I had decided he could fuck himself. Although it was awkward seeing him every day until graduation, it made me tougher. I credit it for making me so casual about relationships now...I stopped expecting so much of the boys I saw.

But leaving high school behind, my world expanded with college, I realised how childish it had all been: I’d had a fling with a player, and he’d played the field...It wasn’t that deep. But seeing him now, It made me aware in a way I wasn’t for a long time. Maybe what they said about distance had some merit. Or maybe I was just buzzed.

“Thanks...I wasn’t expecting you either.”

“You don’t uh, you don’t go here do you? I’ve never seen you around.”

“No,” I look out to the small hall but there’s no one there. The room that was previously locked is slightly ajar carrying male voices. “Adam goes here, I’m...with Regan.”

“Ah, Regan.” He smiles. “You’re still two peas in a pod?”

“Obviously,” The stiffness eases at the mention of my best friend. “So...can I get out of here?”

“Yeah sorry,” he moves aside so I can step into the hall. “Um, we’re playing video games in here room if you...you’re probably not interested.”

I clear my throat, Harry was playing video games when there was a party downstairs? I was curious, that maybe he changed.

“Oh,” he laughs and the dimples I adored make an appearance. “I’ve still got it! My frat just hosts too many parties for me to keep track.”

I guess I said that out loud, I bite my tongue but it really has a life of it’s own. “Did you jussay you still got it?” Oh my god, I was teasing him already. What about Harry made me absolute putty.

“Yeah,” he looks almost bashful. “Uhm, go easy I’m a little nervous here Y/N.”

I don’t know what to say to that, I bite my lip so nothing stupid comes out.

“So you’re just here for the night?” He carries on.

“Staying over with a friend,”

“A fr-” he cuts himself off, pressing his lips together. I realize I’m staring and look away.

“I should go-”

“Wait I-wait uh, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Yea,” I play with the rings on my fingers. “M’good, great. College’s a lot better than high school.”

“It’s not even comparable,” Harry says as he leans his shoulder against the wall. He looks perfectly placed there, and a tipsy voice flashes inappropriate thoughts into my head. “So...any...boyfriends?”

“Um,” that was direct. “No. No, I’m trying out being single...”

“Did something happen?” His expression is still casual but he holds himself rigid.

“No? A girl can’t be single?”

“Sure but someone like you...I’m just surprised.”

“Whatever that means,” I roll my eyes and head past him to go down but he blocks my way.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to offend you...” his voice dies out as I cross my arms. “I also didn’t mean to block you in.”

He steps aside and it feels painful to me but I take the small steps towards the staircase. One part of me--I blame the tipsy stupid part, wants to kiss him just to see if there was still something there, see if anything’s changed. The other was listing all the reasons this was an awful idea, to top it off he was a proven player, has broken my trust once before, and went to a school almost 2 hours from mine.

“Y/N,” Harry’s gruff voice says from behind me. My feet turn without permission and he’s right behind me. “M’sorry. Let me start over.”

I glance at his lips, damn. I can’t meet his eye suddenly. Oh god, I was still pretty tipsy. My mind short-circuits and all I can do is turn back to walk away, down the two sets of stairs, past sweaty bodies and loose limbs. In a great coincidence I bump into Gaelle in what looks like a game room.

“Harry goes here?” I ask--shout at her immediately. Her eyes widen, something passes over her face. “Was no one going to tell me he was going to be here?”

“I’m sorry!” She shouts. “I forgot you two had history!”

“I just wish I was prepared,” I say and she doesn’t hear, I just shake my head when she asks me to repeat. I needed another drink, and Regan. Maybe she could remind me why I stopped caring about him.

As I set off to find her, I’m reminded again how stupid this all was. High school was an ancient dream, we were all different people. I was a different person.

But even though what happened in high school was petty and juvenile, I remember how Harry made me feel. How it felt when we were together--even if it was a joke for him back then, I couldn’t forget the feeling of being seen. Of having arms to fall into, even if I knew they weren’t permanent.

“Regan!” I find her sitting on the dining table while Adam spoke with someone else. Her eyes alight and she waves me over. “I saw him! He...he goes here!”

“Who?” Confusion strings her brows together.

“Harry! From...you know Harry! He was upstairs! I--I didn’t know how to act.”

“Shit Harry! I forgot he went here!”

“You knew?” I throw my hands up.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal! He’s a dick but that was high school?”

“No I-” I sigh. “You’re supposed to tell me he’s still a dick! I saw him and it just got...complicated.”

Regan slides off the table and pulls me into a side hug, we can also hear each other better. “You’re a big kid now, do whatever you want Y/N. Tell him off, kiss his face, take revenge, who the fuck cares? We’re taking the train two hours home after this anyway!”

She had a point. But still...he couldn’t have changed much from the boy who hurt me.

“Adam hangs out with him sometimes,” Regan continues. “Apparently he’s not as bad as high school. He’s...mellowed out.”

“Unreal,” I roll my eyes. Adam was just covering for his friend. We hear a cheer go up behind us and Regan bulges her eyes as two guys help Adam up on his hands to do a keg stand.

Regan swears and heads back to him. I walk away, somehow feeling more and less confused after talking to Regan--do I go back up and see what this leftover emotion was, or ignore it as a drunken need for comfort?

But it’s like the decision is made for me when a hand wraps around my arm as I move from the dining area to the kitchen. I already know it’s him before I turn.

“Can we talk?” he asks. I nod and his grip loosens, slipping down into my palm. “Upstairs?” He motions to the staircase and we climb up the two flights. This time he leads me into one of the locked doors and although I’ve never been here, I’d been in some version of this room before. It’s familiar.

I ignore the ache when he lets go of my hand once we’re inside. I set my drink down on his desk and perch on the window ledge, it’s not big enough to sit on but has enough space for a few of his books and a speaker. His room’s pretty near, but then again Harry was never messy.

“So what do you want-” I start just as he says “Let me get this off my chest.”

“Go ahead,” I cross my arms before uncrossing them, and then crossing them again. With the way he ruffles his hair and crosses to the door and back, he seems just as nervous.

“You can leave at any time. I just want to say I was an asshole, I still kind of am sometimes. And I’m sorry for what I did to you. I know it’s like what--2 years late but all that with...Josslyn and all that...I’m sorry.”

Hearing her name makes me want to grind my teeth but I let the feeling pass. I reach for my drink instead to give me something to do. “It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Really?” Harry regards me suspiciously. “Because the way you were talking to me out there...”

“You’re just you,” I shrug. “Harry Styles, player and sweet-talker. I was just guarding myself against that.”

“Because of what happened between us?”

“No...maybe. I don’t know. But honestly, I’m not upset with you. It feels like an eternity ago. I guess it’s just self-preservation.”

“I guess,” he echoes. “So where does that leave us? If you’re all self-preserved?”

I eye him but he cracks a smile, he was teasing me. “It doesn’t have to leave us anywhere,” I snort. “We’re water under the bridge Harry...”

“My parents split,” he says suddenly and I’m reeling with the direction he’s taken. I open my mouth, and close it when nothing comes out. “Sorry, I know that’s random it’s just I never really talked to anyone about how they were rarely home and when they were they were always arguing a-and we spoke about it a lot. About our families so I just...”

“I’m sorry to hear that, do they still live in town?” I ask, wanting to put my hand on his or show him I cared but they stay glued to my drink.

“My mom moved into the city, it’s closer to her job and since I’m not living at home anymore it doesn’t really matter...”

“You still go home?” I ask.

“I don’t even know where home is?” He looks at me then, and the look in his eyes chips at the wall I’d been trying to build all night. Things had changed, for him.

“Are you--do you have someone to talk to?”

His laugh is dry, “They split last summer, convinced me to talk to some therapist. I don’t know if it really helped I think I’m actually better off. They’re better off and I just feel...free.”

I don’t know what to say to that so I stay quiet. He looks back up at me then, cracks his knuckles, before perching on his bed. “I’m just--sorry I’m not telling you that so you can feel sorry for me-”

“I don’t I just-”

“No it’s okay I just want to tell you that because you knew about that stuff. But I’m trying to tell you I’m not the same guy. Not completely, I’m just trying to tell you things changed and so have I.”

It echoes the same sentiment I had earlier in his conversation, and I remember Regan said he’s mellowed out. Maybe it was true. It still didn’t mean I was going to get together with him anytime soon but my heart hurts for him. I walk up to where he sits, he watches me with a steady gaze.

In the quiet, I hear the party going on outside the window, three floors below us. If I listen really carefully, I can hear sounds coming from the video game being played next door. In the stillness, I reach for Harry’s hand and he obliges, grasping mine.

“I wish I could...help you with the hurt. Not knowing where to call home is pretty shitty.”

“Don’t worry about me Y/N,” he pastes on his classic smile and I return one for his sake. It was getting heavy in here. “I’m just happy I got to talk to you. And I just found out you don’t hate me so...” he holds our intertwined hands and shakes it. “woo hoo!” I laugh as we let go.

“I guess I should go back to the party.”

“Yeah, okay. I won’t keep you.”

“Okay,” I’m a little stung he doesn’t suggest I stay a little longer. Maybe it was all in my head, maybe his intentions really were to make amends and that’s it. I pick my drink up from his windowsill and move to the door. I glance back before I go, he’s laying on his bed deep in thought, gazing up at the ceiling. I close the door behind me.

***

I wake the next morning, surprisingly well. I can’t say the same for Gaelle who’d passed me her keys at some point and told me she’d be home late. I spent the rest of the party trailing Regan until I decided I should just go crash. Harry hadn’t come out to find me, and I tried to hide the sour feeling, excusing myself early.

“Fuck me,” Gaelle croaks from her bed when I step into her open doorway.

“How about coffee, and pancakes?” I ask, returning the favor of being able to sleep here.

“I’ll take it,” she flops back into bed. I busy myself with measuring coffee and water, my thoughts occupied with everything Harry and I had been through since we last saw each other. I demonized him for so long, humanizing him is harder to swallow.

What he’d done to me was shitty, there was no denying. But had he really changed? And most importantly, why did I care so much? It’s not like he was the one.

My phone rings: Regan. She’s talking so fast I hardly hear her, only really understand that it was a party ritual to gather in the student centre the morning after a big party. Endless coffee and free food seemed to be the general consensus for a party cure.

“I don’t know if I can make it there,” Gaelle says when I tell her. “I was hoping for pancakes at home.”

“I already put the coffee on but I’m hauling your ass there if you’re not up in 5. Our train leaves after noon anyway and it’s closer to the college.”

Slowly but surely Gaelle emerges and we make our way, spotting Regan easily as the bright spot in a sea of college students in PJs and last night’s clothing. She’s the only one fully dressed, with a full face of makeup on.

“I didn’t drink that much,” she shrugs when we settle around her and Adam’s friends. “Unlike some people.” She looks pointedly at Adam who’s slumped where he sits. I remember the kegger and laugh.

Life soon flows back into the group around us as does the coffee and breakfast foods. I’m relaxed in the environment until I look down the tables to where Harry stands, looking back at me. He raises a hand and I do the same until an extremely tall angel--she was literally wearing a halo, probably from last night-walks up to him and wraps her hands around his waist. She says something to him and he tears his gaze away.

I look down at my cup immediately, my cheeks burning with humiliation. I’d been thinking about him all this time, thinking about how it might feel if I kissed him and of course he had a girlfriend. She never came up, but he never said he didn’t either. He didn’t make any moves on me yesterday, if I looked at it he only made an attempt to talk. Sure he was flirty but that was just Harry and I...I was a fool. I was such a fool. Things may have changed for him but he hadn’t. He was still the same Harry who chose Josslyn over me. He would always have a girlfriend, I was just the girl from his past who he could trust. I couldn’t say the same about him.

“What’s wrong,” my best friend nudges me. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I don’t know,” I look into her concerned eyes. “I’m just going to--I’ll be right back.”

I head out and find the closest washroom. The tears are instant and I let myself cry--out of frustration, humiliation, or some twisted sense of betrayal...it was all the same for me. I check the time, I just had to hold myself together and avoid Harry for another 2 hours before we were back on the train home. I would tell Regan everything then.

*** Three weeks later ***

“If Adam’s over later...” Regan trails off. She’s sprawled on my bed while I sit in my desk chair trying to read one more chapter before I close the books for the week.

“I have my earplugs ready and a second place to stay,” I roll my eyes. “I already told Kiara I might crash on her couch.”

“I owe you,” she jumps back up.

“You owe me like, 7 and a half.”

“7 and a half?”

I’m about to answer but a knock on our door has her racing out. I try to ignore the voices, I just had two more pages I had to get through--the joy of summer classes.

“Y/N?: Regan’s voice is a whisper. “We’re going now but...you have a guest. If you want me to kick his ass I totally can though.”

Standing behind her is Harry. I focus on him, yes it really was him. Why was he here?

“Harry?” I sound confused because I am. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, and he’d traveled 2 hours just to get here.

“He wouldn’t leave me alone,” Adam says louder as they leave the room. “I’m sorry Y/N...”

“What is this?” I ask. My feelings are at war with each other, I was still feeling slighted by the last time we saw each other but seeing his face was also an exciting surprise.

“I wanted to see you,” Harry says nervously. He still stays at my bedroom door.

“You can come in...” I stand up and realize I was wearing an oversize t-shirt and the scruffiest PJ shorts I owned. “Phones have cameras now, you didn’t have to come all this way.”

He shrugs, taking one step in. “I liked seeing you in person last time. But I feel like we left it wrong.”

He knows I saw him, what conclusions I must have come to. It wouldn’t be that hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We talked it out.”

He comes to life, “Don’t play dumb Y/N I know you saw me with...I know what you thought and-”

“Did you really come all this way to explain that you had a girlfriend? Like, three weeks later?”

“No that’s the thing-”

“Because that’s kind of dumb. And unnecessary-”

“No listen!” He says a bit louder so I do. “The thing is she wasn’t my girlfriend...we’d hung out a few times but she saw me at the caf and got clingy. We’re not an item honestly, I can’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend-.”

“So why are you here?” My voice is higher than usual. I was confused, and upset, and I wanted him to leave. This was starting to sound like Josslyn part 2.

“You know why I’m here. Y/N I’ve been nothing but a dick to you and I know I don’t deserve you but I really like you. I want to clear the air, and ask you if you can see something here I...”

He trails off when he notices the tears trailing down my cheek. It’s just too much for me, as I finally face the emotions from that weekend. I’d shoved them aside after Regan had gotten onto the train worried her and Adam were headed towards a breakup. I’d put aside what happened and never thought about it. But my heart broke a little that morning.

I knew what I knew: maybe Harry and I weren’t good for each other but we were good with each other. In an attempt not to get hurt I’ve been distancing myself from romantic connections--I found more of myself in doing this, but a part of me was missing without exploring it.

Harry moved closer until we’re nearly touching. I wipe my tears with my shoulder and we stand still on the hardwood floors of my room. An eternity passes before he reaches out to wipe the tear caught in my lashes. I close my eyes to his touch, scared of how much I wanted it.

“Y/N,” my name is a breath on his lips and it makes my heart stutter. My eyes open in slow motion, seeing him so vulnerable right in front of me, and suddenly things speed up and we’re reaching for each other; two waves crashing until they become one.

***

I don’t know how much time had passed in minutes, Adam and Regan are still out but Harry and I had fallen together and crashed apart so many times that I’m dizzy with it.

“You’re wonderful,” he says as we face each other, our noses just nearly touching. He trails a finger down my cheek. “Just...incredible.”

I feel the flush spread through me, “Great vocab Styles. We’re really using the big words.”

“Words are sort of hard right now,” he grins. “My brain’s all mush.”

I laugh, “Not much different to its usual state!”

“I knew you were going to say that!” he tries to reach for me but I skip off the bed with a laugh. “Come back.”

“I have to pee,” I slip on pants and can’t stop grinning the whole time I’m away. When I come back in, the blissful smile on his face tells me everything I need to know. I climb over him but he stops me in place, a knee on either side of his hips.

“I’m happiest when I’m with you Y/N,” he says, his voice roughened with emotion. “I think I always was. Younger Harry liked to self-sabotage.”

I bend down and my hair slips around us. The way he looks at me makes my insides mush. And even though I have proof of why I shouldn’t trust him, he’s here. In my bed. Miles away from where he would be if he hadn’t traveled all this way to see me. And that means something.

“I’m glad you’ve done some growing,” I say to him quietly.

“I had to,” he says softly. “I couldn’t have you like I do now if I hadn’t.”

“I guess we’ve both grown,” I brush a curl from his forehead.

“I know, old Y/N would have punched me if I showed up unexpectedly.”

“Rightly so,” I grin. He smiles back, brushing my hair behind my ear, back over my shoulder. He props himself on his elbow to kiss the shoulder he’d bared. It’s simple, and sweet, but it’s enough to unravel me all over again. And he knows it.

“When does Regan get home?”

“We might have another half hour,” I grin.

“Let’s not waste it,” he mumbles into my skin.

I agree.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #series #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #writingsfromhome #college!harry #I think the idea of growing separately as a young adult #and coming together again as more mature versions of yourself is what #gets me #or maybe I'm emotional because I'm a year older soon #and it's got me thinking about being in your 20s #either way hope this is enjoyable #tag talk out #ps dont mind any inconsistencies i wrote this quick

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seasideheeseung · 3 years

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Paris, 1992; Lee Heeseung - Chapter Two

summary: it was forbidden - this glaring fact being a quarter of the reason why you couldn't stop.

the other three-fourths, being that from the moment you met him, you couldn't stay away from him. you had not planned on traveling to the city of love, much less becoming another cliche under the gloomy sky, but alas. Paris is not meant to be explored alone. and you had never met another man as beautiful and stunning as Lee Heeseung in Paris of 1992.

truthfully, if you could go back? you wouldn't change a single thing.

pairing: lee heeseung x reader

genre: romance, college!student hee, actually perfect heethungie all around. help-

word count: at this point like 7k I’m p sure (rip to my fingers god)

warnings: this fic will include themes of infidelity, adultery, adult content (drinking, etc.), and just general very Grown themes. if any of these themes make you feel uncomfortable, please do not read this fic!

song rec: comptine d`un autre ete - l`apres-midi - yann tiersen

playlist: here

wattpad vers.: here

a/n: Besties.... It’s 5 am as I’m writing this. I’ve been working on this chapter ALL NIGHT LONG and I just really hope yall enjoy it as much as I did. Also if ur curious about Heeseung’s apartment, you can actually look at it here, lol. Except, the furniture in it is way different looking compared to Hee’s. Anyway! If there are any typos pls spare me bc like I said, its an ungodly hour in the morning and I’m dead inside. This fic took it out of me so uhhh I rlly hope yall enjoy it. I love u all so much, and also I love paris heeseung, god. ok. ily bye!!!

Chapter One / Chapter Two

The rain is gone by the time you’ve finished your dinner, but the smell still accompanies you as you walk down the thin pathway, passing apartment after apartment under the full moon hung high above Paris. The cab drive was short, only about fifteen minutes, but the neighborhood may as well be one from a different planet.

The large complexes are mismatched colors of baby blues, tans, and whites, all with black rooftops.Their balconies jut out from the marble of their foundations, and they are beautiful. They look exactly how you’d expect them to.

You aren’t sure how you finally manage to find Heeseung’s apartment, but once you do, you notice how your hands begin to shake with nerves. What if he thinks you’re crazy for finding his apartment? What if he’s not even home? God, what if someone else answers the door?

You climb the stairs with horrible thoughts swirling around in your head, each step only deepening the anxiety you feel growing in your stomach. At the very least, you can just give the license back, and be on your way. The sky outside was turning a burnt blue, you should be going back to the hotel anyway.

All too quickly, you come face to face with a large, oak door. It is encrusted with a gold-plated number 12 on the front, with a small peep hole slightly below it. There is no knocker, so you raise your hand gently, taking a deep breath, before you rap lightly on the wood. All the anxiety you felt just a few moments ago has increased ten-fold, and you feel yourself holding your breath when you hear soft footsteps behind the door, starting to near.

Heeseung is just as beautiful the second time you see him as the first.

He’s adorning a pastel purple hoodie, paired with gray sweatpants and slippers. His hair is messy, like the wind from outside has tossed it around a bit, but his face is still kind. His eyes are still soft.

Once his eyes focus on you, his head tilts gently to the side. You see the surprise in his eyes, and for a second, you let yourself be thankful that it was him who answered the door.

“Y/N?” Heeseung asks, looking down at you, “What are you doing here?”

You quickly pull out his license from the jacket pocket and hold it up to him, smiling in embarrassment.

“You forgot this in your pocket. I figured you’d want it back.”

You ignore the fact that he remembered your name and watch him expectedly.

His doe eyes go even wider than they already are, and then, he’s laughing. He’s laughing, and you have to keep yourself from feeling even more embarrassed.

“O-Oh my god! I didn’t even realize.” He easily takes the piece of plastic from you before setting it down on the small table next to the doorway, next to his keys. He is smiling when he looks back at you.

“That could have been bad, thank you for bringing it back to me.”

“No problem,” You say swiftly, “I was going to leave it at your work but I figured you’d be more freaked out by then, if you weren’t able to find it or… yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip as Heeseung nods in understanding, glad when he does.

“You’re right, I would have gone mad by then, truthfully.” He chuckles again before realizing the position you’re both in.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, would you like to come inside?”

Your heart leaps into your throat, nearly sending you into a flush of redness and rambles, but you manage to contain yourself as you look past Heeseung and into his apartment. It’s well-lit and gives off a cozy feel. You want to say yes, you really do. But it is already late, and you don’t want to bother him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says without an ounce of judgment, “I know it’s kind of weird, being invited into someone’s apartment whom you met, like, two hours ago.”

“No, that’s not it.” You say, even though he has a point, “It’s just.. I don’t want to impose.”

Heeseung’s brows furrow before he shakes his head, grinning widely, “Not at all, I promise! I was actually taking a break from studying, anyway. Here-”

He steps to the side, opening the door even more for you, and now you have nothing holding you back from stepping into his apartment.

Without overthinking the situation, you finally step over the door’s threshold and inside, heart beating firmly in your chest, and eyes beginning to wander.

The apartment has wooden floors, and the hallway you enter through leads you straight forward to the main part of his home. Once the hallway expands open into the actual space, you’re in Heeseung’s living room. There is a couch pressed against the wall to the left, and a small coffee table placed just in front of it. His living room is decorated nicely, with a throw rug, standing lamps on each side of the couch, and even some flowers placed nicely on the coffee table. His couch has throw pillows and even a small blanket strewn across the back. Two windows are built into the wall across from the entrance, and you can see the moonlight and street lighting shining in.

The space is big enough to encompass a small dining table, directly to your left, and farther from it is an opening that marks the entrance to the kitchen, with its uniquely-colored tiled floors. When you look back, you see that Heeseung’s bedroom is wedged past the doorway to the right, almost like a small nook, which leads into a large bedroom, almost tucked away.

The most noticeable part of Heeseung’s apartment is the amount of books he has, some tucked away in corners, a few used as a small table to hold a tea cup, and a couple even placed on the small television he has against the wall on the right. Books take up almost every clear space he has, but they don’t look messy or sloppy. They look nice and pretty in their spaces.

“My apartment is built weird,” He speaks suddenly, fingers tangling together as he looks bashful down at you, “Sorry.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and suddenly, you can’t imagine Heeseung having any other apartment than this one. It’s small but cozy, and it smells like him. There’s art on the walls, cities and sketches, and he shouldn’t be insecure about it. It may just be the prettiest place you’ve ever been in, which is saying something, considering the hotel you’ve been at for the past couple of weeks.

“I like it.” You smile at him, now taking off the jacket he let you wear before placing it on the back of one of his dining table chairs, “It’s very you.”

He gives you a shy smile before half-walking half-skipping to his couch in an awkward little run, which makes you want to laugh again.

“I didn’t expect company, sorry if it’s a bit- yeah.” He begins cleaning up his mess of textbooks and pens, also trying to grab his leftover coffee cup before shoving all his stationery into his backpack nearby and taking the cup to the kitchen sink. You hear him rinse it out and set it down before he comes back, letting out a deep breath.

“You can sit down, if you’d like.” He motions toward the couch and makes his way to it as well. You nod and sit down, crossing your legs underneath yourself silently before letting your eyes roam the apartment again. Heeseung settles in next to you, joining you in looking around. He’s more awkward now than he was at the restaurant, but in a really endearing way, and the thought makes you smile.

After a few moments of scanning some of his books, your eyes settle on a particularly large one, and you look a bit confused before glancing back at Heeseung. His eyes flash from you to the book, and then he’s standing, already reaching to pick it up and bring it back to you.

“Have you ever read Anna Karenina before?”

You shake your head no, and Heeseung flicks his fingers over the pages easily, finding where he left off.

“What’s it about?” You ask, interested as he shows you how long the pages are.

“Adultery.” He says simply, looking at you. You lock eyes with him before he’s giggling, scooting closer to hand you the book. You take it in your hands, feeling it’s weight before you look through the pages yourself.

“It’s actually about love,” Heeseung says, “And sacrifice. Sacrifice for the one you love, really.”

“And you like it?” You ask him, eyes still on the book.

“I think it’s an important book. And I wouldn’t have it if I didn’t like it, would I?” He’s half teasing, but you can tell he means it.

“Maybe I need to read it then.” You say, finally looking back at him, eyes soft.

Heeseung blinks at you for a second before his face softens, fingers moving trace over the cover of the book fondly.

“He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.”

You’re surprised by his words, and swallow thickly as he retracts his hand back, folding it in his lap. “Tolstoy wrote that. It’s a quote... from the book.” He nods, finally relaxing back against the couch.

“Wow.” You say, genuinely impressed. Not only by the words but by the fact that Heeseung can recite it from memory. It makes you wonder what other quotes he remembers off the top of his head.

“Yeah, it’s filled with all types of passages like that. You’d like it.”

“How do you know I’d like it?” You ask him shyly.

“Because everyone likes love, don’t they?”

You don’t know how to reply to that, so you simply hand him the book back carefully and press your palms together in pure uncertainty.

Heeseung sets the book down on the coffee table and then moves to stand, “Would you like some tea?”

You’re glad he doesn’t press the question from a few moments ago as you nod, “Yes, please.”

Heeseung hums and then turns to the kitchen, disappearing to one side for a second before setting two cups near the sink. He grabs the kettle and fills it with water, allowing it to reach the completely full point before he sets it on the stovetop and turns the heat up, clearly having done this many times.

“Sugar or milk?” He asks, glancing over at you.

“Both?” You ask, suddenly remembering the situation earlier at the restaurant with the bread. Your stomach does a strange flip for some reason, and by the face Heeseung is making, you can tell that he remembered it too.

“You know what I think?” He says, almost like it’s a thought he’s just blurting out loud, before moving to the fridge.

You stay silent, and he speaks again after a few seconds.

“I think you’re the kind of person who doesn’t like to miss out on multiple things. You like to have everything life has to offer, almost like you’re too scared it’ll slip from your grasp if you give it the chance. You want everything, simply because you don’t want to be left with nothing.”

You’re quiet for a bit longer before finally speaking up, “And you got that from my answer of just sugar and milk?”

He laughs and drops two tea bags into the mugs, shaking his head.

“Sort of, it’s just the impression I get from you. I could be wrong.”

He’s not. But you don’t tell him that.

Instead, you change the subject.

“I actually just hate bitter tea. I dislike bitter drinks in general actually. What about you?”

He makes a face like he has to catch up to your words, like he wasn’t expecting that response, and then he answers.

“I’m the same way. I don’t think we should drink bitter drinks or suffer through food we personally dislike just because others think we should. Do you know how many of my friends get on my case because I dislike black coffee?”

You nod understandingly, “Oh my god, yeah. Or, like, how many people judge me for not liking onions.”

Heeseung stops in his tracks, eyeing you from across the room.

“Wait, you don’t like onions? What are you, a monster?”

You laugh loudly as a teasing smile makes its way to his face. He tuts playfully, and in that moment, you suddenly realize just how much Heeseung makes you laugh.

“What do you season your food with when you’re cooking it, salt and pepper?” Heeseung laughs at his own lame question, and you stand to look at the art on his walls, already ready to defend yourself.

“Actually, I like onions for seasoning, just not, like, raw onions on burgers or things like that.”

“Ah,” Heeseung says like he understands, “So if I gave you a burger with onions on it, you’d hate me. Noted.”

You laugh, “However, I like onion rings.”

He gives you a bewildered look.

“You make absolutely no sense.”

You both laugh together before the kettle goes off, and then Heeseung is pouring the scorching liquid into the mugs and adding the sugar and milk to them. He drops a spoon in each one easily before bringing them over to where you stand, handing you yours carefully.

“Careful, it’s hot.” He warns you softly before eyeing the art you’re looking at, beginning to stir his tea.

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing to a particularly large painting on the wall. It’s obviously hand painted, and it looks like a jumbled mess of buildings and colorful lights.

“I painted that when I first came to Paris. I took this art class at university and they told us to paint the strongest emotion we felt in that moment, so I painted the city.”

“The city was the strongest emotion you felt in the moment?” You grin.

“No, the feeling of a new beginning was.”

You’re flustered when Heeseung does that, and it feels like he does it a lot. When he goes from doing something like joking about onions moments before, but then when he goes on to saying something so honest, so real, it leaves you absolutely speechless where you stand.

You look over the painting for a few more seconds before going back to smiling at Heeseung - actually smiling at him this time. He holds your eyes and smiles back at you.

You bring the mug up to your lips to finally taste your tea, and for the first time tonight, you catch Heeseung do something you don’t expect.

His eyes travel to your lips suddenly, the way they form around the mug, and they focus in on them for a second. Heeseung swallows thickly before forcing his eyes back toward the paintings again, and it makes you stop drinking entirely.

“Do you want to see something cool?” Heeseung blurts, still not looking at you.

“Sure.” You say, expecting him to show you another book or another painting. Instead, he glances over toward his bedroom.

You give him a look, and then he’s rushing to explain himself.

“I have a balcony in my bedroom. You can see the Eiffel Tower from it.”

You suddenly forget all about what happened with the mug and nod excitedly, already motioning for Heeseung to lead the way. He chuckles and leads you to his bedroom

Heeseung’s bedroom isn’t all that different from the rest of his apartment. His bed has white sheets on it, made perfectly and with no creases, and he has a soft-looking blue blanket folded at the bottom of it. His nightstand isn’t a nightstand at all, just one of those three-tier roller carts someone would use for kitchen storage, filled with items. On the top, there’s a desk lamp, an alarm clock, a candle, and some room sprays. On the second, he has a number of books, all lined up along the length of the tier. On the very bottom, he has lotions, facial cleansers, and cologne bottles. You’re genuinely surprised at this, since you don’t know any other man who has a skincare routine.

His books overflow onto his floor, of course, and they’re stacked along the wall near his closet in neat piles. You wonder if he’s read all of the books he has, or if he’s never actually ready any of them, given a few here and there. Either way, you like the books. You like that he’s not afraid to indulge in something as personal as reading.

Heeseung has two fish tanks, both situated right next to each other, containing one fish in each. The tanks are across from his bed, and the lights from inside reflect onto the walls, casting a mirage of blues, purples, and greens all merged together. The fish inside swim around happily, and you notice that one is smaller than the other.

“Are those Betta fish?” You ask curiously, moving to see the two. One has stripes like a tiger. The other is a beautiful blue color.

“Yeah, they’re not allowed to be in the same tank because they’ll kill each other. But I put their tanks close by so they know that even though they’re separated by foggy glass, they still aren’t alone all the time.”

“That’s sweet.” You reply, grinning at him. He laughs.

“It’s sweet until the male gets all territorial and flares up. It only lasts a few seconds though before he’s back to swimming around. The girl just minds her own business, she doesn’t care too much for him.”

“I’m sure they appreciate the gesture, anyway.”

Heeseung smiles and lets you continue looking around his room.

There’s no desk in the room, just the closet remains, and another door you assume leads to his bathroom, so it’s safe to say that he does all his classwork either in the living room or on his balcony. You can see a small table settled on it, with two chairs as well, and it’s very quaint. Small, but nice. Heeseung’s closet is closed, so you make your way to the balcony entrance, finally ready to see it.

Heeseung opens the small door for you, and you climb out and onto the balcony. It’s black and made of metal, and the table you spotted is situated in the middle of the whole place. You take a seat and watch as Heeseung does the same, only closing the door behind him afterward.

“Ready?” He asks, giving you a knowing look.

You nod.

Heeseung looks over for a second, before pointing somewhere in the distance, “Eiffel Tower.”

His face is smug as he waits for your reaction.

You follow his finger and see it. Typically, when people first see the Eiffel Tower, it is closer up, and in a very extravagant manner. But here, right now, the way you’re seeing it, with Heeseung in front of you and the structure looking about five inches tall, you’re glad you’re seeing it this way. Like it’s a small toy, glinting in the distance. Besides, if it were any bigger, it would distract you from the beautiful boy sitting a few inches in front of you, and you’d take this over that any day.

“It’s beautiful.” You comment, watching as the lights on it sparkle, “It’s probably really pretty up close, too.”

“Beautiful things are just as beautiful up close as they are far away,” Heeseung hums, “Beautiful things keep their beauty regardless of the circumstances.”

You look at him, and a few beats pass.

“Where did you learn to talk so eloquently?”

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then Heeseung is doubling over with laughter, face contorting in amusement.

“I’m not- I don’t. I’m not eloquent, I just say everything that I’m thinking.”

You grin at him, “No, I mean it! It’s like every other thing you say is some profound beautiful thing that you have tons of experience living through. You sound like you’ve lived a hundred lives or something.”

Heeseung settles down and shakes his head at you.

“I just say what I’m thinking, really. I always do. It’s kind of a bad habit actually. I don’t try to sound a certain way or think a certain way.”

Knowing that only makes Heeseung more attractive to you, and all you can do is sigh in reply. He grins at that, and moves to tug the sleeves of your dress down a bit more to cover your skin.

“You forgot your jacket inside. It can get cold out here sometimes.”

“That’s your jacket,” You correct him, moving to rub your hands over your arms now, “You owned it first, remember?”

Heeseung wastes no time in slipping his purple hoodie off and handing it to you, leaving you just as breathless as the first time. He motions for you to take it.

“What-?”

“You’re cold, put it on.” He gives you soft eyes and motions for you to take it again.

“Heeseung, you really must like freezing.”

You take the hoodie from him and pull it over your body. The fabric pools around you, warm and soft, and it smells even more amazing then it feels.

“I run warm.” Heeseung lies, and you can see the happiness in his face as the fabric finally settles on you.

The nighttime air and sounds of the city are the only source of ambience to be heard for a few minutes, and your mind is back to thinking about where you should be instead of here. You should be back at the hotel. You should have been back hours ago, and yet. You know your husband is going to be an angry mess, declaring you tell him all about where you were and why you didn’t come back on time, but you couldn’t care less in this moment.

“What are you thinking about?” Heeseung suddenly asks from across the table. When you look at him again, he looks exactly like he did at the restaurant. His hair is illuminated by the street lights, his expression is gentle, and he looks like he means absolutely no harm. He looks caring. He looks like someone you’d like to look at forever.

“I’m just thinking about how strange it is that I’m here right now.”

He leans forward in curiosity, resting his arms on the table.

“As opposed to where?”

“Anywhere,” You say, “Out of all the places I could be in Paris. A cafe, a cab, or even the hotel I should have been back at already. Out of everywhere in Paris, I’m here, with you, on your balcony. It’s just not where I thought I’d be tonight, that’s all.”

“Are you okay with being here?” Heeseung asks, generosity lacing his words.

“I’m okay with being here,” You nod, “Are you okay with having me here?”

“I wanted you here since I met you.” He replies quickly, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

Heeseung realizes his words and backtracks, “That didn’t come out right.” He laughs at himself, and then tries again. “I’m glad you’re here, and you being here is something that crossed my mind. And I don’t mean here, like, my apartment. I mean here with me. I wanted you with me since we met, wherever it was.”

It takes you a few seconds to process what he’s just said, and you’re trying not to overthink its implications too much. He didn’t mean it the way you think he did, and even if did, it wouldn’t matter. Because it is Heeseung, and you are you, and there is no deeper meaning behind it.

The next time you glance back up at Heeseung, he’s sipping on his tea. He meets your eyes over the cup, and you glance down again. He can sense your hesitancy, so he does what he does best. He sits up straighter, lets his smile finally form across his lips, and begins speaking to you again.

“I think my cup of tea is probably better than your cup of tea.”

You’re confused as you look at him, and then you giggle.

“It’s literally the same cup of tea.”

“Mm, no, I don’t think so.” Heeseung shakes his head and swishes his tea around in his mug like it’s a fine wine. He takes another sip and lets out a sigh afterward, like he’s just tasted gold.

“Mine is definitely better. It tastes like a million bucks.”

“It’s the same cup of tea!” You throw your head back in laughter at the dramatic facial expressions he begins making, and then he shakes his head furiously after a second, trying to prove his claim.

“No, seriously! I swear mine’s probably better than yours. Come over here and try it.”

Heeseung holds the cup up, and the last of your laughter leaves your lips as you move forward, closer to him. You don’t even hesitate.

Heeseung holds the cup, lifting it up to your lips gently. You wrap your lips along the edge and drink the tea, daring to look into his eyes as you do. Heeseung holds eye contact as you drink from it, and it’s strangely intimate. The tea tastes the exact same, but you over exaggerate your features to make it look like it’s actually better than yours. The way Heeseung’s eyes glint makes it worth it, somehow. It’s only once you settle back into your chair, and he into his, that you notice the rose color dusting his cheeks and nose.

“It’s good tea. Might be better than mine, actually.”

“I told you.” He says cutely, taking another drink. You shake your head in amusement before looking back out toward the city.

“So you study English, is what you said?” You change the topic, actually very interested in knowing more about the dark-haired boy sitting across from you. He perks up a bit and nods, clearing his throat before speaking again.

“That, I do.”

You nod and let him go on.

“English is exciting to me because I can basically write what I want, and I get more freedom that way than I would than with, say, Journalism. All that is is someone bossing you around and telling you what to write. English.”

“Media is sort of my fun minor. I don’t want to be job-less, so if English falls through or something, I can always work in creative media or advertising. I’m lucky enough to find both pretty enjoyable.”

You nod at him, “I like that. I like that you’ve given yourself options.”

“Thank you.” He says honestly, giving you a pretty grin.

“So what about you?” He asks, “What do you do?”

“I actually don’t really work at the moment.”

Heeseung looks intrigued, and sits up straighter.

“You don’t work? How can you afford being in Paris, then?” He giggles cutely like he wants to know the big secret, and you try to figure out a way to word it.

On one hand, you could lie to Heeseung. You could lie to him and make up an elaborate excuse as to how you’re here, how you can afford it, how how how.

On the other hand, you’d never want to lie to Heeseung, not starting now and probably not ever. This is the reason for what you say next.

Your hands shake again, just as they did earlier, when you finally say it out loud.

“I’m married, actually.”

Heeseung pales, and it’s the first time all night you’ve seen him look genuinely upset.

A few seconds pass before he starts scrambling for his words. It’s not some big moment where the buildings nearby come crashing down. It’s not a sentence that triggers tsunamis or earthquakes around the two of you. In fact, the only implication that the universe even cares about what you said, is a random car alarm, which goes off annoyingly in the distance before it’s switched off by its owner. Heeseung begins to look flushed after a few seconds.

“You... I didn’t know. You’re not… uh- not wearing a-”

You pull your necklace with your wedding band attached to it out from under your dress neckline and Heeseung’s hoodie and show it to him easily; the metal glinting under the moonlight lamely. He inspects it, and then nods, like it’s all he can do.

“How long?” He asks softly, meeting your eyes again.

“A year,” You say, shoving the necklace back down your front, “Just last month.”

“So you got married in October.” Heeseung notes. You nod.

“My husband wanted an autumn themed wedding.”

“And you?” He asks. You give him a questioning look.

“What did you want?”

“I wanted to say no.” You blurt out honestly before you can stop yourself, and even Heeseung looks shocked at your words.

“I didn’t want to marry him.” But you don’t know why you’re telling Heeseung this. He looks at you like he’s trying to figure it all out - like he’s trying to figure you all out - except he can’t. He can’t because he doesn’t know how. At least, not in this moment.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” You say truthfully, setting your mug down and pulling at the sleeves of Heeseung’s hoodie, “I feel bad for even being in this situation, honestly. It’s like, I don’t want you to think of me as the kind of person who leaves her husband and sees random guys she’s just met. I’m not - I’ve never-”

“I don’t think that.” Heeseung cuts you off, making you look at him.

“I don’t think you’re any of those things. I think you were a considerate person who brought my license back to me, and who I ended up getting along with. That’s what I think of you.”

“Is that all you think of me?” You dare to ask him, and at this point, you know you’re pushing it. You’re pushing the limits between what you should be saying to Heeseung and what you’ve been wondering all night. With what started at the restaurant when he slipped the paper with your name into his pocket, and what continued when he stared at your lips not once, but twice.

Heeseung stares down at the table, and you can practically see his conflicting thoughts. He is rubbing his hand along the fabric of his sweatpants, tracing the stitching absentmindedly, and he looks too timid to speak.

“I think…” He starts, still not making eye contact with you, “I think that you’re nice, and pretty, and married. And I think being here probably would make your husband very unhappy.”

What he said isn’t a lie, but it doesn’t make the sinking feeling in your stomach any less intense. You know your husband would hate you being here, which makes it that much harder to gather the courage to go back. You don’t expect Heeseung to understand the feeling, but you give him the benefit of the doubt anyway.

“I don’t want to go back to him tonight.”

Heeseung finally looks up at you, eyes dark. He looks like he’s confused, conflicted. Like he wants one thing but knows he should do another. He looks exactly how you feel. And then, he speaks.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Where would you go?”

Except he doesn’t say it like a question. He says it like he already knows. Because he does - you both do.

“I could pay you to stay here for the night.”

At this, Heeseung snorts a bit.

“I’m not a hotel, Y/N.” He doesn’t say it in a mean way, just in a truthful way. His words are still kind, and you know that he still isn’t judging you - that he hasn’t once this whole night.

“I don’t know if you staying here would be a good idea.”

“It wouldn’t,” You confirm, “But it’s either that, or sleep in some park somewhere.”

You’re half kidding, but you’ll do it if you have to. You really don’t want to go back to that damned hotel.

Heeseung laughs, and then he’s standing, moving over to get closer to you. You don’t know what he’s doing, and you aren’t even sure if he does either. But then he moves to pull you gently into a standing position by the sleeves of his hoodie you’re wearing, and then takes you inside without another word. The mugs are abandoned on the table, two sat next to each other, and then Heeseung is closing the door behind the two of you.

“What are we doing?” You ask in confusion, finally moving further away from the balcony door.

“Well, I’m setting up the bed for you. You’re standing there gawking.”

You’re about to snap back with something witty, but are shut up quickly as Heeseung opens up his closet and reaches for some more blankets on the top shelf. The bottom of his t-shirt lifts up, just enough to show his tanned skin, and you suddenly find yourself speechless as you focus on his body. His skin looks soft, and the dimples at the bottom of his back catch your attention before he’s turning and his shirt is falling back to its regular position again.

He doesn’t say anything else to you as he lays some more blankets out on the bed,

You move to help, and then you’re both setting up the bed in silence. The thought of Heeseung sleeping in the same bed as you makes heat pool in your stomach, but then you discard the thought. You know for a fact that it won’t be happening, and you internally scold yourself for even letting the thought cross your mind.

“I can sleep on the couch, if it’s easier.” You say finally, glancing up at him. He shakes his head.

“I can sleep on the couch. Besides, I sleep in my bed every night, it won’t hurt me at all to sleep on the couch for just one night.”

Just one night, the phrase bounces around in your head, and you have to actively remind yourself that this will not be happening again. You hope the fact that it’s even happening now won’t ruin the dynamic you two have easily slipped into, and then your brain lurches into overdrive suddenly. After tonight, will you even see Heeseung again?

“Is everything okay?” He asks, finally done with the blankets now. You look back up at him and nod.

“Yeah I just… I get nightmares sometimes. I just thought you should know, in case I make noise or whatever.”

You hate that you feel awkward now. Of course, it’s not Heeseung’s fault - he hasn’t changed or acted differently at all - it’s you. It’s the internal battle you’re suddenly realizing. It’s you that’s acting differently now.

Your passing statement isn’t one you think Heeseung will take too seriously, but then he’s stopping what he’s doing and standing still, studying you.

You look back at him now, trying to figure out if you said something wrong.

“I can sleep on the floor, if it’ll make you feel safer. Nightmares can get scary, especially if you wake up alone.”

You want to say no, but you also feel that same emotion crawling its way back into you. Wanting Heeseung close to you. You felt it at the restaurant and you feel it now. You don’t know why it’s so strong suddenly.

“I can sleep on the floor, if you want. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Is this a pride thing?” Heeseung finally asks, giving you a wide grin. He looks like he’s about to laugh again.

“What?” You ask, tilting your head a bit.

“You know, like, you don’t want me sleeping anywhere that isn’t my bed, but you also don’t want to sleep on the floor. Not really.”

“It’s not a pride thing. I really just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

He hums before looking around his room, finally spotting something in his closet before he moves to take it out. It’s a thin body pillow, as long as his torso, and pink.

“What if we both sleep in the bed and just wedge this between the two of us. That way I’m here if you have a nightmare, and neither of us has to have a sore back from sleeping on a wooden floor.”

You want to laugh at his proposal, but in the moment, it seems reasonable. You certainly don’t want to sleep on the floor, and you don’t want Heeseung to sleep on it either. Without another comment, you nod at him. He nods back silently before pulling the bed sheets down and sorting out the pillows.

After the bed is ready, he goes back to the closet and pulls out a pair of sweats. He hands them to you easily, and you take them without looking at him.

“I’m going to go turn all the lights off and check the front door. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Once he shuts the bedroom door behind him, you finally realize what you’re doing. You realize that for the first time in your life, you’re going to be sleeping in a bed with another man who isn’t your husband. You’re going to be near another man, in bed. And you’re going to be spending the night with this man.

You realize, suddenly, that the feeling isn’t a bad one. It’s a peaceful one. And one that makes your stomach do flips.

You get dressed into Heeseung’s sweats easily, and you can’t stop grinning because of how much his clothes smell like him. Heeseung smells like vanilla and patchouli, and the scent almost makes you lightheaded.

A soft knock sounds from behind the door after a few more moments, and you let Heeseung know that it’s okay to come back in. He enters with two glasses of water, and hands you one easily.

“I always get thirsty at night, so I figured you might too.”

You’re practically floored at Heeseung’s attentiveness, but all you can do is thank him as you set the glass on the cart tier carefully. He takes a small sip from his and then sets it on the floor, careful not to spill it before he finally turns out all the lights in the bedroom, casting it into darkness. The moonlight spills in from the open window, and it casts the walls and furniture in a soft glow. You both move to lie down in the bed, and Heeseung gently sets the pillow in between both of you.

“I’m here if you need me. Right here.” Heeseung whispers into the darkness, and you go over how strange this whole scenario is. You remember the Heeseung at the restaurant, and how he’s the same Heeseung you’re lying in a bed with now. Only inches separate the two of you now, and it almost makes your skin dot with goosebumps.

“Thank you.” You say, eyes focusing on the ceiling naturally.

“It’s no problem. Like I said, waking up alone can be scary.”

A few beats pass, and all you feel is Heeseung’s body warmth, radiating onto you, even through the thin pillow.

“Goodnight, Heeseung.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

And then the minutes pass.

They feel like hours, though, and you don’t know if Heeseung is actually asleep or not after around fifteen minutes.

You can hear his steady breathing, and it doesn’t sound like he’s forcing it or anything, but you never know. You decide then to just try and sleep.

And you would have, if you hadn’t suddenly felt Heeseung’s hand, gently make its way under the body pillow and onto your side.

You feel your heart begin to race, your breathing following close behind as you realize that Heeseung isn’t asleep, he’s very much awake.

And he’s trying to hold your hand.

A million thoughts race through your head as your fingers itch to grab his. A million questions about your husband, about Heeseung, about what will happen in the morning after this is all said and done.

Finally, after an internal battle of a lifetime, and after you’re sure Heeseung is about to just retract his hand back to his side, you force yourself to just take the leap and slot your fingers into his.

Heeseung’s hand is as warm as you expect it to be, and you hear him take in a shaky breath as your palm finally presses against his.

Neither of you do anything. Neither of you try to say anything, or try to justify it in any way. You do nothing, except stay like that.

But in that moment, somehow, just doing that seems to be enough.

130 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Unfettered - part 2 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr part 1

It’s time. Come back.

Awareness came slowly and fitfully.

His body felt heavy, weighed down - it was as if his spirit had gone roaming freely and returned only reluctantly, sinking back into the skin and bone and flesh that bound it, the return voluntarily but begrudging, like an ox submitting to the yoke or a donkey to its bridle. There were times when he was there, awake but unable to get up the strength even to open his eyes, only barely aware of the world around him in the murmur of voices, the smell of food, the consistent feeling of spiritual energy being transferred into his body. There were times he was not awake at all.

One day, he heard a child laugh.

That was strange enough to catch his attention – it had been a long time since there were children here in the place where he slept, a place so familiar to him that he could feel where he was in his bones. It had been even longer since there were children who laughed.

It’s time. Wake up.

He did not wake all at once. It was a gradual process, slow – he had to struggle against the infinite heaviness of his eyelids, the sopor that kept trying to steal him back into the dark, but he did struggle. He tried, he strained, he pushed, he forced.

He summoned the rage that was his birthright and said to his body, we have been friends these many years, I have honed you as I did a beloved blade, you will not stand in my way in this.

He woke.

A child was laughing.

“Be careful, A-Song,” a voice, unfamiliar to him but gentle, said. It was male, young, and kind. He thought perhaps he had expected someone else. “Remember, you must not disturb the array.”

“I won’t touch it, gege,” the child said cheerfully. “I’ll be good, and then A-Ling will come visit us!”

“When he can, A-Song. It may not be for a while, because of the war…”

A weight settled on his chest at the word – war – and he almost lost his will to wake, not wanting to return to everything that word entailed: the pressure of all the expectations that rested on his shoulders, the stress and fear of the decisions he was forced to make, the guilt at each life lost and the butchers’ bills that piled up on his desk, the exhaustion and pain that followed the slog of life at the battlefront, adrenaline melting away to leave him feeling vacant and empty…

Duty was duty, though. Even in war.

Especially in war.

He forced his eyes open, staring at the ceiling for long moments as the noises of a child playing continued around him, the soft voice alternatively praising and gently chiding him. After a while, his gaze stabilized enough for him to recognize that above him was his own ceiling in his own room in his own home.

He could always tell, thanks to the drawings right above his face – his brother had once insisted on sitting on his shoulders while he stood on the bed so that he could reach the ceiling to carve something into the wood and stone. Something that would make him smile every morning that he opened his eyes, his brother claimed, his own eyes curved into a smile of his own, and he had never been able to resist his little brother anything that would make him happy.

He swallowed several times, wetting his throat, and asked in a voice little better than a rasp, “How goes the war?”

He meant where is my brother, is he well, is he whole, he meant what has happened to my sect, he meant what has happened to me. But duty called, and so he asked instead – how goes the war.

It helped, he supposed, that the words were familiar on his tongue, even as his throat and lips ached the strain of having to speak for the first time in what must have been a while. How goes the war – it had been his watchword for years now, all throughout the Sunshot Campaign and even before, the first question in the morning and the last question at night. How goes the war.

“Gege! Gege!” the child shrieked. “He said something!”

“No, I – but…did… – Sect Leader Nie…?” The unfamiliar voice was deeply surprised, almost shockingly so – how long had he been asleep? “Sect Leader Nie, did you say something? Please confirm.”

Sect Leader Nie.

Yes, that was how they called him. That was who he was: Sect Leader Nie, Chifeng-zun.

Nie Mingjue.

He had forgotten it, for a moment, the name and the weight of it, all the responsibilities that went with it, but now he remembered.

Nie Mingjue struggled to force himself up on his elbows, trying to look further around the room – it felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done, harder than moving through waist-deep muck through a swamp, which he’d also done, more than once.

As he’d expected, there was a man there, and a child. Both were unfamiliar to him, he thought, even if he did not entirely trust his memory at the moment. They were both gaping at him.

Well, gaping at his general direction, in the case of the man. He was dressed in white, like the Lan sect did, but the narrow band of white that they had in common encircled his eyes, not his forehead – he was blind.

No, Nie Mingjue was sure of it now: this man was totally unfamiliar to him.

The child was, too, but that was less of a surprise, given that he was only two or three at the utmost, the age children changed the most, and after all Nie Mingjue had been away fighting the wars for several years; it was reasonable not to recognize him.

But a man he did not recognize, here, in his own bedroom..?

“The war,” he rasped again, and swallowed to try to clear his throat. That was the only thing he could think of that might explain it. “My brother…?”

“Oh,” the man said, not especially intelligently. “The Pallbearer isn’t here – he’s away. There’s a war.”

The – what?

Nie Mingjue narrowed his eyes and forced them to focus, realizing that what he had taken for a man was little more than a teenager, certainly younger than twenty. Old enough to fight in the war, regrettably, but he supposed the blindness might keep him from it. It was sometimes hard to tell, with cultivators, how much they would be impacted by something like that.

“My brother,” he insisted. He wasn’t dead; what did he care about where some pallbearer - technically, the phrase meant ‘virtuous mourner’, or possibly ‘person whose virtue is in their mourning’, but either way it was a strange appellation - was? What he wanted was – “My brother.”

The child had been hiding behind the young man in white, but he popped his head around to stare at him, tugging at the young man’s robes. “Isn’t he Nie-er-ge’s brother?”

“Yes, he is,” the man said automatically, then flushed, ducking his head. He was very handsome, almost pretty, and at some point when Nie Mingjue didn’t feel like drowning in his own exhaustion he would spare a bit more time to wondering why he had been left here at his bedside, whether it was because he was the only one who could be spared or if it was for his own protection or both. “Ah, forgive me, Sect Leader Nie, of course you wouldn’t – your brother is away at the moment, but I will send him word at once. He’ll be so happy to hear that you’ve awoken.”

Nie Mingjue let himself slide back down from his elbows, his most severe worry assuaged – Nie Huaisang was alive, he was fine, he was safe. That was good.

Now he could concern himself with the war, he supposed. Although…

“Wasn’t the war…over?” he asked the ceiling. He thought he remembered that it was, the vague memories of seeing Wen Ruohan’s body hit the floor burnt into his brain as if with a brand – it was so different from what he had dreamt of for so many years that he thought it must be true. And with Wen Ruohan dead, his sons dead, who would continue to fight? Some small pockets of the truly devoted, maybe, but surely not the bulk of the forces…?

He didn’t remember. There was something there just beyond his memory, and he was abruptly struck with the feeling that he wasn’t sure he wanted to remember.

There was a whisper of cloth, the man beside him shifting from side to side in awkwardness. Probably trying to decide if he should stand here and answer questions or go to send out the alert about his reawakening at once.

“You are correct, Sect Leader Nie,” he finally said. “The Sunshot Campaign ended…it’s a new war.”

A new war, Nie Mingjue thought, and closed his eyes for a brief moment to stave off the pain of it. It wasn’t that he hadn’t discussed the possibility that something like that would happen with his sect’s elders during his war counsels, the fact that wrecking the established system of the Five Great Sects might lead to a power vacuum and more fighting, but the alternative of submitting to Wen tyranny had been worse; they had had no choice but to hope that their worst fears would not come to pass.

In vain, it seemed.

“I should – go tell someone,” the young man said. “I’ll go –”

“Go,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Return after, and then you can…what’s your name, anyway?”

“Xiao Xingchen,” the young man said. “Disciple of Baoshan Sanren…you wouldn’t have heard of me. Your brother took me in after I lost my eyes.”

Baoshan Sanren? Another disciple of the immortal mountain? Surely Nie Mingjue would have heard of something like that happening – it would have been the talk of the cultivation world, ongoing war or no. But he hadn’t heard anything, and this Xiao Xingchen fellow didn’t expect him to. And that meant…

“How long have I slept?” he asked. No, not asked. Demanded.

“Oh, I definitely can’t answer that one,” Xiao Xingchen said, sounding genuinely distressed. “I’m going to go get someone who can.”

He dashed out of the room in a swirl of white that Nie Mingjue saw out of the corner of his eye. A moment later, he heard a small shuffling sound and, with a slight groan, lifted himself back up again to look at the child, who had lingered even after his guardian had departed.

The boy was wearing Nie colors in familiar styles – Nie Mingjue thought it might even be some of Nie Huaisang’s old clothes, which he’d found himself unable to throw away even after they’d long been outgrown. He’d ultimately ordered them to be stored in hopes of preserving it for the next generation - his son, or maybe his nephew.

The shape of the boy’s face wasn’t remotely Nie, though, so he thought perhaps he might be an orphan or something. Another person his brother had taken in, perhaps, the way he had the blind Xiao Xingchen?

Had his brother been forced to run the sect while he slept? He must have. That had been what Nie Mingjue had always intended for him, wanting his brother’s cool head to guide the next generation, but he had not thought that it would be so soon…he thought he would have time to help guide Nie Huaisang into being sect leader, to ease the way, to show him how things were done and what was important. To let him become the wonderful sect leader Nie Mingjue had always been sure he would be, the one their sect deserved –

He’d wanted to make the transition less abrupt than his own elevation to the position at his father’s death, to make sure the position of sect leader didn’t consume Nie Huaisang as it had Nie Mingjue, who didn’t have any hobbies or pastimes except for spoiling his little brother, Nie Mingjue who barely remembered what or who he was outside of the work he did.

He’d wanted to leave Nie Huaisang to govern their sect through a world of peace, not war.

Clearly he’d failed.

Despite these gloomy thoughts of his, he tried to smile at the child. “Hello,” he said. “Your name is – A-Song?”

The child nodded, edging closer – closer, but not too close, and the reason for his hesitation was clearly, upon further inspection, that he didn’t want to cross over onto the lines of the complicated array painted onto the ground around the bed. Nie Mingjue hadn’t seen it before, and he didn’t recognize it.

“What’s that for?” he asked, nodding at the softly glowing lines, which he could feel were full of spiritual power.

“It’s to make you feel better,” A-Song answered promptly in the know-it-all tone of a child who had clearly asked a similar question in the past. “Nie-er-ge repaints it all by himself every week, Xiao-gege helps keep it running, and I help, too!”

“You do?”

“Yeah! I’m the – the – I make it less boring!”

“Ah, I see! You’re the entertainment? That’s a very important job.”

A-Song nodded so rapidly that Nie Mingjue was slightly worried his head would come tumbling off his shoulders, and he had to suppress a smile at the sight. He’d always liked children, and this one seemed…strangely familiar, for all that Nie Mingjue was sure A-Song wasn’t a Nie.

“What’s your surname?” he asked, and A-Song frowned, scuffling one foot behind the other. “Don’t you know?”

“I know!” A-Song exclaimed. “It’s Jin! I’m Jin Rusong!”

Nie Mingjue could feel his eyes going wide in surprise, surprise and even shock that stabbed deeply into him. Ru- was the next generation’s name for the Jin sect, following after Zi- for the current generation and Guang- for the previous one – there had been much discussion of that towards the end of the last war, as it had been a clear insult framed as a compliment when Meng Yao had been offered the name of Jin Guangyao so shorty after the Nightless City.

Meng Yao -

The Nightless City, Wen Ruohan, Meng Yao…

Nie Mingjue remembered.

How could he not? In his memory, it had been only a few weeks before.

They had been mopping things up in the aftermath of Wen Ruohan’s death, and Nie Mingjue had been absent without leave from the medical tent more often than not, unable to refuse the calling of his duty even though his health (and any number of his subordinates) demanded he rest and recover. It hadn’t been easy: his mind had still been fuzzy from the aftereffects of the torment he’d suffered in and after Yangquan, the torture on the way to Wen Ruohan’s palace and again within it. The dizziness had impeded his ability to work, causing him to lose track of time or to grow abruptly distant and forgetful.

At the time, it had seemed that everything he remembered was unreliable – he’d thought, at first, that Meng Yao had done certain terrible things while he was in the Sun Palace, truly terrible and unforgivable things, the sorts of things that would make Nie Mingjue obligated to denounce him and Meng Yao worthy only of execution no matter what his good deeds might have been. But Meng Yao had said he was misremembering, that it hadn’t happened that way at all, that his mind was damaged from the torture and the fight with Wen Ruohan, and Lan Xichen had vouched for Meng Yao with all sincerity.

Nie Mingjue hadn’t been sure at first, had been so certain that he was right, that he remembered correctly and that Meng Yao was simply lying to him, but they had both seemed so sincere…and in the end Nie Mingjue hadn’t really wanted to believe that Meng Yao would do things like that anyway. He hadn’t wanted to think that someone he trusted would do that, that he’d so misjudged him. And that had made it – not easy, no, but it had made it make sense to accept their version of events over his own, even if it made him sick and anxious to think that his mind was so unreliable and untrustworthy.

Still, accepting it had meant that Nie Mingjue could agree to swear brotherhood with Lan Xichen and Meng Yao, as they both wanted so very much. It meant he could congratulate Meng Yao when he received the letter indicating that he would soon be his father’s recognition and the name Jin Guangyao. It meant that he could invite him to dinner at his camp to raise a glass together in honor of his accomplishment, to wish him good fortune and the best of luck for his new life.

It meant that when, in the middle of their dinner together, the wonderful news came that Nie Fengjun and Nie Xiaopeng had survived their injuries at the Nightless City, the ones that had kept them bedridden for so long getting infusions of spiritual energy and being fed drugs to keep them asleep so that they didn’t tear their throats open again by trying to talk, he could smile at Meng Yao – no, Jin Guangyao, he had tried very hard to remember to call him that and had still mostly failed – and tell him with joy that there were two deaths he no longer had on his conscience.

He could ask him to wait a while when he went to talk to them, promising to return soon.

It meant that he could take a few steps towards the door, Baxia far away on her stand and not in his hand, his back unguarded against the man who had sworn before all the world to be his brother.

It meant that he could feel the cold string of the garotte when it settled over his throat and pulled tight, cutting off his air – that he could hear the humming of a Lan battle-song in his ear, the spiritual energy that he had been freely sharing with Meng Yao only moments before suddenly turned against him and starting to riot inside of him – the weakness inherent in his blood, the ancestral Nie tendency towards qi deviation, abruptly pressed upon and galvanized from within –

If you yell, the first person through the door will be your brother and I will gut him like a fish, Meng Yao had hissed in his ear, and Nie Mingjue had stopped struggling for just a moment, horrified by the thought.

Horrified at being attacked by someone who knew his most dangerous weaknesses.

By someone he trusted.

The pause had been a mistake, of course. There’d been poison on the garrote, he thought, and the battle song and his rioting qi had let it in easier than it might have otherwise.

Meng Yao really was a perfect assassin.

But why me, why now, I don’t want to go so soon, I haven’t even had a chance to live yet, he remembered thinking, more fear and hurt than anger, and then there was nothing but darkness.

And now –

And now there was a child called Ru-, the next generation down from Zi-, and he was already two or three of age.

“How long have I slept?” he demanded, struggling to sit up. “How long has it been? Huaisang!”

How long have I abandoned you?

Xiao Xingchen ran back into the room not long after, looking horrified by Nie Mingjue’s burst of temper, pointless and impotent as it was. “Sect Leader Nie, please calm yourself,” he exclaimed. “I’ve already sent word out, and I’m sure your brother will be here soon. Please, stop moving – don’t damage the array…!”

Nie Mingjue forced himself to calm, his fingers digging into the bedding as he fought to control his temper –

Now is not the time.

– but he finally managed with a few deep breaths to stop feeling as if he was drowning in dark thoughts, in fears, in horror at himself and what he had inadvertently allowed, at what he had lost.

A few breaths later, and he stopped struggling.

At that point, it occurred to him that something was strange.

Based on his experience with being injured, and with his warlike sect he had plenty of that, Nie Mingjue would have expected that a fit like the one he had just had would have meant that he’d be swarmed by doctors. That was what was usual for this sort of situations, a giant bevy of doctors always just a few steps away, standing at the ready to force opinions down his throat about what he should and shouldn’t be doing – that had been what it had been like with his father, at least at first, and then later on it had been something he had been forced to accustom himself to as sect leader.

(First rule of being sect leader: don’t get knocked unconscious if at all possible. Not because the sect won’t manage without you, but because you’ll have to deal with doctors fussing at you for ages thereafter.)

Strangely enough, though, this time the doctors didn’t come. It was only Xiao Xingchen, dropping down to survey the array with his fingers, murmuring and infusing it with bright and pure spiritual energy that Nie Mingjue could feel soaking into his meridians, into his bones and muscles and bones.

Presumably this was the reason his body had not atrophied, in the – it must have been years since he –

He took another deep breath.

“Forgive me,” he said to Xiao Xingchen, and then again to Jin Rusong, who was hiding behind something. “I did not mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Jin Rusong said with a great deal of grace, and probably too much equanimity for someone his age. “I don’t mind. It happens.”

To so easily disregard such a show of temper suggested that the boy had either had a hard early life or very calm parents, or maybe both. Nie Mingjue did not like to think of it, although he himself had been quickly inured to such things, after his father…

Best not to think about that. Best not to think about how it might have – what might have happened to him, after Meng Yao’s surprise attack.

(He hoped that he had succumbed to the poison or the suffocation instead of the qi deviation, since Baxia had, he hoped, remained intact; he could not be sure of it, since the assassin had been Meng Yao, who had known how best to hurt him. He hoped that he did not linger - did not lose himself to rage - did not have to be put down - that Nie Huaisang had not had to make the choices he himself had long ago had to make.)

“You didn’t call for any doctors?” Nie Mingjue asked Xiao Xingchen, trying not to think about those foul memories and the dark suspicions that swirled in his mind.

“I have some medical skills,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Not…many, and not as many as I used to have, but some, if you’d like me to check you over?”

“I’m not concerned for me,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes. He’d propped himself up against the headboard, an activity that had drained most of his remaining energy. “I’m just – why didn’t you call any doctors?”

“Ah,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I see.”

“I’m glad that you understand,” Nie Mingjue said, eliding to mention the matter of sight. They were not on such familiar terms that he could make a joke over it, and it was clear from Xiao Xingchen’s occasional if very graceful clumsiness that the blindness was new. “Would you also like to elaborate?”

“Sect Leader Nie is off-limits to anyone without permission to enter,” Xiao Xingchen said, folding his hands in front of him. “Especially in the event that you wake up.”

“I understand,” Nie Mingjue said, and he did.

He had had some time to think about what had happened to him back then, about the timing of those two survivors from the Nightless City waking up and Meng Yao’s sudden attack – he still didn’t have any answers, didn’t understand why Meng Yao turned against him so suddenly, but he had his suspicions.

Suspicions - and regrets.

If he hadn’t chosen to believe Meng Yao over the evidence of his own eyes and ears, would he have ended up like this, leaving Nie Huaisang alone for years on end?

There wasn’t any point to that line of thinking, though. Might as well say that if Nie Mingjue hadn’t been conditioned for years and years by his sect to have a mortal fear of his own qi, filling him with terror that one day he would become like his father – sick, with a mind full of hallucinations tormenting him and leading him astray – then maybe he wouldn’t have been so ready to disregard his own perception in favor of another’s, and of course there was no one to blame for that.

“Your brother will be here soon,” Xiao Xingchen said. “And once he is, I’m sure he’ll want the doctors to look you over. It’s only, you understand, without him to supervise, he doesn’t – he –”

“He doesn’t trust anyone,” Nie Mingjue said, and felt a pang of grief. Nie Huaisang had always trusted more readily than he had, the extroverted younger brother to his introverted and even misanthropic elder. The differences between them had in large part been caused by Nie Mingjue’s elevation to sect leader – too soon, too fast – and the discomfort and distance that created between him and those he thought had been his friends. And now, to his regret, the position would have done its work on Nie Huaisang as well. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure if you do,” Xiao Xingchen said. “He trusts – quite a few people, I’d say. There’s his people in the sect, of course, his cousins and deputies and all that, but he’s also on very good terms with quite a lot of the cultivation world: Sandu Shengshou, Yiling Laozu, Zewu-jun, Hanguang-jun…almost all the important people, really.”

Nie Mingjue noted the absence of Jin Guangyao’s name or title.

Good.

“It’s just – you’re very important to him. More than you might think.”

“I raised him,” Nie Mingjue said. “From the time he was a child, he was my only family. The only things I had in life were my sect and him, and even my sect I wouldn’t have placed above him, and he knew it – I think I understand my importance to him. It’s the same for me, with him.”

“Perhaps,” Xiao Xingchen said, looking wistful. “Perhaps. That does explain rather a lot, I think.”

Nie Mingjue made himself more comfortable. “Who’s the child?” he asked. “He said he was surnamed Jin, but I assume the Jin sect is who we’re at war with?”

“You’re very perceptive,” Xiao Xingchen remarked. “How did you know?”

“The seeds of a new war can be found in the end of the last one,” Nie Mingjue said. “It would have always been the Jin sect. I’m surprised that it actually came to a head so soon, that’s all – they’ve always preferred being subtle and sly, politicking to outright fighting. I wouldn’t have thought they’d declare open war.”

“Why do you assume they were the ones who’d declare war?”

Because of who was left behind, Nie Mingjue thought. Lan Xichen who tries to see the good in everyone, Jiang Cheng who is insecure about what he can and cannot be, Wei Wuxian with his armies of the dead that he so very clearly never wanted…and my brother, who knows better.

My brother, who loves peace and hates war the way only a child born into the thick of it would; my brother, who’s so terribly clever underneath all his laziness; my brother who knows that war is fought as much in the hearts of men as on the battlefield –

No, he wouldn’t be the one to declare war.

Not even for me.

“Weren’t they?” he asked.

“Well, yes,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Although in fairness, they were provoked.”

Nie Mingjue was sure they were. His brother, probably, or maybe Wei Wuxian – they were good at provocation. They could find something that even the Jin sect couldn’t tolerate.

From the way Xiao Xingchen turned his head towards Jin Rusong, an instinctive gesture for all that he couldn’t see the boy, it might have something to do with him. A small child surnamed Jin, and yet embarrassed to admit it…there was a story there that he would eventually need to learn.

Just as he would eventually need to ask the practical questions – questions like who’s leading the war effort, since Jiang Cheng was good at battle but shit at strategy, Wei Wuxian who was too reckless and reliant on flashy tactics that wore him out, Lan Xichen who was better as a courier than a general, Lan Wangji who was too independent, a lone wolf who’d never learned how to compromise enough to join a team, how are we paying for it, the eternal question of supply even more critical for three weakened Great Sects when set against the richest of them all, and of course how can I help.

But he was tired, and did not ask. He would gather the energy for war later.

For now, he would be satisfied with something simpler, more straightforward: his brother’s well-being, confirmed not merely with words but by his own eyes, which he really ought to learn to trust.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before there was a noise outside the door, and Xiao Xingchen brightened in evident relief. “He’s here! A-Song, come with me, come say hello –”

They went out, and a moment later, the door opened and Nie Huaisang walked in.

Attuned as Nie Mingjue was to movement, that was the first thing he noticed: that his brother walked differently than he had before. It was more purposeful, striding rather than ambling, sharp, with as little wasted movement as possible – angry, always angry, but contained. It was not at all what he thought of when he thought of Nie Huaisang, who was usually more aimless and carefree, limbs tumbling everywhere; it was far more similar to the way Nie Mingjue used to carry himself, seemingly relaxed but in fact on guard against the world at all moments.

Nie Huaisang’s face, too, was different than Nie Mingjue remembered it being: it was thinner, sharper than it had been, with narrowed eyes and lips pressed together, his whole demeanor distrusting and forbidding. The last bits of baby fat had melted away, taking with it the impression of softness and tenderness that he had once exuded, the lazy and indolent air that had made him seem younger than he was.

No longer was he the feckless young man the Nie Mingjue had so carefully protected from the horrors of the world, and the thought sent a pang of pain through Nie Mingjue’s heart.

And yet, when Nie Huaisang walked into the room, looking irritated and exhausted, and his gaze fell upon the bed where Nie Mingjue had lain for longer than he cared to think about, when he saw Nie Mingjue propped up and awake, when their eyes met for the first time –

It all melted away, the child he had held in his hands abruptly recognizable once more.

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang wailed, and threw himself forward into Nie Mingjue’s waiting arms, heedless of the array that Xiao Xingchen has so worried himself over, heedless of the shocked expression on both Xiao Xingchen and Jin Rusong’s faces, heedless any residual injuries in his urgency. “Da-ge!”

All the questions Nie Mingjue had, and he had a lot – who is the Pallbearer what is the war who is fighting who have we lost what happened to me what happened to you – dashed out of his head at once.

There was only one question that mattered – are you safe – and the answer to that was in his arms. He clutched his baby brother to his chest with all his greatly diminished strength, tears springing to his eyes just as they filled Nie Huaisang’s, and they wept with joy to see each other again.

It’s time. At last.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #xiao xingchen #nie huaisang #jin rusong #my fic #my fics #unfettered

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 3 years

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Heyo! I was wondering if you could do a scenario during the uprising arc where the reader starts to realize she has feelings for Levi but at first he rejects her? Then during the night before Shiganshina he realizes about her feelings and ends up returning them knowing he doesn't want her to get hurt or die? Some angst fluff please and thank you!

Okay anon you have no idea how much I enjoyed writing this. It's super long and I love how it came to me so naturally. I hope you enjoy

Warnings: a little angst!?

Tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Promise

It all started at the sight of his wet fingertips grazing the broken rim of a teacup. A flutter, a feisty spark in your heart that seemed to drown it in full might had made its presence known to you in a very particular, unwanted moment. The flicker of a tiny flame danced before your eyes, sat at the frame of the window near the sink where you proceeded to rinse through washed dishes.

Levi's pale, chapped skin pulled on his knuckles leaving an unnatural yellowish white tone behind, indicating his involvement with excessive amounts of cleaning products. And for the first time, the sight really pulled a string in your poor heart in a way that was enough to convince you to break the dense silence in the room.

But maybe, you thought, Levi wouldn't want to talk to you.

With an unforgiving steel gaze he stared at your face, blinking in soft, yet erratical paces as you stopped plumping the water from running. In response your tongue was forced to slip inside your mouth and push any unspoken word back to its source, in the depths of your brain. All of a sudden you felt so afraid to talk, so petrified by the general idea of a three syllabus word that wouldn't ever spare the misery off of anyone.

Rejection

Captain seemed to be on the rejective side nevertheless so nothing regarding your newly discovered feelings would matter to him anyway, so in a way you blamed yourself for getting overwhelmed with this whole situation. A dark cloud of doubt shadowed your mind with the intention of interrogating your heart's intentions; perhaps you were mistaken. How on earth could you have been in love with the short man, you didn't know. There were far too many differences between the two of you, be it in appearance, mannerism or even -and more importantly- experiences. Supposing you had lived through similar occurances in battles outside the walls was enough for anyone to consider the two of you to be very alike, it was at least dishonorable to compare your childhood or teenage years to his.

"Nice hands" Of course you had managed to utter the most embarrassing choice of words to him, your mind could never cooperate with you when it came to such serious situations, something you hated so very much. The obnoxious dryness of your eyes was slowly migrating in the caves under your tongue, you could feel your mouth drying more and more by each passing second, yet you did nothing to prevent it.

Judging by Levi's puzzled expression which included his head slightly tilting forward as if to hear you better you knew he was as awestruck as you were at your own words. "I don't really understand where you're coming from but thank you, I guess." He spoke, the usual monotone tint staining his voice. You whipped your head back to a fixed position -on your hands this time- to stare down at the sink. The awkward glances you would throw at him went seemingly unnoticed and as time passed by you felt your tention overwhelming you, this time, completely.

Levi wasn't dense to any body language thrown at him and you were painfully aware. His cold eyes never spared you not even a half cornered look as he rubbed the little sponge on the soap bar next to him. His fingers danced on the ceramic plate, cleansing it in fast and very effective movements, leaving you staring in awe. Whether he was ignoring you on purpose or not you didn't know and you didn't want to seek an answer as to why but at this rate he would probably be the one to inquire why you were burning holes in his hands with your gaze. Again.

"I'm so sorry I'm fixated on your hands" Your mouth run, ignoring your mind's orders to stay shut "It's just-" Dammit think quick for once "You have nice nail beds."

There it was. The evidence that your words had actual brains and that they formed the most improper sentences on their own, just to torture you and push you deeper into piles of goowey, mushy shit. If Levi was anyone else he would have been laughing his ass of at the stupidness of your speech, you knew you would be laughing too if this wasn't as serious. Just as you were sure you heard a chuckle Levi placed the sponge on the bar of soap carefully and extended his arm, fully displaying his hand.

He seemed to study it like it was the first time he had ever even noticed it. The slick, long fingers, the oval shaped nails, his torn open knuckles. Perhaps you were kidding him for the lack of hair on the base of fingers he used to hold his blades with, those were burnt with years of being worn out by the steel triggers of the blades. He speculated this was common among most soldiers, so it didn't seem like a reason to be kidded for and in addition you never were the person to just spit senseless insults as jokes to your comrades.

"Is there even a point to talk about my hands? They're normal hands to me."

You bit your lip as your eyes widened in shock. Realisation hit you that this was probably more that absurd to Levi as it was to you, seeing you had started to talk about his hands out of nowhere. Your mind, in a state of panic, was in the midst of attempting to process every idiotic sentence you had the audacity to blurb out, but it never seemed to find an answer. Boiling with embarrassed, you wiped the water of your hands to your pants, an act that caught Levi's eye, and went to grab the first wooden chair that was in your path. You needed to sit down, to process whatever this was.

Yet, the only explanation you could find was that there was a raging wildfire in the pits of your stomach everytime your thoughts wandered on Levi. Yes, it was possible that what had started as an admiration, a tiny spec of a crush for the slender featured man had been growing on you since forever, but you had always burried it deep, in any hellhole that should accommodate such emotions as this was war and not the plot of sappy romance novel.

The air was cut down short in the room when Levi sat at a chair beside you, watching you over in such demanding manner that only he could master. He proceeded to light the only candle that stood at the middle of the table, possibly in hopes of flaring a conversation or causing a sane sequence of sentences to finally fall from your tongue. It was still unbeknownst to him what had caused you to trip over words as if you were a learning toddler and he yearned to find out, as a sole friend, not as the stern corporal he presented himself to be.

"(y/n)" His voice was tender as he spoke either much mindful to the teens who were sleeping in the next room or unwilling to let a private conversation between the two of you be heard. "If you think I can help with whatever is going on quit acting like a brat and tell me what's on your mind."

Momentarily, you wondered whether he'd stick to his words in case you spilled your heart's infatuating agony but you felt unable to think of a possible dominating scenario in the chaos of your mind. As self destructive as it sounded, you'd prefer to be the one to break your own heart rather than having to stand back and be a martyr to him tearing it off your chest and tearing it. Knowing Levi, this wasn't anything physically impossible, but you doubt that he could ever be as harsh with you.

"I'm just stressed. I have a lot on my mind."

"Erwin's trial and the future of the scouts, huh? Or is it that Hange works your ass off with those experiments?" You scoffed in denial to all of his inquiries, knowing full well that you could have used them as excuses. Levi's sharp hand began a short trip with sole purpose to land at the top of your head, through your loose locks, in an affectionate manner, a little something you had picked up he would do when he really cared for someone. Everyone knew he wasn't particularly touchy, except for some emotional moments with his closest people; a hand on a shoulder and a pat in the head were mostly what you had witnessed him indulging. His hand ruffling with your hair wasn't profound and new at all, he had done so many times after the two of you would strongly disagree over formations and orders, showing you how much he appreciated your strong wits and your clever ideas. What was new was that the lone touch burned your sculp like hot iron and made your insides twitch.

"I'll make us some tea" the screeching creak of the chair being pushed back shook of your train of thoughts enough to form a reaction to his hand that still rested on your head. Almost as if he didn't want to take it off "We can discuss your problem in a-"

"Sit down" you demanded, voice stern, masked with seriousness that caught him off guard. "Take your hand off my hair, it hurts." You pleaded with your eyes to stay as dry as they were before but you were certainly unsure of whether they'd listen. "Can't you see?"

What was there not to see really. Levi probably knew of your fondness of him way before you managed to realise, as in second thought every move you had ever made in his presence betrayed you. He would have never tried to provoke a confession just to laugh at you, that you were sure of, but he had never made a move in reciprocation either, that alone made you sure of your confessions future's end and caused your gut to spit even more fire to the rest of your insides.

Levi was not perplexed, not even for a single moment, at your words that seeked to stab like daggers, he wouldn't allow himself to be toyed by his own emotions just this once. This is an erratical reaction to his touch, a rejection of his affections towards you and he feared he knew the reason. For someone as bright and emotional as you he never would have thought that you could have hid such tormentous emotions so well inside you, only to end up at this moment of snapping.

As much as he'd like not to be hurt in the slightest by your demeanor he couldn't help but feel a tiny string of his heart being pulled. Suddenly it was evident to him why you couldn't take part in normal conversations around him or why you acted so tense in his presence, why you were so rejective of his touches and he wondered if he should have done anything besides unknownably torture you for so long. Whether his heart wanted to hear a confirmation out of your mouth to it's pained pleading for reciprocation, his mind ignored. The time would never be right and as egoistical as it seemed he couldn't bear to lose someone else that close to him, let alone a significant other. From his experience feelings of love and adoration should never be spoken out loud in this cruel world, amongst soldiers, especially. It wouldn't lead to any good.

When you proceeded to speak the pit in his stomach was already welling in frustration and denial. "Levi we've known each other for years and whatever's forcing me to much on my words should stop."

None can do, this couldn't happen here, now, while being on the run by military police as collective criminal. Levi wouldn't allow you to speak those earth shuttering words, even if wanted for them to chaste kiss his ears and echo through his head. "Not like you haven't figured anyways. I'm so pathetic. To fall for my Capt-"

"Don't you dare utter any other word of that sentence. I won't forgive you if you do." His hand reached out to grab yours by the wrist, tightly, as if he didn't know you couldn't stand the intensity of the grip. The silence that towed over the room was freezing, irrational even; it made you want to puke your intestines right onto Levi's shoes. Your heartbeat was so fast, so unrhythmic that you felt like the vital blood red organ would burst out of your chest in a massive mess.

Τhere was an excessive amount of agony emitting from your eyes, slicing through Levi's chest, searching despairately for a sign he had a heart, just to remind you that it didn't belong to you. Your mind traveled through every possible scenario to find a reason as to why you had to endure this, did his affections belong to someone you didn't know of? Hange? Erwin? Nifa seemed to be close to him lately as well. Was he heartbroken before and swore to never love again? You hated that there was not a tiny little space in his heart for you.

Just as this tense moment began, it came to an end when Sasha burst into the room, shotgun on her shoulder and chestnut eyes as sleepy as they could be. Fatigue was overpowering her whole form and it was as evident as ever before your eyes. With a quick, exhausted salute she announced her self, unsure of if you and the captain could see her face under the shadows of the night.

"It's guard change sir!" She spoke.

"I'm coming sweetheart." You got up from the chair you were sat at, breaking your wrist away from Levi's grip in a harsh manner. You didn't spare him a second look as you took another deep breath and locked it in your chest in hopes of seeming a little more mighty. "Go take some rest. You deserve it."

With increasingly fast steps you storm outside the little cottage trying your best not to look back. You wouldn't bear to check if there was still light coming from the kitchen that should indicate Levi's persistent presence. Your knees trembled at the imagery but you wouldn't let your eyes rest behind you not even for a second. He would probably be drinking his tea, unbothered, thinking of anything but you and you would be lying if you were to day that it didn't hurt you. It hurt so much that it sent you on your ass, on the stone tile pattern under your feet. Your heart forced suffocating waves of pain through your whole body only to push out of your eyes in the form of hot, salty tears. As your sobs grew louder and your heartache became unbearable to the point you though you could feel your heart break in two, you pushed the ends of your palms into your eyes sockets to squeeze the pain and itchiness of the tears away. You promised to yourself this was the first and last time you would cry for him.

____

After that night you barely speak with Levi. Aside from following his orders with the eventual 'yessir' as a reply, you have managed to successfully establish a thick barrier between him end you. Your nights of accompanying him in his late hour tea sessions, or teaching him how to knit and embroider were no more. The times you would share your food with him after you'd hear his stomach growl from the small portion he would get were also no more. You had made sure to claim your small acts of affection back to yourself, how could you move on from him if you were trying to be nice.

You would profoundly ignore his gazes, his calls for you at his office at late hours of the night by random cadets. You wouldn't answer to him if it wasn't for something military related and you intended it to keep it that way until the announcements of the feast that would take place before the attempt of retaking wall Maria.

As you passed by a narrow street heading to anywhere away from the crowd of cadets with your drink in your hand, you bumped lousy into the onyx haired male. It was the first time in days or even weeks that you had spared him a glance but your eyes averted his upon impact. You couldn't stand this. It was suffocating you. The clicking of your ankle boots colliding with the ground might have been heard as you turned on your heels to flee the scene but Levi's stern clearing of the throat overshadowed it.

He wasn't having it anymore.

"Oi, wait! Stop on your tracks, this is an order!" He spoke, eliciting a groan out of you as you turned to face him. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Captain, I seek to relax before a very hard mission, spare me with your punishments, I beg of you."

His blood boiled with your every word "Cut the damn crap (y/n) and talk to me like normal." It probably sounded more harsh than he intended but he couldn't find himself in a position to turn back time and rephrase those words. The drained look in your eyes tolled him as well. The fact that you were both so tired by this game of cat and mouse was profound and everywhere in the air around you and Levi didn't know if he could take it anymore.

At first he thought that it was for the best. If you both forgot about your feelings or found ways to distract yourselves by this distance then it would be so much easier for him to push through the upcoming events of Shiganshina, but he was surprised to know he was mistaken. Masking his feelings must have seemed easy when it came to grieve and loss; he'd spent hours in his room, with you, letting everything out and occupying himself with trying to improve his handwriting while doing paperwork, but infatuation, love, was different. Instead of fading by each passing day like anger and grief it only ever became stronger, fonder and more agressive, chewing on his insides in despair. He really did hate that he had allowed himself to feel that way but it was way too late by now. There was nothing he could do and the fact that you ignored him after almost squeezing out that much, much wanted confession was only making him feel more hollow and in pain.

But Levi knew how to control himself, he trusted his ability on that.

"What is there to talk about? Let me live my last day in peace." You barked, your eyes starting to dance towards his direction, landing on his chin, then at the curve of his unfairly full bottom lip, on his button upwards nose.

"Look." He paused, unsure of how to put his words into non hurtful sentences. "If you could just tell me why or share a few words with me. We could damn die tomorrow and I'd regret not ever talking you out of this unfair treatment you're giving me."

You wondered if you should open up your heart to him completely, without accepting any interruption from him just to cleanse your coincidence off of this weight. Upon deciding that there was truly nothing holding you back except for a silly fear of another rejection that could die with you tomorrow you opened your mouth to speak any words that came to your mind.

"Levi, I'm in pain. You rejected me. Plain and simple. I've spent so many nights wondering why I am unworthy of your affections but I can't wrap my head around you anymore."

"Is that the way you feel about me? That you're the one who's unworthy of me?"

"You always think so lowly of yourself. Makes me wonder how you trust your own abilities in battlefield. But yes. So I just want to know who is it for you? Who do you feel you're unworthy of?"

He paused for a moment, to regain any shattered piece of his heart you had thrown back to him with your statement. You didn't hate him, be always knew that, but hearing those words fall out of your mouth engulfed the matter into reality unlike before. He was ready to face it. Even if he was unsure of tomorrow he knew that if he was to stay alive while you were dead he would have torn his own brain out as to avoid overthinking this particular moment.

"You want the truth honestly, brat? I happen to think I'm the one unworthy of you. You've taught me how to write and read, you came into my office to check up on an underground scum like me to see if I was asleep. Dammit you even gave me portions of your food to help me withstand the long nights of sleeping in my chair. What have I done for you? Boss you around? Or is it my looks you're after?"

Your eyes widened at his last statement, momentarily preventing the tears that had gathered in the corners from falling. This wasn't a time to misunderstand his words and act foolish, this was the closest out of a confession you would get from the man and you were awestruck, amazed. If he wanted to know a reason you would give him one.

"I'll admit, you might have the face of an angel Levi and maybe that would initial draw anyone to you, including me but I didn't fall in love with you for that." You could tell he was taken aback by the raw nature of your words only by the small whimper that escaped his throat.

"Over the course of this relationship between us you have been there for me when I couldn't be there for myself, you've helped me improve, your hands are stained with blood and so are mine, but you've knitted with me, you've stitched my wounds, you've let me sleep in your bed when I found a giant cockroach in mine, you're so much more than what you paint yourself to be."

He stared at you with ogling, soft eyes. Had he looked at you like that before you were oblivious but there was something in those steel eyes that magnetised your own gaze, something you couldn't let go off. It was calming the knot in your chest with reassurance, bearing promises of the future but he didn't dare speak on them to ruin the moment. His head closed the distance between the two of you in sharp shiftings and now your lips were brushing his in the most suggestive manner possible. It had all happened so fast that you didn't have a chance to react.

"You realised" he whispered, voice soft as the melancholy of the theme of his words captured your breath "that if you happen to die tomorrow, I, myself will hunt you down, resecure you and then proceed to beat the living shit out of you every single day of your shitty life, right?"

He was so beautiful panting with desire under the moonlight and you would never forget. Out of all times this could have taken place it happened now, hours before a deadly expedition. The feeling of regret flooded your form, his as well for not acting upon your feelings sooner and Levi fought an internal battle as to whether he should kiss you or not. He desired to keep that kiss as a reward that you stayed alive for him but on the other hand he feared that this could well be his last chance to taste you for the first time.

"That's a weird way to say I love you" as his lips brushed closer to yours his heart felt like it would explode, he had pained to claim your lips, just once, just to know the taste of a beloved and he was sure he would be more pained to lose you.

As he pleaded that you came to him tomorrow he pressed his lips on yours, sealing the promise he demanded you to make to him. Your heart melted under the soft lights of a thousand stars.

____

As his arms wrapped around you, tears run down his eyes. That was it. You had fought to keep your promise nail and tooth. You had never managed let him down and to see that you were among the tiny amount of survivors lifted his soul to heaven. The touch of your skin, the salty taste of your neck, it all was real, you were indeed alive and safe in his arms. He wouldn't have to go insane over that fact that he would never get to look into your eyes again.

"I will always keep my promises to you." You hitched with tears running down cheeks, the shock in your core still trembling as ever.

"I know" He panted

"Besides, have you seen yourself in action, I wouldn't want you to hunt me down, oh Lord."

I am. In tears. Also I'm sorry (?) for such in depth descriptions of Levi's hands?

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #levi #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #attack on titan #snk #aot #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman imagine #captain levi #x reader #listen here i am crying #i am not okay #THIS WAS SO CATHARTIC TO WRITE WTF

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hyperpsychomaniac · 3 years

Text

Scrooge's New Driver

DT17 Fanfiction

Summary: With Duckworth gone, Scrooge is struggling to find a replacement chauffeur who doesn't baulk at his driving orders. Until he unexpectantly runs across (and nearly over) the answer to his prayers. Oneshot.

***

It had been six months since Duckworth had passed, and Scrooge had been through as many drivers in that time. At least Duckworth had understood the meaning of urgency. At least he had been willing to take a little risk.

Scrooge glowered at his newest driver from the backseat of his town car. "Milligan, if you don't get me to my meeting on time, you're fired."

"But Mr McDuck, the road rules! And I'll have to speed…" Scrooge was pretty sure his voice cracked. How old was this lad anyway?

"So take a shortcut. Shorter route, less speed. It's not bloomin' rocket science… Here! Take a right here! Now, Milligan!" Scrooge tapped his cane on the divider. He was going to miss the turn!

Miraculously, Milligan reacted instantly and threw a hard right. The front tyre jumped the curbing, the back end slewed out, and then came back under control.

"See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Milligan slammed on the brakes just as Scrooge saw the backpacker on the crosswalk ahead. The car jerked to a halt. Scrooge was reasonably sure he'd felt no impact, but the backpacker had disappeared, maybe dived to the ground. Not that that would stop him from trying to sue him. Great. Like he needed another lawsuit.

Milligan leapt out of the driver's seat and ran around the front of the car to help pick him up. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Oh, sorry. I was just crossing the street."

Scrooge wound down the window and stuck his head out. The backpacker seemed unharmed. His duffel bag had spilled out what looked like a bunch of VHS tapes. And, most importantly, he wasn't yelling abuse and threatening to sue. "Milligan he's fine, now get back in the…"

Milligan spun around, his paws bunched into fists at his sides. "No, Mr McDuck. I'm done!"

"You wha…"

"I QUIT"

Not again. "You can't quit now! I need to get to my money bin. Do you have any idea how much money I could lose if I don’t close this deal?"

"Better than losing my life! Or taking someone else's. I quit!" Milligan flung his chauffeur's cap back in through the open car door and stormed off.

Scrooge waved his cane out the window. "Damn it, Milligan. You'll never work in this town again." How was he supposed to… his gaze fell on the backpacker.

The lad was stuffing his VHS tapes back into his bag. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and it was probably a good thing the car hadn’t struck him. The impact would have done as much damage to the vehicle as it would've done to him.

"Hey, you. The man with a death wish."

He straightened as he slung his duffel over his shoulder. "Huh? Me?"

"Yes, you. Can you drive?"

His jaw hung open, and Scrooge could almost imagine the cogs slowly turning. "Er…" he finally said, "technically, or legally?"

"I'll give you a dollar if you can get me to my office in time for my meeting. I've got to be there in five minutes, and it takes nearly ten to get across town. You make that up, you make a dollar."

The lad's face brightened. "Sure." He jumped into the driver's seat and tossed his duffel bag into the passenger's side. Then he picked up Milligan's hat and crammed it over his ruffled red hair. "Er…"

"Well, hurry up!"

"Hang on, it's one of the ones with the stick."

"You can drive a manual, right?"

"Let's find out!" He slammed the car into first. The sound of metal on metal screeched from the gearbox, and the engine spluttered. "Wait, extra pedal…" And then they roared forward.

Scrooge hadn't heard his town car make that noise since Duckworth had died. "Well, finally, someone with the right attitude."

"So, where's your office?"

"You don't know who I am?"

"Pft, no. You haven't introduced yourself! And, come to think of it, neither have I. I'm Launchpad McQuack!"

"I don't care who you are. I'm Scrooge McDuck, my money bin is the largest building dominating the skyline, and if you don't get me there in five minutes, you won't be getting a dollar."

"Come on, I said I'd do it, didn't I?"

"Not in first gear, you won't."

Launchpad wrestled with the gears to more grating, and the engine stopped revving so high as they surged forward.

"That's a bit better. I hope you're not riding that clutch."

"So, Mr McDee, what do you do?"

"McDuck. I make money. Stop talking and…"

"Five minutes, I know. Gee, you realise you're cutting this a bit fine?"

"I was on time until some idiot jumped out in front of my car!”

"Wow, some people have no road sense. Hang on. We're going to need to take a shortcut." Launchpad wrenched them around a corner, jumped over a curb, and cut across a park. Park-goers ran every which way, but quite frankly, Scrooge thought most of them looked like they needed the exercise. Launchpad burst out through some bushes on the opposite side. The money bin loomed before them. They'd cut off a whole winding loop of road that wound its way around the city's nod to greenery, which Scrooge simply considered a waste of space.

"Huh. You've got initiative, lad."

Launchpad's face brightened. "You mean that, Mr McDee? Aw, thanks. That's… really nice."

"Eyes on the road!"

Launchpad reefed his head back around and brought them back in their lane, narrowly avoiding an oncoming truck. The town car bottomed out as they slammed down the road leading to the money bin, and then Launchpad pulled them to a stop outside its very front door.

"How'd I do? Do I get a dollar?"

Scrooge glanced at his watch. Two minutes to spare. Launchpad had potentially saved him a great deal of money, but he still felt a tinge in his gut that, yes, he did technically owe him that dollar as Launchpad had fulfilled the obligation of the bet." Er… wait for me here, alright? I still need to get back home. But, yes, you've earned your dollar."

Technically, Scrooge had changed the verbal contact on him, but Launchpad just grinned. "Sure thing, Mr McDee."

Scrooge rushed up to his meeting and hoped the miraculously crazy enough driver he'd picked up didn't figure out the town car he'd been left in charge of was worth far more than a dollar.

***

Two hours later, they screeched back to the front of McDuck Manor to the smell of burnt rubber. Launchpad hadn't nicked off with the car. And he'd still been in irritatingly good spirits when Scrooge returned. The drive to the manor had been almost as reckless, and Scrooge had considered telling him he was no longer under time constraints. But the pace was such a welcome change from his previous six drivers, and so Scrooge left him to it.

Seriously, those guys were supposed to be professionals. But, instead, they'd all been scared of their own shadow and had cared more about the road rules than doing what the man who paid their wage told them.

"Here we are, Mr McDee!" Launchpad exclaimed happily.

Scrooge winced. Still, it was better than his other drivers' whining. "I suppose you want your dollar now."

"Oh, yeah. I mean, if it's not too much trouble. To be honest, I am completed out of cash. I've only just got back into town from travelling, and, I… I thought I'd stay with… but it looks like they moved. I mean, I was away for a really long time so I guess I couldn’t really expect… Well, I need the money anyway. I need to pay for a room tonight."

Scrooge snorted. "In Duckburg? Lad, you are not going to get a room anyplace for a dollar."

Launchpad's face fell. "Oh…" Then he smiled. "Well, that's okay. Since I'm your driver now, you'll be playing me more dollars, right? Tonight, I'll just sleep in the car. If that's okay?"

"Sleep in my car?" Scrooge spluttered. "You can't… you realise this wasn't a permanent thing, right? I mean, you're not a professional driver, are you?"

Launchpad's shoulders slumped. "No. It's okay, I get it. I… I just thought I did a good job, and…"

Of course, he wasn't a professional driver. But every professional driver Scrooge had been sent had been useless. They certainly hadn't driven like Launchpad. He was the only one who'd got the job done.

"… and I know I'm not very good at these sort of things."

Launchpad's downcast look brought a faint tug to Scrooge's chest. "Lad, you did a great job," he found himself saying, and he wasn't sure why because he certainly didn't care about some backpacker off the street who probably expected to sleep on someone's sofa for free. But the lad had just helped him get a tonne of money to add to his money bin.

Launchpad chewed his lip. "Really?"

"I tell you what. Take my car back down to my garage. I'll show you where it is. You can stay there for the night. And, it'll only cost you a dollar. After that, I'll draw up a contract and…"

***

"You hired a homeless man to drive your car?!"

Scrooge rolled his eyes. "Beakly, calm down. He wasn't homeless. He was a backpacker."

"Then you left him, unattended, with your vehicle?"

"He did it for a dollar! And the best part is, I didn't even have to give it to him!"

"And… now he's sleeping in your garage." Beakly glared down at him, arms folded.

"One dollar!"

"Really?"

"Oh, fine. I felt bad for him, alright? He really wanted the job. And he can't be any worse than my previous drivers. It doesn't always pay to put your money on the professionals."

"Did you check any of his credentials?"

"Two million dollars more in my money bin, Beakly. That's credentials enough. Besides, I got my dollar back. I'm pretty sure I could tell him he could live in my garage, and he'd just work for me for free."

"You do realise, if you employ him, you are obligated to pay him minimum wage?"

Scrooge rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "I know."

#dt17 #dt17 launchpad #dt17 scrooge #scrooge mcduck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #disney ducks #dt17 fanfiction #dt17 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #launchpad mcquack

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truglori · 3 years

Text

Homebody (Ch.5)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC

Warning: Language, Robbery, Smoking

The smoke from the three burnt out blunts fogged the car. Erik’s head hung low as he tried to focus on the topic of discussion. Looking to his right he watched as Durk sparked a lighter to light up the fourth one and started a new rotation. Taking it from his hand Erik put the blunt to his lips and pulled. He had to admit that he was feeling high but yet nowhere near done with the session.

It was a Monday morning. Almost ten am to be exact. They were parked in Erik’s car in front of Frank’s Auto Garage. To a normal person it look like a regular place of business but it wasn’t. Durk used the shop to clean his money so he wouldn’t have anything tracing back to him. Erik glanced up and watched two corner boys walk out with a backpack each before getting into their vehicle and driving off.

“Aye man I appreciate you for coming through with this assignment. Once I get this nigga Shawn out the way I could finally do some business with the new connect.” Durk spoke before inhaling the blunt.

Nodding his head Erik slouched in his seat.

“I told you it’s nothing. Just don’t forget I’ma need one person to come with me. Someone who can watch my back.”

After going into almost two years without doing a job Erik felt a little rusty. He wanted to be certain that he could bring someone with him who could look out. Someone who he could trust that had to be skilled enough to keep up. The last thing Erik wanted was for this to go wrong and he end up in prison or even worst, dead.

If it was any other person coming to him to offer him work Erik would decline them with a quickness. This wasn’t something that he wanted to be a part of anymore. He had aspirations to become a better man. And with that, that means he had to give up the lifestyle to live a better one. But it was Durk. The man who had the opportunity to gun him down right in front of the trap house when they first met five years ago spared him. Gave him a second chance.

Erik witness Durk do way worst to people who didn’t do nearly as half as much compared to what Erik was going to commit that night. So he felt in a way obligated to come through for his best friend. There was no other option. He owe him his life.

“No doubt. Actually I got this one associate that’s in debt with me. Told him I could use his help whenever I needed him to pay me off. Heard he a shooter that don’t miss. Anybody who have your back I think it’ll be him.” Durk grinned confidently.

Erik nodded his head absorbing the information. Trusting his brother with whatever choice he went with he continue to ask him where the drop would be.

“Okay so what about this nigga Shawn. You got an address.”

Durk pulled out his burner. Going to a text message he clicked on it and passed the phone over to Erik.

He read over it. 4523 Lanely Rd. Pulling up his notes icon Erik typed in the address and saved the information. He gave the burner back to Durk. Realizing the area that it was in Erik shook his head. Nice suburban area where it was mostly Caucasian which amount to one thing. Nosy ass neighbors. It was a risk but he would just have to deal with it.

Hearing Durk sighed he studied him. His hands was rested over his eyes as he was leaned back in the chair. His boy looked stressed.

“You good?” A genuine tone came out.

“I think my sister fucking around with someone but I just don’t know who yet.”

Erik’s eyebrows lifted up. Glancing up to the ceiling as he listened carefully.

“I just really hope it’s not one of these fuck niggas. I might need yo ass for another job after this. We could rob this nigga together.”

The two chuckled.

‘Damn I can’t rob myself.’

Erik thought to himself before engaging back in the conversation.

“What makes you think she fucking with someone?” Erik curiously wanted to know. It would give him an advantage on what he should not be doing.

“Well the other night I walk in the livingroom and there she was sitting there with her titties all out, make up done like she was getting ready for a dick appointment or sum shit.” Durk replied in a stressful tone.

Daydreaming at the ceiling, Erik’s memory jogged back to her outfit from that night. He could still see the way her cleavage appeared in front of him as she sat across from him in the diner. The soft flesh looking at him. He had to control himself multiple times that night from staring at them so much. But he couldn’t with the way they would bounce a little every time she laughed.

Speaking of her smile. Erik adored that about her the most. He love how her lips curled up showing off those pretty white teeth. The way her lipgloss color made her lips appear more fuller than what they already were. The same lips that drove him crazy from the softness. If he could sit in the booth kissing her all night he would have. That was enough to satisfy him. Erik sucked in his bottom lip as if he could still feel hers on his. She just had to let him get a taste.

‘Why she let me do that?’

Erik berated himself with that question as he shook his head about his lack of self control. He felt guilty. He was the nigga who his best friend was worried about hurting his sister. Right now he was feeling like a pussy. It was like he didn’t have the balls to speak up and tell him the truth. He was feeling Amiyah.

“Why you don’t like her dating anyway? I get you trying to protect her but I mean she is 21, you can’t stop her from living bro.” Erik wanted to sound reasonable but without suspicion.

“I know she got a life to live but the fact that mine is tied up with hers don’t help.”

“What you mean?”

Durk paused glancing at his phone. “ I mean besides you I can’t trust none of these niggas man. What if whoever she talk to know that she my little sister? No telling what they’ll do to her just to get to me.”

Erik listened understanding his perspective.

“I done did some foul shit out here that I’m not proud of, you know this. This why I am what I am because if I don’t get them first then I know for damn sure they’ll try to get me. I’m just worry about Amiyah getting caught in between.”

To Erik it seem like Durk just wanted was best for his sister. To him family came first. It was important to him. He valued it and would do anything to protect the ones he love. Erik comprehend this.

“You worried she won’t be able to know who and who not to trust?”

“Every-fucking-day. That’s why I don’t want her going anywhere besides home and work. I just want the best for her.”

“You should that’s your sister. Just trust her. She not gon let you down.”

Durk looked at Erik, who gave him a sincere look. If there was anybody else he could trust with his life aside from Amiyah it was his friend. His brother. Erik.

____________________________

Amiyah leaned against the register as she wrote down her completed work assignment. Blowing the air out of her mouth she let the pen fall from her fingers and on to the counter. She was exhausted and ready to clock out and lay in her bed. Her mind began to wonder about the events that transpired over the weekend.

The last time she spoke to Erik was after he dropped her off. He sent a text asking if she made it in safely and that was it. Nothing else since then. His on and off again of inconsistency irritated her. She wanted him to be all about her just as much as she was for him. Of course under the circumstances they had to be cautious but he didn’t have to go another two days without hitting her up.

Checking the time on her Apple Watch she had an hour left before she was up and out of the boutique. She started cleaning certain areas and rehanging the merchandise back onto the racks to make time go by faster. Hearing the sound of the bell ring brought her back to reality.

“Welcome to Bella Ella’s.” She greeted them without looking up and only focusing on her task out of habit.

“Thank you. Hey girl!”

Peering in the direction of the voice she saw Alexis. She was going through the dress section. Amiyah sighed inwardly before walking over to her.

“Hi welcome back. Can I help you look for anything?” She faked a smile.

“Yes actually, I’m looking for something the same as last time just not too revealing this time. I want to tease him. You know?” Alexis sent her a smirk as she walked in front of one of the mannequins observing the clothes.

Hesitant but curious Amiyah asked her. “For another date?”

“Uh you can say something like that. It’s a surprise.” Alexis eyed her up and down.

“Well we have this ruched bodycon dress. It’s an off the shoulder long sleeve lace type of look. I think it’ll fit you. Check it out.” She handed her the dress.

Alexis put the dress up to her frame. Looking in the mirror she smiled at the choice of clothing. Shaking her head she grinned pointing her finger at Amiyah.

“See girl you get me. It’s crazy. Almost like we like the exact same thing.”

“You can say that again.” Amiyah whispered under her breath.

“Huh?”

“Oh I was just talking to myself. If you’re ready I can ring you out.”

They walked to the counter. Amiyah logged in and scanned the dress. Folding it up and putting it a bag she heard Alexis speak.

“Girl how do you do it?”

“Do what?” Amiyah answered confused.

“Work a nine to five. I mean don’t get me wrong there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just that I personally wouldn’t do it.” She smiled.

“ I like working honestly. I get to meet new people. I have fun here sometimes. This is where I met my best friend and I get to get away from home.” Amiyah shrugged her shoulders as she spoke truthfully.

Alexis nodded slowly. “Right. So are you seeing anyone? Anybody caught your attention?”

Laughing lightly Amiyah shook her head. “No. I met this one guy and gave him my number but nothing popped off yet.” She was talking about Cane.

“Hm if that don’t work out you should let me hook you up. I know a few niggas that’ll blow ya back out and then pay ya bills after.” Alexis grabbed her bag and started to walk away.

Before she could stop herself the question came out faster than she expected. “Is that what you do?”

She stopped midway before turning back around. Her face was contorted. Sizing Amiyah up as she stepped in front of the counter.

“Bitch I do whatever the fuck I have to do to get what I want. Even if it mean that I have to fuck around here and there. It keeps my bills paid and my nails from getting dirty. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two.” She gave her one last look before she strutted out the shop.

Amiyah rolled her eyes. Taking a ‘How to get a man’ class from Alexis was the last thing on her list. Girls like her and Amiyah don’t mix too well. She just couldn’t understand how you could trade in time spent on a fake relationship just to get what you want with true happiness.

Her shift was finally coming to an end. Amiyah sent her brother a text fifteen minutes early just so he would be on time to pick her up. Looking towards the entrance her coworker Kacy was coming in to relieve her.

“Hey Kace, it was pretty much a slow day so there��s not any go-backs that you have to do. I would just try to act like you’re cleaning up. Look busy because you know Rhonda be watching the cameras.”

They both laughed.

“I know. She think she slick but go ahead and get out of here. Enjoy the rest of the day. See ya Amiyah.”

Waving goodbye Amiyah exited the boutique. There she spotted her brother waiting outside in his all blacked out Audi A4. She strolled in his direction and got in.

“Wow it’s been forever since you’ve been here on time.” She teased fastening her seatbelt.

Durk kissed his teeth as he pulled off driving to their home. “How was work?”

“Boring I do the same thing everyday.”

“So quit.” He took a quick glance at her.

She sighed irritated. “I’m not quitting my job Durk.”

“You the one who said it’s boring. Just quit.” He laughed.

Amiyah rolled her eyes. “Why? So you can keep your eyes on me 24/7. You always trying to babysit me, damn.” She snapped at him. The mood changed instantly.

Durkio’s jaw clenched as he turned looking at her with his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Babysit you? Where the fuck you get me trying to babysit you from telling you to quit-“

“I know that’s what your intentions are! Not that you care about me not liking my job but because you just want me to have to depend on you and ask you for everything!” Amiyah’s voice kept getting higher with every word.

“Miyah you already depend on me. That two thousand dollar bed that you sleeping on I brought that. Your whole bedroom set, I brought it. The apartment that you living in comfortablely without worry about having to pay one muthafuckin bill, is because of ME!”

Durkio’s hand gripped the steering wheel tightly as he parked in front of their building. He could feel his breathing began to spike as he felt himself get more agitated and angry. Getting out of the car he headed towards the entrance to avoid going any further with her.

Amiyah jumped out and followed closely behind going inside. The elevator ride going to their floor was quiet and tensed. Amiyah tried her best to not argue with her brother but she had more to get off her chest that she didn’t want to go unheard.

“You know you’re a fuckin control freak.” She slammed her purse and jacket on the couch one they made it threw the door.

Durk paused his steps from going into his room.

“How? Tell me what I do Amiyah.” He walked leaning against the counter with his hand folded over the other waiting for her to talk.

“Durk stop playing dumb. Everything that I do you have to be a part of somehow. Like the time I couldn’t take the job offer from the mall because it was ‘too far’. Or how whenever I want to hangout with Kelley you think I’m going to fuck some man-“

“That’s because you are! I know Saturday night you ain’t go out with no fucking Kelley dress the way you were. I’m not fucking stupid Amiyah.”

Amiyah got in his face. “Why would I go fuck someone and I’m still a virgin Derrick. I’m not dumb. I’m not just sleeping with any and everyone.”

Her eyes burned with tears threatening to fall.

Durk used his forearm to move her out of his space. It triggered him whenever someone would walk up to him with disrespect. He knew he would never put his hands on his sister but he didn’t want to feel the urge like he would so he gave her a light push.

“Miyah back the fuck up.” His jaws were tensed and his nostrils became flared out.

“So you can speak your mind but I can’t? I’m not your girl Durk so stop putting rules and regulations on me like I am. I wish our parents were still here so I wouldn’t have to be in this shit hole of a place you call home.”

Amiyah’s blood was boiling. She spoke without thinking. She let her emotions get to the best of her before she could calm down to try and talk to her brother like the young adults they were. But it was too late. She’d gone too far.

Durk shook his head before releasing a dark chuckle.

“You an ungrateful ass bitch, you know that?” His voice spoke lowly but loud enough for her to hear.

Amiyah looked at him in disbelief as the tears came down her face.

“I had to put my life on hold to take care of you. I put myself at risk everyday just to make sure you’re taken care of. So that you won’t have to go out there doing anything you didn’t want to do just to put food in your mouth and clothes on your back. And this how you show some fuckin appreciation?”

He looked at her confused.

“Durk I do appreciate-“

“Get the fuck out my crib.” His voice spoke coldly.

“What?” She unfolded her arms before she walked towards him.

“You heard what I said. By the time I get back you better be gone. Good luck supporting yourself with that weak ass job.”

With that being the last thing spoken to her he brushed past her shoulder and left. Amiyah waited in the same spot hoping that her brother would come back and just tell her to forget this whole argument. But he didn’t.The tears that she thought she had control of were now cascading down her face nonstop.

“What the fuck did I just do!” She scolded herself as her hands covered her face.

She walked to her room. Pushing her door opened her eyes scouted around the room taking in all of her belongings. Where would she go? What could she take? How much could she take without having a vehicle of her own?

Walking over to her bed she sat in silence. She had to think. She had to find away to get her out of the mess that she put herself in. Picking up her phone she dialed the number of the only person she could run to without judgment.

“Hey, Kelley.”

_______________________________________

Erik rolled up to Frank’s Auto Garage. It was time for him to go on the mission. His attire was all black to make himself easily invisible in the shadows. Getting out and walking to his trunk he popped it opened and lifted his secret compartment befor grabbing a duffel bag.

Closing the trunk behind he locked it using his key fob and walked to the front door. He banged four times doing the code knock before he was invited in. One of Durks look out men opened the door.

“Oh shit, what’s good E. You working tonight?”

Giving a silent head nod of approval Erik dapped him up.

“Ok. Well boss is in management. I don’t know what’s going on but he definitely not in the mood. Tread lightly man.”

Taking note Erik walked to the room where Durk was. When he reached it he saw him sitting at his desk talking to someone that he never seen before. Erik tapped lightly on the door making his presence known.

Durk eyes shifted up. “Erik what’s good? Why you knocking? You my brother, you know you ain’t gotta do that.”

“Didn’t wanna interrupt. What’s good? How you doing?” Erik gave him dap with a hug. When they pulled apart he looked in his eyes trying to find an answer. Durk was hiding something.

“Yeah I’m straight. But I want you to meet the person who gon be going with you tonight.” He replied quickly before walking back to his desk.

The guy that sat there quietly got up from his seat. From Erik’s view he didn’t look too much younger than him. He seen his attire matched his as he seen that the young dude already had some leather gloves and a ski mask rested on his head.

Erik gave him a fist pump. “What’s up, I’m Erik.”

“Cane. Nice to meet you bro.”

Durk watched the two interact before interrupting.

“Alright it’s almost 3am. Just got word that nigga Shawn was at the club,which should be closing now. If y’all make it to the address before him-“

“That’ll give us time to find an area to stakeout and then bum-rush him. Catch him off guard.” Cane spoke.

Durk turned to look at Erik before smirking giving him a ‘I told you’ look.

“Exactly. Listen just make sure y’all get the M and dip.” He was referring to the million dollars stashed away.

“I know how this go. Just make sure this nigga straight before we go out there. You know what you doing lil nigga?” Erik questioned Cane.

He kissed his lips. “Look man this ain’t my first rodeo and if I didn’t know what I was doing I’m sure ya boy wouldn’t be calling me.”

“Whoa nigga you owe me a solid. Don’t act like I need you.” Durk stepped in to check him.

Cane waved the two off.

“Aight I trust ya judgment Durk but if shit hit the ceiling, you bailing me out nigga.”

Durk laughed. “Nigga get fuck and go get my money.”

They dapped one last time and Erik left with Cane trailing behind him. He went up to a shelf that had multiple sets of keys sitting on it. Erik grabbed one before walking to the back. There were five different cars out there. He hit the unlock button on the key fob that led him to a dark burgundy Toyota. It was the getaway car for the night. Erik never used his own when he had to do jobs.

He opened the back door and place the duffel bag in the bag. It had two Beretta M9’s, an Ak-47, as well as a roll of duck tape and rope in case the situation went left. Erik got in the driver side. He heard Cane slipping in the passenger seat as he place the address in. It would take them 37 minutes to get there.

Glancing at the clock it was now 2:24 am which gave them plenty of time to find a place for a hideout. Entering the highway Erik and Cane rode in a comfortable silence. Cane every now and then giving Erik a quick glance over before turning his head.

Some time had past when they noticed that they were arriving in the neighborhood of the house where Shawn stayed. The houses were a few yards away from each other but Erik knew that they would still be able to hear the sound of a gun if one went off.

“If you park on this side that bush will be a blind spot. That nigga won’t be able to see us when he pull up.” Cane pointed to the area.

Erik shook his head in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Pulling into the spot Erik parked the vehicle and shut it off. The light from one of the houses landscape slightly shined in the car to make it possible for them to see each other as they waited.

“So you the infamous Erik I heard about. Ya name got some clout to it with all them licks you did when you was coming up.” Cane broke the silence.

Ignoring his comment Erik reached in the back unzipping the duffel and taking out one of the Berettas. He began to load the clip.

“I never thought I see the day where I would be doing a job with you. Heard you was one hard ass nigga”

Chuckling Erik stopped to face Cane. “What you want an autograph or something. Damn nigga you sound like a fan.”

Cane smacked his lips and then laughed.“Aight you got it. But nah I’m just showing respect to an OG.”

“I don’t look that much older than you.”

“Still one of the OG’s.” Cane showed him respect.

“I appreciate the courtesy. I heard some good things about you as well.” Erik was referring to his previous conversation with Durk.

Cane shrugged. “I do a lil sumn.”

Reaching in the back Erik pulled out the Ak-47 and handed it to him.

“So then you should be able to handle this then.” He was testing him.

“What! This is personally my favorite. This thing could make any nigga dance.”

Erik laughed watching the thrill of excitement in Canes eyes. He reminded him of himself when he was first getting started. Ready and down for everything.

The headlights of a Cadillac SUV caught their attention. It was Shawn pulling up. They watched as he hopped out the driver side.

“Heard this nigga keep one on him. You think he gon try and pull it.” Cane took the safety off of the AK. He was talking about his piece.

“I don’t give a fuck what that nigga got. He better not flinch.” Erik pulled the mask over his face. He watched Shawn walk to his passenger side and opened the door.

“Oh shit! This nigga got a bitch with him.” Cane blurted out.

“Plans don’t change. It is what it is.” Erik spoke truthfully. He had to get the job done.

Cane nodded his head and pulled his mask down. They watch Shawn walk to the front door with the girl following close by. Three minutes later the couple went inside the house.

Erik and Cane exited the vehicle making their way onto the front lawn. Staying away from the security lights they crept on the side. There was a side door that they found that lead right into the kitchen. Peaking through the crack of the blinds Erik spotted the two in livingroom sitting on the couch facing the opposite way.

“Let me pick this lock.” Cane bent down to eye level with it. It took him nothing but a minute to get it open.

Quietly Erik turned the knob and entered. Both him and Cane slowly tipped toe to the livingroom putting a gun to both of their heads. Erik had Shawn and Cane had the girl.

“If you want you and your girl to make it to see another day I suggest you to comply with my instructions and not try anything stupid.” Erik threatened as he cocked the gun.

Shawn froze in his seat as the girl next to him started to scream. Cane hopped over the couch and snatched her up by the arm.

“Bitch shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in yo head. You know what get against the wall and stare at that muthafucka.” He pushed her towards the wall.

“Y’all niggas know who I am?” Shawn finally spoke up.

“Yeah nigga. Why else you think we here? We just want the money. It’s simple.” Erik negotiated with him. He pulled him off the couch by his shirt.

“I don’t know what you talkin-“ He was interrupted by Cane hitting him in the mouth with the butt of his gun.

“Nigga quit fuckin playing with us. Run that shit.”

Erik shook his head but smirked. This was one reckless ass dude and he liked it.

The girl screamed again. Erik could hear the terror in her voice. It sounded like she was going to cry.

“You got five minutes to give us that money or you and ya bitch die. Which one is it? Yo life or some dead presidents”

Cane started to run the show and Erik let him as he sat back and watched.

“Aight nigga. It’s in the fucking safe.” Shawn spit the blood out of his mouth.

“Lead the way then bitch.” Cane pushed him and followed him to the back.

Erik was left alone with the girl who was facing the wall. From behind she had a bad ass body. Gazing over her wardrobe she was Burberry down and her fire red locks fell down her back. He kept glancing back and forth between the dark hallway and her back before Erik finally heard a few words slip out of her lips.

“Please don’t hurt me.” She pleaded.

The moment her voice reached his ears his face scrunched up. Walking up to her he turned her around to face him. Backing up he put his gun down shaking his head with disbelief.

The bitch that Shawn had with him was Alexis.

____________________________

Please excuse any mistakes! I will edit this chapter soon!

Tag-list (If you’re not on it let me know and I’ll add you if you want to be added)

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @curls-and-crosses @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce @xoxomyaah @19jammmy @tchallas-ikumkani-wam @suburbanblackhoe @allhailqueennel @admirehermind @mymeira12universe-blog @bellanay

#black panther #erik smut #erik killmonger #erik x plus size reader #killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens #killmonger x reader #truglori #black panther killmonger #homebody

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sunsoothed · 3 years

Text

a little jealousy

prompt fill for @trynatalktou‘s prompt: jealous vincenzo! i’m sorry this took so long. anyway, a special character makes an appearance here, i wonder if any of you know him... also i’ve never written a jealous character before, i hope this isn’t too bad!

oh AND the title from jealousy by monsta x! so fitting right haha haha... ha [author exits stage left]

word count: 1167

read on ao3

(sorry for any errors!)

enjoy :]

The ramen definitely tastes better with company. Vincenzo would not have thought he’d find himself in a convenience store between two stakeouts, but here he is, sitting at a ratty plastic table at 5PM, replenishing energy before their next stakeout. Chayoung seems determined to have him try every flavour of ramen until he can determine his favourite, but he hasn’t the heart to tell her his tongue is still burnt from yesterday’s tasting session so he can’t distinguish between the beef ramen and the roast chicken ramen she’s making him pick between.

“I’ll have the one you don’t like,” She insists, leaning towards him, elbows on the plastic table. “Quick. Roast chicken or beef?”

Vincenzo sighs. He’s going to pick beef just for the sake of it, so that she can take leave from his personal space quicker, so that he can reclaim the beat of his heart quicker.

“I think…” Vincenzo makes a show of it, drawing out a hum. “I think beef.”

Chayoung stares at him, and it’s not a good stare. It’s an I’m-suspicious-of-you stare, a narrowed-eyes stare. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Vincenzo nods. He holds his ground, pulls the beef ramen towards himself.

“Okay.” Chayoung mirrors him, nods. “Okay, I’ll just have the roast chicken.”

Vincenzo bites his lip to hide a smile. “Enjoy.”

“I’ll enjoy.”

“Are you sure?”

Chayoung glares, catching onto him. “I’m sure.”

“Sure,” Vincenzo grins, taking a large bite out of his bowl.

Hong Chayoung eats meagre bites from her own bowl, bitter. The expression she wears is somewhat betrayed and somewhat resigned, and Vincenzo, who had very shortly abandoned all tolerance for seeing Chayoung dejected just a short while into their acquaintance, acquiesces.

“Have it, byeonhosa-nim.” He slides the bowl over. “I can’t tell the difference anyway.”

Chayoung readily takes the bowl, sliding hers back with haste. As if suddenly becoming self-aware, she morphs her clean delight into a scowl. “You…”

Vincenzo, who’s been unabashedly observing her antics, quickly schools his expression. “I burnt my tongue, I can’t taste very well anyway.”

Chayoung nods, accepting his reasoning easily, and digs into her bowl. Vincenzo watches her for a moment, finds himself smiling, and dives in as well.

Such atmosphere is set up for interruption. It arrives in the form of one stray voice.

“Chayoung-ah, is that you?”

Chayoung looks up with a noodle sticking out of her mouth, locating the source of the voice somewhere behind Vincenzo.

She squints for a moment, then, in a way that makes Vincenzo’s eyes pop out of their sockets, she yells back, “Hyeonmin oppa!”

Hyeonmin oppa, Vincenzo mouths to himself, and then his mouth remains hanging open as Chayoung pushes herself off her chair and runs to meet this Hyeonmin oppa in a hug.

“It’s been so long,” Chayoung says, into this stranger’s chest. “I missed you, oppa.”

“I missed you too, Chayoung-ah,” This Hyeonmin oppa says, and, as Vincenzo chokes on his ramen, he ruffles Chayoung’s hair.

Chayoung steps back from him, but she’s still so close. “How was Italy?”

Italy? Vincenzo scoffs. She’s asking the wrong person about Italy.

“It was great. Very romantic.”

Vincenzo blinks. Right. Don’t get worked up. You’re not an immature —

“You would’ve loved it.”

Vincenzo’s knuckles turn white.

“Speaking of Italy,” Chayoung says, and now she turns, meeting eyes with Vincenzo.

Her Hyeonmin oppa follows her gaze and sees Vincenzo, looking polite to the point of fakeness at the shitty plastic table.

“This is…?”

“My work partner. You should come say hi.”

And that’s how Kang Hyeonmin, detective, thirty-four, is invited to their ramen tasting session. Vincenzo is not sulking.

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Kang Hyeonmin says, already overly familiar. “Have you been to Italy?”

“I’m from Italy.” Vincenzo replies, voice clipped.

“Ah…” Kang Hyeonmin nods. “Are you Korean-Italian, then?”

“Yes.”

“Right.”

And silence.

Vincenzo does nothing but eat diligently. He can sense Chayoung’s suspicious gaze on him.

Kang Hyeonmin, bless him, attempts to restart the conversation. “So how do you know Chayoung?”

“We’re working together,” Vincenzo says. “How do you know each other?”

The poor soul thinks he’s making headway into the conversation. “We used to date.”

Vincenzo’s eyes shutter comically. He spares neither Chayoung nor her ex a look, and keeps his eyes on his food.

Kang Hyeonmin glances awkwardly between the both of them, then speaks to Chayoung. “So how’s work?”

Chayoung spares Vincenzo one last glance, heavy with confusion, before addressing her Hyeonmin oppa. “The usual. Are you going back to work yet?”

“Starting next week…”

“Hey, byeonhosa-nim.”

“Hm?” Vincenzo turns. He’s walking in front of Chayoung, leading the way back to Geumga Plaza. The roads are busy this time of the evening.

“You were oddly rude to Hyeonmin oppa.”

Vincenzo idly observes the passing traffic. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Byeonhosa-nim,” Chayoung says, with more force behind her words. She's stopped walking.

Vincenzo stops as well. “Yes?”

“You're really bad at keeping your jealousy to yourself.”

Vincenzo jumps to speak up before she can finish her sentence. “I wasn’t jealous,” He says, then looks at her once, and looks back at the traffic.

What he can’t see is Chayoung grinning, just a metre or so behind him. “You can't even look me in the eye right now.”

“Who says,” Vincenzo mumbles, gives her an awkward once-over, and starts walking away.

“Ah, byeonhosa-nim!” Chayoung calls. “I was just teasing you, come on.”

Vincenzo stops and waits for her to catch up.

“You know, Hyeonmin oppa is married.”

“Good for him.”

“Oppa,” Chayoung says, smile in her voice. “Don’t be like this.”

Vincenzo turns, extremely slowly, and blinks at her. “What did you say.”

“I know you heard me the first time.” Chayoung bares her teeth at him, and she’s probably aiming at a smile, but all Vincenzo sees is horror. “Oppa.”

“Stop it.” He stumbles when she approaches him. “S-Shut up.”

Chayoung opens her mouth, ready to rile him up some more. Vincenzo squeezes his eyes shut, holds his arm to his face to hide from her.

Chayoung’s expression goes from amusement to disbelief, and settles on some form of resignation. “Ah, seriously, byeonhosa-nim,” she sighs.

Vincenzo opens his eyes, reluctantly removes his arm from shielding his face. He clears his throat awkwardly.

“I shouldn’t tease you,” Chayoung says, nodding solemnly to herself, tutting. “You’re already so repressed, I wonder what you’ll do if I keep addressing you informally.”

Vincenzo stands dumbstruck.

Chayoung is still nodding to herself, pleased. “Yes. I suppose I shouldn’t tell you about how Hyeonmin oppa went to Italy for his honeymoon, with his very cool husband. No, that would damage your pride beyond repair.”

She shakes her head in an exaggerated gesture. “Shit, what should I do?”

“Byeonhosa-nim —”

“Ah! Maybe I should keep calling you —”

Vincenzo turns on his heel and speedwalks towards Geumga Plaza.

“Byeonhosa-nim!”

He walks faster.

Chayoung laughs helplessly after him, sprinting to catch up.

“Wait for me!”

Some metres ahead, Vincenzo stops and waits for her. He always does.

#tvn vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong chayoung #chayenzo #chayenzo fic #vincenzo fic #jealous vincenzo #who do you think hyeonmin's husband is?#hehe #whovie writes

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littlerockerao3 · 3 years

Note

Ooh 73 for the drabble thing if you want :)

Of course! Here it is!

73. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Trigger warning: nudity, but I guess that was obvious.

~~~~

Robb hates Summer. He hates that he constantly has to take a shower only to still be sweating three seconds later. He hates how ice cream melts in a heartbeat and it all drips along the cone and straight in his hand. He hates how he has to sleep with the window open just to let some breeze in the room but then, in the morning, the sunshine so bright and hot either wakes him up too early or ends up burning some part of his body: it happened once that he fell asleep and this ray of sunshine burnt half of his arm.

Now, as if all of this wasn’t enough, it’s fucking July and no month is hotter than July. If it was up to Robb, he’d stay home with his face in front of the fan for hours and hours. But it just so happens that he has a boyfriend who claims to see him every once in a while, but since his boyfriend is a total dickhead who loves Summer more than anything else in the world (Robb is one hundred per cent sure that is solely because he can show off his biceps) and there’s no fucking fan at his place.

That had led Robb to the only solution to survive such hot weather: lowering the blinds, undressing and lying on the bed. It does work, for a little: the pillow is cool, but he’ll have to turn it on the other side in a few, cause he feels his hair is sweating so hard it’s basically wet. But for now, it’s a nice feeling: Theon’s place is comfortable in the first place. More quiet. Cooler, cause Theon’s the only one living in here, Robb’s home is so full of people stuck with each other he’s sure that’s the reason why it’s so warm. He wishes he could live at Theon’s place forever, which is something that could actually happen at some point, cause Theon is trying to send him signals about it for days. Robb’s not even sure if Theon himself is sure of it, he just wishes he could say it as it is: “move in with me”. It’s not like Robb would refuse.

“Babe, you in there?” He hears Theon’s voice coming from the other side of the door. He’s early, he said he had to go to the store and grab a few things and that it would have taken him only five minutes, which equals two twenty-five minutes when it’s about Theon.

The door opens, “Ro-is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Robb rolls his eyes, as he turns lightly to stare at his boyfriend’s amused face, “Now don’t act like you don’t like it”.

A smirk appears on Theon’s face, thick dark eyebrows raising. He makes his way to the bed, flip flops swatting against the floor, and lays down next to Robb, “Oh I do like it indeed”.

He swats a hand down on Robb’s ass, much like he was expecting, which is the only reason Robb doesn’t wince.

“Ouch” he still says, out of instinct. In response, Theon pats his bum one more time, gentler, then rests his hand on Robb’s lower back. “Oh we both now you can handle much more than that”.

It’s true, Robb can’t deny that, but he’s too tired to replay: warm weather makes his head hurt and Theon’s hand is so warm it makes him sweat even more. He realises he’d been keeping his eyes closed only when he opens them up the moment he feels Theon’s lips pressing a kiss to his neck.

“What is wrong, sexy?”

Robb sighs in return, “My brain, my whole body is boiling. It’s too hot” he whines.

“N’aaaw, my poor little abominable snowman doesn’t like Summer, does he?” Theon brushes his nose against Robb’s cheek, then proceeds to kiss his jaw.

“I freaking ha-what did you just call me?” Robb would like to ask Theon where he got the idea for that nickname, but it’s in that moment that Theon climbs on top of him, his skin touching Robb’s. Which translates into: more sweating.

“No don’t do that, it’s too hot for you to touch me” he cries, pushing Theon away. Though Theon is only wearing shorts and a white t-shirt Robb wonders how he doesn’t need to take a shower cause, for fuck’s sake, Robb just took a shower, he’s completely naked yet he does need another shower.

“Seriously, and then you make fun of me when it’s winter and I’m too cold” Theon huffs, feigning annoyance.

Robb bends his head a little to press a small weak kiss to his shoulder, “How do you handle summer without melting or frying?” He asks it as if he’s looking for the elixir of life.

Theon twists his finger along one of Robb’s auburn curls, “I swim a lot”, he says, “In fact, we should go swim, right now and cool off”.

“In your pool?” Robb doesn’t know why he’s asking, of course he meant his pool: that was like, number one reason why Theon bought this house in the first place, cause it had enough space for a pool.

“Yep” Theon says.

“But I’ll get sunburned” Robb whines, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and caressing his long fingers with his own.

“Not if you put on sunscreen”.

“But I don’t have it here with me, and you’re a dickhead who doesn’t get sunburned because your skin tone is fucking amazing and you actually can sunbathe” Robb’s aware he sounds like a kid, but he doesn’t mind: he’s allowed to, sometimes. And it’s true, Theon does have an amazing skin tone and he’s a dickhead for that.

“I actually do have some sunscreen here” that statement causes Robb to frown in both confusion and surprise: Theon despises sunscreen, and he’s gonna regret that in a few years, but every time they go to the beach (not many times but still) and Robb tells him to put on some at least on his face, the answer he usually gets is a simple “fuck off”. That is why it’s so weird for Robb to know Theon has let some sunscreen in his home.

“You do?” he asks.

Theon rolls his eyes, a small blush making its way through his bony cheeks, “Yeah, just for you babe”.

The smile grows on Robb’s face without him trying to control it, “How thoughtful of you”.

Theon takes that as the opportunity to hide his blush behind a charming smirk, “I know right? I think I deserve a kiss”.

“More than one” Robb leans over so that his lips can touch Theon’s. He feels hands caressing his hips and lower back, til they make their way down to his ass. This time, when Theon pinches it, Robb does wince. “Ow! Stop it!” He exclaims, swatting Theon’s hands away.

Theon’s smile is just a few inches away from Robb’s mouth.

“Never” he says, then pulls him in for another kiss.

It’s Theon who pulls away first, this time: he gets up from the bed and slips inside his flip flops to grab the bottle of sunscreen from his drawer. It’s still wrapped in plastic.

“You know, I think you should stay naked” he says to Robb.

“Don’t you start” the redhead says in return: he knows that will only lead to Theon’s grabby hands not trying at all to control themselves.

“It’s not like anyone is going to see us anyway” Theons says, as he gets undressed too, only to slip inside a pair of red swim trunks, “Come on.”

Robb doesn’t know why he agrees on swimming naked while Theon is not going to be naked. Probably because he already knows those red trunks aren’t going to stay on for too long anyway. Oh well. He’s lucky enough the bush all around the house is high and no one is going to see his naked body, unless they’ll look out the top floors’ windows.

Theon’s grabby hand don’t waste time and show Robb how grabby they are right away, by applying much more sunscreen than necessary on his glutes and lower belly. Robb actually has to ask Theon to focus a little more on his shoulders and back, cause he’s been outside under the sun for five minutes and they’re burning already.

“There you go, now there’s no way you’re going to get sunburned, this is the sunscreen that’s usually used on little kids” Theon rubs the sunscreen over Robb’s cheeks and nose at last.

Robb eyes him up and down: his golden anklet is basically shining thanks to the contrast with his bronze skin, his brown eyes looks so warm. He’s just too gorgeous.

“I hate you, you have such a beautiful skin tone” he huffs.

Theon extends a hands to gently stroke Robb’s collarbone, “Mhm-hmm, I don’t have these lovely freckles though. Come on, let’s go”.

He jumps in the pool with a loud splash, drops of water lading all over Robb’s naked body. He better get going as well.

“Oh god this feels good” he almost moans, as he gets into the cold water of the pool.

“Told ya” Theon’s all over him in a second, hands on his waist, pressing him against the edge.

“Shut up”

“Make me”

Robb gladly starts that little make out session that ends with him pushing Theon away before it can turn into more than just a make out session. And that’s how Robb keeps swimming around while Theon sits on the pink flamingo float, saying that he should probably go inside and make them some drinks to drink by the pool, but still refusing to make a move.

“God, I wish I had a pool at my place, I’d swim in there every day” Robb says at some point, cause man Theon was right, swimming really does help you when it’s too hot.

Theon shrugs in response, “It wouldn’t be as relaxing, with all your siblings playing around” he claims, as a matter of fact. As he should, since he’s right.

“Goddamn you’re right” Robb runs a hand through his face: he loves his little siblings, but he’s getting older and he needs his own privacy, right now more than ever. He needs his own place.

It takes Theon a few bites of the inside of his cheek before he manages to talk again, “You can come here anytime you want, you know. Even every day is fine.”

There, these are the kinds of “signals” Robb was talking about: Theon telling him he can come over everyday, Theon telling him he knows were to go if he doesn’t feel like staying at home with all that chaos for one night. He never says it explicitly though.

Today might be the day. If Robb pushes him enough.

“Oh yeah?” he says, feigning curiosity, “What about when you’re at work?”

Theon shrugs, “You do have a spare key”.

“That’s supposed to be for emergency only”.

Theon huffs, “You were literally lying half dead, ass in the air, in my bed because of the weather, that does look like an emergency”.

He’s not looking at him in the eyes, which always happens when he’s the one about to make an important decision or, in this case, offer, that involves both of them as a couple.

“And then... you know, it was good to come back home and find you there.” He’s blushing, “Even if I left for just five minutes, it’s... I like the thought of coming home and find you here. So, you can come here whenever you want”.

Robb finds himself smiling, as he approaches the big flamingo floats and crosses his arms on it.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Theon’s blush deepens, and he tries to hide it by rolling his eyes, “Well, yes there is something but...”

He doesn’t go on. Robb taps his knee, comfortingly.

“I’m listening”

Theon takes a deep, long huff. Runs both his hand through his hair and face. “God, I can’t believe I’m about to do this”.

He’s chuckling nervously, that’s another thing he does when he’s about to take a huge step in his, or their, life.

“Take your time”, Robb squeezes his knee.

“If you already figured that out then you could just give me an answer already”, that makes him laugh, but Robb definitely does not give in so easily.

“I want to hear you say it”, he claims, smiling at him as he’s taking the umpteenth deep breath.

“Okay, damn.” Theon finally looks at him in the eye. And then he says it, “Robb, do you want to move in with me?”

“Yes!”

Robb practically jumps on him as he’s screaming his answer, the pink flamingo flips upside down and their both underwater, Robb’s arms and legs wrapped around Theon. They’re both laughing when they make their way to the surface, Theon actually looks so happy he could cry.

They stop laughing only cause they both decide they should use their mouths to do something else, cause their previous make out session was probably a little too short.

And suddenly, even the pool it’s too hot for Robb, and for Theon too, most likely. But Robb doesn’t care, soon the sun will go down and the air will be a little cooler. And no one’s going to see them as they get it on in the soon-to-be-theirs-and-not-only-just-Theon’s pool.

Maybe Summer is not so bad.

#throbb #theon x robb #throbb fic #throbb one shot #I don’t remember how I tagged the previous one oh well #anon #hope you like it and thanks for the prompt!😘

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veilder · 3 years

Note

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you" - North60

Another prompt fill that I actually managed to get done? What?! Well, you're as surprised as I am. XD Anyway, I have no idea if this is even good or not but I guess I'll post it anyway. This is set vaguely as the third piece in the North60 series I intend to write. (The first part of it is published already but I've been working on the second for a long time and it's still not done. >_<) So if anyone is a bit OOC, just blame it on some intended character growth that's already theoretically happened, lol. So yeah... here's to the very few of you out there who love this ship as much as I do. Enjoy? 😅

butterflies around the flame

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

Sixty pauses, looking over to North as she sidles up beside him on the gangway. She wears her expression of steely determination just as fittingly as her slightly-singed tactical suit and Sixty can’t help the small burst of assurance both sights inspire in him despite his current irascibility. His scanners pick up a myriad of weapons on her person, knives and guns and batons and tasers, and it soothes some basic part of his coding that crows at him to keep her safe. She can look out for herself. Hell, she can look out for him too if the way she's muttered that phrase several times over the course of their friendship is anything to go by. Time and again she's looked out for him, vouching for him to her friends, taking him on as her second-in-command in the security corps, mediating disputes he manages to get himself involved in, etc.

And here and now too, apparently, she's decided to shoulder the responsibility for his actions. Even as he stares, she nods her head down to the burnt edges of his jacket and trousers, waving a lazy hand to the entirety of his ash-encompassed form. "I’m serious, I’ll talk to them. You did what you had to and I'll make sure Markus knows it. Losing one building is better than what would've happened without the distraction."

Sixty frowns, doing his best to nonchalantly lean against the metal railing as he peers down at the gathered deviants below. The deviants he had done his best to save during the pandemonium. The deviants who stood huddled and scared and singed because of his stupid plan. They were lucky... Lucky to make it out. No thanks to him.

"I could've taken the humans down myself," he says eventually, a scowl crawling its way across his face. "Far less collateral damage. Quick and efficient. You know I could've, North." He snaps his gaze back towards her. "This could've killed them." He nods his head towards the crowd below. "I could've killed them. And for what? A crazed mob of humans hellbent on destroying us?"

North shakes her head. "But you didn't kill them. You didn't kill anybody, Sixty. We have you to thank for everyone making it out alive. Even the humans." Her words are soft but her eyes shine brightly, that same righteous anger burning through them as courses through his Thirum lines. She's just as upset about the attack as he is. He knows this. After all, she'd been on guard when it all went down, too. She'd heard his transmissions, understood what he was planning. She'd led the evacuation of New Jericho personally and perfectly in sync with him springing his trap. And now, huddled in an abandoned warehouse near the wreckage of the original Jericho freighter, the harried android population coming full-circle in the worst of ways, they are the only two who can explain the full situation to Markus.

Somehow, just knowing how incandescently angry North is about all of this is enough to stabilize his systems a bit, his dangerously high stress levels sinking back down to a more moderate rate. "Well, can't have His Leaderness getting all up in arms with me for snuffing out a few organics, now can we? Not after last time."

North snorts, the sound inelegant and coarse, and Sixty feels his stress levels sinking even more. But when she looks up at him, she is far from amused, her eyes burning with resolve as a wicked, cruel smile teases the edges of her lips. "Your restraint is admirable, Six. Can't say I wouldn't have taken the shot if I were in your place."

Here in the dim light, her uniform practically fades into the darkness. Her vibrant hair is tied back and hidden, her hands are gloved, her face is cast in shadows. Every part of North is dimmed and defeated, even her muttered words wreathed in fury and despair.

But even with her glaring down at the assembly like an avenging angel, her palpable fury emanating from her like a physical thing, Sixty can't help but scoff. "You wouldn't." He smirks as her eyes snap back to his, the challenge in her gaze masking the vulnerability underneath. "You wouldn't take the shot," he says again. "You wanna know how I know?"

Hesitantly, she nods, enough suspicion in her gaze to make him cackle. (Which he does. Loudly.)

Sixty reaches out and takes her hand, giving her his own crooked, slightly deranged smile in return. "It's because I didn’t. And that’s because of you." He squeezes her hand, the pulse of her Thirium lines under the sensitive sensors of his fingertips as mesmerizing as it is reassuring. "You've always been better than you seem to think you are. You wouldn't take a life if there was another option. That's never been you, even at your lowest." He chuckles softly. "You always protect. Even when you hate someone or something, you always try to find the best option. You 'take care of things'. That's how I came to be here in the first place, isn't it?"

North's grip is firm in his own as he flashes her another grin and Sixty can feel it, the way she retracts her skin even with the barrier of cloth between them. Without thought, without care, he reciprocates, letting his own Thirium coating recede back into the magnetized nodes dotting his chassis. The two of them sink into the interface, the low hum of each other's minds a sweet and soothing backdrop to the chaos all around them. The interface is only surface level, not deep enough to be anything other than an awareness of each other, but it is enough to magnify North's words through his whole self as she speaks: "But I never hated you. Not like them."

Sixty merely laughs. "But you should've."

And there is no contestation. She knows as well as he the sins of his past. But she's never judged him for them, not once. It's perhaps what he loves most about her, her willingness to accept his flaws. Even here and now, with the ashes of their people's dreams upon his body, she never once hesitated to accept him. It's enough to incite a 0.33 second timing fluctuation in the steady beat of his Thirium pump. The error message that accompanies it is a familiar friend in her presence these days.

In the warmth of their interface, Sixty continues on: "But you know as well as I do that you don't need to like someone to do the right thing." He spares a brief moment to think of his hallowed predecessor and the complicated relationship between them.

North nods. "Yeah, I... I know, Six. I know." She glances up at him through her eyelashes. "When the hell did you end up the voice of reason?"

Sixty snorts out a laugh. "I have my moments."

Her smile is genuine this time as she stares up at him. "You sure do."

And though his records will later tell him that this moment lasted less than a second, Sixty swears they stare at each other for an eternity. Time slows as if his preconstruction software has started up, each prolonged moment a gift for his harried system. And when at last they draw apart, breaking the shallow interface at last, they both do so with a smile and severely diminished stress level.

"Alright, I still need to explain things to Markus and Josh and Simon," North reiterates. "I'm sure they're here somewhere."

Sixty nods. "Yeah, they're over in that corner," he says, pointing.

North's scandalized face is enough to have him laughing again. "Sixty! You knew they were here all along?!"

"Of course," he laughs, "I've got the best scanners on the market. They've been here the whole time. They've been delegating or something, I'm not sure."

"Why didn't you say something!"

"Well quite frankly, I needed a moment. And then you needed a moment. And then we were having a moment, so..."

"Ugh, I can't believe you! I need to go. Now."

But before she can walk off, Sixty sidles in front of her. "Whoa whoa whoa, I think you mean we need to go. Right?"

She stares at him, uncomprehending.

"Okay, lemme put it to you this way then," he chuckles. "We will go explain my actions to the Big Boss. Then we can check on the security team and see if they're still doing alright. And then we can go find a quiet spot where we can try and beat the shit out of each other for a bit. Y'know. Let off some steam. Relax." He gives her a wink and revels in how her lips twitch at the sight.

"...You wouldn't insist if you hadn't already made up your mind, huh?" She doesn't even wait for him to confirm it before continuing, "Well, alright. Because that... That sounds good, Six.” North says. And then quieter, as if she was speaking only to herself, she mutters, “What would I ever do without you?"

Her whispered question rings sincere through Sixty's audio processor. He saves the soundbyte for further review and answers, "You'd take care of things. You always do."

And she smiles, so soft and sweet that another Thirium pump error flashes across Sixty's HUD. "Yeah. I always do. But it’d be less fun without you here."

Sixty reaches out a hand again and thrills when she accepts it, the two of them walking together along the gangway down to where the rest of the Jericho leadership are stationed. He chuckles. “I knew you kept me around for something.” This time, it’s him who initiates, opening up another interface for them to connect with. North reciprocates immediately and it makes Sixty proud to feel how much calmer she is now. “But I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. I pity the poor idiot who tries to make me leave now. You’d tear them apart.”

North’s eyes flash, a sinister gleam accompanied by another cruel grin. “I’d 'take care of them'.”

Sixty barks out a hearty laugh, so enamored, so proud. “And I'll take care of you."

She chuckles right back and squeezes his hand, a steady warmth pulsing through their connection. "And maybe I'd even let you." And with eyes facing forward with renewed determination, she pulls him along with her towards their goal. “Now come on, Security Officer. There’s work to be done.”

----------------

Bonus:

Markus: "So... You're saying that you're the one who blew up New Jericho?" Sixty: "Yep!" 😃 Markus: [turning to North] "And you're saying you... encouraged him to do this?" North: "Sure did!" 😀 Markus: [staring into the camera like it's The Office] "If ever there were a time for someone to invent alcoholic Thirum, it's now." Sixty & North: 😀😀😀

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fanficshiddles · 3 years

Text

Trust, Chapter 17

Thor and Jane looked surprised when Loki appeared to head to Asgard, with Darcy in tow too with a suitcase.

‘Where’s the Bifrost then?’ Darcy asked excitedly.

‘I did not realise you were joining us, Darcy.’ Thor said, but smiled widely as he then looked at Loki.

Loki grinned. ‘She is going to save me from having to deal with any boring commoners. And will likely lighten the festivities greatly.’

‘Ah excellent!’ Thor beamed happily.

Jane looked slightly irritated. Not overly happy about Darcy going too, knowing the pair of them would likely cause too much mischief.

The group all headed outside onto the green, Thor looked up and called for Heimdall to open the Bifrost. Tony ran out towards them screaming like a mad man at them not to do it on what was essentially his front lawn. But it was too late.

All that was left when he got there was burnt grass again. ‘Bloody Asgardians!’

Darcy was in complete awe as they were whisked through space in the rainbow Bifrost. Then before she knew it, they were on Asgard, stepping into the observatory.

She noted Loki’s arm around her and she looked up at him with a smirk. ‘What’s with the death hold on me?’

Loki rolled his eyes as he let her go. ‘To make sure you didn’t fall out at the wrong place. I don’t exactly fancy spending years looking for you on some unknown realm.’

Darcy shoved his arm playfully. ‘N’awwww you’d come looking for me? How sweet!’

He chuckled and ruffled up her hair in return. ‘I wouldn’t trust you not to cause chaos on some poor unsuspecting race.’

‘Yeah, cause that’s your job.’ She grinned and Loki grinned back at her with a wink.

‘Welcome to Asgard!’ Heimdall said, tearing Darcy’s attention away from Loki.

‘Oh wow, cool sword. You’re the all seeing Himdall, right?’ Darcy asked.

Loki sniggered and bumped her with his hip. ‘Heimdall.’ He corrected.

Heimdall smiled slightly and nodded once. ‘Nice to meet you, Darcy.’

Then the sound of hooves pounding the ground towards them was heard. Odin, Frigga and a guard with some spare horses came riding across the bridge to greet them.

Loki did the introductions for Darcy, since Jane had already met them before. Jane bowed her head to Odin and Frigga, greeting them politely.

Darcy’s mouth fell open as she looked at Frigga.

‘Jesus, Loki. You never told me your mother was so beautiful!’ She said in a slightly high-pitched tone to Loki, then she turned to Frigga and curtseyed. The best she could anyway without actually wearing a dress. ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Loki’s told me all about you.’

Frigga smiled widely at Darcy as she reached out to shake her hand. ‘Nice to meet you too. I heard from Thor that you’re responsible for bringing Loki back to Earth. Figuratively and literally.’ She smiled kindly at her.

‘I kind of am.’ Darcy said smugly, holding her head high.

Loki just cringed awkwardly beside them and put his head in his hand.

‘Although, we didn’t know you were coming till last minute. We don’t have any spare chambers left, so we are in a pickle of where to put you.’ Frigga said regretfully as she looked at Loki.

‘I’ll just bunk with Loki.’

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Oh really?’ He folded his arms over his chest.

Darcy shrugged. ‘I’m not sleeping on the floor. Besides, we’ve shared a bed before.’

Frigga looked between them both in amusement and curiosity. ‘That’s settled then.’ She said quickly before turning around and heading back to her horse.

‘I am going to have to deal with your snoring for two whole nights?’ Loki groaned.

‘Hey, it’s not going to be a barrel of laughs for me either.’ Darcy said as she poked him.

She was then introduced to Odin. She could feel the tension between him and Loki, it was thick in the air. She didn’t say much to Odin, just bowed her head politely.

The group headed out to the horses and Darcy was handed the reins of one of them.

‘Loks. You better give me a leg up, I have no idea how to ride never mind get on.’ She said as she looked over at him, just as he was about to mount his horse.

‘You mean you’ve never ridden before?’ He chuckled as he wandered over to her and swiftly grabbed her leg, not even checking if she was ready, he hoisted her up and onto the horse.

‘Nope!’ She squealed a little as she sat up straight and gathered the reins.

‘Sit up straight, keep your heels down and don’t tug on the horses’ mouth if you can help it.’ Loki said as he put her feet into the right position and moved her fingers into the right place for holding the reins.

Thor had Jane ride with him on the same horse. She hadn’t ridden before either, even on her last trip to Asgard she didn’t ride.

Loki got on his horse and rode up beside Darcy. ‘Your horse is rather attached to mine, so you don’t need to worry about steering right now.’

Darcy only just noticed a hint of mischief cross Loki’s face, before he suddenly kicked his horse on into a canter. Darcy screeched in surprise as her horse cantered straight after his. Loki laughed as he looked over his shoulder and saw her bouncing around in the saddle, but laughing too. He knew she was perfectly safe on that horse and would be up for a bit of an adventure.

Thor chuckled at their antics as they went racing across the bridge ahead of them, Darcy holding on for dear life.

‘Don’t even think about it!’ Jane said to Thor quickly as she held onto him from behind, he just grumbled in response.

Loki and Darcy were long at the palace before the others were. He helped her off the horse and they made their way inside.

‘Holy shit! This place is incredible.’ Darcy said as she looked around herself with her mouth hanging open.

‘It’s alright.’ Loki drawled.

‘Come on, Loki. I know this place doesn’t exactly bring back good memories, but surely even you can tell this place is more impressive than the compound back home.’ Darcy said as she stopped walking and faced Loki.

He shrugged. ‘I guess so. There are some good memories too, I suppose. Racing Thor on our horses across the land, causing mischief to the maids and guards when we were younger.’ Loki gave a very slight smile that made Darcy smile too.

‘See, there’s always good too. Odin does seem… not so great, but Frigga seems wonderful.’ Darcy said sincerely.

‘She is, probably the only wonderful thing about here.’ Loki nodded and continued walking, Darcy followed.

Loki took her to his chambers. She couldn’t believe the size of the room.

‘Bloody hell, this is like the size of a house back on Earth!’ Darcy said as she looked around, checking out the en-suite too. ‘Am I dreaming? Is this for real?’ She said as she jumped onto the bed in a star fish, but still wasn’t even taking up half of the bed because it was that big.

Loki chuckled and used his Seidr to get the fire roaring to life. ‘Anything you need, just ring the bell by the door and a maid will come to see what you need.’

‘What, like, anything and anytime?’ Darcy quickly sat up straight.

‘Yep.’ Loki smirked, sitting down on a chair by the fire.

Darcy slipped off the bed and ran over to the bell, ringing it twice. Loki watched in amusement as not even two minutes later there was a knock on the door. Darcy opened it and was amazed to see a maid.

‘Good evening, anything I can get you, miss?’ She asked with a smile.

‘Some snacks would be nice please… Loki, what kind of snacks do you have here?’ Darcy looked over her shoulder to him.

Loki smirked. ‘Matilda, if you would be so kind to get us the cheese board selection.’

‘Of course, Prince Loki.’ She gave a small bow and smiled at Darcy before disappearing down the corridor.

Darcy stuck her head out of the room and watched her heading off. ‘Is there really someone on standby all the time? Even in the middle of the night?’

‘Yep. Cooks are always in the kitchen too, ready to make whatever you want. Within reason.’

She then snickered. ‘Prince Loki.’

‘What?’

‘Just funny hearing someone call you that. I forget you are a Prince.’

‘Maybe you should start remembering it.’ Loki grinned.

While waiting for the snacks, Darcy disappeared into the bathroom to put on her comfortable pyjamas, which was actually a Rolling Stones t shirt and plain black shorts, just in time for Matilda retuning with the biggest selection of cheese Darcy had ever seen, with crackers and some grapes too.

‘Oh my god, this is definitely heaven!’ Darcy climbed onto the bed with the board and got comfortable.

‘You’re not eating on my bed.’ Loki stood and made his way over, but Darcy was already tucking in.

‘Come on, chill out. Are you going to join me or not?’ Darcy patted the bed next to her.

Loki rolled his eyes. He knew that there was no point arguing with her, so he decided to just admit defeat and join her.

After stuffing themselves full, Loki read for a while by the fire while Darcy played a game on her iPad. There was no WiFi but she was still able to use some game apps without. She was so engrossed in one game she never noticed Loki disappear into the bathroom, until he reappeared.

‘Lights are going off, I want to get rest before tomorrow’s antics.’ Loki said as he made towards the bed.

‘Not like you to need ohhhhhhhhhh my god! LOKI! PUT SOME DAMN PANTS ON!’ Darcy screeched as she glanced up at him, only to see he was completely nude. She quickly averted her eyes like they were burning.

Loki smirked as he got into bed. ‘What? You are the one who said you would share a room with me. I told you before I sleep in the nude.’ He chuckled and got comfortable. He turned the lights out with a snap of his fingers.

‘Well don’t blame me if you get kicked in the bollocks in the middle of the night.’ Darcy said as she rolled onto her side and put her iPad down.

‘Goodnight, Darcy.’

‘Goodnight, Prince Loki.’ She teased, but that earned her a poke in the back. ‘Owww!’

‘Go to sleep.’ He growled.

‘Bossy boots.’ Darcy grumbled quietly.

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #trust #tasertricks #darcy lewis #fan fiction #Loki x Darcy Lewis #Fluffy Loki #MCU Loki

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crystalas · 3 years

Text

Blazing Blue part 2

Chapter 2: So, it’s not a play date?

Pigsy was closing up shop when MK stuck his head around the door sheepishly.

“There you are! I was getting worried, did things with Monkey King run late or something?” he asked gruffly as he put away the last of the cooking pots for the day.

“Well, no…but I got held up by something…hey do we have any leftover noodles?” MK asked trying his best to be nonchalant, Pigsy glanced at him and gestured to the fridge.

“I know how hungry you get after your training sessions” Pigsy exclaimed, and raised an eyebrow at MK who was smiling a bit too broadly and looking…twitchy which was never a good sign. “Ok what is it?” he sighed.

“Well… I have a someone who needs to crash somewhere for a while so I was hoping…just for tonight?” MK said ever so sweetly and Pigsy face palmed.

“Ok I really don’t want to ask but I feel I need to, who is it?”

“…Red Son?”

Pigsy stared at him, gave a growl of frustration before rubbing the bridge of his snout to try and elevate the stress headache he can already feel coming on.

“Kid…times like this I really wish this wasn’t based on a children’s cartoon, because what I really want to say to that is not allowed for a kid audience!”

“Oh, but this is a fanfic written by an adult, who really needs to get out more.” MK offered.

“It is? Oh good” Pigsy took a deep breath and then said as calmly as possible “Fuck no!”

“Com’on, he’s is in a bit of a rough spot and needs somewhere to stay! We’re even truce buddies!”

“I never agreed to that term!” Red Son called from outside, MK reached out the door and dragged him in.

“He’s a demon? He is the son of one of your enemies? He tried to turn you into ash countless times? Need I continue to list reason why this is a bad idea??!” Pigsy shouted angrily.

“Look, I know where I’m not wanted, I shall take my leave!” Red Son growled and began to walk back out when MK grabbed his sleeve. “This is pointless he’s isn’t going to let me stay!”

“Damn right I’m not!” Pigsy retorted.

“Last time I checked I own the apartment above the noodle shop so really…” MK said slyly and Pigsy put a hand in front of his face.

“I rent it to you, so don’t even give me that nonsense that you have a say!”

“UGH fine!” MK growled and lead Red Son out of the Noodle shop, only for him to drag him behind the alleyway and use his staff to leap up to his apartment window, gesturing for Red Son to follow.

“You’re seriously going behind your friend’s back for me?” Red Son asked as he leapt up and through the window. MK walked in and started to tidy up the apartment to a more acceptable level of messy as Red Son looked around, last time he was in here he had burnt a lot of stuff. MK must have had to replace many belongings… so why was he this willing to help him?

“Pigsy just needs time to get to know you” MK explained as he got out a spare blanket and laid it out on the sofa. “Umm…is this, okay? I mean I’ve only got the one bed…”

“I may be a demon but even I have good manners when it comes to being a guest” Red Son declared loftily, besides he thought to himself as he sat down, I’ve been sleeping on the floor of our destroyed home for the last few weeks. This is heaven compared to that.

“Don’t worry we’ll find you somewhere tomorrow” MK said as he took off his jacket to get ready for bed and noticed that Red Son had not moved. “Umm…wanna take off your coat and get comfortable?”

Red Son gripped his coat and glanced away.

“Kind of hard to get comfortable in the home of an enemy…” he muttered.

“Now none of that! Remember we are Truce Buddies, I’m not so underhanded that I’d attack you in your sleep” MK declared confidently.

He might though MK suddenly thought to himself as it dawned on him that this could go wrong very quickly.

“Look, do you demons have anything to …I don’t know swear by? Because I’ve just realised this might be a long con or something to lure me into a false sense of security.” MK asked, Red Son sighed and looked up at him.

“It took you this long to think of that scenario? Noodle Boy are you really that naïve?” he demanded angrily but stood up anyway, “Normally I would have sworn on my family name but…given certain circumstances that’s not an option. So, I’ll swear on my flame that I will not do anything to intentionally endanger you or your friends so long as you swear on The Monkey Staff that you do the same!” he held out his hand and a small fire ball appeared and held out the other to shake with, MK took out his staff and took Red Son’s hand and shook it in agreement.

“Right, we are officially Truce Buddies!” MK beamed happily.

“I didn’t agree to that name!” Red Son snapped.

The next morning Tang walked in to grab his noodles for lunch, Pigsy was dicing up the vegetables to make the first batch for the day but had a fire extinguisher strapped to his back …and Red Son was sitting at a table looking grumpier than usual and also that he looked like he had fought a car wash and lost.

“Ok I feel like I missed something?” Tang declared.

“MK thought it would be a brilliant idea to sneak Demon Boy in for a sleep over, but didn’t take into consideration that fire alarms exist!” Pigsy exclaimed angrily “Now MK is on kitchen clean up duty for eternity for going behind my back and NEARLY SETTING FIRE TO MY BUILDING!!”

“In my defence” Red Son announced “I only sneezed.”

“I ain’t taking any chances Demon boy! You try anything and I’mma hosing you down!”

Tang sat down keeping Red Son in his peripherals and saw MK mopping the floor with an embarrassed look of defeat on his face.

“So, just to acknowledge the elephant in the room…why is Red Son here?” he asked gently.

“Because MK wanted a pet!”

“RED SON IS NO ONE’S PET!” Red Son shouted flaring up as he did so and got a face full of extinguisher foam in his face for his troubles. “WILL YOU STOP THAT??!”

“Okay…and the real reason MK?” Tang inquired as MK came out to mop up the foam for the third time that morning.

“We kind of have a Truce going on.” He said simply.

“That seems…fair I guess?”

“Yeah, well he can go home now cos I don’t want him here disturbing my business!” Pigsy growled and Red Son suddenly hunched over and glared at the wall angrily.

“If this is how you treat your patrons then maybe I’m not the problem!” he growled under this breath. Pigsy gave him a look and then turned back to his stove, he tried to turn it on but…nothing. He tried again and again for a few minutes but still nothing happened.

“Com’on! Com’on you piece of junk!” Pigsy muttered under his breath.

“I keep telling you need a new stove” Tang exclaimed.

“Last time I checked they don’t give them out for free! The freaking lighters are dead I’ll have to…” Pigsy said but stopped as a small fire ball flit past both of them and lit the stove top. They both spun around to see Red Son putting his hand down.

“Uhm…thanks?”

“Don’t read too much into it, I’m just hungry” he said quietly.

Pigsy shrugged and got to work and soon he brought out two bowls of noodle soup and placed one of them gingerly near Red Son, who took it and ate it quietly. After a few minutes Pigsy looked up to see Red Son smiling softly.

“What are you so happy about?” he demanded gruffly.

“Family recipe?” Red Son asked.

“Handed down through the generations. Why?” Pigsy replied cautiously.

“They remind me of this noodle stand I used to go to a lot when I was a child, it was my favourite place to eat back then. I suppose the taste makes me nostalgic” Red Son explained, Pigsy looked at him warily and then back at his photo wall.

“Pull the other one kid, my family started this business on a noodle stand but that belong to my great, great grandfather. You’re not even old enough to be around when this shop opened!”

“I’m a lot older than I look, don’t forget demons count their lifespans in decades not years…in fact if I remember correctly back then photographs were only just becoming a thing and I was there when they took the photo. The guy looked proud as anything of his little noodle stall”

Pigsy spun around and scanned his photo wall, and sure enough there was the photo that was handed down along with the recipes. It was tattered and faded over the years but it still showed the look of absolute pride that Noodle chief had of his livelihood not knowing of what a family business he was about to create. And in the background was a kid with flaming spikey hair sitting at the stall while holding a bowl.

“Wait…that’s you?!”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“And the flavour just as good as Great, Great Grand pappy’s?”

“Even better I’d say”

Tang slammed down his bowl and ran up to Red Son.

“WAIT A SECOND!” He cried in ecstatic glee “You’re immortal??!”

“No…demons can age and die we just live longer. Think of it as reverse dog years” Red Son said a bit put off by this sudden attention of the quiet book worm.

“Then you’ve must have seen a lot in your time!” Tang squealed “I bet you’ve even met some of the other legends throughout the ages!”

Red Son gave a cocky smile and gestured confidently.

“Why yes, I have, though I’ve never spoke to them I have seen many historical figures come and go not to mention the rise and fall of emperors and kings, to be honest it gets a bit boring after a while!” he declared smugly, now enjoying the fact that Tang was practically frothing at the mouth at the idea of questioning a being that probably lived through most of his text books.

“Have you met any of the sages…I mean besides Monkey King?” Tang asked eagerly Red Son’s cocky smile evaporated for a second and his hand wandered up to his neck before shrugging.

“I guess so, but I was very little when that happened…” he said dismissively.

“What were they like?” Tang kept on.

“… …scary” Red Son whispered. “I remember them being very scary.”

“Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that?”

“They were pompous jerks who picked on a little kid, whose only crime was being born okay??” he snapped angrily and stood up. MK who had been watching this from the kitchen walked up quickly to the angry demon before Pigsy had to get the fire extinguisher again.

“Ok maybe we should talk to Sandy about that problem now hey? Pigsy? can I take off now?” the three looked up at Pigsy who was still standing there with a look of blissful glee.

“Good as Great, Great Grand pappy’s” he sighed happily before snapping out of it. “Uh yeah sure seeing as Demon boy didn’t burn down my shop and helped out a little, I guess I can be lenient…but don’t try anything like this again got it??!”

MK saluted and Red Son wiped off the last of the foam from his hair as they left.

“So now what?” Red Son asked.

“We see if Sandy has a spare bed for you…hey were you serious about Pigsy’s family stall thing?”

“Like I said I had no need to lie about it.”

“And you’re seriously like…really, really old?”

“I’m still a child compared to others of my kind but yes”

“Why do you look human?”

“What’s with all the questions?”

“It’s just, except for your mom and you every other demon I met looked…I don’t know weird.”

“And seriously how often do we get to question a person like you? It’s like interviewing a keshin!” Tang interjected as he walked in between them causing both boys to leap out of their skins and glare at him.

“You will have to excuse me if I don’t want to expose all my family secrets in one sitting with the people who are considered my enemies!” Red Son growled; MK opened his mouth but before he could say anything Red Son held up a hand to him. “Yes, yes ‘Truce Buddies’ I know but just because I am on that agreement doesn’t mean my family is!”

“So, let’s hope we don’t run into Demon Bull King huh?” Tang declared. “Because that would be super awkward for all parties, wouldn’t it?”

“Trust me I doubt my father even notices…and wasn’t the whole point of this ‘Truce Buddies’ thing was to FORGET about my family and your mentor, to just enjoy the day, have fun or whatever happy go lucky idea you suggested?!” Red Son exclaimed angrily “Quizzing me on my family history seems to be a bit off the mark wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh right, right” MK mumbled and rubbed the back of his head.

“Wait…you two agreed to a play date?” Tang asked.

“ITS NOT A PLAY DATE!” both boys screamed in horror.

As they headed to Sandy’s ship MK was on his phone texting Mai.

“Okay so Mai knows what’s going on and she’s going to meet us at Sandy’s. Also, she’s bringing snacks and her favourite video games so she can … ‘Show red boy how to have a good time, hero style’…” he said as he read the text out. Red Son gave a weary sigh remembering that massive hero speech she had given him while they were getting the peach of immortality. Then to hint at his father with all the subtly of a cannon launched brick through a glass window that he had done “Good hero work” …it took him forever to get over that humiliation.

As he contemplated the fact, he now has to endure her company and she probably will take this “Truce Buddies” agreement as a sign that he is going to become a hero and won’t shut up about it, his train of thought was destroyed as something smacked him on the back sending him stumbling and nearly hitting the pavement.

“HEY!” he shouted looked back, fire ball in hand ready to roast whoever responsible. “HOW DARE YOU TRY TO TRIP UP RED SON??!” but no one was there to enact his rage on.

“You okay Red?” Tang asked.

“…fine I’m fine…must have tripped or something…” he growled. As they walked on, they didn’t see the shadows following them purple eyes grinning in the darkness.

“This got a lot more fun…” Macaque sniggered.

#spicynoodleshipping #red son #monkie kid red son #monkie kid macaque

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 6/13 read here on ao3!

for @harringrovebigbang

accompanying art piece by @monochromegee! check it out here!

~~~~

The more Steve thinks about someone being stuck on the other side, the more he has his heart set on doing something about it.

He hadn’t been a hero to anybody last time they were dealing with the Upside Down, too caught up in his own troubles to do anything useful, and it had cost him the love of his life. He was going to guarantee that he stepped up this time. With more time to think, he defines a plan, “I think you’re right, I think we should get ahold of El. That way we can at least figure out who to go to next.”

“Okay, well, that sounds great and all that you have a plan, Steve, but you’re not calling anybody with this burnt up phone, and I’m pretty sure this is too time sensitive to write a letter.” Robin motions to the broken phone where it still hung from the base.

Steve thinks for a moment and snaps his fingers, “The neighbor would let us borrow hers.”

That’s how they end up in the elderly neighbor Dorothy's half of the duplex, Robin entertaining her in the living room with any random story she could think of, and Steve in the hallway a little ways down, talking low so the unsuspecting neighbor can’t hear what he is saying. To get in, they’d just told her that Robin's phone had just been cutting out, but Steve needed to call his sick mother until they could replace it.

Of course that isn’t true, he instead dials the number Joyce left for all of them to get in contact with her if need be, “Mrs Byers?”

On the other end, he hears a lot of noise in the background, at first worried about a repeat of last night, until the sounds made themselves clear as not doomsday static, but business. There’s a television turned up loud, noise from the kitchen like someone was cooking, talking carrying from a distant conversation, before Joyce’s gentle voice cuts through it, “Hi, honey. How have you been?”

He skips the formalities, trying to be fast for the sake of whoever is trapped, and to get it out before the neighbor got bored of Robin and started snooping, “I need to ask you something.”

“Of course, Is everything alright, Steve?” There’s a hint of concern in her voice he has to swallow before he decides what his answer will.

He decides just to rip the bandage off in one go, “Can you put El on the phone?”

Instantly her demeanor switches. They both knew Steve had no reason other than an emergency to want to talk to her daughter, because the other kids would have done it themselves, don’t need Steve as their messenger anymore, “What is this about?”

“We think there is someone in the Upside Down.” He hears her cover the receiver, and call to El in the next room, a hint of urgency to her tone. There was the sound of the phone being passed between two people before El's small voice rang out through the receiver.

“Hello?”

He again skips a proper greeting, full of too much nervous energy to worry about being polite, “Is there any chance at all that someone could still be in the Upside Down?”

It takes her a second to respond, but her answer is firm, “The gate is closed.”

“I know, but do you think we could’ve closed it on somebody?”

“Why?” She sounds unsure of whether or not she should trust him, so he explains to her, “The phone rang and Robin said it sounded like a bunch of static, and like someone was talking but she couldn’t hear them. It blew up like it did before when Will called.”

There’s a long pause and whispers in the background, like she’s being coached by Joyce, and her answers comes slowly, “Without powers I can’t help. But I have an idea.”

Another pause and her mother takes the phone back, “We’ll come back to Hawkins and figure it out, Steve. See what you can do until we get there.”

The line goes dead before he can thank her or ask how long he could expect to wait, so he sighs and hangs the phone back up. When he returns to the living room, Robin stands up from the couch and the neighbor asks politely, “How was she?”

He furrows his eyebrows, has too much on his mind and has to remember the cover story they came up with before he can answer, “She’s alright. Thank you, Dorothy.”

They’re halfway to the front door when she stops them, “Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you two, I have the city’s number if you need it.”

Robin smiles politely, “What for?”

“Well, that streetlight outside. It’s been flickering on and off these past few nights, I thought it would be bothering you two being right outside your window and all. I know it’s been driving me up the wall.” She chuckles, not realizing the significance of what she just said to them.

They exchange a look between themselves, both having gone a little pale.

Robin recovers quicker, so she forces a smile back onto her face, significantly less genuine this time, and steers Steve outside with a guiding hand on his back, assuring the neighbor before shutting the door in her face, “That’s alright, Dorothy. We hadn’t noticed actually.”

~~~~

This end of the neighborhood is so poorly lit, but Billy can’t afford to get cornered like this.

He’d taken off from the area around duplex apartment, leaving behind the big monster and running until he finds more street lights, though in a poor backwoods town like Hawkins, only a select few streets nearby downtown or the rich neighborhoods were taken care of, so it’s not until he’s all the way at the other end of the street, almost by the intersection to the next neighborhood, that he finds another dull and flickering street light.

It’s then, looking up hopefully at the dull, flickering light that he realizes this area is somewhat familiar to him, though it's still much farther out than his usually traveled routes between Cherry Lane and Loch Nora.

When things were normal, Billy was so bitter about leaving his home, so he hadn’t bothered getting familiar with the entire town. If it was out of his way, it wasn’t his problem, Hawkins was only ever supposed to be a temporary home for him anyways.

Even now he still wasn’t acquainted with the area, because over here past the neighborhood where he found Steve and Robin is the dark zone, where the storm clouds are thicker and the fog covers what little light there is in this place, and he normally wouldn’t dare stray over this way.

Right now though, there’s a monster that’s already tasted his blood on his heels, so it doesn’t really matter where he ends up.

He follows a long dirt driveway towards that one streetlight, beacon of hope that it was, when suddenly it hits him. This is the Byers’ house.

If there were literally anywhere else for him to go right now other than that house, he’d go there, guilty memories he’d been mostly forgiven for still sitting heavy in his heart, if not just because now all the people he’d hurt that day were still living without him, making new memories and probably remembering his as that same asshole that barged into the Byers family home that night.

But, he’s not out of the woods just yet to be picky, because there’s a trail of blood from his injured arm leading the monster to this exact spot, and that is a monster that already had the taste of his flesh. He’d have to take whatever he could get.

The second he opens the door, under the twisting vines and ash and mold covering almost everything in the house, it’s obvious that this isn’t the same house he’d burst into two years ago, none of the floral couches and knitted Afghans and Merry Mushroom canisters that made for that warm, homey feel of the place that had made Billy feel queasy when juxtaposed with what he’d thought was happening in that house before Steve apologized for lying, and he for kicking Steve’s ass, and gave him a new explanation that was, as he now knew, still a coverup, but didn’t seem so predatory.

Now there were all leather arm chairs, dirty work boots by the door, and empty beer bottles on the kitchen counters. He could tell from the way this house is decorated alone, at least if he imagined it without all the rot and death, that this house had been bought up by some unhappy old man, and he almost wants to be bitter, that he’s going to die in a place that looks like the embodiment of the unhappy future he was damned to even if he made it out of this hell, until something catches his eye.

On display hooks, positioned perfectly atop the mantelpiece, there is a proudly displayed shotgun.

Billy almost trips over the clutter-covered coffee table running to go get it, a feeling like hope in his chest, but when he pulls it down, his heart sinks a little. He can tell from the weight that it isn’t loaded, it’s just some old bastards trophy.

He worries for a second that it isn’t even a real gun at all, but a snarl from the other side of the door reminds him it doesn’t matter if it shoots, it’ll still bludgeon. A weapon is a weapon.

Still, he quickly turns the place over, clearing off that coffee table, feeling along the underside of the mantel for a hidden box, and digging through the side table drawers, in there finding old pills and candy wrappers, spare change and, in the very last place he looks, a box of shotgun shells.

He grabs it, but he doesn’t have time to be relieved, because on the other side of the door, there’s a snarl accompanied by a scratching sound, and he knows that that thing outside is taunting him. Trapping him in so it could toy with him before finally killing him. But he’s not going to let that happen, not now.

He couldn’t say how much time had passed down here, but he had been hurt and starved and damn near froze to death, and he had still survived. All this time it had been for himself, to prove he could do it and maybe, just maybe someday reach the other side, but now he had a purpose. Now he knew his Steve was right there, just out of his reach. He can’t give up now. He won’t.

He takes the gun into the kitchen, where he’ll have a minute if the monster does lose its temper and break in early, sliding to the floor with it so he’s level with where the monsters face would be once it turned the corner, gritting his teeth and lowering the barrel of the gun, his good hand shaking badly as he tries against his nerves and the bite making him weaker to load the shells in both barrels.

At the same time, just as he expected, the monster decides it’s done playing with its food, hitting into the door until the hinges crack and it swings open at an off angle. Billy curses under his breath and tries to load faster, in his panic accidentally catching sight of the bite wound on his arm, and it’s bad. As in, he can’t believe he’s still conscious right now bad. But he tries not to think about it and just locks the gun back in, cocks it, and aims it straight in front of him.

His hands are shaking so badly he’s not sure he could actually fire the gun or hit the monster even if he did, but surprisingly, he doesn’t have to put that theory to the test, because the monster never comes around the wall. Claws scratch into the damp carpeted floor in the room parallel to the one he’s in and eerie chitters and growls fill the disturbingly quiet air. Billy always wondered if that sound was them communicating, or if they were mocking him. Making his skin crawl so he’d let his guard down, be afraid as they tore him to shreds.

But then it just stops again. The house totally silent except for the monster's horribly ragged breathing, and then it leaves. Retreats right out of the front door, and from the rustling sound that carries from outside, back into the woods.

Billy breathes out a heavy sigh of relief, tilting his head back against the wall, exhausted. Above his head he notices a cross, just a little golden thing dangling right above his head, and he laughs bitterly. Some blessing this is.

Because, while he didn’t get viciously eaten alive, for which he supposes he could be grateful in some ways, here he still was, after so many days he couldn’t count them anymore, he was still trapped and alone with monsters hunting him. Now suddenly throwing Steve and his friend into the mix, and he’s got himself the perfect mix of hopelessness and heartbreak and dread making this all the harder.

With effort, he stands again, this time not making the mistake of leaving his weapon behind.

The adrenaline is slowly wearing off, and his arm really starts to demand his attention. It stings like nothing he’s ever felt before, a horrible sensation that makes his whole arm feel painfully numb. He just hopes the medicine in this house hadn’t succumbed to the elements like most things he scavenged for tend to anymore.

By some miracle, the old man who bought the place up still hadn’t finished unpacking, and right at the bottom of a cardboard box full of old towels is an almost completely preserved first aid kid, fully intact other than a couple of rotten bandages, but those wouldn’t be of much use to him right now anyways.

He tries to remember the rules his dad had taught him the first time he cut too deep, rules which he’d later passed down to Max when she was being nosy after witnessing a fight, following him around while he was trying to get his face to stop bleeding.

Clean it, medicate it, bandage it.

Normally when he was telling it to Max, he’d tack on to the end to go get help if she was bleeding more than a bandaids worth, but that’s not really of much use to him, so he pushes his sleeve up, grateful it had already been rolled up some and hadn’t been torn, and assesses the damage.

He can’t see any bone, which is good enough news, but he can’t see much of anything else from how badly he’s bleeding, which is not so good. He can’t even get a fair judgement of how bad it is with all the gore covering the actual wound, so he walks to the sink to wipe some of the blood away.

The water quality down here varies from day to day, not that he’d ever drink the stuff, he’d a thousand times over raid a monsters den for a single water bottle than put that stuff in his body, but sometimes he’d test it just to check if it was clean enough for him to try and wash away any of the dirt and blood on him.

Sometimes nothing would come from the faucet but disgusting black sludge. Today he was lucky, the water, if you could even call it that, cloudy and speckled, but not unusable. Besides, he would rather get some weird alien infection in his arm than bleed out anyways.

Max’s watch is caked in gore so he quickly runs it under the water too. It’s probably going to fry the stupid thing, and the thought of its familiar ticking being gone does admittedly make Billy a little uneasy, but he’d rather return the watch broken than stained with his blood.

Because that’s really his biggest goal. To keep surviving and make it out of wherever the hell he is so he could give Max back her watch and Steve back that stupid bandana he probably didn’t even notice was missing, and his dad back his jacket. Shove it in the asshole's face and tell him, ‘Here’s your jacket back you old bastard. Mind the blood stain on the collar and the tear in the shoulder. I fucking missed you, dad.’

He's able to get the bleeding to stop with rags, and once the wound is clean, he slathers the bite in as much polysporin as he can find, mostly to mask the heavy smell of blood lingering on his skin that would act like a beacon for the monsters miles away until this hole in his arm heals. He finds clean enough bandages and wraps it until he can barely move his wrist, tugging his sleeve back down over them. He decides not to clean up all the blood, so there was something to distract them from finding him once he leaves.

Healing is supposed to be the hardest part, and Billy had always thought that was bullshit- the hardest part was the betrayal when his dear old dad cracked his bones and left bruises on his skin when there are real monsters out there in the world that don’t give you a hug and an apology when it’s over- but now he knows for sure that isn’t true.

The most important thing is finding Steve again, and figuring out why he couldn’t see or touch him, and could only just barely hear him, but could feel his presence, almost tangibly.

Billy steals another two boxes of bullets, keeping the gun close at his side, and he sets back off for that duplex.

#harringrove big bang 2021 #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #robin buckley #tw blood #tw gun mention #ej writer #story by ej!#so excited to get this chapter out #because look at that amazing art!!!

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