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noteguk · 3 years

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any way you want it | kth | m

— summary; in which your best friend, Taehyung, finds out about your unsatisfying sexual experiences and decides to put an end to that track record himself.

— contents and warnings; smut, childhood best friends, Taehyung x reader, bigdick!tae, breast play, oral (f receiving), dry grinding, dirty talk, tae has a praise kink, unprotected sex (be responsible!!), rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Taehyung takes things personally but he has good intentions, this is what happens when mutual thirst gets suppressed for years of friendship

— words; 6.6k

— author’s note; i have no idea why but this fic was so fucking hard to put down into words??? I felt mentally constipated the entire time but it’s finally here

Taehyung wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when you called him at almost two in the morning, complaining about your newest nightmarish date and practically begging to come over. Like the good friend that he was, he made sure to tell you that you would be more than welcome to join him in his newest documentary marathon about aliens, and wondered if you could bring him some takeout on your way over there. Like the bad friend that you were, you said no.

To be fair, the nearest takeout place was across the city from his apartment (about thirty minutes away and in a bad neighborhood), and you were already having a horrible night as it was. Besides, you refused to take part in Taehyung’s search for a high blood pressure and cholesterol levels, arguing that it wasn’t the right time to stuff his face full of hypercaloric noodles.

But you did pity him enough to comply with his second request: a big pot of vanilla ice cream, which you were sure you’d end up consuming too. You were in a crisis.

As if to prove that the gods above were laughing at you, during the walk of shame to Taehyung’s apartment, it had started to rain (because of course it did), and your umbrella was only able to save you from the shoulders up before it crumbled and flew away from your gasp, rolling on the asphalt like a ball of dirt in a Wild West movie. By the time that you dragged yourself to his front door, you were completely soaked (and not in the way you had planned for that night to end), and about to break down crying.

Taehyung, like the angel that he was, helped you with your heavy coat and talked you into taking a warm shower before you got sick. He took the supermarket bag from you (where the ice cream had probably already melted) and walked you to this bathroom, excusing himself so he could grab you some dry clothes — and you only saw the ones he had picked when you got out of the shower.

With a silly smile dancing on your lips, you fumbled with the black booty shorts that Taehyung had jokingly gifted you that past Christmas — one that read “daddy’s juicy butt” in big, bold, neon pink letters over your ass — and then decided that your dignity was already dead by that point, so another kick wouldn’t hurt. Taehyung had also given you one of his favorite band shirts, which he only revealed during desperate times.

Your heart melted with the thought of your best friend trying to comfort you, and pulled the fabric close to your face so you could take a deep inhale, drowning in his scent. It smelled of that stupid cologne that Taehyung had used ever since he hit puberty, and a bit of fabric softener.

The two of you had an extremely close friendship, to the point that it got kind of strange at times. Ever since childhood, it was joked that you and Taehyung had been long lost soulmates — doing everything together, from going to school to laughing at the same exact jokes during movie marathons, often at the same moment and for the same amount of time. Before puberty hit (and the hormonal rage took over your first teenage years) you couldn’t remember disagreeing with him even once. You two had always been in sync.

But the uncomfortably close part only hit after you two went to college, and your anxiety for being a virgin in a sea of starving sharks got the best of you. After long conversations, you had managed to convince Taehyung to help you learn a thing or two about the art of naked wrestling.

Apparently it was weird to give your best friend a handjob and a blowjob for the sake of education. Go figure.

Regardless, your friendship wasn’t affected by any of that — even if you two had agreed to never mention any of it ever again — and you could always count on Taehyung to catch you when you fell.

Even if it was at two am on a Tuesday, after one of your nightmarish dates.

You threw yourself on the couch next to him, hugging your knees against your chest to form a barrier between you and the divine providence that had taken you to that point. You had half-assedly dried your hair, but pools of wetness had started to build on the back of Taehyung’s shirt.

Instead of accusing you of ruining his favorite piece of clothing, Taehyung reached for the remote and paused his documentary just as the narrator was starting to explain how hieroglyphs were actually part of an alien language. “Just tell me how bad it was,” he said, a mustache of ice cream melting over his top lip.

You took a peek at the bowl of melting vanilla on his center table, and decided that you would probably pass the desert for the night.

You glanced at him sideways, voice coming out monotone. “You sure you want to go down that path?”

Taehyung licked his sweet mustache off and nodded, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, hit me with it. You look like you need all the help that you can find.”

You sighed, turning around on the couch so you were facing him — legs still against your chest. “Okay so… I went to his place...”

“Yes…”

“And... we had dinner, talked for a bit.”

“How was the talk?” He asked.

You shook your head, trying to kill the memories inside. “He didn’t let me say a word. He just went on and on about this new website he’s working on, and how expensive his wine glasses were.” You scoffed, angry at yourself for ignoring the clear red flags of an arrogant douchebag. That was what the desperate need for immediate human connection could do to someone, you thought. “Apparently it’s supposed to be the next Facebook or something. Or twitter. I honestly wasn’t paying much attention.”

He chuckled. “Starting off strong.”

“That wasn’t even the main issue,” you said, lowering your forehead so it was touching your knees. You just wanted the world to end at that moment, so you wouldn’t have to go through those experiences again. “After that, we sat on his couch and started watching a movie. And you know how that goes, we started kissing, he pushed me down and got on top of me…”

“And?” He instigated.

With a sigh, you raised your head, meeting your friend’s gaze. Taehyung thought he had never seen you look so dead inside. And he had seen a lot from you. “And he humped like… my lower abdomen for about three minutes and came in his pants.”

Taehyung cringed visibly, taking one hand to cover his mouth. “Oh, man. That’s bad.”

You nodded, strangely relieved at his reaction. Part of you was worried that you were the evil witch in that scenario, that maybe you had done something wrong. “The worst,” you agreed. “Wanna know what else?”

“What? There’s more?”

“He didn’t even ask me if I was satisfied with whatever the hell that was.” You told him, bitterness dripping from your tongue. In the grand scheme of things, that was something silly to get mad over, but the fact that your date didn’t even have the guts to ask if you had gotten something out of that was ridiculous. “Not that I could possibly be. But it’s like he didn’t care and I was just a pillow for him to hump like a… sexually repressed religious teen, I don’t know.”

Taehyung only nodded, realizing that there wasn’t much that he could say to fix the situation. “Was he a good kisser at least?”

You sneered. “I think he was trying to crush my face with his.” You glanced at your friend, only half of his face bathed by the yellow and orange shades coming from the television. Maybe a documentary about ancient history and alien expeditions wouldn’t be so bad. Worst case scenario, it would knock you out, and you wouldn’t have to think about that mess anytime soon. “Also, too much tongue, just… the amount of saliva…”

“Got it. You can stop there.” Taehyung raised one hand, his eyes closing for a second. His palm lowered and met one of your knees, standing there in a silent attempt at consolation. “I’m sorry about your terrible date experience, dude.”

“If you could even call it that.” You ran one hand through your hair, suddenly overtaken by a wave of anger. “God! I was just… so… ugh! Like… ughhhh!!”

Taehyung, bless his heart, sometimes couldn’t understand the random neanderthal sounds you threw his way. “So... what?”

At last, your makeshift protection came crumbling down, and you collapsed on the couch dramatically, legs dangling off the edge. Taehyung thought that you were being possessed for exactly two seconds before you started talking again. “I did a full body shave for this night, Taehyung. Do you realize what that means?” His lips fell open, but, before he had the chance to answer, you continued. “It means that I really wanted to get railed tonight. Actually, I wanted to find a guy who actually knew what he was doing for once in my life.”

Taehyung chuckled, trying to disperse the tension in the room. “Come on, the dating pool can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, it’s bad,” you said.

He wasn’t giving up that fast. “How bad?”

You raised your head to look him dead in the eyes, a silent threat, before finally uttering, “Try no-man-has-ever-made-me-cum bad,” and crashing your head back against the sofa.

If you weren’t so hyper-focused on your own sexual melodrama, you would have noticed the thick silence that fell between the two of you, Taehyung’s face contorting into fifty different emotions within a few seconds. He thought that he had heard it all — from the secrets hidden in Machu Picchu to the obvious extraterrestrial influence on earthy religion — but no amount of bad documentaries could ever prepare him for that revelation. That didn’t make any sense.

“Wait. Seriously?” He finally found his voice and managed to push his doubt out of his throat. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

You chuckled, humorless. “Oh no, I’ve had plenty of those. Just not from another person.”

“How’s that possible?” he asked.

“I ask myself that every single day.” You sighed, forcing yourself to sit back up. Taehyung was staring at you like you had just grown two extra arms, and you wondered what an amazing sex life he must’ve had for that confession to get him so confused. “Guess I’m just really bad at picking partners, who knows.”

There was a soft grunt on your throat as you fixed your position on the couch, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your entire day piling up at once. Your gaze mindlessly traveled to the TV — a big plasma monstrosity that Taehyung had bought compulsively during a Black Friday sale — looking at a white-bearded man pointing maniacally towards a specific, round-shaped hieroglyph. You didn’t even need to hit play to know that he was making it seem like it was an UFO, but curiosity got the best of you.

“Can you pass me the remote?” You asked, pointing at the small device that laid beyond Taehyung’s body. “I kinda wanna see what—”

“I’ve made tons of girls have orgasms,” Taehyung interrupted, looking at you like he had just clicked out of a transe.

You laughed at his monotone voice. “I’m happy for you, Tae.” You leaned over his legs so you could finally reach the remote. “That wasn’t a jab at your masculinity, I’m sure you’re a very caring partner, and I’m sure there’s tons of guys out there that—”

“I can make you cum too, if you want.”

You had just grabbed the small piece of plastic when his sentence hit you like a smack in the face, making you drop the remote back on the couch, eyes widening. “You… what?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, taking one hand to massage the back of his neck. “Did that sound as creepy as I think it did?”

“A bit, yeah.” You forced out a light chuckle, trying to break the ice. There was no sign of mockery in his voice, and you didn’t know how to react. You could not say that the offer wasn’t tempting (you’d be lying if you claimed that you didn’t think Taehyung was attractive), but his proposal was so oddly-placed that it sounded like a joke. “What are you talking about?”

Taehyung sighed, turning his head to look at the television. “I just think it’s really unfair that no one has ever made you cum before.”

You smiled. “That’s very nice of you, but…”

“And I want to help you with that.” He looked back at you. Oh, he was being a hundred percent serious. There was no longer a single ounce of doubt in your mind. “We’re friends, it’s not gonna be weird. We’ve done similar stuff before.”

“We were a lot younger, though.” You didn’t know why your mouth suddenly felt so dry, your fight or flight response kicking at full strength. You could tell that Taehyung was also trying to convince himself about the strangeness of the situation. “It’s gonna be kind of weird, yeah.”

“Not if we don’t make it weird,” he threw back. Was it bad that you were actually considering it? Maybe it was the piled-up exhaustion combined with the years of sexual frustration, maybe you were finally out of your mind. But you were really considering it. “I don’t wanna pressure you, alright? Just making a friendly offer. If you don’t want it, that’s fine.”

You kind of wanted it, though. There was too much accumulated libido inside you from years and years of unsatisfying partners, and you trusted Taehyung with your entire heart. It sounded like a safe enough bet: if all went to shit and it got too awkward, you two could just stop, no hard feelings. Besides, you knew that Taehyung cared about you, which was more than you could say about all your dates in the past couple years.

And the more you stared at him, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, the more you grew soft under his presence. At once, you were hit with desires that you had never considered before: you wanted to kiss those soft lips, wanted to know how his large hands would feel around you. You really, really wanted to know how it was to have a good sexual experience with someone, and you couldn’t think of a better candidate than your best friend. Even if you still thought it could be seen as a little bit weird.

But you also kind of didn’t care.

You licked your lips, finally finding your voice after a long moment of silence. “How… how would you do it?”

Taehyung turned his head and looked at you, noticing the expectation in your eyes. “How would you want me to do it?” He asked.

You tried to think, but your mind was completely blank. What did you want him to do? What did you like? Suddenly you weren’t sure about anything anymore. “I don’t know,” you admitted, glancing down.

Taehyung smiled at your nervousness, one of his hands moving to your chin and tilting your head up. “How ‘bout I start by kissing you?” He questioned, gaze flickering to your parted lips. “Is that alright?”

There were no words in your throat, so you simply nodded, closing your eyes as he leaned in.

Taehyung’s mouth tasted of vanilla and you thought, even for a moment, that you were in paradise. The second that his tender lips met yours, your anxiety melted away, giving space to a newfound flame of desire. Taehyung kissed you softly, sensually, taking his time caressing your mouth and drowning in your heat. His hand moved to the back of your head, pressing you closer to him and leaning your head to the side so he could deepen the kiss.

He sighed heavily into your mouth when your tongues met, his other hand moving to hold your waist. The position on the couch was kind of awkward for kissing, with the two of you sitting side by side, so it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when Taehyung tugged you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

The kiss was starting to get hungrier, messier, a small whimper dying in your mouth when his palms traveled down to cup your ass, pressing you down against his semi-hard cock. Taehyung sighed and groaned at the feeling of you on top of him, loving the way that your fingers played with his hair, your body so perfectly tight against his. If there was any hesitation before, it had completely vanished by that point.

It caught you off guard when he suddenly broke off the kiss to ask you, “Do you like any pet names?”

You blinked, taken aback. “Hm? What?”

He placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You know, you want me to call you by something?”

You realized that Taehyung was really taking that personal service to a different level, and you couldn’t say that you were let down by it. If any of your past partners had the dignity to ask what you liked, you wouldn’t be in that position in the first place. “I… like being called ‘baby’,” you told him.

Taehyung smiled. “That’s cute. Baby it is.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Taehyung’s lips were back on yours, a dreamy sigh leaving his mouth as your tongues met once again. Only a few seconds passed before he shifted his weight to lay you down, never breaking the kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, hovering over you. Taehyung started trailing a path of kisses down your neck, his large hands slithering beneath your oversized shirt and caressing the skin of your stomach.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging at your shirt.

You agreed and, within a heartbeat, that piece of clothing was already on the floor, and Taehyung was diving in to kiss the valley of your naked breasts. You moaned timidly when one of your nipples was wrapped by his lips, his tongue coming out to play with it. Taehyung’s other hand was occupied fondling your other breast, tugging and pressing down on it, and the sensations were taking over your mind.

“You have great tits,” Taehyung mumbled against your skin, switching to mouth your other nipple.

“I’m glad you like them,” you teased, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. You were letting out these cute little whimpers that were making him lose his mind. “Feels really good.”

“Yeah?” He asked, moving back to kiss his way up your neck. His tongue was hot and heavy as it danced on your skin, and you knew that those sucks he was giving you were surely gonna leave a few marks on your flesh. But you didn’t really care. “Gonna make you feel even better, baby.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at the pet name — it sounded heavenly when Taehyung used it with his deep, honeyed voice; his warm breath hitting your neck as he continued with his ministrations.

He kissed his way to your cheek, placing a small pec on your lips before saying, “Can you do something for me?”

You nodded. “What is it?”

Instead of responding right away, Taehyung’s gaze fell to your lips, and he was once again attacking them. That time, you weren’t able to hold back the whimper that you let out, your panties already glued against your core with how much he was turning you on.

One of his hands had trailed down your exposed abdomen, teasingly playing with the hem of your shorts. You held your breath when he tugged them down, bringing your underwear with it and throwing them somewhere in the living room. Taehyung grunted loudly when his fingers slipped past your folds, digging into your heat. His brain almost short-circuited because of how wet you were.

He broke the kiss and looked you deep in the eyes. “I want you to sit on my face, baby,” he said, and his request shot straight to your core. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

“Are you sure?” You asked. You had never done that before.

But Taehyung wasn’t sharing your reluctance. “Yeah,” he said, voice hoarse and eyes darkened. “Wanna taste you so bad. Sit on my face, please.”

And you didn’t need any more convincing than that. Taehyung helped you get up from the couch so he could reposition himself on it, laying flat on his back and watching as you settled yourself above him, thighs on either side of his head. The couch was the exact size for that, a little smaller and you’d have one leg dangling off the edge.

Taehyung took his hands to your thighs, running them up to your hips. His eyes were focused on your pussy, and you never felt so exposed when he started pressing you down lightly, guiding you closer to his mouth.

You held the back of the couch for support and did as he requested, lowering yourself until Taehyung had you flat on his tongue. Your breath trembled and caught in your throat when he licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, humming around the taste before doing it again. Taehyung was an expert at erasing your worries because, with a few more licks, he had you fully losing yourself in his sinful ministrations.

It wasn’t long until you were whining out his name, your folds lazily dragging against his tongue as you started to grind on his face. “God, Taehyung!” You called out, hand coming down to tug at his hair. Taehyung grunted in satisfaction, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves through your pussy. “That’s… that’s really nice. You’re really good at this.”

He moaned in response, closing his eyes at your words. Taehyung was eating you out like his mouth was made for it, like he was starving for your taste and you were all that he could think about. He licked you from your entrance to your clit, playing with your sensitive spots and enjoying the tremors of pleasure that ran through your thighs, his hands locked tight around your hips. You sobbed and cried over him, making special effort to keep your legs steady as you rocked yourself on his tongue.

It was only when he decided to suck on your clit that you realized how absurdly close you were. You clenched your teeth and whined out, yanking his hair harder. “Do that again, please,” you asked and Taehyung, like the good friend that he was, was quick to comply. Taehyung wrapped his mouth around your clit in a way that had you trembling over him, licking and sucking on your sensitive nub like his life depended on it. “Fuck, that’s so good, Tae. Feels so good…”

He moaned again, more desperate this time, and some part of your mind understood the pattern that he was presenting you: Taehyung really, really liked your compliments. And you had no problem giving away any more of them.

“You’re licking me so well, Tae, you’re gonna make me cum like this,” you told him, meaning every word you said. Taehyung was a Greek god beneath you, staring up at you with those dark, focused eyes as if he dared you to cum on his tongue. “God! You’re so good for me.”

And then your praises ran thin, because your mind was gravitating somewhere else — seeking for the high that was dangerously close. It was only when Taehyung started toying with your entrance, brushing two of his fingers on it, that you came undone, crying out his name like it was a personal prayer.

There was a smirk on your mouth as you came down, a flooding relief that overtook you. You never thought that you could come so hard in your life, especially when it depended on another person, and you were so, so happy to be wrong that you could cry.

With shaky legs, you removed yourself from Taehyung’s face, straddling his lap and watching as his lips glistened with your arousal. His pink tongue came out to lick them, a hum on his throat as he took in your fucked-out expression.

“You did so well, baby,” he said, placing one of his hands on your waist. “Come here.”

Obedient, you leaned in and sighed as his mouth met yours. This time, Taehyung didn’t wait to eagerly insert his tongue inside your mouth, making you taste yourself on him.

He pulled away leisurely, his voice hoarse. “Can you taste how sweet you are?” He asked. “I loved making you cum on my tongue, baby. You looked so pretty.”

Taehyung breathed out, planting kisses on your neck, one hand trailing down to squeeze your ass. You whined at his tight grip and pressed yourself down on him, feeling his hard cock poking out against the fabric of his sweats.

Taehyung groaned at the stimulation, pressing down on your asscheek again. You rolled your hips on top of him, wincing in sensitivity as his member brushed your clit. “Loved your pussy so much, baby,” he continued, sounding like he was lost in a daydream, “I can’t wait to be inside you. Bet you’d be so tight for my cock, hm?”

“Yeah,” you managed to speak. Even if you had just reached your orgasm, you were still aching to feel something inside you. You wanted Taehyung more than you could understand. “I want you to fuck me, Tae, please.”

He breathed out, his hands tightening around your flesh as you rolled your pussy against his cock once again. Taehyung looked like he was one heartbeat away from completely losing his self control, and hearing you beg for him to fuck you wasn’t doing him any favors. “Gonna need to lie down for me, baby,” he asked.

With a few more shifts on the couch, Taehyung had you beneath him once again, your legs open for him as he removed his shirt and pants. It wasn’t long before his cock sprung free from its confinement, standing erect. You licked your lips at the lustful sight, pussy clenching in anticipation as you took him in — Taehyung was big. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever had, that’s for sure; long and thick and already leaking for you.

You would’ve cried out in need if he didn’t interrupt you. “What are you looking at?” Taehyung asked, the ghost of a smile creeping up on his lips.

Your stare oscillated toward his own. “That’s why you have such a good track record, your cock is huge.” You bit your lip, thinking about how good he would feel inside you. You didn’t know how it was possible, but you were pretty sure the last time you’ve seen his cock — back in the dark ages of your freshman year of college — it wasn’t as big as that. Or maybe you just didn’t have anything to compare it to.

“Hey, I just used my tongue on you, don’t ignore my efforts,” Taehyung teased, wrapping one of his hands around his member so he could pump himself a few times. The playful atmosphere swiftly shifted back, and, when he spoke up again, his voice was deeper. “You think you can take it?”

“Yeah, I can,” you said. You couldn’t be sure, but you were sure going to try.

Taehyung hummed, moving a bit closer so he could brush his tip against your pussy, coating it with your wetness. You closed your eyes in expectation, knowing that you’d love the stretch he would give you.

“You want it?” He asked, a touch of desperation covering his words. Taehyung was nearing his breaking point, and the fluttering of your pussy on his cock was making him go insane. “Want my cock inside your tight little cunt, baby?”

You nodded, frantic. The brushing of his thick tip on your hole was becoming too much, your walls clenching around nothing, seeking for something to fill you up. “Yes, fuck, I want it so bad.”

“Are you tight for me, baby?” He was trying to prolong that moment for as much as he could, keep the pretty face you made when you pleaded for him to fuck you burned in the back of his head. Making you cum once was a victory he would take forever, but making you cum around his cock might as well be his life’s biggest achievement. “Ready for me to fuck you?”

You cried out when he started pressing himself inside you, guiding his crown inside your pussy, then stopping. “Yes, Tae, just put it all in, please,” you whined, hands fumbling for support on his broad shoulders. Taehyung already had you clenching around nothing, you didn’t know what else he wanted from you. “Please, please, fuck me.”

Taehyung chuckled, looking down at where you two met. He was only human, and his self control was short lived. “Since you asked so nicely…”

Your back arched off the sofa as you felt the delicious drag of his large cock inside you, opening you up gradually, taking its time before filling you up to the brim. You gasped and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling, nails digging on the skin of his back as Taehyung groaned besides your ear.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He let out a shaky breath, and you swore you never heard his voice get so husky before. “I just slipped right in. You’re so fucking wet.”

Your mind was an apocalypse of confused thoughts and forgotten exclamations, eyes fluttering shut as you dove into the sensation of Taehyung inside you — his hips angling backwards, tilting up just enough so he could move himself away from you core, only to come slamming back inside. The stretch of his cock was amazing, it was making you drunk, and all that you could think about was how much pleasure it was giving you.

“So-So big—“ you muttered, half aware that the words actually left your lips.

“How do you like it, uh?” Taehyung asked, his voice dripping sin and hunger. You could tell that he, too, was getting carried away by the feeling, his hips rutting themselves against you at a lazy pace. “Gonna give it to you any way you want it, baby.”

You bit your lip, a small moan leaving your mouth when Taehyung leaned closer to you, distributing hot kisses on your neck. You swore you’d be happy if you died then. “I like it rough,” you answered.

He groaned, apparently satisfied with your response. “Whatever you want.”

Taehyung got to his knees on the couch, deciding to put one foot on the ground for support, his hands raising your hips to help him reach even deeper inside you. Faster than your brain could compute, the shallow, lazy pace he had sat was being replaced with a harsh, fast pumping that made you cry out his name, eyes closing in sheer bliss.

“Tae! Yes, yes, just like that,” you sobbed, running one hand through your hair. You felt like your body was floating, every cell of your body overheating with the amazing pleasure that Taehyung was giving you. You never had someone fucking you so hard, his cock pistoning inside you, your body bobbing up and down on the couch.

Taehyung’s eyes were glued to the bouncing of your breasts as he continued to fuck you, a deep groan leaving his chest. “That’s it, take it,” he moaned out, quickening his pace even more. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth opening in a silent scream. “Gonna make you cum so hard around my cock, baby. Gonna fuck you until you cry. Want that?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you moaned. “Feels so good, Tae.”

“You like my cock, baby? Like it filling you up?” He asked and you could only nod pathetically, your entire body too fucked out to even respond. “F-fuck, your pussy is so good. Tell me that you love my cock.”

“I love your cock,” you whined, feeling like a complete hot mess under his thrusts. “I — fuck! — I love your cock so much, Tae, it’s so big.”

Your words motivated him to fuck you even harder, his member hitting even deeper inside you. Taehyung was getting lost in the stretch of your pussy around him, the glorious sounds you were making, the lust that coated your face every time you called out his name.

“Shit, I don’t know how anyone could look at you like this and not want to see that pretty face cum.” He was breathing out hard, grunting every time your cunt tightened around him. Taehyung wanted to see you like that forever, taking his cock like a good girl, creaming all over him and begging to do it again. You were wrapping around him so perfectly, taking all of him so well, that he didn’t think he’d manage to move on from that anytime soon. “So fucking hot.”

Taehyung chased after your high like a starving man looking for food, experimentally changing the angle and force of his thrusts to see what would get the best reaction out of you. At last, after a pathetically loud cry from your part after he raised your legs up, it seemed as if he had found it. “I bet you’d be so tight cumming around my cock, baby,” he was thinking out loud at that point, trying to make sense of the pretty sounds and expressions you were giving him so eagerly. He wanted nothing more than to see you cum — it was personal at that point. “I wanna feel you cum around me, baby. Wanna feel it so bad.”

“I’m c-close.” Your nails dug into his shoulders, eyes closing tightly. There was a light heat in your cheeks and sweat on your forehead that was making Taehyung wonder if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “You’re so good, T-Tae, you’re fucking me so well…”

Taehyung thought that he could cum right then and there, pushed over the edge with those sweet words alone. He loved being good to you, loved making you feel things that no one else managed to before. He was intoxicated by that sense of superiority, drowning in your praise. He wished that he could fuck you forever.

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he pushed you on, his words hanging somewhere between an order and a breathless plea. You were getting so tight around him that it was making him crazy, your wetness coating his cock and dripping down between your legs like his own personal brand of aphrodisiac. “You can do it, come on. I wanna see you cum so bad.”

You smiled at him, a cute, fucked-out smirk that made Taehyung go to heaven and back. “So good for me, Tae, you’re so big,” you said, your voice so needy and high-pitched. Your orgasm was looming over you, pressing down on your lower body and making you see stars. It was only a matter of time before Taehyung got you crying out his name, back arching off the couch and mouth falling open in delirium. “Tae! Fuck! Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna—“

But your warning came a second too late, because you were already spasming around his length, body shaking as Taehyung thrusted hard inside you. Just as expected, you were absolutely fucking gorgeous when you came — all quivering lips and rolling eyes —, and Taehyung was beyond satisfied to know that he was the only one who saw that pretty face of yours.

“That’s it, baby, fuck.” Taehyung was starting to feel his own high approaching, called by the delicious tightening and releasing of your pussy around him. His thrusts were messy and harsh; his sweaty hair falling over his eyes like a cascade. “Can I cum inside you, baby? Can I fuck you full of my cum?”

You noticed the desperation in his tone and, with the throbbing of his member inside you, you knew that he wasn’t far. “Yes, please,” you said. “You were so good for me, Tae, you can cum wherever you want.”

And it was that final taste of praise that pushed Taehyung over his limit; waves upon waves of cum filling you up as he rode out his high. “God— fuck!” He cried out, drunk on the feeling of your walls milking the last drops of cum out of his cock. A few lazy pumps later, and he was collapsing on top of you with a mumbled, “F-Fuck.”

There was an instant of silence after his orgasm, the quietude only filled by Taehyung’s heavy breathing. You took one hand to his head, caressing the strands as a smile blossomed on your lips. “Well, I believe you now,” you said playfully. “I’m sure you made a bunch of girls orgasm.”

Taehyung chuckled, breathless. “Thank you, I try,” he said, looking up at you. The darkness in his gaze was gone, and it was just your best friend staring back at you. “You alright?”

“I’m great,” you admitted. You never felt so good in your life. “You?”

“Fantastic, thanks for asking.” He leaned back so he could sit up, running one hand through his disheveled hair before saying, “I’m gonna grab you a towel, hang on.”

Taehyung left you for a couple minutes before coming back to clean you up, tenderly wiping away the mess you two had created. After he was done, he discarded the towel on the floor and crawled back to rest on your chest once again.

There was a comforting quietude that floated in the atmosphere, only filled by the muffled buzzing of his freezer and the vague sound of raindrops drumming on the window. You didn’t really know how to deal with that entire situation, didn’t know how things would stay between the two of you. But, at that point, you made the decision to keep those worries for the following morning and, instead, just enjoy his warmth radiating all around you.

The glorious silence, at last, was broken when Taehyung started mumbling against your breasts. “Hey, ___?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“How many dates have you been on?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment. “Ever?”

Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue. “I don’t know, like, this past year.”

“Uh… like… five or six? I think?” You answered, looking down to meet his gaze. You knew that wicked expression very well. “Why?”

He smiled. “Because we have a lot of shitty dates to make up for.”

#bts fic #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung fic #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #bts x you #bts x reader #reader insert #smut #au #taehyung au #bts au

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oldguardhc · 3 years

Text

Old Guard hc #135

Warnings: Temporary Major Character Death, Alcoholism, Depression

AN: @sunshineandchemistry wanted hurt inspired by Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then) by The Decemberists.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

They have a plan.

They’re supposed to stop healing together. They’re supposed to retire from the action and live out the rest of their days in Malta. They’re supposed to have decades to prepare for the inevitable day. They’re supposed to go together.

Not-not like this.

Joe stares down at his own body. A puddle of blood has formed around it, bright red and barely deep enough to splash if someone were to step in it. His light blue shirt, now a deep maroon, is sticking to his chest and his fingers itch to pull the fabric away before it can dry. His eyes, open and glazed, he wanted to see the stars before this death, pierce through him in a way his reflection never has.

This feels like a joke.

He’s bled ten times more than this and was back in the fight a minute later. When his leg got blown off, he was walking not an hour later. So why the hell is the hole in his chest, barely an inch wide and four inches deep, not closing? This is nothing but a scratch in the long list of injuries his body has sustained.

When he first woke up, he had laughed. He just got killed by a purse-snatcher. A purse-snatcher. They weren’t even smart enough to burglar a house; how the guy got the jump on him was a goddamn mystery, not to mention insulting and mortifying. Booker was never going to let him live this down.

It was only after he sat up and patted his chest, still chuckling to himself at the sheer absurdity of the situation, that he realized something was wrong. That he was wrong.

His hands, normally a warm brown, like wheat just before the summer harvest, were gray and pale, every inch of life snuffed out of them. Joe had stared at them, flipping them over and over, flexing and shaking his fingers to stimulate fresh blood flow, but no matter how much he moved them, how many times he blinked, they remained the same. Cool brown and utterly wrong.

That wasn’t even the worst part.

No, the worst part, the worst fucking part, was when he stood up, ready to shake off this awful day in the comfort of Nicky’s arms, dinner be damned, they’ll just eat another sandwich, and his body remained on the floor, still and bleeding and-and separate.

He freaked out.

He immediately laid back in his body, lining his arms and legs with the body on the floor first, before sitting up. When that didn’t work, he tried picking his body up to drag back home, only his hands had passed through his own arms and chest, like he was nothing more than a cheap light show.

It was then that it sunk in, with his hands buried in his sternum and his own lifeless eyes staring back at him.

He was dead.

He was dead and he wasn’t coming back.

—

Nicky hasn’t eaten in days, not since he shared the small sandwich with Joe.

“Just a snack!” Joe pleaded, batting his eyelashes with a wide grin. He looked ridiculous, like one of those Bratz dolls that once lined every shelf in the toy section at the supermarket. Nicky was more annoyed than charmed as Joe continued to beg; he was blocking the TV and his voice was getting progressively pitchier the longer Nicky continued to ignore him in favor of watching National Treasure.

Nicky gave in, of course he gave in, if only to get Joe to shut up now that he was reaching dog whistle levels. He went to the kitchen, Joe right on his heels and made the fastest sandwich in history, a ham and cheese sandwich on one slice of bread. After folding it in half, he stuffed as much of the sandwich into his mouth and handed over the rest to Joe. It wasn’t much, barely bigger than the bite-sized sandwiches that are usually out on the buffet tables, but it was better than nothing. He almost choked when he saw the wounded expression on his husband’s face. Joe took the half-sandwich with a pout and spent the next fifteen minutes nibbling on it, savoring each bite like it was the best thing he’s ever eaten. It was cute and charming and Nicky kissed him when he finished, swatting his ass as they broke apart because dinner wasn’t going to get itself.

He should have made a regular sandwich.

He should have just cooked with what they had in the pantry.

He should have gone with Joe.

His stomach twists and Nicky cries.

—

Nicky’s not living. He eats, he sleeps and sometimes he even goes out for a walk, but he’s not living, he’s functioning and that’s enough for Andy and Booker.

They don’t talk much to him; then again, no one talks much these days. It became glaringly obvious early on who initiated the conversations, who had the loudest voice, who kept the discussion flowing from one point to the next.

He doesn’t blame them; they were engulfed in their own grief too, both fresh and scarred.

They’ve become the liquor store’s best customers; between the three of them, they easily put away six bottles of hard liquor every night. It’s the only time they’re together, late at night into the early morning, drinking with a desperate fervency to get lost in their own memories of better times.

“The widow club,” Booker joked one night, mouth curled into a snarl.

“I never wanted to be part of this fucking club,” Nicky spat, taking an aggressive sip from his bottle. It was whiskey that night; it tasted like shit, it always tasted like shit, and Nicky didn’t care. It made him warm and muddled his thoughts and while he was drunk, he could forget, could ignore how empty everything was.

There was a moment of silence and then Andy laughed, sharp and vicious as she raised her bottle to clink with his, “Cheers to fucking that!”

During the day, Nicky sleeps. A lot.

Nicky sleeps, because if he sleeps, he can dream. In his dreams, Joe is still with him, leading him through the world with both hands and promising to never leave his side. In his dreams, Joe is bright and warm, kissing him like he never left, loving him like they had all the time in the world. In his dreams, he can savor the weight of Joe’s loving gaze, anchoring him in this sea of madness.

Most days, he wakes up around three in the afternoon. He stares at the ceiling until his stomach grumbles, and only when the pain becomes unbearable does he get up to get something to eat.

Sometimes, the stupid wind chimes will wake him up before three and those days are always the worst. Joe had loved those wind chimes; he would run his fingers through them every morning just to hear them sing, laughing as the house filled with its tinkling sound.

Nicky hates those fucking wind chimes.

He hates how every time he hears them, he thinks that it’s Joe, gently pushing one tube into another, creating a new song only for their ears. He hates how he turns his head with a sleepy smile towards the chimes, a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue, only to be splashed with the bitter reality that he’s alone, has been alone for awhile now.

Nicky hates those wind chimes and he wishes he could melt it down into something useful, something quiet, but it was Joe’s and Nicky can’t. He can’t destroy something that Joe loved so dearly.

But God does Nicky loathe them. They weren’t even under a vent and they still made noise.

Other times, the birds will wake him up. They never had this many birds before Joe, but after, Nicky sometimes wakes up to five birds on his windowsill, chirping and chirping and chirping. They’re loud and they arch up into nothing and Nicky hates them almost as much as the wind chimes because Joe would have loved them. Joe would’ve sat in front of the windowsill for hours, sketching and observing the birds, swallows, or were they sparrows, tossing them little seeds to keep them there longer. Hell, Joe would have set up a bird feeder to accommodate their many visitors. To Nicky, those birds are just another reminder that Joe’s gone and he wishes that they would just leave this house of grief alone.

So Nicky sleeps and he drinks, because if he does, he doesn’t have to live in a world that’s constantly screaming Joe’s name.

He’s not living.

It’s not really functioning either.

—

It works.

Joe gasps back to life and he’s in the quiet comfort of Nicky’s arms, just like he wanted that stupid day and everyday since. The weight of his arms, solid and warm across Joe’s chest, it’s enough to make him burst into tears.

“I missed you,” Nicky sobs, pulling him into a tight hug and Joe can’t wrap his arms around Nicky fast enough. He clings to his husband, taking in the twin scents of Irish Spring and cheap cologne, a combination he never thought he would miss; it smells like home.

“I was always there,” Joe whispers, “The birds, the chimes, the damn towel on the floor. I never left.” I never left you.

They’re both shaking apart in each other’s arms, but for the first time in months, it’s ok. It’s ok.

Nicky laughs, it’s choked and brittle, but it’s the first time he’s laughed since that day, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world to Joe’s ears right now. “I hated all those things.”

“I know,” Joe confesses, pulling back just enough to look at Nicky. He wipes away the snot and tears with the back of his hand. Nicky stares at him through red-rimmed eyes, a new kind of desperation shining in them that Joe knows are reflecting from his own. “But it got you out of bed, out of the house, and so I never stopped.”

They have a plan.

They’re going to stop healing together. They’re going to retire from the action and they’re going to live the rest of their days in Malta.

They’re not straying away from it this time.

#the old guard #joe x nicky #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #kaysanova #hc

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milstrim · 3 years

Text

Flesh and Bone and Heart

Chapter 1: “You have to let go.”

AO3 Link

Everything was bleak. Russet red skies painted a deep orange over every building and skyscraper. Over bodies of sickly green skin and the newly familiar sight of pools of blood stained to sidewalks and walls.

Peter hadn't quite gotten used to the bleakness yet, and he didn't want to. There was still hope after all. Even if he and Happy were the last New Yorkers left in a city of 8.4 million. There had to be other people alive, other groups of survivors across America, waiting for a cure. Because there had to be a way to more than survive this, even if the virus had wiped out the Avengers in a day...

He shook his head of the thought, squaring his shoulders and resuming his vigilant watch from atop the nondescript gray building he had called home the last couple of days. There was hope, and Peter would help the ragtag team that adopted him into their ranks to see it, even though he was sure they didn't see it like he did. There had to be hope after all. Humanity couldn't end because of one mistake. Aunt May couldn't be gone forever. Ned couldn't be a zombie without being allowed to have had a nerd-freak out over the whole thing. Mr. Stark couldn't be replaced by a husk of his former self.

It was impossible for Peter, to stare out at the city every day knowing about the looks the others shared when they thought he wasn't looking. How Happy would stare sullenly. How Sharon would always speak to him a little softer than the day before. Even Kurt, who had been the only one willing and able to match Peter's enthusiasm and attempts to keep everyone's spirits lifted, would drop the act the moment Peter wasn't in the room. He knew. He could hear everyone in their building, after all.

Which was why Peter sat on the building now.

The group had all formed three weeks into the apocalypse, not so easily fitting together but still managing to find how they all worked. His powers definitely made Peter one of the most powerful assets to the team, which was why he was usually on watch or patrolling around for where most of the infected were concentrated. Where once he might have preened at finally feeling so important--so seen--now he wished more than anything that he could shrink away. That his powers weren't needed so badly to keep a handful of survivors away from a fate almost worse than death.

He wished that everything was okay.

Even if it wasn't. And it might never be.

The screen of his mask caught something. Peter readjusted, narrowing his eyes as Karen zoomed in. He relaxed. It was just a small group of normal but infected New Yorkers. As long as everyone inside was quiet and kept up their normal routine, there was little danger there. It wasn't like it was Mr. Stark or those weird portal guys that would've gotten Peter weeks ago had Hope not shown up. They were dangerous, and usually who Peter kept his eye out for. Karen was always on the job tracking Mr. Stark, but the teenager had gotten used to training his eye for the familiar glinting red regardless.

With a quiet sigh released in a huff under his breath, Peter wiggled into a more comfortable crouch, watching the zombies until they filtered away onto a different street and out of his sight.

"Is there a street camera around there, Karen?" he asked, his voice a strained whisper. Two months into the zombie apocalypse the teenager had finally trained himself to make every word small. To treat every sentence like a danger. Sometimes Peter thought it was funny, that he'd had to learn to be quieter. May had always been so loud she'd been confused as to why he was so soft-spoken and he would joke that she was losing her hearing in her old age. But those smile-inducing thoughts would make his features fall with regret and guilt and he'd shove them away as quickly as they came.

"Of course, Peter. Here," his faithful AI responded, the video popping up on his screen. It showed the people continuing to stumble away, so he waved the video away. No real danger. Just a normal, boring, and tense day in the apocalypse.

The high schooler thanked the AI as the video disappeared, forcing his strained shoulders to drop and relax. It was something he'd found himself doing a lot recently. The apocalypse was, well, it was the apocalypse. It was dangerous and nerve-wracking and every breath was filled with a tired guilt that made his chest feel stale. But it also lacked a lot of action. Especially recently. The past two weeks had been a strange mixture of the constant need to be vigilant but with a significant lack of things to do.

It wasn't incredibly hard to get food. Most zombies had moved from being indoors to try and hunt better--like there was really anything left to hunt--leaving supermarkets vacant and easy to raid. It wasn't hard to watch out for infected intruders. Two people were always on watch. Important items were always ready to be moved and Karen kept a constant eye on security cameras around whatever building they were occupying that week. And Peter was left with little to do to occupy his thoughts.

He didn't want to think. Not about his situation. Not about the world. Not about his family and friends. He wanted to fight. He wanted to do.

Sometimes the teenager would try and piece together a semblance of a cure. Many zombies had rotted away completely, and there were vacant labs dotted around New York. He could try his hand at his chemistry knowledge and combat what he could. But every attempt, no matter how promising, had always ended in failure.

Peter couldn't make a cure. He was smart, but he was only sixteen and a half. He was a kid and he couldn't do it.

But there was a different sixteen year-old that maybe could.

Miss Okoye had arrived yesterday, in a shiny ship that had bled out of the air and landed in the open space in Avengers tower where the Quinjet should have been. Peter had been on watch then too, but he hadn't seen the plane land at the building across the city, it was invisible after all. Instead, Karen had alerted him and the teenager had immediately leapt off the building towards the tall and lonely ghost of a tower.

(His first day in the lab had been so tense and awkward. He hadn't known what to say and Mr. Stark hadn't known what to do. Peter had been so nervous he'd nearly burnt his hand off while doing simple wiring. Mr. Stark had panicked so bad--grabbing his hand and having Friday scan it and double-checking it himself when he didn't quite believe the AI--his cheeks blazed red and then Peter had burst out with loud giggles at the panic.)

Peter had arrived quickly and without interruption from a certain flying zombie, with enough time to warn Miss Okoye that Mr. Stark's suit also got alerts when something entered the tower and that they needed to leave immediately. Thankfully, he and the warrior had left before anyone could arrive and Peter had gotten to ride in a super-freaking-cool Wakandan ship. It hadn't quite distracted him from being back at the tower, but he'd let everyone think it had.

Now the group was making a decision. He could hear them faintly a few floors below, their voices murmured and concerned. It was hard to make out what they were saying exactly, but he couldn't quite say he cared. Certainly not enough to have Karen enhance the sound and let him know every word that was being said below. He had found that happening a lot recently. Not caring. At some point everything had become too much and his brain felt much too much like wet tissue paper to try and purse through anything in there other than I wish I wasn't awake. I wish I wasn't here. I wish someone else had survived instead of me. Someone who was ready.

But there wasn't anything else. And Wakanda would be safe, if they managed to make it there.

That was the debate.

Did they go search for a man who'd been thought to be dead and lost days into the apocalypse, or pack up and go to the last safe haven on Earth? Miss Okoye had her goal, with or without them--that, she had made very clear. But the rest of the group was split, and something they had decided when they'd first met was that the group should never split. And so, the debating. The arguing. All in whispered murmurs that had to be stifled to nothing if Peter ever gave the signal that an infected group was nearing too close for comfort.

The teenager hadn't heard much of the argument, hadn't made much of a point to pay attention to it, but he knew where everyone lay. Happy was ready to retreat to Wakanda, and Peter couldn't blame him. He didn't have superpowers, he wasn't trained, and the teenager was sure that it had been quite a blow to not only lose all of his friends but to have to depend on a snot-nosed teenager afterwards. Peter wanted Happy to go too. Traversing the zombie-infested country was a death wish for anyone who wasn't in better-than-peak fighting condition.

Kurt wanted to go. Bucky and Sharon wanted to fight.

Hope wanted to fight, but she wanted Peter to go.

Peter didn't want to go.

He wasn't an Avenger, but neither was she. There were no Avengers left. But he was the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. It was his responsibility to help his community, and hiding in Wakanda wouldn't help. If there was a fight, some way to help, Peter would take it.

Finally tired of the silence, he opened his mouth to ask Karen to let him listen to the debate, when a tingle--shocking and cold and running a shiver of goosebumps along his arms--stopped him. Immediately the teenager was on high alert, his muscles tightening in anticipation as he searched for the danger.

"Where's the Iron Man armor?" he snipped quietly to Karen. A screen popped up immediately, showing the armor still in Manhattan. He furrowed his brows. "Okay. Okay. Is it the wizard guys? Karen, search through security cameras nearby and alert the others that something is--"

He cut himself off at a painfully sharp tingle, instinct directing his chin up to stare at the tired russet sky. Except the laziness of it was gone now, replaced now by a fierce fire of ruby red, leaching out from a strange bright spot in the sky. A meteor. Great. The zombie apocalypse, now a meteor, what next? Nuclear war between the zombies?

Karen zoomed in on the meteor heading straight for Manhattan and--no. That wasn't a meteor. Was that--a person? Oh my, God, it was a person.

Said person zipped out of sight just as that thought registered, disappearing among the buildings. Towards where he knew Mr. Stark was.

Peter didn't even weigh his options. A person (alien or possibly already dead) was heading towards the most zombie-infested area of the city. He had to try.

And without a second thought, he slipped off of the building and began swinging.

"You're not going to convince him!" Happy snapped, his frustration bubbling over. The argument had taken up much of the night before and pretty much all day now. All held in stifled and angry whispers that only made the man angrier as he was forced to keep his voice low and repeat what he'd been saying for hours now. "You've known him for months now! You know you can't."

"He's a kid," Hope pushed back, her voice just as steely as when the argument had started. "He doesn't need to be in the middle of this--even if you and Stark thought it was a good idea. If there's a safe haven in Wakanda, that's where he needs to go."

"And lose one of our most powerful members?" Sharon said. "Look, I don't like the kid fighting any more than you do, but we can't really go anywhere without him. I doubt we'd ever even get out of the city without him."

Hope glared at the agent, aghast. She'd been backed into a corner for hours now, but the woman had refused to back down, spitting and snarling her argument through furious whispers and an exaggeratingly patient voice. Her hard stare examined the faces around the table, looking for some sign of agreement that Happy wished he could offer.

Happy had seen what had happened to Tony. He'd been there when Pepper had turned. When Peter had come bounding through the window of the tower and snatched him towards their new semblance of safety while blubbering about his Aunt and his friend and the state of the city. All in one afternoon.

The former bodyguard thought back to that afternoon a lot. It was clearer in his mind more than almost anything in his life. It had been a gray day. One that turned the sky white and hung heavy in the air and cooled the once bustling streets of New York. It had been strange for the end of spring, but appropriate for the world.

Tony and Rhodes had both been infected, along with the rest of the Avengers, that much they'd known since Friday had reported their vitals completely askew. Happy hadn't told Peter yet, but he'd assumed the kid had already known. The entirety of the West coast had been swallowed, but shaky live footage of people's last moments and journalists as brave as they were stupid had been on a repeating cycle of news for the last thirty-six hours. Peter had never been particularly on top of the news, but Happy had heard how he'd begged Tony to go and help the Avengers. He'd remembered the heart-breaking anxiety and the admittance of a terrible feeling from his Peter Tingle.

But Tony had made Peter stay. He'd told Happy to make sure the kid didn't run off or 'stick his nose into anything that he shouldn't.' Happy's best friend had left with a tight smile. Happy had said good luck.

And now Tony was gone.

Or, more accurately, Tony had spread the infection among the entirety of New York in four hours.

Happy remembered a lot about that day, but he still wasn't sure why Tony had come back to the city. The bodyguard couldn't read brain scans, but Friday had said Tony was practically a shell after fifteen minutes. And a shell had no reason to return home.

He guessed the why wasn't terribly important, because Tony had returned, heading straight toward the tower.

Happy had been about the leave, actually. After watching news footage of Natasha--on her own, bloodied and torn and still trying to fight--finally losing an impossible battle, he knew he'd needed to pick up Peter and May. They needed to get to the compound and try to figure out how to keep the world from breaking. With the Avengers gone there had to be another solution. Maybe it was going to be harboring scientists on a heavily fortified government base. Maybe it was going to be finding other heroes, like Fury had done. The world was so big, there had to be more superheroes--but it hadn't worked out like that.

He'd been on the phone.

"I'm leaving now," he'd said to Pepper, stepping into the elevator. "I'll get Peter and May and take them to the compound. I think you should get in the car with me."

"No. I'll drive myself after you in a couple of hours," she'd said, the dryness of grief clinging to her voice. "The governor's meeting with me soon to discuss how to best lock down the city and prevent an infection."

Happy had thought they'd have at least a week or so. The infected Avengers were fast killers, but they were thousands of miles away and hunting their way through the country.

He'd thought they'd had so much longer.

"I don't know how we'll prevent anything without a cure or a forcefield," he'd said.

"Wakanda's providing aid all over the world. I'll hold a meeting with Queen Ramonda and the President this evening to discuss protecting vulnerable hotspots around the country. New York should be able to--"

The phone had crackled as it crashed, whatever Pepper was saying being completely lost to a thunderous boom of glass. His heart had begun racing before he even found the ability to speak.

And then the red. Lights and alarms flashing overhead in a terrifying headache that Happy remembered even now. The fear. The fatigue. The overwhelming wish that everything would just be okay.

But it wasn't. And it likely wouldn't be.

"Pepper?" he'd finally said. No response. "Pepper? C'mon--what happened? Friday, take me up to the penthouse. Now."

The AI obliged, the elevator stopping and shifting as it began to zoom back up.

When the doors had finally opened, Happy had wished he had just left. That he'd just gone for May and Peter hours ago. He knew it made him a coward. He knew it was a betrayal to Tony's trust. To Pepper's. But...

The smell had been strong immediately. Rotting and stomach-churning and burning the hairs of his nose. It was a smell he would come accustomed to in the coming weeks, but then it had been new and terrifying.

The sound had been low. A growl upon the still and charged air. A low hum that had taken him a moment to register past the smell.

And then he'd finally taken in the sight.

And it had been Tony.

But it hadn't been Tony either.

Tony had always had such a distinct posture that Happy could pick him out in the biggest of crowds. His skin was warm and his eyes a deep familiar brown. The suit had been an oxymoron for years. It had meant safety in a lot of ways. It had meant protection and the world and the knowledge that Tony would look out for them, and that he would avenge them if need be. But it had also meant that his friend was in danger. Every damn day. That he had left to go face danger, and that the danger had finally bested him.

Now the suit was the danger. Now it held a rotting corpse, with eyes white and red and veiny. With skin gray and blue and green and grafting off onto the expensive tile floor. Now the arc reactor shined on a collapsed body, twitching in tune with the ringing of the phone beside it.

Bulging eyes had turned to the opened elevator door. Pepper's red hair had begun to shift and turn until a matching pair was facing him.

Happy had pressed the close door button just as he had heard a shouted, "Oh, my God. Mr. Stark I saw you fly in through the window! What--"

The bounding figure of Peter Parker had leapt through the broken window, landing lightly on the shards of glass littered on the floor like sand. Fear had so tightly taken over the excitement held tightly in the kid's shoulders. The imposters had stared. Peter had taken a step back.

And then there'd been a fight.

That was where pieces of the day had gotten blurry. He remembered Peter yelling something at Happy, something about getting out of the building, but Happy didn't remember going down the elevator. He'd rushed out, knocking the couch into Pepper's way while Peter had grappled with Tony. In a flash of panic and skills that Happy hadn't known Peter had had, Tony and Pepper had been flung into the elevator. Peter had grabbed Happy. And they'd swung.

Of course, that elevator hadn't lasted for long. It was a pitiful prison for Tony. No, he'd escaped within minutes. Long enough for him and Peter to get away, but not long enough to warn the city. Not to save May.

Hope's voice snapped Happy back to the argument and out of his hellish memories.

"So Peter comes with us," she said, defeated. "But where are we even going? If he's coming, we're not leaving without a solid and airtight plan."

"There is no such thing," Okoye responded. "Not anymore. Not here."

"But--"

"She's right, Hope," Barnes said, his voice as steely and cold as usual. "The best we can do is not argue and keep moving. When we have T'challa, we'll call for backup and head to Wakanda."

"Sounds like the best plan we'll get," Happy said.

"Great. We'll leave in the morning," Sharon declared. There were nods all around, except for from Hope, who had turned from her arguing to fiddling with the high-tech gauntlet on her wrist, her brows furrowed. And, suddenly, Happy had a bad feeling.

"Or we'll leave right now," Hope said.

"What?" Kurt exclaimed. "Why would we--"

She raised her forearm, displaying the screen on her wrist. "Peter just left. And Karen just alerted me to breaches in the atmosphere."

Oh yeah. Super bad feeling.

"Of course it got worse. How could it not get worse?"

Peter was only halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge when he saw it. The second thing to interrupt the russet sky of the day. A spaceship. Great. Let's just spread the alien virus to the rest of the universe, yeah?

Crouching on top of a bridge spire, he stopped for only a moment to observe the circular ship taller than a skyscraper. It was definitely different than the Chitauri, so he guessed that didn't mean they were going to attack. Of course, it didn't mean that they were going to not attack either. Part of Peter hoped that maybe some friendly visitors had heard of their troubles and were descending with a cure. A more realistic, and more bone-crushingly tired part of him knew that that was most definitely not the case.

With a rallying breath, the teenager kept going.

"Okay. Just gotta make peace with the new aliens and hope backup arrives. Oh, Karen. Send an ask for backup to Hope please? I've got a feeling Mr. Stark is gonna be here."

"Done, Peter."

"Great. Thank youuu," he sung, dipping low and skimming the water for a few seconds before swinging back up and finally making it into Manhattan.

The spaceship was stirring up dust and its gusts of winds were whipping around trash (a months-old Starbucks cup ended up hitting him right in the face, so nature wasn't quite healing like they'd thought). But, most dangerously, it was attracting a crowd. Hordes of zombies lining the streets were snapped out of their trance and were beginning to amble towards the disturbance. Some faster than others, but as long as Peter was quick they wouldn't be the main disturbance of the afternoon.

Karen kept up a map of Mr. Stark's rapidly approaching location.

Peter arrived as the dust settled upon the street, revealing a strange mixture of figures, a low thunder of throaty growls, and the sound of at least one regular guy. The teenager recognized three of the figures, and had expected them too. Iron Man and the Wizards. If they ever lived through this, he needed to tell Mr. Stark they'd be a good band or something.

The other two infected figures were--you had to be kidding. The aliens were infected. Amazing. Thank you, Universe for being ever so helpful.

The man--not infected and hopefully human--let out a strangled exclamation of surprise as Mr. Stark raised his arm, once again on the attack. Peter pulled harder on his web, willing himself forward faster. He was so close and yet so far. Mr. Stark and the wizards were still approaching but he still wasn't even close enough to strike what was he going to do--

A flash of red. With a determined flourish, nothing but a floating piece of fabric declared itself in the street and dove. And then, quickly and efficiently, Mr. Stark was thrown. And now Peter was in range.

The young superhero landed just a little too harshly in front of the uninfected man, not even taking a moment to examine his face as he flicked out a hand at the nearest creature. The wizard's jaw was hanging loosely from his cheeks as he raised his hand, a dangerous path of orange following the trail of his fingers.

At the same moment Peter shot a web at his wrist the fabric wrapped around the zombie's head. Peter pulled and the cloth tugged. He stared at the thing, confused as to what it's plan was--could it have a plan? It was an inanimate object. A floating one, but still--before this time tugging with it. In a strong and swift motion, the wizard zombie was knocked into a car, making the vehicle dent in its doors and fall to the side.

"Nice!" Peter exclaimed as the fabric zipped off the guy's head before it was slammed into the car door, the thing was by his side in a flash, finally allowing him to see it was a cloak. "Woah. Wizard stuff is pretty cool."

"I'll tell you what's not cool," Peter turned towards the new voice, his jaw dropping as the man continued to speak, "sticking around here! C'mon, move it!!"

Bruce Banner--literally Bruce Banner oh, my God. Where had he been? Why was he here now? Wait, did he maybe have the cure? Was that where he'd been or something--grabbed his arm and began running. Confused and shocked as he was, Peter followed, allowing his legs to be pulled into motion.

A shock ran up his spine, but it wasn't fast or strong enough to completely warn Peter of the sparks that turned into a window twenty feet behind him before he could even blink.

Wizard whose face was still attached lunged. Bruce Banner jumped back with a fearful exclamation, backing the two into a nearby car. The zombie's teeth clicked and snarled, its rotten stench burning at his nose and making his eyes water. But the teeth never came, not close enough to bite. To infect.

"Don't eat me!" Dr. Banner yelled. And, surprisingly, it didn't.

It took Peter a moment to realize what was holding the incensed zombie back. Cloakie had grabbed onto its arms, tugging back harshly. The cloak tugged, the zombie chewed the air, the portal dimmed. And then the portal was gone, snuffed out as quickly as it came and leaving nothing but a lolling head on the ground beside Peter Parker and Bruce Banner.

Peter, so numb and so wired on adrenaline at the same time, had no reaction but a small flinch and a hitched breath. Dr. Banner fell, scrambling to get away from the head as he still backed himself into the car, strangled and horrified yells escaping his lips.

"Oh!! Ugh! Ah, ah, go away go away!!" the Avenger said, kicking the head away in his panic. Peter watched it go before turning back to the fight still continuing behind him.

Mr. Stark was blasting at Cloakie, who still held the zombie's headless body as it looped around in the air in a flurry of motion. Peter watched his mentor for a bit, debating on whether he needed to attack and trap him while the man was distracted, or grab Dr. Banner and run, when the decision was made for him.

"Agh!!--" he exclaimed as his legs were tugged and pulled into the air. A confused scream escaped past his lips at the lack of anything physical pulling him, but there was no time to ponder.

Instinctively, Peter stuck his hands to the pavement, grunting as his legs were still pulled straight up in the air. Now essentially in a magic headstand, the teenager could make out the approaching zombies. Mr. Stark, Goatee Wizard, Squidward, and Gray Hulk. Squidward seemed to be doing the magic in this scenario, its hand held out in a probably magic but threatening gesture.

"Hey! No, put me down! C'mon, I'm not good meat, guys. Really. You'd be better off finding some rats or--" There was a crack. Peter looked down at the pavement he was sticking to now crumbling around his hands. "That's not good."

And then Peter was fully in the air, the cement still attached to his stretched out hands and the zombies still approaching.

"Heyyy, guys," he said, trying hard not to look at Mr. Stark. "Y'know, I feel like you just had something to eat and I hate to spoil dinner so I'm just gonna--"

Buzzing filled the air, choking the rust sky in clouds of black. Peter closed his eyes even as the figures stopped only a foot from his face, unable to watch the spectacle and glad to fall to the ground. Wind gushed overhead, a hot air following the streaming wave of ants as they thundered forward.

Remembering that Mr. Stark was there, Peter forced his eyes open in time to see his mentor be completely surrounded and engulfed by a flurry of ants as thick as smoke. The husk of the hero growled and snarled, swinging and snapping at the pests now swarming around him.

The other three wasted away, their soft and rotting flesh eaten completely by Hope's army of thousands, but Mr. Stark still stood, dead yellow eyes staring straight into Peter's.

Mr. Stark didn't recognize Peter. Peter didn't recognize Mr. Stark.

Hope warped back to her normal size, mounting a defensive stance between him and Mr. Stark with her arm outstretched. Mr. Stark's repulsors whined and Hope's gauntlets charged. It took the teenager a split second to realize what she was about to do.

He made to his feet.

"NO!! HOPE DON'T--"

Mr. Stark's body careened. His head rolled, stopping just by Peter's foot.

He couldn't look away.

Mr. Stark had always been such an infinite figure in Peter's mind. Uncontrolled and ungoverned by terrors of death and incapable of causing grief. So the teenager hadn't let himself feel grief, because it was too unreal--too impossible--to feel grief for his mentor. To feel grief for the world, because the world couldn't end like this. He'd repeated that every day. Every morning. Every night. Every minute. Humanity couldn't end because of one decision. One mistake.

But Peter had made a mistake too. He had made the mistake of locking misery and his mourning away, of moving every thought towards something different. Something productive, something positive, something uplifting. He'd made it his role, and his role alone, to keep the group going, no matter how much denying he had to do to get there.

And that had been a mistake, because now there was nothing stopping two months of fear and regret and anguish as it piled and piled and piled. It flooded in like a torrent of mud, slimy and all consuming through his head and his stomach and even towards his limbs until everything was numb and he had only thought left.

Mr. Stark's gone. He's gone. He's gone.

An ant, as huge as he was, grabbed Mr. Stark's head and left.

Peter stared at the spot where it had been, unblinking, breath short, limbs taut. Hope kneeled beside him, her helmet retracting.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know you two were close."

He ignored her apology. "There could have been a cure. There could've--and now--"

"I'm sorry," Hope said again. "But you have to let go, Peter. We can't save everybody."

Peter didn't hear her. A new thought replaced the old one.

But why couldn't we save him?

Someone cleared their throat. Peter and Hope turned to stare as Dr. Banner stepped over a now rotten skeleton.

"Would anyone care to explain, please?"

Hope sighed. "Where to start."

2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

#whumptober2021 #peter parker #hope van dyne #happy hogan #fanfiction #irondad fanfiction

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plainbrunettelbl · 4 years

Text

ABO (A) Kirishima Eijiro x (O) Reader Pharmacy Run (Zombie AU)

Word count: 1781

Warnings: Gore. Mentions blood.

Title: ABO (A) Kirishima Eijiro x (O) Reader Pharmacy Run (Zombie AU)

Summary: You got on a pharmacy run and things turn south.

(Gif not mine credit to owner)

🦈-It had been three months since things went to hell.

🦈-You had been one of the lucky Omegas that took suppressants to block their heats and scent. You had just filled your prescription that week so you had a whole three months covered.

🦈-You had hidden in an abandoned gas station. It was one meant for truckers so you had access to running showers which you were reluctant to enjoy because the water pounded heavily against the tiles.

🦈-You only settled there because they had metal shutters that would come down. It was secure and you felt safe there. As safe as one could get in a zombie apocalypse.

🦈-You stayed low and didn’t draw any attention to yourself. The gas station was located on a high way leading out of the city so you didn’t hear many survivors passing through.

🦈-The yells and screams you did hear kept you awake at night. You knew being an Omega was dangerous in regular society but now that Omegas were few and far between Alphas had lost any sense of control.

🦈-You would rather die being torn apart by zombies than have a feral Alpha catch you.

🦈-You only had one week of suppressants left before you ran out. You knew both the dead and alive would come for you if you didn’t find more soon. That was why you were on the roof of an old supermarket.

🦈-You wanted to scope out the place before you went in.

🦈-You stayed up there for a while and didn’t hear the telltale signs of the dead occupying it. You didn’t hear the knocking over of cans or the crunch of glass they unsteadily walked on.

🦈-The sun was still up high so you thought it was time to finally enter the decrepit supermarket. You would like to get back to your home before the sun started dipping. You would have liked to go through the back since pharmacies were always located in the back but the door was chained up.

🦈-So you looked down the empty street for both the dead and living before sneaking in the entrance. You noticed the shelves were almost bare. A few cans of still lingered but you didn’t dwell on them.

🦈-You were here for the only thing you really needed to survive. A full belly was nice but you would rather have you scent masked then snag a few cans. You walked through the aisles jumping at every creak of the building.

🦈-You arrived at the pharmacy, it was just as trashed as the rest of the building. Paper bags that were once white now soiled in dirt and blood scattered the floor. You were careful to avoid them, not wanting to make any unnecessary sounds.

🦈-The drawers had straightforward labels. Antibiotics, allergy medicine, fever medication, and so on. You paused when you came across suppressants. You shakily opened it, hoping with all your heart that it wasn’t empty.

🦈-Your eyes sparkled when your eyes gazed at a decent pile of monthly packs. At least a year worth. Your Omega jumped in joy. Although she was upset that pups weren’t on the list anytime soon she enjoyed living just as much.

🦈-You stuffed all of the suppressants in your backpack before throwing in anything else you thought might have been useful.

🦈-You were too focused on the abundance of medicine that you didn’t notice unsteady footsteps creeping your way. It was only when you heard a moan so close nearby did you look up, to zombies had followed you to the back.

🦈-You were quick to hide behind the shelves, they were sniffing the air. You might not have been out much but you noticed a pattern. If you were more than a fifteen feet in away from them they would pick up your Omega scent even with the suppressants.

🦈-Farther away they still showed interest but didn’t pursue you as hard.

🦈-These ones must have been walking by and smelled you straight away. You were glad it was only two of them and not a whole hoard. The cities were known for their big crowds.

🦈-You grabbed an empty medkit and threw it on the other side of the room. They were quick to snap their head in that direction and pursue the noise. You slowly maneuvered around the paper bags again before silently dashing away.

🦈-They much have just came from a fresh kill. The floors were slick with blood from their footsteps. You didn’t notice until your slipped and hit your head on one of the shelves, cans crashed all around you.

🦈-You were a little disoriented, ringing in your ears made you unsteady and the pain in your head made you dizzy. Without your permission, your Omega sent out a chirp.

🦈-Any Alpha within a mile would have heard. You didn’t know if the zombies were sensitive to them too. They certainly were obsessive over your smell. You tried to get back up to run out but you crumpled over right away.

🦈-It was pointless to hold in your whimpers at that point. You got your suppressants but they cost your life. You pictured yourself bleeding out on the dirty floor as you felt the dead pair steadily walking your way for their next meal.

🦈-You felt another presence from the opposite side of the aisle. You thought it was just another zombie ready to sink their teeth into you but a loud growl rumbled through them.

🦈-It wasn’t like the growls you heard from the dead on a regular basis. No, it was a familiar one from the old world. One that said to back off from someone’s mate. You lifted your eyes and caught a blurry red-haired figure.

🦈-He carried a bat with him and hung it over his bulky shoulder. You could make out the faint outlines of nails pounded into it. You didn’t doubt that it was deadly in this strong Alphas hands.

🦈-He ran down the aisle and jumped over your slumped figure. His bat came down on the nearest zombie head. He was quick to bring his bat down on the other, with a heaving chest and blood dripping down his bat he turned your way.

🦈-Your vision had cleared up a bit the feral scowl on his face made you whimper. He was one of them, an Alpha with only one thing on his mind. In an instant, his face softened and he took a step back. He didn’t drop the bat but he lifted his hands up to show he wasn’t to be feared.

🦈-“Are you okay? Did I get here in time, Omega?” His eyes scanned your body, besides the trickle of blood on your head you seemed fine.

🦈-His Alpha calmed at the thought. He was just going on a food run when he heard a chirp. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him but the hairs on his neck were evidence enough.

🦈-“I’m fine. They didn’t get to me.” You mumbled, holding your backpack strap tighter.

🦈-“I’m glad.” He breathed, he didn’t let his guard down yet. His hero trained ears picked up on heavy footsteps coming from the entrance no doubt a big group was making their way over.

🦈-“We have to go.” He urged, eyes trying to look over the shelves to see how many to expect. He didn’t like what he was seeing.

🦈-You nodded and tried to stand up, your legs weren't cooperating, you wobbled as you stood. Kirishima didn’t think anything of it as he leaned down and tossed you over his wide shoulder.

🦈-You wanted to protest but knew this wasn’t the right time. You lifted your head to cover your backs. The dead were just entering the aisle. Kirishima wasted no time dashing into the back where you came from.

🦈-He was heading towards the back door.

🦈-“The door is chained shut. There is no way we are getting out that way.” You rushed, looking over at the metal door.

🦈-“Watch me.” He growled, running towards the door at neck-breaking speed.

🦈-A cry got stuck in your throat, this was gonna hurt.

🦈-Only it didn’t, the Alpha hardened his fist and punched the door straight off, chains went crashing to the ground in a loud clang. Your Omega took this time to purr at the strong Alpha.

🦈-Not the time Omega.

🦈-Kirishima warmed at the sound but he pushed forward. He needed to get you to safety. He spotted a metal fire escape and took the chance. He used his leg power to launch himself up and grab at one of the bars.

🦈-You had already taken to hugging him like a koala and wrapped your legs around his thick waist. Your arms looped around his neck. He climbed up the ladder no problem and got you to the roof safely.

🦈-The building seemed to be an apartment complex so he didn’t want to crawl through the windows and meeting the old tenants. He stood on the roof and waited for you to detach yourself from him.

🦈-You were reluctant to leave his safe embrace but you slowly climbed down from him.

🦈-“Thank you, Alpha.” You sent him a small smile, noticing the way he stood up straighter when you called his title.

🦈-“It’s no problem. I am glad you are safe. I’m Kirishima.” He smiled, showcasing his sharp teeth before offering a rough hand for you to shake.

🦈-Your small one felt even smaller in his huge hand.

🦈-“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Kirishima.” You replied, shuffling on your feet. You didn’t know what to do now. It seems you would be stuck on the roof for a while if the groans below had anything to say about it.

🦈-“Do you like canned chili? I just picked up a load of them.” He tore off his backpack and unzipped it. His Alpha was all too eager to provide for the Omega. He hadn’t seen one in so long and this one was so beautiful and smelled like a summer day by the ocean.

🦈-“I could eat, a near death experience really eats away the calories.” You joked, taking the offered can.

🦈-“I am feeling pretty hungry myself.” He grinned, cracking open his own can before pulling out two plastic spoons.

🦈-So you sat on the roof of an abandoned apartment complex eating spoonfuls of cold chili. The food might have been cold but the atmosphere was warm and comforting.

🦈-You felt safe with this Alpha and you didn’t think you would be leaving his side anytime soon.

Again with the zombie AU. I hope you liked it. I love this shark boy.❤️🦈

Please reblog my work it really motivates me to write more. Leave a note as well if you want to see more from me.

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gloomyhearts · 3 years

Text

That's life || Steve Harrington

Chapter eight

November 10, 1983

Y/N's pov

"Dustin what's wrong?" He threw the door closed.

"Mike and Lucas fought and won't talk to each other" we sat on the sofa.

"and what happened?" I turned to face him.

"We searched after the gate."

"The new north?"

"Yeah and at some point Luke's compass showed another North than mine. Luke said that Eleven would manipulate them. Mike and him discussed over half an hour and then it escalated El threw Luke with his power against a car and Luke drove away. He never left us like that when he and Mike argued. I lost my party. I've got nothing left."

"You have me." I laughed to brighten him a bit up but it failed and he started to cry.

"Dusti, sweatheart everything will be fine. I know it. You all have this inseperable bond and no one will ever break it. You have to convince Mike to apoloize to Luke and then it'll be alrigth, trust me." he burried in my arms as we lay down on the sofa.

"I hope so. I can't loose another friends beside Will."

We lay in silence when our parents entered the room, yeah their travel week has end today.

I think by the time they entered Dustin was asleep. As my mother stood by the couch she mouthed 'is he?" and I only nodded. My dad came to us and carried Dustin in his arms to his room upstairs. Dustin is a deep sleeper in the second he fell asleep the world could end and he would'nt wake up. When my dad was out of the room my mom sat down next to me.

"So what happened?" I told my mother something on the phone but not everything, she shouldn't be involved too much.

"As I told you. Will went missing and a few days after he was found in the Lake. Two days ago we were on his funeral. Dustin is really damaged through this accident. He feels sorry that he couldn't protect Will. And today Luke and Mike argued and Dusti fears that his party is falling apart." she looked shocked at me after telling the events we went through the whole week alone.

"You don't have to worry mom. Dustin and I are fine. We have got each other and he knows I'm helping him with everything."

"I'm proud that you both love each other so much." she gave me a kiss on the forehead and left.

On the next day when I arrived at school there was this tension, I can't describe it but it was there. It was because of the funeral a few days ago but not that everyone was involved.

It was only the three of us, Nancy, Jonathan and me.

At lunch we sat in the nearst corner so nobody could eavesdrop our conversation.

"Ok so Nancy and I want to buy weapons and go for a hunt."

"This afternoon." Nancy adds after Jonathon doesn't seem to speak on.

"This afternoon? Why? I don't know if I can. I have to ask my mom. Maybe we could meet there or I'm coming where you're getting ready."

"Jonathan and I went to the forest behind Steve's house and there was something, we want to hunt." they both nodded as the school bell rang.

"See you later" we seperate and I went to my math class but have to stop at my locker before.

No one was in the hallway what was kind of creepy because otherwise it was full because students wanted to delay the break.

"Y/N." Someone touched my shoulder but I know exactly who it was.

"What?" I turned to face him.

"Why are Nanc and Jonathan hanging out so much lately?"

"I don't know. Ask her yourself I suggest"

"Do you know something? I saw them yesterday in Nanc' bedroom."

"Steve." I shut my locker and turn to him, "I really don't know even if I'd, I don't care about it."

"Why are you so harsh?"

"Why do you even care at all?"

"Because" he came closer and whispered, "I'm still caring about you. I still worry about you. I'm still your best friend"

He is what?! Where was he when I lost my grandmother, when Barb went missing?

"Ah no, Stephen. I don't believe you. You were my best friend yeah that's right but I wouldn't call you a friend anymore. So excuse me." I began to walk to my classroom and bumped intentionally his shoulder.

During my bike drive to the Byers house I listened to my favourite music on my Walkman including 'eye of the tiger' and 'under pressure'.

When I arrived at the location there were no one not even miss Byers.

Through the window I can see some Christmas lights hanging around in the living room and letters written on the wall.

Strange.

I took my bike and drove away.

When I drove by at the supermarket I saw Steve and his best friends standing around his car. Steve held a cola bottle to his eyes.

What happened there?

I didn't even notice that my feet were riding my bike to the entry of the market. As I arrived there Steven jumped up from his car and walked towards me.

"Y/N, hey there" he tried to hug me.

"What happened to your face" I pointed at his eye.

"Ah my friend Jonathan and I beat each other up. Nothing to worry about"

"someone has to nurse it." He approached to me.

"Maybe you could. I trust you" I just laughed. "Please it hurts really bad and my friend over there aren't a good help."

"Fine but only this time. We meet at my house, Harrington" he nodded and I began to ride home.

"What took you so long" he walked to the door.

"Thomas and I fought a bit but it's okay. He's an asshole"

oh really

"jup he is" I opened the door and we walked into the house. Mews came running to us and Steve cuddled her immediately.

"I missed her really bad" I just nodded and walked upstairs to my room.

"you coming?" I heard footsteps on the stairs and moments later Steve stand next to me.

"Sit down. Feel yourself home."

"I'm always feeling home when you're around." He held my wrist

"Steve please." The tension between us is thick you could cut it.

"I'm getting ice and some band aid." I walked to the bathroom and when I arrived in my room I saw that Steve was reading something.

Shit!

"What are you doing?" He frightened as he heard me.

"I was just" he laid the paper down. "I'm sorry" he sat down on my bed and put his hand next to him to show that I should sit next to him.

"What did you read?"

"Your homework?" I walked over to desk and picked the book which declares to be my diary.

What? He didn't. Wait.

"Did you read my diary"

"I'm so sorry Y/N. I didn't want to."

"You saw that it wasn't a normal book but you didn't stop. Steve I wanted to help you but now" I grow angry and couldn't held my anger back. "Steve you're an asshole I can't believe I was so naive to help you. Leave!" I shout at him but he didn't go.

He stood up and walked over to me.

"Y/N I'm so sorry I was and still am an asshole. I was so stupid to let you down. I'm so dumb. I can't believe I left you only to be popular, to become a completely asshole. I'm so sorry to hurt you. You were my best friend and I still hope we can be friends again." By now I started to cry and Steve embraced me.

"I read the letter you wrote and I'm so sorry. I always look at our pictures we made. I miss you everytime I see you in school I want to go to you and talk. Nancy often talks to me about you how you seem to be alone and cold towards her and Barbara and I think it's my fault. Its all my fault." I let out a sob.

"Y/N I was such a dumb boy" I heard Steve sobbing too.

"I can't believe you didn't want to say all the things to me. You know you can always tell me everything. Why didn't you told me that you love me?" I gathered my courage and spoke the first time in forever

"It's not that easy Steve."

"What?"

"First when I'm talking to you everyone would stare at us and call me a whore because I'm talking to a boy in a relationship. And second you wouldn't have cared about it. You would have left for Nancy anyways. You had liked her since ever."

"Ok wait. Nancy is hanging out with Jonathan lately I don't even think I'm her boyfriend anymore. And second because I loved you too but I was afraid to tell you"

"But you love Nancy right?"

"Yeah but it's difficult" by now I began to cry and he sat down on my bed next to me.

"I'm so sorry Steve. I couldn't handle it. And it's my fault I lost you. I wasn't enough for you."

"No.. no you were and you are still perfect" he gently put a strand of hair behind my ear. I looked down onto the floor but felt his graze on me.

"And why did you fought with Jon?"

"Tommy and Carol thought they would be funny if they would let Nancy be starring in the movie theater. They called Nancy a slut after I told them she was with Jonathan yesterday in her room. Jonathan backed up for her. He's at the police station."

"What the hell" I ran my finger through my y/hc hair.

"Nancy slapped me and then Jonathan came and threw his fist in my face and it escalated."

"You're an idiot Harrington." I rolled my eyes. Slowly it feels like it's going to be normal even after the talk before.

Don't let him in again.

"Steve you should go." He nodded and walked toward the door.

"See you in school Y/N" I only nodded as and he left.

Dearest Steve,

Thanks for the memories that you gave me over all those years. I really appreciate that we were friends until Tommy our biggest enemy brought us apart. I did everything for you even if it seemed impossible and crazy. I love you from the very first day and I always gonna love you.

Even if you'll never get this letter I want you to know that you're my everything, my life and my best friend.

I hate being apart from you and not talking to you kills me. Every time I see you and Nancy kissing it kills myself. I'm dead inside and you left. You gave me power to live to hold on but then you left. Puberty really changed you just as Tommy did.

I miss the time when we lay under the stars and talked about our wishes and dreams. My dream now is to go back; to have my Steve back. I had loved it when you were around and we acted like we don't care what others are thinking mostly when we did the weirdest things. I was proud that my best friend is a year over me at school and still likes to meet me.

But the horrible thing is that we see us at school and don't even look at each other. I miss your beautiful brown eyes which light up when you were laughing over my bad jokes. I miss your fluffy hair and your crazy secret behind it. I would love to go back but I can't and I know it. I know I treat you like shit but its just to protect myself not to be hurt again.

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fluffyglass · 3 years

Text

THE MR. RUDE APOLOGISM MASTERPOST

you may be asking "Oh dear god what has Finn gotten up to this time?" well, that my friend, is a very valid question! The answer to which is as follows: He's rewatched every single TMMS segment with Mr. Rude in it to prove that he's done nothing wrong!

After many many hours of rewatching, I've come to some conclusions on the depressed tomato man. I'll give a quick rundown here, then throw my episode by episode analysis under the cut.

Season 1

Mr. Rude is in 30 episodes in Season 1.

In only 3 of these episodes does he do anything wrong.

In 4 of the episodes where he's innocent, Mr. Fussy yells at him for no reason.

Season 2

Mr. Rude is in 30 episodes in Season 2.

In only 6 of these episodes does he do anything wrong.

In 1 of the episodes where he's innocent, as well as one where he did do something wrong, Mr. Fussy yells at him for no reason.

Conclusions

In total, Mr. Rude only actually did anything wrong in 9 out of the 60 segments he's in, which is 15%. That's less than a quarter of the time. Even counting the three episodes I was unsure about, that's only 12/60. 20%. Still less than a quarter.

Why have I been bringing up Mr. Fussy? Because this experience genuinely made me not like him anymore. In only one out of Mr. Fussy's 7 appearances with Mr. Rude does he not yell at him, and in five of the times he does - it was completely unjustified.

Now, onto the episode by episode section!

Ah, you wanna see my episode by episode analysis? Well, I'll give you a quick color legend first.

Yellow - Mr. Rude does nothing wrong

Red - Mr. Rude does something wrong

Blue - Mr. Fussy yells at Mr. Rude for no reason

Pink - I have no idea what to put for this one lmao

Also, there's a ton of cursing in here because I wrote these notes as I went along and I don't feel like editing them to be more professional. You get what you get when it comes to Mr. Rude apologism.

SEASON 1

Flying - He does nothing wrong, he just asked Mr. Grumpy to do his fucking job. Though, I will admit, he was a dick about it.

Music - He does nothing wrong, Miss Naughty is a fucking bitch and Mr. Fussy targeted him for no got damn reason even though he has fucking ears and should have heard Miss Naughty going off on her fucking cymbals. Miss Naughty also tried to poison him so

Farm - He does nothing wrong, those bitch ass crows broke his fucking robot I cant believe this.

Booboos - He does nothing wrong, he literally just wants some decent service while he is in the fucking hospital and Mr. Scatterbrain is a fucking moron about it

Mall - He's barely in it and I will admit he is a bit of an asshole in this one but he doesn't do anything explicitly wrong

Birthday - He does nothing wrong, he just wants to buy a birthday present for his homie Mr. Grumpy. In fact, he shows that he cares about his friend because he knows what he would want (and gets something he wouldnt like, presumably as a joke). Hes a caring friend but also a troll.

Superstore - He does nothing wrong, he just wants to return his shitty toaster. It ends up well for everyone involved :)

Books - He does nothing wrong, he is literally just neurodivergent and cannot read social situations

Camping - He does nothing wrong, he tried to warn everyone that they were going the wrong way, and then called out Miss Whoops on her fucking bullshit and putting everyone in danger. He then proceeded to fucking die. Miss Daredevil doesnt even give a shit about two of the raft riders fucking dying what the fuck.

Paint - He does nothing wrong, he just wants to finish his painting commission.

Jobs - This is the one I time I'll admit he does something really wrong. He commits multiple driving related crimes, as well as throwing his sandwich at Mr. Quiet, splashing Mr. Nosey and Mr. Small, and taking advantage of Mr. Scatterbrain's stupidity. He also crumpled up Mr. Scatterbrain's drawing of a hamster.

Trains - He does nothing wrong, Mr. Fussy's a bitch ass motherfucker, and he did more good than bad because he rescued Mr. Messy at the end.

Fair - He does nothing wrong, he got a fucking pie yeeted at him of course he wouldn't like it. He does put the pie in Mr. Scatterbrain's face though but he already got it in his face so it's just even now. He then proceeds to be pelted with pies. But thankfully it seems like they're both having fun by the end.

Movies - Yeah he's a bit of an asshole in this one. He puts too much cheese on Mr. Happy's nachos (and then throws them at him). He does get his karma though cause he gets fucking trapped in the popcorn machine someone please save him oh my god.

Dance - He does nothing wrong, he just has taste.

Inventions - He does nothing wrong, Miss Chatterbox just doesnt like him for the way he is which is super fucked up of her. What the fuck, man. He accepts Miss Chatterbox's invention regardless. He then proceeds to be abused by everyone around him. Hes totally justified in being mean at the end.

Amusement Park - Okay yeah he was an asshole in this one, cause he was rude to Miss Calamity about her supposed grooming habits. However, he was also abused a lot during multiple of the bumpers, which I guess counts as karma.

Adventure - He literally doesnt even do anything in this one

Rainy Day - Dude, his entire fucking family died. Give him a break.

Games - He did nothing wrong, he won the fucking game but Mr. Scatterbrain took the credit what the fuck he only had 3 POINTS MR RUDE HAD 4 MR. HAPPY YOU DUMB YELLOW FUCK LEARN HOW TO COUNT

Restaurants - He does nothing wrong, Mr. Fussy is so fucking mean to him I will never get over this he deserves so much better what the fuck

Cars - he's just vibin man

Canned Goods - He does nothing wrong, he just ate some beans man

Collecting - he's barely in it and just kinda vibes

Full Moon - He does nothing wrong, he legit just got kidnapped by some fucking aliens with his alien husband

Heatwave - He does nothing wrong, 6 gay men just casually committed acts of Home Invasion and are going to be arrested for their crimes against him.

Sleep - He does nothing wrong, and I doubt anyone would have even noticed he was asleep if Miss Chatterbox kept her fucking mouth shut. He cant control what hes doing if hes fucking asleep. Even after all that he still clapped for Mr. Fussy, who hates him, at the end. What a champ.

Carwash - He does nothing wrong, Miss Calamity technically fucking kidnapped him what the fuck.

Lawns - He does nothing wrong, he didn't want to take his lawn to begin with and then got his lawn ruined for literally no reason, even after warning Me. Nosey and Mr. Small that their invention was gonna explode. He even gave Miss Chatterbox the joy in knowing she "won".

Parade - He does nothing wrong, he legit just made a float and Mr. Fussy fucking bullied him for it. What the fuck.

SEASON 2

Clean Teeth - Yeah hes a bitch in this one but Mr. Fussy was also a bitch so it evens out.

Airports - He does nothing wrong, he just wanted to go on his flight. Of anything, Miss Scary was more rude than he was.

Game Shows - He does nothing wrong like. Genuinely nothing, and then gets physically assaulted.

Hats - He does nothing wrong, Mr. Grumpy's just a fucking bitch and took credit for both his and Mr. Tickles hats. What the fuck, man.

Robots - He does nothing wrong, he legit just got his baguette burnt wtf

Up and Down - He's fine for the first bit but I will admit hes an asshole in the second one

Gifts - He does nothing wrong, he's just trying to keep Mr. Tickle from fucking assaulting people. Then his entire store is destroyed for no reason.

Sun and Moon - He does nothing wrong, he barely did anything at all

Telephone - I refused to watch this one I just know hes a bitch in it

Washing and Drying - He does nothing wrong, he just wanted his laundry done and he got assaulted at the end. Why is this a trend.

Fruit - He stole Miss Sunshines fucking fruit and then proceeded to endanger everyone around him by driving recklessly. What the fuck, man.

Radio - He does nothing wrong, Mr. Scatterbrain is just a moron, and Miss Whoops is a dumbass.

Supermarket - ???

Cinema - He doesn't do anything wrong, and he looks very nice in his new hat.

Post Office - He doesn't do anything wrong, hes trying his best okay (he also gets covered in stamps at the end)

Pets - He doesn't do anything wrong, he doesn't do anything at all

Dance Dance Dance - He doesn't do anything wrong, Mr. Fussy's a fucking bitch

Trees - He doesn't do anything wrong, someone free him

Library - He didnt even do anything man

Pirates - He doesn't do anything wrong, in fact he is the first to jump in and protect his crewmates from the aliens. He also saves the entire space crew in the end.

Trains and Planes - He doesn't do anything wrong, he barely does anything to begin with

Out to Sea - He doesn't do anything wrong, it makes sense for him to act in his own self interest because he was stuck on a deserted island with those three morons for 30 fucking days. He didn't intend to take the boat, because the tide rolled him out. He is now inevitably going to die.

Next Door - Yeah hes a bitch in this one, but he didnt deserve to get his fucking car crushed.

Lunch - He doesn't do anything wrong, Mr. Stubborn drew first blood.

Machines - This is a weird one. Is he really in the wrong for wanting to go home? I mean, it's safe to assume Miss Giggles is fucking dead if she was taken by a dinosaur. He even vows not to doubt Miss Daredevil at the end and is happy to see Miss Giggles okay

Fairies and Gnomes - even though he thinks it's silly that Mr. Nervous is scared of a garden gnome, he still "arrests" it to make him happy :)

Home Improvement - He doesn't do anything wrong, Mr. Stubborn is just a moron.

Birds - He doesn't do anything wrong, he was even nice enough to invite Mr. Nervous along for the birdwatching trip. He's totally justified in not giving a shit about Mr. Fussy because Mr. Fussy has been nothing bit horrible to him the entire show.

Parks - He does nothing wrong he just wanted a burger

Surprises - Refused to watch this one again, I just know hes a bitch

Wow, that's a lot. Anyways, as a proud Mr. Rude apologist, I conclude that he's an innocent man and doesn't deserve the shit he gets. I can get taking his drivers license though that man cannot drive for the life of him

#mr men #the mr men show #mr men and little miss #mr rude #anyways #mr fussy SUCKS #I LEGIT PULLED A REVERSE MR STUBBORN WITH HIM #HE USED TO BE MY FAVORITE BUT I JUST #CANT STAND HIM ANYMORE #fuck mr fussy #all my homies hate mr fussy

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calm-and-wine · 3 years

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(I’ll give you) the best years

PART VI / EPILOGUE (masterlist)

here we are, the last part, more of an epilogue really. it’s quite short, but it also felt right, so hopefully you won’t be too disappointed.

as it is the end, i want to say the biggest thank you to everyone who has read and interacted with my little story. i’m so glad you loved and accepted Nulu, it truly means the world. also, if you’d ever wonder about anything or want to talk about this little family, please feel more than welcomed to pop into my inbox! i love you all, happy reading!

PART VI / EPILOGUE

September 2030

Lucy was tired, but content. She was probably supposed to be wiped out, sleeping for hours on end would be acceptable too. After spending over 8 hours yesterday in the car with children, a whining almost 4 years old and a fussy 6 months old, she had every reason to feel half dead. Even though Niall provided her a little break, sending her grocery shopping while he watched the kids, she was still half dead. She actually really liked going to the supermarket, might have even spent extra long roaming the aisles, just to get a bit more alone time. She loved her children, of course she did, but everyone needed a small break once in a while.

But none of that stopped her from getting up early, starting the preparations, then waking the kids before they started crying, and doing the rest of cooking with both her daughters in tow. She was in a great mood, any tiredness or lack of sleep forgotten. After all, it was Niall’s birthday. And her husband deserved all the good things, always.

“Mummy, can I decorate? I wanna make them all pretty.” Evelyn, her eldest asked, her big blue eyes pleading, just in case her mum declined. It was almost impossible to say no to her when she looked at someone like that, a power she was perfectly aware of. Sometimes Lucy could not believe she wasn’t even four yet, she was way too smart.

“Sure, Eve, but just a few, okay? We’ll put the fruits and everything else on the table, so everyone can make their own.” She put a few pancakes on a plate before placing it in front of her daughter. Evelyn was nothing if not helpful. Lucy looked to her other side, where Olivia was sitting in her high chair, playing with her teddy and a wooden spoon. Apparently there were no better toys than kitchen appliances or whatever else you could find lying around the house.

There was soft music playing in the background, the last of the pancakes sizzling in the pan, a bubble of excitement fluttering in Lucy’s stomach. Life was good, better than good. She had everything she could have ever wanted, more than she even dared to dream about. Sure, it wasn’t always perfect and it definitely wasn’t easy, but they were healthy, and most importantly, there was a lot of love to hold it all together.

Evelyn was born on the 14th of December 2026 and neither Lucy nor Niall knew what to do with the happiness and love bursting through them for this perfect little bundle they created. In the following months, Lucy was very glad Niall was home, because no matter how peaceful she might have looked, Evelyn was no angel. And Lucy would probably lose her mind, if it weren’t for him. He worked in the studio with the boys, but it wasn’t any crazy schedule, just slowly putting songs together, always making sure not to put too much on his wife’s shoulder. She was also very glad he convinced her to go ahead with the training centre, which opened in February of 2027, because it became a source of normality for her, a reason to leave the house and clear her mind, usually for a few hours twice a week.

One Direction released their second album since reactivating in September of 2028 and then embarked on a tour, Lucy and Evelyn joining them for most of it. It was crazy at times, but Niall said nothing would ever beat standing on stage in front of thousands of people and turning your head to see your wife and kid dancing hidden on the side stage. She found out she was pregnant again on that very tour. They weren’t really trying for another kid, but they also weren’t actively preventing anything, just letting the universe work however it wanted to. So, on the 14th of March this year, Olivia was born. She was much calmer than her sister, which Lucy took as a blessing, only hoping it wouldn’t come doubled as a toddler rebellion or something. And once again, Niall finished tour early December, spending the last couple of months of her pregnancy home, helping her and being her rock, then enjoying another newborn bliss together. The band came back to work since, once again popping into the studio every once in a while, but there was no rush. Harry welcomed his second child recently, joking that Niall should pick up his pace, because he had been married way shorter, yet they had the same number of offsprings, his kids only a year apart.

But for Lucy and Niall, there was no rush. She loved what they had, had felt this way for years upon years, pure contentment. She couldn’t even pinpoint a moment when she wanted something more than she already had, since she started dating Niall, not really.

She put the last pancakes on the plate, the ones Evelyn decorated were already placed at the table, so she picked Olivia up, settling her on her hip, grabbing Evie’s hand and going upstairs. Her eldest giggled excitedly, letting go of her mum’s hand as soon as she opened the door to the master bedroom and sprinting before jumping on the bed. Lucy only hoped she wouldn’t land on Niall or kick him in the ribs. There was no stopping her when she got like this, though.

“Dada! Wake up! It’s your birthday!” she screamed, jumping up and down on the bed.

Niall hummed, scrunching his eyes for a second, which earned him a giggle from his daughter, before opening them and instantly grabbing her to bring her down on top of him, tickling her before blowing a raspberry on her stomach.

“Hello, pumpkin,” he said, planting a kiss on her cheek, her eyes glistening and a huge smile showing all of her teeth.

“We made breakfast, you have to hurry,” she said proudly, going to stand up on the bed, Niall’s hands instantly going up to secure her in case she lost balance. He sat up looking at his wife, who stood near the doorway, their other daughter tucked in her arms, hiding her face in her neck. Their daughters couldn’t have been more different, Evelyn was a natural firecracker, while Olivia seemed timid and shy, he couldn’t wait to see them grow into two amazing women. “Dada!” Evelyn pulled on his hand, rushing him.

“Okay, okay, I’m getting up, Evie,” he laughed, standing up and helping her down from the bed. He grabbed a sweater to cover his bare chest, barely managing to pull it over his head, before Eve started pushing on his leg, trying to make him move. “Go ahead, I’m right behind you,” he said, which earned him a huff.

“Just not too fast, bub,” Lucy reminded, when Eve rushed out of the room.

Niall stopped in front of his wife, a huge smile on his face, his hair a complete mess and his eyes still sleepy.

“Happy birthday, baby,” she said, when he wrapped an arm around her, planting a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” Niall said, giving her another peck, before kissing the daughter in her arms on the head. “And you, what got you all shy, bug?” he asked, pinching her leg lightly. Olivia finally looked at her dad, twisting in Lucy’s arms and reaching for him. Niall laughed lightly, taking her from his wife and tickling her before she let out the most beautiful giggle and hid her face in his neck. She was too cute. Both their daughters were absolutely adorable and as much as he loved it and was a proud dad, it sometimes made it hard being a parent.

“Come on, or Evie will lose her mind and the pancakes will get cold,” Lucy said, intertwining her fingers with Niall’s free hand and leading them downstairs.

“I really don’t know where she gets her lack of patience from.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Lucy snickered, looking at him with a raised brow.

“Okay, so maybe I have a slight idea,” he chuckled, “but I’m not that bad.”

“Yeah, but you’re also not 4.”

He looked at his wife, both their eyes glistening with glee. “Point taken.”

They reached the kitchen and Niall stopped in the doorway surprised. It was more than he expected, the table was perfectly set, fresh fruit, chocolate and maple syrups, bacon and even whipped cream laid out, along with a stack of pancakes way too big for them.

He looked at his wife incredulously. “You did all that? With two kids to look at?” he asked, forever in awe of his wife.

“They were on their best behaviour,” she assured.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek.

“Dada! I helped! And I have a present for you!” Evelyn said, practically jumping by the kitchen table.

Niall put Olivia in her high chair, while Lucy shook her head at their eldest’s antics. They were supposed to have cake and give him presents later, but at this point she wasn’t even surprised Evelyn couldn’t wait.

“Okay, come here then,” Niall said, sitting in a chair, grabbing Eve and sitting her on his lap. “Oooh you made me a card?” he asked, his voice excited, when his daughter handed him a colorful piece of paper.

“Mumma helped with spelling,” she noted, looking up at him with the biggest smile.

“It’s beautiful, I love it. We’re gonna hang it back home. Thank you, pumpkin.” His heart was so full, he couldn’t even comprehend it. He kissed her cheek, then the other, then the crown of her head, until she giggled.

“Can we hang it here until we leave?” Evelyn asked, looking at him with her usual big eyes. They came to their house in Ireland for a few days to change the scenery. And because Lucy always tried to get him here for his birthday, knowing how much he loved his home country. He appreciated the gesture a lot, even though now his home was wherever his family was, the place didn’t matter much.

“Of course,” he assured, placing the card on the edge of the table so it wouldn’t get dirty. “Let’s eat now, yeah?”

She nodded, her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. She was a perfect mix of Niall and Lucy, the hair was all her mother’s, but the eyes were just like her dad’s. She made a move to get off his lap, but he secured an arm around her waist to keep her with him.

“Don’t leave me, it’s my birthday!” he said dramatically, earning himself another chuckle. It was his favourite thing to do, trying to make his girls laugh, all three of them.

Lucy finally moved, going to make some coffee for him, taking a minute to watch her family, while it was brewing. They were all in pajamas, Evelyn wearing a blue robe with pink hearts on it, Niall in plaid bottoms and a sweater, she was wearing cotton pants as well, with Niall’s hoodie. He was feeding Olivia, her high chair turned towards him, while making sure Evie didn't fall off his lap, completely adored by his daughters, just as much as he adored them.

“Hey, come eat,” he said, looking at her, a lopsided smile on both their faces.

She nodded, pouring the coffee and bringing it over for him, before sitting herself on the other side, so she could admire her family.

The house was filled with chatter and giggles, Lucy and Niall’s eyes shining with emotions, the smiles constant on their faces. When they ate over half of the pancakes and their bellies were full, cheeks hurting from laughing, she got up to clean up a bit, hanging Eve’s card up on the fridge. Niall got up too, placing Evie on his chair, and came up to do the washing, ignoring Lucy’s protest that he shouldn’t do any cleaning on his birthday, while she put the leftovers into the fridge.

When they were both done, he pulled her into his body, before they joined their kids. They should get dressed and go out for a walk, but he wanted a minute with his wife.

“I love you so much, Lulu,” he said softly, after kissing her, their first proper kiss of the day.

“Love you, baby,” she reciprocated, raking a hand through his hair.

He stood with his arms around his wife, planting soft kisses across her face and on her neck, while watching the kids over her shoulder, their eldest daughter gabbering on and on about something she was clearly very passionate about, while their 6 months old looked at her sister with big eyes, probably not understanding a word, but giving her her full attention. Niall’s heart was so full, he was sure it must burst one of those moments. He felt that way whenever he had his three girls right with him, just like this. Not even doing anything special, just being together, being a family. He truly did not know what the hell did he do to deserve it all, the most amazing wife and two beautiful daughters.

He drew his eyes back to Lucy and just knew she was filling similar things, one of her hands clasped on the back of his neck, while the other was travelling up and down his side.

The way they looked at each other and were together, made her feel like they were two teenagers in love. Crazy about each other, with heart eyes and butterflies in their stomachs. It didn’t mean their love wasn’t mature, their relationship stable. But in those moments, she felt incredibly lucky. That after all these years, the spark between them didn’t dim. That her body still felt warm whenever he was near, her heart skipping a beat whenever he looked at her. It was something she was incredibly appreciative of, their love evolving, growing to new heights, but never really changing. Deep down she not only hoped, but knew that it would be like that forever. That not only this was the man she’d grow old alongside and spend the rest of her life with, but that she’d be completely in love with him for every minute of every day. And for just as long, she’d be utterly, absolutely loved by him.

taglist: @stylishmuser @verorax @georgiahoranxx @exoticniall @awomanindeniall @soullikestyles @bopbopstyles @nannav47

#1dff #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan oneshot #one direction fanfiction #one direction oneshot #one direction fan fiction #one direction one shot #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan one shot #dtl

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tails89 · 4 years

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Whumptober 2020

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD “Take Me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

Fandom: Teen Wolf

***

“Boyd and I are heading to the supermarket.”

“No, wait. Take me instead.” Stiles plants his hands on the kitchen table, pushing his chair back to balance on two legs.

“You’re supposed to be studying,” Derek tells him. He collects his keys and wallet from the bowl they keep on the counter. “You made me promise not to distract you.”

“That was like two hours ago,” Stiles whines. “People change. I’ve changed! Please distract me.”

“It’s a twenty-minute trip to the supermarket.”

“It’s outside. Do you know how long it’s been since I saw the outside?”

“We went for a walk this morning,” Derek reminds him. “Fine.” He hip-checks the chair, grinning when Stiles almost overbalances. “But you’re not allowed to complain later that I’m an enabler.”

“You are an enabler,” Stiles smirks, bouncing up from the table. “I love it.” He smacks Derek on the ass and disappears into their bedroom to find his shoes.

When he returns, Derek’s waiting for him in the living room with Erica and Boyd.

“How long have you two been here?” Stiles asks, sitting on the arm beside Boyd. “What’s wrong with your house that you gotta come watch my TV while I have to study?”

“Technically,” Derek points out. “It’s my TV.”

“It’s the principle Derek.”

“It’s pack night,” Erica says. “And I want icecream.”

“You don’t deserve icecream.”

“Boyd Junior wants icecream.” Erica pouts, smoothing her hand across her swelling belly.

“Fine,” Stiles tells her. “Boyd Junior can have icecream.”

He hops off the couch and follows Derek down to the driveway.

“Can we take the Jeep?” Stiles pats the hood as he circles around to the driver’s side. “I haven’t driven her in ages, have I girl.”

“Your car has no legroom,” Derek says, pausing beside the Camaro. “I have to sit there with my knees up around my ears just to fit. I can think of better things to do with my knees up around my ears than sit in a car.”

“Well…” Stiles says slyly. “You can do that in a car too.”

“Yoga?”

“You suck.”

Derek pulls a face.

“Don’t you dare say it.”

“I didn’t say anything. We should take my car. It’s better.”

“Agree to disagree.” Stiles waits with his hand on the door handle for Derek to give in with a long drawn out sigh and walk across to the Jeep.

“You did the right thing Der,” Stiles says, patting Derek’s thigh and backing out of the car park.

Stiles had the green light.

He knows he had the green light. He’d been stopped on the red, it had gone green, and-

He doesn’t remember seeing the silver car fly through the intersection, but he remembers the noise. The crunch of metal and glass, the squeal of rubber and car horns blaring.

Then there is silence.

The sedan hits the Jeep on the weekend, sparing the squishy human the worst of the collision. Had it had hit the driver’s side; Stiles would likely be dead. It sends the Jeep skidding across the asphalt and onto the grass, finally coming to rest pinning the Jeep up against a telephone pole.

“’les-“

Pain.

“’iles-“

But distant, like it’s happening to someone else.

“Jesus Stiles, open your eyes.”

Okay, maybe not so distant.

“Please Stiles.”

Pain.

Stiles makes a noise, low in his throat, and scrunches his face against the waves of agony crashing down on him.

“Stiles?”

He blinks sluggishly, willing the world around him to stop spinning and focus. There’s an itch down the side of Stiles’s face and a rhythmic pounding behind his eyes that’s matching pace with his racing heart.

The blurred lump beside him leans closer and a face materialises.

“Hey.”

“’rek?”

Stiles squints at him. Derek’s half twisted in his seat, leaning against the door which has buckled inwards from the force of the collision. There’s blood running down his face, matting up his hair. There’s more blood on his jeans, too much blood.

Stiles swallows down the panic, and his chest burns. It steals his breath and he pants, desperate for air but terrified of breathing too deep and jostling his ribs.

“-iles, I’m okay. I promise.” Derek reaches across to grab Stiles’s hand. “I’ll heal. It’s okay.”

It’s not, but Stiles forces himself to nod, to winded to respond verbally. He turns his gaze to what was once the windshield. The glass is gone, scattered throughout the totalled car.

Outside, a hysterical bystander is talking into a phone.

“No,” Stiles groans, struggling with his seatbelt.

“What?” Derek tries to sit up, grimacing as the movement pulls against healing injuries.

“I can’t afford ambulance.”

“Stiles stop. Stop.” Derek covers Stiles’s hands with his own. “Stop moving. I can pay for the ambulance.”

He holds on until emergency services arrive.

The police turn up first.

There are more of them than necessary, but every law enforcement officer in Beacon Hills knows the distinctive blue Jeep and they had all responded when the call came through dispatch.

The fire brigade arrives minutes later.

The fire fighters assess the incident while a deputy comes around to Stiles’s window.

“Hey Stiles, Derek,” she says. “We’ll get you guys out real soon okay?”

“That would be great, Clark,” Stiles says, his voice strained.

“Roberston’s calling your dad, too,” Clark tells them as the paramedic’s swoop in. She steps out of the way to let them get to work.

One of the paramedics test Stiles’s door, but the pole prevents it from opening.

“Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,” she jokes, keeping the mood light and reaching in through the window. “My name’s Sarah, this is Mike. Can you tell me your names?

Mike goes through the trunk and over the back seat to get to Derek, who tries to brush him off. He heals quickly, Stiles doesn’t. Eventually, he resigns himself to the paramedic’s ministrations. Despite the healing factor, he hurts. The door pressing into his back is cutting off the feeling in his legs and working with the emergency services will get them out of the car faster than arguing with them.

Sarah and Mike work like a well-oiled machine, calling out instructions and passing things to each other while the firemen outside work to get Stiles and Derek free.

But the adrenaline of the accident is beginning to wear off and Derek notices Stiles is fading.

“I told you we should have taken my car,” Derek says, trying to catch his attention.

“How woul’ this be diff’rent?” Stiles asks. His eyes are closed, his breath fogging up the oxygen mask that he’s now sporting.

“My car has crumple zones.”

“Y’re a crum’e zone,” Stiles murmurs.

Beside him, Sarah’s brows knit together infinitesimally. Derek only notices because he hears her heartrate speed up a notch.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks.

“His oxygen saturation- how much oxygen is in his blood- is lower than I’d like,” Sarah explains. “But we should have you both out of here soon.”

Derek is the first to be plucked from the wrecked vehicle. Once he’s out of the way they can reach Stiles.

The numbness in Derek’s legs is easing now that nothing is pressing on his spine and his healing has kicked in, but it’ll probably be a few hours before he can get up and walk. There are a few staff at the hospital in the know, so he’s not too concerned about freaking anyone out with his healing abilities.

He’s not ready to go to the hospital though, not while Stiles is still trapped.

He watches as Stiles is pulled from the wreckage on a backboard and placed on the ground. Someone kneels by his head, squeezing a bag that’s replaced the oxygen mask.

Then the ambulance doors close.

“No, wait.”

Melissa is waiting for him when the ambulance pulls up to the hospital. She holds Derek’s hand while he’s wheeled through to triage, murmuring reassurances the whole way.

Derek barely notices her. He can’t erase that last image of Stiles lying lifeless on the grass.

The triage nurse is a friend of Deaton’s. She and Melissa check Derek over before confirming that his healing seems to be kicking in. There are pin and needles running up and down his legs - it’s an improvement.

Melissa finds Derek a quiet spot to wait for Stiles, away from the hustle and bustle of the emergency room. They wait together until the commotion down the hall heralds Stiles arrival.

With a promise to keep him updated, Melissa ducks out of the room to find out what’s going on, leaving Derek alone with his thoughts.

His mind immediately turns back to that image.

Not Stiles. Please, not Stiles, he thinks to himself. Take me instead, but don’t take Stiles.

Almost thirty minutes after she left, Melissa returns with a wheelchair.

“They’re about to take him to surgery,” she explains quickly, helping Derek transfer to the chair. “His dad is with him now, if we’re quick you can see him before he goes upstairs.”

She pushes the chair back into the bustling emergency room, expertly dodging around medical staff. There’s a cubicle about halfway along the room with a drawn curtain. A nurse exits, holding aside the curtain for Melissa and Derek to head in.

Inside, on the bed, is Stiles.

The first thing Derek notices is his chest.

There’s a thin blanket across Stiles’s hips and legs. He’s bare from the waist up, the left side of his chest painted in pinks and purples and reds. There’s a tube protruding from between his ribs on the left side, the skin around it stained orange.

Melissa pushes Derek right up to the bed. John stands on the opposite side, his hand resting in his son’s hair.

Their eyes meet, and Derek looks down.

A tube snakes out from between Stiles’s slack lips and his chest rises and falls with a mechanical wheeze. Derek stares at it, unable to process anything else.

The loud rattling as the curtain is suddenly, pulls him abruptly from his reverie.

“Time’s up I’m afraid,” Melissa tells them. She pulls Derek away from the bed so he’s not in the way as Stiles is whisked away.

“-going to wake up properly this time?”

Stiles feels his lips pull down in a frown.

“He will if you don’t shut up.”

“Mama McCall said he should be waking up. I’m doing him a favour really, keeping him on track.”

Someone is holding his hand, running a thumb across his knuckles. He squeezes their fingers.

“Stiles?”

His lips are so dry.

He tries to wet them with his tongue.

His mouth is so dry.

“Wake up sleepy head.”

He shifts, trying to get comfortable, and something pulls.

“D’rek?”

“I’m here.”

The hand Stiles is squeezing, squeezes back.

Stiles blinks, opening his eyes.

The pack is perched in various places around the room, watching Stiles expectantly.

He closes his eyes.

“Wha’ happened?”

Stiles can hear the rustle of Derek shifting in the chair beside the bed.

“We were in a car accident,” Derek tells him. “Do you remember?”

Nodding vaguely, Stiles looks around the room.

“Was my dad ‘ere?”

“Mel took him home for some dinner and to get some rest.”

“Mm, what time’s’t?”

“About seven pm.” Derek stretches his legs out with a slight wince. “You’ve been here for a bit over twenty-four hours. You’ve been drifting in an out for a while. Melissa said you probably wouldn’t remember.”

“When can I go home?”

Derek smiles. “A few days maybe, once the chest tube stops draining blood.”

“Huh?” Stiles is wearing a gown, but it’s not tied up. Derek helps him tug it down to reveal the tube and bandage and patchwork of bruises which have darkened over the day. “Are you okay?”

“Werewolf, remember.” He’d been walking again, albeit slowly, by the time Stiles was out of surgery. “I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Exhaustion clings to Stiles like mud, dragging him back down into the depths of sleep.

One week later, Stiles is released from hospital. He’s sent home his painkillers and antibiotics and instructions not to do any strenuous activity.

Derek and Stiles have very different ideas what constitutes strenuous activity.

“Oh!” Stiles lurches upright, trying not to jostle his broken ribs. “I totally missed my exams. I need to email my professors.”

He goes to stand, but Derek is already there with Stiles’ laptop.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he says, scowling.

“I am resting,” Stiles protests, taking the computer. “The doctor also said I should be walking around a bit.”

“You did.”

“From bed to the couch? That hardly counts.” Stiles rolls his eyes fondly and pats the cushion beside him.

Derek sits down, guiding Stiles to lie back and snaking a hand under his shirt. He splays his fingers across the healing bruises and starts drawing out the pain that lies under Stiles’s skin.

“How about tomorrow,” he says once Stiles has melted into a puddle human goo. “You can walk from the bed to the kitchen.

“You drive a hard bargain, Derek Hale.” The last two words are almost lost around a yawn.

“What do you want to watch?” Moving to the opposite end of the couch, Derek settles in with Stiles’s feet in his lap.

“Hmm, The Mummy.”

Derek keeps one hand on Stiles’s ankle while he flips through the Netflix catalogue.

Stiles is asleep before the movie starts.

#whumptober2020 #no.9 #take me instead #teen wolf #fanfic #car accidents #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #loose interpretation of the prompt me thinks #teenwolffanfic

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puggledy-huggledy-is-not-a-pig · 4 years

Text

IF YOU WANT TO GET WARM, YOU MUST STAND NEAR THE FIRE (Parts 6 & 7)

Chapter 6.

Guy was true to his word that he wouldn’t lose his cool again. Over the next couple of days he didn’t mention being dead or feeling unreal, much to Hope’s relief. She just let things drift, wanting to make sure he was stable and grounded in reality before she touched on the subject of him moving on again. She tried not to think too much about the wisdom of unceremoniously allowing a strange man to, essentially, move in with her. The truth was, she enjoyed having someone else to look after, she had missed that since her father had died a year ago. And she still worried about him. He may not have said anything so obviously delusional since the night of his breakdown, but Guy still acted like a visitor from another planet, watching her perform the most mundane tasks with a look of intense concentration, and acting like he didn’t recognise the most common objects. The strangest thing, Hope thought, was that in every other respect, he seemed completely sane and clear-minded. He never forgot anything she told him, and if he commented on something, his observations were intelligent and to the point. He offered to help her chop food or carry heavier objects, and she let him because her shoulder was still bandaged. He generally spent the hours she worked on her PhD dissertation staring out of the window, acting like the city traffic was the latest blockbuster. He had developed a love of showers, but other than that, he was polite and distant and never mentioned leaving.

On the third day, the bandages had come off Hope’s shoulder, and the cupboards were looking alarmingly bare. When she saw Guy wearing the same clothes she had given him for the third day in a row, and persistently scratching his ever-thickening stubble, she decided she should pick up a razor, toothbrush, and a few other necessities along with the groceries. Just to tie him over for a few more days, she swore.

“He isn’t some stray cat you can adopt, Poppet,” Gran’s voice said in her mind, and Hope giggled at the thought of Guy proudly offering her a dead mouse, or clawing her if she fussed over him too much.

“Guy, I need to go to the shops for a few things, I’ll be back soon ok?” she called from the front door. Guy got up and said “I should come with you,” and Hope was pleased that he was volunteering to leave the house.

I should pick up some leather conditioner and sort his clothes out, she told herself. It might help him get a feel of his own life, if he is wearing his own clothes again.

On the way to the supermarket and back, Guy stayed at her side, always somehow walking between her and the traffic, like some gentleman from the ‘50s (Gran, you’d approve, thought Hope giddily,) always watching everything wide-eyed, like he was taking mental notes.

When they were almost at the house’s door, a group of boys, around 13-14 years old, were leaning against the wall of the building across the street. When they saw Hope looking at them, they started nudging each other, hooting with laughter and making loud mooing noises. She flushed, and gave them the finger.

Guy looked at her curiously. “Why are they making cow sounds?”

“Just ignore them, they think it’s clever to make fun of people,” she said under her breath, eyes fixed resolutely forward.

In an instant, Guy had dropped the bags he had insisted on carrying, and was lurching towards the boys, a towering figure in riding boots, ill-fitting clothes and a face straight out of a bar fight, finger pointing, bellowing “YOU! You will apologise to the lady this minute!” The boys squealed and legged it around the corner, still shrieking with laughter.

“What the fuck are you doing? Get in the house” hissed Hope, dragging him through the door mortified.

“What the hell was that?” she glared up at him, hands on hips.

“I was teaching those little whore-sons not to disrespect you!” He looked taken aback at her reaction.

“They were just a bunch of idiot kids!”

“They should learn to hold their tongue, before someone cuts it off for them,” Guy said sulkily.

“We. Do. Not. Attack. Idiot. Kids.” Finger poking his chest, underlining every word.

“As you wish,” Guy said stiffly, and he actually sounded offended.

Hope felt a sudden urge to burst in hysterical laughter. Of all the unlikely people to want to defend her honour!

“I can look after myself, Guy,” she said more softly, taking pity on him. “I can give as good as I get!”

“I know, I’ve heard you curse,” he smirked, and she laughed at him all the way to the kitchen.

Chapter 7.

Guy was on edge, his temper bubbling, just barely staying under the surface. He knew he had a lot to learn about this world before he could venture out and make his mark, he’d been a soldier long enough to understand the wisdom of reconnaissance. Still, it was many years since he had been so powerless, and having to rely on charity made him bristle. He could feel anger winding tighter and tighter inside him, and he clenched and unclenched his fists, longing for release; How he regretted not getting the chance to beat those craven braggarts to a bloody pulp!

Hope stood at the kitchen table, her mind spinning. She hadn’t paid close attention to Guy’s clothes before, but as she was spreading the conditioner on the dried and cracked leather, carefully massaging it in, she could see the many odd details on the trousers. They were obviously good quality, she could tell that even now, as the thirsty leather was becoming soft and supple again under the pressure of her massaging fingers. The seams were strong, but the stitches were uneven enough that you could tell they were done completely by hand. At the front, instead of buttons or a zip, two rows of holes were punched into the leather, and a leather cord had been threaded through them to keep the trousers closed. Hope shook her head, remembering Guy’s apparent ignorance of every-day customs and objects, the archaic words he sometimes used, even his accent (that she had to admit, having googled a number of videos, *could* conceivably be described as Anglo-Norman.) If this was a delusion, she thought as she kneaded the cream into the leather, it was an incredibly detailed one. And she was starting to have her doubts.

As Guy was pacing, simmering in his resentment, his eye caught Hope standing in front of the table, her back turned to him, hands working on something he couldn’t see. Curious, he moved to get a better view, and he realised she was bent over his leathers, applying some kind of cream, hands rubbing thoroughly over the trousers’ thighs and crotch, her whole body moving with the motion, making her ample buttocks jiggle. All of a sudden, Guy’s anger was replaced by something else, equally hot and seething, as his body remembered how long it had been since anyone had touched it like that.

Hope heard Guy coming up behind her, and felt his breath on the side of her face as he said in a low voice, “You should have let me punish those boys...”

She turned around, and found herself wedged between Guy and the table.

“Don’t worry about it, Guy. I’m used to it, it doesn’t bother me.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t bother you when someone like them disrespects you to your face?”

Shrug. “All they can see is a big girl walking down the street, and to them, it’s a joke. Why should I care what someone like that thinks of me?”

He bent his head slightly, to look into her eyes. She was tall, the top of her head reaching his nose. “Would you care to hear what I think of you?”

Hard swallow, nod.

He touched her hair, “I think you’re kind,”

Run his finger down the side of her face, “I think you’re brave,”

Breathed in her ear, “I think you’re beautiful.”

Hope snorted, and he moved his head back to stare at her. “You think I’m jesting?”

“Aren’t you?”

“See for yourself,” he said, pressing his body against her, stubble tickling her cheek, and then he kissed her.

And, oh! she was lost, and they pressed against each other, sharing the same breath, tongues twisting, and he moaned in her mouth, and lifted her onto the table, taking his shirt off, hands under her top, on her breasts and around her back, as they rocked together.

Afterwards, Guy rested his forehead on hers, catching his breath, and she stroked the many scars on his arms, chest and abdomen.

“You really do come from the 12th century, don’t you?

“I told you.”

“I believe you.”

Phew, that was a hard one to write again. I’m really pushing my comfort zone now... But I didn’t think I could write even this much of a sex scene, so well done me!

Tagging @whofriend @moony-artnstuff @fizzyxcustard @tigereyesf @xxbyimm

-Anyone else that would like to be on the tag list, or be removed from it, let me know.

#gisborne x oc #fanfic #sir guy #gisborne #guy of gisborne #my fanfic #if you want to get warm you must stand near the fire #richard armitage #time travel

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whitesparrows97 · 4 years

Text

Crossroads – Part 1

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Office AU

Summary: Almost accepting his monotonous life, Jeon Jungkook spotted you one day in the office building across the street. It seemed as if you were the light at the end of the tunnel he had been waiting for years for and he was the mayfly trying to break out of his everyday life.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4.3K

When one day is like another and you never experience anything new, life quickly loses its charm.

At least that was how Jeon Jungkook felt.

He worked day in, day out as an employee in a law office. He started every morning punctually at nine o’clock in the morning, had a half hour lunch break at 12 o’clock and usually finished work at six o’clock. He always spent the breaks on the roof of the building, from which you had an incredible view of the entire city of Seoul.

That was probably the only good thing about the job, Jungkook often thought with bitterness.

Or rather had thought. But a month ago everything had changed.

– Flashback –

He was sitting at his desk, which seemed to overflow with paperwork. With a quiet sigh he grabbed the next folder which had a yellow Post-it note with the inscription Urgent! on it.

He was surprised that not all folders had this message, as much stress as his boss always caused him. Not a day went by without his boss having a choleric seizure, and Jungkook was usually the one who got these outbreaks. Probably because his desk was closest to his boss’s office.

The only person who was worse off than him was his secretary Han Sun-Hee. Jungkook heard several times a day how he blamed her for things she wasn’t responsible for.

One day Jungkook would get up from his desk, go into his boss’s office and throw all the things at his head that had been accumulating for years. But at the moment, Jungkook needed this job, no matter how reluctant he was to admit it.

It was at this very moment that he was once again lost in one of his daydreams where he had a better job and a not so miserable life when Sun-Hee dropped another folder on his desk.

“How urgent?” the dark-haired man asked without looking up from the other folder.

“As usual,” she replied, and when Jungkook looked up he could still see the sad smile on her face before she disappeared back into her office.

‘As usual’ meant urgent and urgent meant that Jungkook couldn’t leave on time.

He glanced at the clock and his shoulders dropped. It was already 5 p.m., with the large pile he still had in front of him, he would never finish in time. But why did he get upset about it at all? It wasn’t as if someone was waiting for him at home. Someone who would ask why he worked longer with a pointed finger and a slight grin, before joyfully embracing him.

Jungkook had always hoped to get to meet his true love at university, just like his parents had. But he had never had more than a few affairs here and there. To be honest, he wasn’t really interested in any of them either, to build more than just a short fling.

When he started working right after university, it had become difficult to get to know someone. During the week there was hardly any time and on weekends he was often happy to finally have some rest and time alone.

At work there was also an unspoken ban on dating someone from the office. Not that this ban was necessary at all, since only two other men, Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin, worked in the office besides Jungkook. And no matter how much he liked Sun-Hee, a woman in her fifties was a little too old for him.

So a short time later Jungkook had given up looking for the one. He was satisfied with the romantic love films, which he admittedly enjoyed watching every Friday evening and which had already become a kind of ritual.

How could you get to know someone with whom you’d rather spend your Friday evenings comfortably on the sofa than at a loud party, with people you didn’t know and would never want to get to know? This person probably sat on the sofa at the same time as Jungkook and thought the same thing as he did. How would such two people ever meet?

He pulled himself out of his thoughts and concentrated on the folder in his hands, which he had let sink to the desk lost in thought.

“Just one more hour,” he murmured and tried to get his act together.

“With that pile,” Namjoon remarked, he was on his way to the kitchen and seemed to have heard Jungkook’s marbles, “good luck.”

“Thank you, Hyung,” he replied, sounding frustrated and Namjoon stopped in the doorway.

“Give me one or two folders, then I’ll take them,” the older one offered and Jungkook looked up gratefully, but Namjoon had already disappeared in the kitchen and, judging by the sounds, made himself a coffee.

“Thank you, you’re really saving my day!” he shouted, hoping Namjoon would hear it.

“No problem, I know how Mr. Choi treats you sometimes. You keep most of me and Seokjin away, so I’m glad if I can help you,” Namjoon said with a smile as he went back to his seat with a coffee cup in his right hand.

It was actually a larger room and only the yellowed room dividers offered some privacy. Yet you could hear every noise and conversation of the others, which was one more reason why Jungkook longed every day for the half hour break on the quiet roof.

Jungkook once let his head roll and his neck cracked alarmingly. He decided to take a short break and turned on his office chair 90 degrees towards the windows, resting his head on his left hand. He did this quite often when he needed a short break from all the documents and cases and the lines on the slips of paper blurred back into an unreadable pulp.

His gaze wandered across the street, which lay several tens of meters below him and where he could only recognize the people as small, inconspicuous figures hurrying to their destination. He raised his eyes and that was the moment when everything changed for him.

Directly in the building opposite, only a few meters away, a new agency had moved in. He had already seen the moving boxes last week and yesterday there had been suppliers who had delivered and set up the desks.

At the desk in question, which pointed directly in his direction, stood a young woman who had just wired her computer. She kneeled down to crawl under the desk to connect the cables to the socket.

Apparently everything had worked because a smile spread out on her face as soon as she looked at the screen. Jungkook couldn’t help but smile as well. He had never seen anyone so happy about such a little thing and his heart accelerated.

It was as if the woman noticed she was being watched as she suddenly looked up and looked straight into Jungkook’s direction. He was so shocked that his elbow slipped off the desk and his upper body glided downward for a short moment because of the lack of grip. He had caught himself again and embarrassingly turned back toward his desk.

He felt the heat rise into his cheeks and hoped that this was not visible because of the distance. He dared to take a quick sideways look and immediately regretted it. The woman had apparently expected it and Jungkook could only see her laughing before he turned right back.

Great, she laughed at him. No wonder he didn’t have a girlfriend when he was a joke even to strangers.

– Flashback End –

The whole thing had happened a month ago and Jungkook had seen the woman since then five days a week, four weeks in a row. And if he was honest with himself, the two-day weekend he had always been looking forward to was now almost a torture.

He still hated his work, and hardly anyone could change that. Unless Mr. Choi suddenly resigned and a new, less choleric boss took his place. But that would hardly happen in the next twenty years. Seokjin had once told him that during one of his seizures Mr. Choi had yelled that he would have to be carried dead out of the office to get his position.

But Jungkook didn’t intend to stay forever in this job, let alone in this company, anyway. It wasn’t the work per se that he didn’t enjoy. He wanted to help other people and assert himself against injustice. But he had noticed early in his university days that the profession of lawyer was not always about which side was right. The decisions that were made and that he himself had to make were not always fair, but that was his job.

But what changed for him was his attitude. Mr. Choi could yell at him and give him a bunch of tasks, but he didn’t get upset anymore. He even liked to stay half an hour longer at work because he knew you would be there. He didn’t know what kind of work you were doing, but when he last left the office and turned off the light behind him, he always looked back at you.

And every time he saw you sitting behind your desk so that only a part of your head was visible. He was sorry you had to work overtime every day and didn’t seem to have much free time.

Nevertheless, or perhaps precisely because of that, Jungkook only needed to take a quick look to the side to make sure you were still there to shut Mr. Choi’s tantrum out.

“This has to be done by Monday,” grumbled said boss, before he disappeared into his office and slammed the door behind him.

“Of course it has to be done by Monday,” Jungkook mumbled and shook his head. Recently there have been a lot of short-term assignments and jobs, so Jungkook got the impression that Mr. Choi deliberately informed him so late that Jungkook had to work longer.

All this on a Friday.

Fridays were sacred for Jungkook, because every week after work he went to the small supermarket at the train station to buy a few things for his movie night. At least the supermarket wouldn’t be so crowded because most normal people were at home with their families.

“Keep your head up high, Jungkook,” Seokjin tried to cheer him up and he could hear the voice behind the room divider.

“How do you know I’ll hang my head?” Jungkook replied. “Who doesn’t like a pile of work just before the weekend,” he added ironically.

He could hear Seokjin’s laughter and Namjoon’s soft giggling as Mr. Choi’s office door was loudly pulled open.

“I’m going home,” he announced louder than necessary, so that even people on the other floors would be able to hear it. “And remember, Mr. Jeon–“

“The results are on your desk on Monday, Mr. Choi,” Jungkook interrupted him so as not to prolong the conversation unnecessarily.

His boss only nodded once and then left without another word.

“I hate him,” Namjoon admitted a few seconds later, and Jungkook couldn’t hold back his laughter. As unpleasant as Mr. Choi was, he was glad to be on one side with the others.

“Who doesn’t,” Seokjin added, and Jungkook could hear the grin in his voice as well.

“Maybe at some point his head will burst when he has another outburst of rage,” Jungkook said and the three burst out laughing.

“I swear I saw steam coming out of his ears the other day,” Seokjin said between two laughs.

“You shouldn’t speak so badly of him,” Sun-Hee interrupted the three men and the laughter immediately stopped.

“You should hate him most of all, Noona,” Namjoon asked confused.

Sun-Hee was on her way out, but turned around again. “He often shows his bad side, but he is not a bad person. He only has a problem and can’t see it.”

“I still don’t like him,” Jungkook said quietly, but Sun-Hee had heard it.

“You don’t have to, Jungkook. Mr. Choi is your boss and not your friend, but hating someone requires so much effort that you’d rather spend on something more beautiful, don’t you think so?” With a smile she looked at the three young men. “I wish you a pleasant weekend and don’t stay too long.”

With these words she also left.

“She’s right,” Namjoon concluded, standing up as well. Seokjin also began to arrange his things on his desk and packed them up. As it seemed Jungkook would have to spend the next hour alone in the office. Although he would at least be able to work in peace and get the work done as quickly as possible.

The two said goodbye to him a little later and Jungkook enjoyed a moment of peace after the door had fallen into the lock.

Outside, the sky was already turning red and orange when Jungkook had finished his work and put the folder on his boss’s desk. The time came when it was getting dark earlier and summer was coming to an end.

When Jungkook hung his bag over his shoulder and wanted to leave, he took a look at you as usual and was surprised to look into a dark window. You had already finished work.

Jungkook didn’t know why, but he felt a little betrayed by you, as stupid as that sounded. You didn’t owe him anything, you didn’t even know each other. Yet he had become so accustomed to seeing you still sitting behind the desk when he left the office that it felt strange that it wasn’t like that today.

Maybe you had a date, he thought when he was standing in the elevator on the way down. Probably guys were queuing up for you. Or maybe it wasn’t necessary at all, because someone was already waiting for you at home who had missed you all day.

Jungkook didn’t know why this thought caused a little sting in his heart, but he quickly stopped thinking about it and put on his umbrella. The last two days it had only rained and Jungkook was happy that he didn’t have to feel bad if he could stay home for the weekend and use the bad weather as an excuse.

With a short sprint he got the train home and got off at his stop twenty minutes later. Already from a distance he realized that he had been right with his suspicion and that the supermarket was as good as empty. Especially in this weather, most people were probably happy when they were at home in the dry.

“Good evening,” welcomed the cashier Jungkook and Jungkook nodded to him friendly. Thanks to the numerous regular visits, he knew where to find his things and without long searching he stood at the checkout with a bottle of red wine, a cup of ice cream, a bag of chips and a frozen pizza.

“Looks healthy,” it suddenly came from his left and in his mind he had already laid down the sentences that no one should simply be degraded for his purchases when all sentences got stuck in his throat and he saw you standing next to him.

“Oh, hey,” you said when you recognized him and he saw your face lighten up when you smiled. He told himself that it was really because of him, that he could make you so happy. “You’re the guy who almost smashed his forehead on the desk.”

Immediately the smile fell from his face and the butterflies in his stomach fell lifelessly back to the floor of facts.

“Yep, that’s me, I guess,” he replied. Of course you laughed because of that and not because you were happy to see him.

“Are you living nearby?” you asked curiously as you put your groceries next to him on the cash register tape.

“Yes,” his short answer came back.

“Wow, are you always so talkative?” You smiled at him, but he didn’t even look up when he put his purchase in his bag.

“Then have a nice evening,” you shouted after him as he headed for the exit without another word. But he stopped at that comment, turned around and came back the few steps. For a moment he stood before you without a word and seemed to be looking for the right words. You looked at him waiting.

“What do you want? Keep laughing at me?”

That was not what you had expected. “W-What?”

“Do you want to know more about this weird guy so you have more to laugh about?”

You were perplexed and didn’t know what to say.

“That’ll be fourteen thousand Korean won,” the cashier interrupted you, looking at you bored and waiting for the money.

“Uh, o-of course. One moment, please,” you replied and looked for your wallet with trembling fingers in your bag. When you gave the money to the cashier, relieved, you sadly noticed that the other man had already left.

What the hell had that been?

–

He could kick himself. It was bad enough that he couldn’t have a proper conversation with women, but now he had outdone himself and even yelled at you.

Great, well done, Jungkook.

He hit his forehead with his flat hand and stayed like that in his little open kitchen for a moment before pulling himself together and putting the ice in the fridge and shoving the pizza into the oven.

With a ‘plop’ he opened the bottle of wine and dropped onto the sofa. He was afraid to see you again on Monday. Would you throw hateful looks at him or even worse, ignore him altogether?

It hadn’t been often, but every now and then you caught him looking at you and smiled at him. That would probably stop now, because he had messed it up.

It wasn’t even the case that you attacked him in any way. Jungkook had overreacted and he was aware of that a few minutes later in the quiet of his apartment. But how could he make up for that? Even though you almost sat opposite each other, you couldn’t communicate with each other.

Maybe he could wait for you somehow on Monday and wait for you in front of the building. Or was that weird? Would it look as if he was lurking for you? It would probably be better if you crossed paths by ‘coincidence’. He could wait and see when you’re done with your work and then go down at the same time.

While Jungkook chewed his pizza lost in thought, he made up a plan.

Jungkook quickly realized with a brief glance into your office that Monday morning everything came differently and he could chuck his plan in the dustbin. You weren’t there.

The last few weeks he had seen you every day, so he hadn’t reckoned that you wouldn’t show up in the first place and thus robbed him of any chance to make up for his mistake.

The next days you didn’t show up either. And with every day the stone in the pit of his stomach and the feeling of guilt only got worse. Jungkook was worried that something might have happened to you. When you met at the supermarket it had been quite late and who knows who you had met on the way home. He shouldn’t have let you go home alone in the first place.

His last chance was Friday and he was hoping to see you at the supermarket like he did last week. It was unclear to him why he cared so much about a person he didn’t know at all and had only exchanged a few words with each other.

To Jungkook’s annoyance, he was able to finish his work on Friday on time and although he was still dawdling a bit and was already preparing some work from the next week, he was in the supermarket earlier than the week before.

He didn’t go to the right shelves as usual, but browsed around the supermarket. Every person who looked just a little bit like you made his heart beat faster, only to be disappointed a few moments later to notice that it was someone else.

“You took longer than usual,” Taehyung remarked, sitting behind the cash register and looking questioningly at the younger one. Taehyung and Jungkook were almost friends or at least good acquaintances. Taehyung had recognized Jungkook after a few visits and every now and then they spent some time together watching movies or playing together online. He was probably the person Jungkook would most likely call a friend.

“Hey, Taehyung,” he greeted the other. “I had something on my mind today. “

“I can tell. Anything special?” He looked at Jungkook again before adding: “If you weren’t pulling such a sad face, I would ask if it was a woman.”

Jungkook just laughed bitterly. If he knew. “Where is Michael?”

“Michael?” Taehyung asked and pulled his eyebrows together in confusion. A moment later it dawned on him and he shrugged his shoulders with a smile. “Ah, Mikey! Got fired. Some customers complained about his behavior.”

“I’m not surprised, could the guy look any different than bored and annoyed?” Jungkook asked while he was paying and stowing his groceries in his bag.

“I know someone else who does that,” suddenly a voice behind him said that was all too familiar to him. He turned around in surprise and you stood there. You looked tired, the rings under your eyes were hard to miss. Nevertheless you had a smile on your lips when you greeted Taehyung.

“Hey, Y/N, how are you?” Taehyung greeted you and Jungkook was surprised he knew your name. Y/N. Now he finally knew your name, even though he couldn’t prevent the slightly jealous sting that came when he saw that Taehyung and you seemed so close.

“I have a lot to do at work, as always, but otherwise I’m doing great. How’s the store going?” It irritated you a bit that the unfriendly young man from last week was still standing next to you and stared at you. You didn’t know what you had done to him, but you couldn’t handle another outbreak against you.

“Everything’s great, even if we’re a little short on staff at the moment. So if you know someone who knows someone…” Taehyung didn’t go any further with his statement, but you nodded knowing.

“I ask around. I hope you have a nice weekend. See you soon, Taehyung”, you said goodbye before heading out.

You had almost arrived at the door when Taehyung nodded encouragingly at Jungkook. “Don’t you want to go after her?”

Jungkook looked at him in surprise. Taehyung apparently knew him better than he had thought. With a short smile he said goodbye to him before he ran after you with a short sprint and caught up with you after a few seconds.

“Do you want to chuck insults at me again?” Your voice was cold, any trace of friendliness and wit, as he had experienced it the last two times, had disappeared.

“I wanted to apologize,” Jungkook pressed straight out. He tried not to let his nervousness show.

“Accepted.”

“Why did you lie to Taehyung?” Jungkook didn’t want to go too far with his question. He noticed that you were still a bit contrite, but the answer interested him too much.

“I didn’t lie to anyone,” came the short answer from you before you turned the corner into the next alley.

“Yes, you just told him that the work was stressful. But you weren’t at work that week,” he told you, and you couldn’t stop the little smile.

“Are you spying on me?”

“What? N-no, I mean… I just n-noticed t-that…” Jungkook started stuttering and feverishly looking for an explanation. He noticed his cheeks getting red again and hoping you wouldn’t see it.

“Everything’s fine, I’m just pulling your leg,” you laughed and looked at him. Jungkook was glad you didn’t seem to be angry with him anymore. “What is your name by the way? You know my name now.”

“J-Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

“So, Jeon Jungkook. If you are not spying on me, then why are you walking in exactly the same direction as me?”

He looked at you overwhelmed and once opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. A moment later he seemed to have regained his composure. “To be honest, I was a little worried after last week. We didn’t part on good terms and when I didn’t see you at work that week I thought something might have happened to you.”

He looked insecure at the floor and you saw his cheeks turning slightly red. They matched the sky, which was streaked with red threads, announcing the dawn of the end of the day.

“So you’re worried about me?” you replied a little surprised. “That’s more than most people do,” you added quietly after a short break.

“What do you mean? I’m sure your family cares about you, too,” Jungkook remarked. You arrived in front of your apartment and climbed the few steps to the front door.

“Thank you for bringing me home, Jeon Jungkook. See you on Monday,” you said before you walked through the door without waiting for an answer. When the door fell into the lock behind you, you took a deep breath. Exhausted, you went to the first floor where your apartment was and when you had also brought this barrier between you and the man, only then could you really relax again.

Jungkook asked you far too many questions and was too curious to be good for him. Some things should rather remain unasked and even more so unanswered. That would be better for everyone involved.

Hello! This story is so much fun to write and I’m so excited to share it with you! I really hope you like it just as much. Altogether the story will have three chapters, so it will be a shorter story. About every kind of feedback I am very happy. ♥️ I hope you have a wonderful rest of the week!

#bts x you #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook #jeon jungguk #bts fic #bts

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urmomsstuntdouble · 4 years

Note

if you’re okay with hetalia! I would love anything with the nyo!nordics they are absolutely my guilty pleasure. it can be shippy or familial or whatever else. I’m partial to stupid AUs like “they all work at the mall but don’t match their stores at all” and “iceland is into vocaloid” but you could also go the complete opposite direction and I’d be just as happy with high fantasy or whatever inspires you :)

here ya go i guess. sorry this took so long, i sort of got carried away with it and now it is Lorge. is it good? in character? who knows. anyway, i hope you enjoy :)

December 19, 20XX

After five years of living together, there were certain things Ylva had come to expect of her roommates. Harassment at work was nearly a given when one of them had a problem, whether it was Runa needing a place to sleep for the night or Maija needing to workshop material for her latest gig. Thankfully, Ylva worked at a Color Me Mine instead of a bank or something serious. And today was no exception to the Workplace Harassment Rule. At 7:32, Maija burst through the front door and charged over to where Ylva was filling bottles of glaze. If she were any other customer, someone might have something to say about it, but by now, every staff member was acquainted with her and found her charming. Some had even been disappointed to hear she was taken, though Ylva couldn't imagine why. Her girlfriend was a fucking nightmare.

“I need to paint some mugs,” Maija demanded, tossing the end of her scarf over her shoulder. Ylva didn't look up, didn't even take her headphones out of her ears.

“Cool.”

“For Tuli and Astrid. For Christmas.”

“There have been enough Color Me Mine presents circulated within our apartment already,” Ylva said. The bottle of glaze had been filled, and it was time to move on to the next one. It was butter yellow, almost the same shade as Maija’s hair.

“Okay, you’re not wrong, but if I order on Amazon, it’s not gonna come on time. Also, you’ll get paid this way.” Maija moved a clump of hair away from her forehead with delicate fingers, as though it were made of glass. Ylva snorted, cracking open the yellow glaze.

“My knight in shining armor,” She said, “It’s not like this place is going under.” Quite the contrary, in fact. This close to Christmas, the place was packed as people scrambled to make gifts for their loved ones. Dumbasses. When they rushed the place, it was nearly impossible to get everyone’s stuff through the kiln in time for Christmas.

“Okay, well, have you considered that I’m your girlfriend?” Maija said, giving her best puppy dog eyes. Ylva rolled her eyes, trying to suppress the warmth she felt inside, and shrugged.

“I’d like to not pay rent next month,” She said, “Make that your Christmas present to me. Instead of paying my share of the rent, I get to pay off my student loans.” Maija rolled her eyes, but shifted closer to Ylva.

“Done, if I can make them mugs.”

“Fine.” Ylva glanced up at Maija. “Your hair looks cute today.”

“Oh, thanks! I’ve actually been wearing a hat all day, so I was worried it would look ugly, but…Anyway. So, I sent Runa some tickets to my show on Saturday, but I haven’t heard back from her. Do you know if she’s, like, alright?” Once again, Ylva had to shrug.

“Runa’s a big girl, she can handle herself.”

“I know, but I get so worried about her. Like, what if some handsome boy seduces her and she runs away from home, and-”

“My sister? Run away with a boy?” Ylva had to laugh. “Are you high?” Of all the reasons Runa had to run away from their mother’s house, a boy was not one of them. She’d be more likely to start her own brand of sweaters or write a TV show for Netflix, but never once had Runa talked about boys.

“Whatever. Is she doing okay?”

“I think so. I’ve been sending her money for a couple weeks, so I know she’s not starving.” Ylva had to take comfort in that. The truth was, she hadn’t heard from her sister in a while, and it was becoming unnerving. But if she got anxious about it, so would Maija, and an anxious Maija was no fun to deal with.

“Besides, when has she ever missed one of your shows?” Runa made it a point to go whenever one of them had a gig. She was always in the front row when Ylva’s band, Lithium, was playing, and always somewhere in the room when Maija was doing “comedy.” Cringing along with the rest of the audience.

“That’s true. I just wanna make sure she’s safe, you know?” Ylva nodded. It was a feeling she knew all too well. Looking after Runa defined her middle school career.

“What sort of mugs do you want?” She asked, changing the subject. She was tired of talking about her sister, tired of thinking about all the ways Runa could end up dead in a ditch. Or dead some other way, like drugs or if she ate scallops, which she was allergic to, or if she got too close to some birds while trying to take a picture and got hit by a car.

“Oh, um, I think Tuli likes the round ones.”

“All mugs are round,” Ylva snorted. Her manager probably wouldn’t notice if she wandered away to paint mugs with Maija. She stopped pretending to fill bottles of glaze and stowed the refills under the table, where they usually lived, and guided Maija over to the selection of paintable ceramics.

“This is what I mean,” Maija said, grabbing a mug from the top shelf. Ylva enjoyed the way her hoodie moved, how the fabric straightened against her waist while she rose to her toes. The mug in question was wide at the bottom, but the sides slowly curved up to the top, not unlike a sugar pot. It was cute, and exactly the sort of mug Tuli would like.

“Oh,” Ylva said, “That’s cute. I think Astrid would like that one.” She pointed at another mug on the top shelf, and took pleasure in watching her girlfriend stretch to reach it. Over the next few hours, Maija painted the mugs. Her efforts to be artistic were sincere, but it was clear she didn't have the attention span. As always, Maija never stopped rambling and never stopped making jokes out of everything. By now, Ylva was immune to most of it, although she did laugh at the occasional joke while picking bits of clay dust out from under her fingernails. Once most of the customers had left, she kicked up her boots on the table, which was mostly an excuse to show off her fishnet leggings to Maija.

“I think I’m done,” Maija said a couple hours later, paintbrush between her teeth as she stared down at her work. Both mugs were sloppily painted, but Ylva could see what they were supposed to be. Astrid’s was a reference-less portrait of her dog on one side, with cherry blossoms covering the rest of the mug, and Tuli’s had a rainbow painted along the handle and a bunch of Pokemon adorning the outside. Well, Pokemon via the brush of an ill-experienced painter. There were some that erred more to the side of horrific than cute, but Ylva knew what Maija was going for.

“They look like shit,” She said, “They’re gonna love them.”

“Hey!”

“You can’t tell me this is supposed to be Eevee,” She said, tapping what looked like a bear on the side of Tuli’s mug. Maija’s face fell, a pout gracing her lips.

“It was supposed to be a Pikachu.”

“That’s talent, I guess,” Ylva said, “Or lack thereof. Don’t worry, you’re talented in other areas.” She tacked on at the end, when Maija’s pout increased.

“Well, that’s rude. Can we go do the glaze now?”

“They’re already glazed,” Ylva said, “The next coat is just to protect them when they go in the kiln. But you can come.” The pair stood up, and made their way to the back room, where Ylva removed her fishnet gloves and dunked each mug in the pre-kiln glaze, then set them aside to dry. Before she could put her gloves back on, Maija snatched one of her hands.

“I need my hand,” She complained, but allowed Maija to press a kiss to her knuckles and pull her into a hug. It was nice, after a day on her feet, to lean against someone she loved.

“This is nice,” Maija murmured, breath warm against her neck. Ylva shivered at the feeling, and though she wanted to rub her face further into Maija’s shoulder, she couldn’t walk out of the back room with smudged eyeliner, so she stayed put.

“How was your day today?” Ylva asked, her voice muffled somewhat by the hoodie.

“Long,” Maija said, “Feels like yesterday was years ago, and I didn't do anything the whole time. You?”

“I’ve been at work,” Ylva said, closing her eyes. She could almost ignore the ache in her feet when she focussed on how warm Maija was and the pressure of arms on her back.

“Mm,” Maija hummed, “When do the mugs go in the kiln?”

“When they’re dry,” Ylva mumbled, swaying slightly. She missed this. Even though she was done with school, no one else in the apartment was. Finals week was almost done, though- Which reminded her, Maija really needed to be studying. She had a test tomorrow. Eh, she’d already spent two hours painting mugs. A few more minutes spent hugging wouldn't hurt.

“That’s annoying,” Maija said, her voice high and soft. Her sentence was punctuated with a yawn, and Ylva was glad her face was hidden, because how dare someone make a sound so cute. The smile on her face would become a target for mockery, and go straight to Maija’s ego.

“My shift ends soon,” Ylva said, clenching her fingers in the back of Maija’s hoodie.

“Yeah.”

“The car’s not far.”

“Thought Tuli took the car to school today,” Maija mumbled, straight into some of Ylva’s hair.

“Astrid got them an Uber,” Ylva said. This was where it was at, even though Maija was insufferable most of the time. Conversations that meant nothing, hugs, and the comfortable familiarity of someone she’d loved for a long time. But, technically, she was still on the job. So she pulled away, gave Maija’s hand a quick squeeze, and left the back room feeling energized.

December 20, 20XX

“Do you think I should dye my hair?” Maija asked, leaning heavily against the shopping cart.

“Mm. It could look cute. What color are you thinking?” Tuli asked, not pausing in her examination of the supermarket’s selection of spices. Maija clicked her tongue, and ran her hand through some heavily gelled hair.

“Oh, you know. Blue and pink are the classic colors, but what if I got, like, green or something? That would be pretty neat.” Tuli plucked something from the shelf and returned to the cart.

“But: Are you biased to dye it green right now because green is a Christmas color?” Hm, that was a good point.

“I don't think so?” Maija said, “I mean, green’s a nice color.”

“That it is,” Tuli agreed, and laid a hand on the shopping cart. “What else did they tell us to get?” Maija pulled a crumpled up list of ingredients out of her back pocket, and read over them. From the looks of the shopping cart, most of it had already been gathered.

“Uh, craisins. And…those sprinkles that are actually eyes?”

“Oh!” Tuli smiled, “I put that. I wanted to put them on cupcakes, but then I didn't really plan anything else, so…I guess I’ll just end up eating a bunch of eyeball sprinkles. Or maybe someone else will do something with them.” Tuli shrugged, and brushed some hair out of her eyes. “So. Craisins.”

“Craisins ahoy,” Maija replied, though she wasn't sure what Craisins ahoy actually meant. To her knowledge, most Christmas meals did not include craisins, but when Ylva and Astrid were in the kitchen, she did not question them. They were magicians of the culinary persuasion, except for when Astrid tried to say that bananas on pizza were good. No, Maija hadn't tried it, she would not try it, and it was not good. End of discussion.

“Craisins,” Tuli agreed, and turned away to search for them, leaving Maija to follow behind with the cart. Though they were out for craisins, both of them had a habit of picking up interesting foods, sharing it with the other, and deciding if it was actually worth buying. Jalapeno chocolates? Yes, but we can't tell the others it’s spicy. Mango flavored tea? Not actually that interesting, but the box was pretty.

“Hey, Tuli,” Maija asked while they were waiting in line at the checkout.

“Mm?”

“Do you like Pokemon?”

“Oh, yeah! I was super competitive on the Pokemon scene in middle school. I was one of, like, three kids who actually knew how the card game worked,” She said.

“I didn't know I was in the presence of royalty,” Maija teased. Tuli gave a soft laugh, and adjusted her hoodie.

“Plot twist,” Tuli said, “I’m actually both Jessie and James, smashed into one body.” She laughed at her own joke, though it wasn't funny. Maija gave her a pity laugh though.

“Oh, move the cart up,” Maija said, and Tuli did, pulling the cart after her. The store was super crowded today- Probably not the wisest idea to save the shopping until this close to the holiday, but oh well. At least Maija had gifts for everyone this year. She was rather proud of that. It was worthy of straightening her bow tie- If she had been wearing a bow tie, that is. She should get more of those. Insufficient bow ties was an excellent description of her wardrobe. Unfortunately.

All in all, the trip to the store lasted about two and a half hours. Not too shabby for a pre-Christmas haul, if Maija had anything to say about it, and soon enough, they were back home. Ylva was out at work, and Astrid was busy working on her thesis, so the pair set about to silently put all the new groceries away. Once that was done, they traipsed off to their respective rooms. Maija knew she had to work on her new set, but couldn't think of anything funny. Literally, hours went by and she was still staring at the same blank screen. How fun.

Eventually, she got bored and sent Astrid the link to a YouTube video called i sword fight my ex gf in a denny’s parking lot with the caption omg this is so us!!1!. A couple minutes later she was rewarded with the word Blocked, despite not actually getting blocked. Love you too bab <3. No response. At least Ylva thought she was sort of funny. Or at least, funny enough to go to her shows. Did Ylva actually think she was funny? As if they hadn't had that conversation before. But, Ylva was on her mind, so Ylva she would text. babe. A couple minutes passed before the response of what.

am i funny

You’re the courtiest of court jesters. i lose my spleen laughing every time i go to one of your shows.

Though Ylva still had her spleen, the message was reassuring.

should i dye my hair

Idc, its not my hair. A pause. also i got your dumb mugs

yay!

Ah, punctuation. Noice. Ttyl. Maija sighed at that, and returned to staring blankly at her laptop. Maybe she could write some jokes about her weird, not-quite-rivalry with Astrid. Or her relationship? Something didn't sit right with her about mocking her girlfriend on stage. It was only funny when Ylva could mock her back. And that was how Maija wound up watching clips of various comedians until the evening rolled around and Ylva came home.

“Hey,” Maija said, “Tell me what to write about.” Ylva paused for a second, taking off her coat and boots.

“How girls always dye their hair blond but do it so you can see their roots.”

“What?”

“‘Cause they’re, like, into beauty but half ass it when it comes to their hair,”

Ylva said, “It’s irony or whatever.” Maija didn't think the idea was that good, but stowed it away in her mind, just in case.

“Thanks, luv,” She said in her poshest English accent.

“Nobody with that accent says luv,” Ylva told her, “It’s not an upper class Londoner thing.”

“Upper class London can suck my dick,” Maija mumbled, “And thanks. Love.” Apparently saying the word “love” in her regular voice was enough to tinge Ylva’s cheeks pink. That was cute.

“Whatever,” She muttered, and brushed past Maija into their room. Ylva crashed on their bed, face down.

“Tired?” Maija asked, and she nodded.

“But the M-U-G-S are in my backpack.”

“That word is too short for you to spell out like that.” Ylva only stuck out her tongue.

“I’d fuck this bed if I could,” she mumbled, “So soft.”

“Consider yourself kinkshamed,” Maija said, taking a seat beside her. She wound one hand into Ylva’s hair, combing it out with her fingers. Ylva had such pretty hair. It was already blond, but with a liberal application of dye, she was silver-haired. Except for the side of her head that was shaved, where little golden tufts reigned supreme.

“There are worse kinks to shame, but alright,” Ylva said, “But I don't need to tell you about that.” Maija choked on her breath, heat rising to her cheeks.

“I- What?! What are you trying to say?” Ylva tilted her head to the side. Somehow she was both exhausted and playful, and the combination was not doing great things for Maija’s heart.

“Oh, nothing,” Ylva teased, kicking one leg in the air. “I just know you, is all.” Maija withdrew her hand and gave Ylva a light shove, only for Ylva to drag it back.

“No, just…Just stay here,” She mumbled, so Maija did, though not without workshopping her material until Ylva was no longer in the mood to fuck the bed. Although she could feel Ylva getting annoyed, at least she was laughing.

December 21, 20XX

Tuli scanned the room once again, wondering if she had gone to the right place. Maija’s shows were always at the same comedy club, but what if things were different this time? What if she made a mistake by ordering a cocktail? If this was the wrong place, it was probably too late to make it to the actual one. Would Maija be mad if she missed the show? Probably not, right? Yeah, it was just a simple misunderstanding. She checked her phone again, and it sure looked like she was in the right place, but what if-

“Tuli,” A voice said from behind, and when she glanced up, she was relieved to see Astrid behind her.

“Oh, Astrid! Sorry, I didn't see you come in.” She stood up, and pulled a chair away from the table for her wife. Astrid flashed her a tiny smile, and sat down, though she scooted herself in.

“There’s nothin’ to be sorry for,” Astrid said, her voice rolling over Tuli in a calming wave.

“Yeah. Anyway, do you want something to drink?” Astrid shook her head, causing her long hair to shimmer in the low light. One of her jobs was modelling, and for her most recent shoot, pink hair had been in order. Where her hair was usually a pale golden shade, it was now a faded bubblegum color at the ends, and Tuli loved it. She had suggested dying all of it pink, but apparently that was more than Astrid was willing to do. It was a bit of a commitment for someone with hair as long as her’s. Still, her wife looked cute enough with pink hair that Tuli was considering dying her own blond locks.

“Not two nights in a row.” The previous night, Astrid had attended a Christmas party for work, and had more to drink than was wise.

“You’re such a grandma,” Tuli teased, running one foot up Astrid’s leg under the table. Astrid’s slight shiver made her smile, though she tried to hide it by taking a long sip of her drink.

“Hey,” Another voice said from her other side, breaking the soft air between the two women. Ylva had arrived, it seemed, decked out in leather and fishnets, with only the most extreme eye makeup on.

“Hey, how are you?” Tuli greeted her with a warm smile, though Ylva did not return it.

“I’m alright. Don’t really want to see Maija embarrass herself again, but it seems to be her passion.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Tuli gasped, “She’s not that bad!”

“She’s not that good either,” Astrid mumbled, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand.

“You guys are so mean!” Tuli said, mocking offense. In her heart, she knew Maija wasn’t particularly good at delivering a joke, but she didn’t want to be rude about it in a space where Maija could hear.

“I’m allowed to be mean to her, she’s my girlfriend,” Ylva said, and kicked her legs up on the table. Tuli rolled her eyes, letting the meanness thing slide.

“You should be wearing pants right now,” She said, “You’ll freeze!” Though she wore knee high boots, fishnets and red denim shorts couldn’t protect her from the cold.

“I drove here, it’s fine. Relax, mom,” Ylva said.

“Okay, but if you get too cold-”

“It’s a great time for you to get preachy,” Astrid mumbled. Tuli blushed, though she wasn’t wrong. Her dress was better suited for the warmer seasons.

“I have a flannel in my purse,” She mumbled.

“That’s gay,” Ylva deadpanned, scrolling through her phone. Tuli rolled her eyes. At least one of them had the sense to dress for the weather. Astrid had on knee high boots that looked like they belonged to a high fantasy video game, olive green jeans tucked into her boots, and a gray sweater dress that hugged her narrow frame. She was lovely, or at least Tuli thought so.

For the next couple minutes, the three sat in relatively comfortable silence. Tuli had to wonder how Ylva was comfortable sitting with her knees in her chest, but she let it go. Astrid pulled her laptop out of her backpack and got started on some of her homework. Tuli had always liked the idea of grad school, but after seeing the toll it took on her roommates, she began to second guess it. Astrid would be paying off her student loans for the rest of time, and Maija would be saddled in debt after the heat death of the universe. At least the loans made for good comedy on occasion.

By the time the lights dimmed and the first comedian took to the stage, Tuli had grown bored, and was watching Astrid work over her shoulder. She was working on her thesis. It wasn't due until May, but she’d already started over from scratch twice since she started. When the lights went down, Astrid paused her typing, then lowered the brightness and started typing. She worked all through the first comedian’s set. He had some funny things to say, and some things that were more offensive than humorous. Overall, Tuli was more invested in her drink and checking over her shoulder to see if Runa was there yet.

When Maija came on, as the third act of the night, Astrid moved her laptop away from herself on the table, paying more attention. While Ylva didn’t set her phone down, she did look up from it.

“Has she already done this set in public?” Astrid asked, and Ylva shook her head.

“No, it’s fresh. She calls it a Christmas special. Must be why there’s so many stupid Santa jokes.”

“I like the Santa jokes,” Tuli said, though she wasn't really paying attention to Maija. She was listening, but tracing circles in the condensation on her glass.

“She might just be bombing,” Ylva said, a slight upturn in her lips. “You suck!” She shouted, interrupting the show. Maija paused, the smile dropping from her face as she looked out at the crowd. Her eyes were wide for a minute, then when she noticed Ylva, a smile crossed her face.

“Says the emo in the corner. Hey, did anyone tell you it’s not 2006 anymore? My condolences, but My Chemical Romance is dead.” That brought on a couple laughs, and Maija launched into a whole spiel about Hot Topic, all while staring straight at Ylva. Tuli shook her head- The whole thing was ridiculous. How Maija was funnier when she was improvising, how she needed Ylva’s help to do that. But Ylva didn't seem to mind, as she hugged herself and grinned up at the stage, saying nothing as her girlfriend dragged her through the mud. Not long after Maija began to deviate from the emo jokes, someone stomped over to their table and plopped down in an empty seat, then buried her shaved head in her arms. Ylva’s attention was immediately diverted from the stage, and onto the girl next to her.

“Runa?” She whispered, and laid her hand on the girl’s arm. The girl looked up, and holy shit, it was Runa. Tuli tried not to eavesdrop when they began speaking in hushed whispers, but couldn’t help but overhear a couple things. Failure, mother, homeless? And also college, driver’s license, weed. All that set her heart racing, but she tried to pay attention to Maija anyhow. Astrid, who was also peering over at Runa, took her hand, and gave a comforting squeeze.

When her set was over, Maija gave a dramatic bow and tipped her hat, then scurried off the stage. She returned a moment later to put the microphone back on it’s stand, which got a couple laughs. Tuli wondered if that had been on purpose. Shortly after, Maija made her way over to the table. She spun around the last empty chair and sat down, crossing her arms over the back.

“Hey guys,” She said, a little breathless, “How’d I do?”

“No better or worse than usual, I think,” Astrid said, pushing her glasses further up her nose.

“You were fine,” Ylva said, reaching across the table to pat her arm. The table was too wide, though, and her arms were too short, so she only managed to swipe at the air.

“Thanks,” Maija said, “Hey, Runa, glad you could make it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Runa said, her voice tiny. She had her arms crossed, and seemed to shrink in on herself a little. “You were cool.”

“Cool.” Maija smiled, “How’re you doing? Haven’t seen you in a while. And you cut your hair!” Runa shrugged, one hand coming up to her head, almost as if to tuck some hair behind her ear before she realized it was no longer there.

“Yeah, I guess I wanted a new look.”

“Well I like it,” Maija said, “It’s cool.”

“It’s a little messy,” Ylva said.

“Someone else is on stage, guys,” Astrid piped up, gesturing forward. All five of them looked up, dumb expressions on their face. They were, in fact, talking over someone’s set.

“Shit,” Maija said, not lowering her voice at all, “Do you guys wanna get out of here?”

“Can we?” Runa asked, looking hopeful.

“But we just got here,” Tuli complained, “Wouldn’t it be rude to-”

“Well, as we have just noticed, we are talking over someone’s set, so I think we should have this conversation in the lobby,” Ylva said, and that was something they could all agree on, so the group packed up their things and left the main area of the comedy club.

“Sorry to make you guys leave,” Runa mumbled, balling her fists in the ends of her sleeves.

“It’s okay,” Ylva said, “I can drive you home if you want.”

“I don't want to go back to mom’s house,” Runa said.

“Well, you’re always welcome at our apartment,” Maija said, playing with a piece of hair that had fallen into her face. “Can I ask who cut your hair? It’s so cute, and-”

“I did,” Runa said, “Thanks.” Though Maija was entertaining her with discussions of her hair, Tuli couldn't help but worry. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and began typing out a message to Astrid. Do you think she’s ok? Astrid glanced down at her upon checking her phone. Idk. No way for me to know. She paused for a moment, then began typing again. Also, I watched you type that. Tuli shifted so she could get a better look at Astrid, and sent her a goofy expression. She was rewarded with a smug smile and a hand on her shoulder. Tuli shifted closer to her, until they were almost touching, with the hope that Astrid might put an arm around her shoulder, but to no avail. That was what she got for not asking, but it didn't seem appropriate with Ylva and Maija vying for Runa’s attention.

“I’ll talk to her later, okay?” Runa said, “I just need a place to stay for Christmas, and after that I’ll be out of your business forever.”

“I never said I wanted you out of my business forever,” Ylva said, her voice betraying some anger.

“Okay,” Runa said, though the indication of her tone was that it was not, in fact, okay.

“Okay,” Tuli butted in, “Runa needs a place to stay, and we have one, so that’s the problem solved. Let’s go home, I can make dinner, and-”

“‘S my turn,” Astrid said, “I’ll make dinner.”

“Sure, whatever,” Ylva said, “Is that okay with you, Runa?” Her sister shrugged, but nodded, in the ultimate mixed message.

“Dope! Alright, so you guys wanna go?” Maija said, gesturing to the door. As that was the general consensus, the group began to make their way out. Just as they were on their way out, a man came up to the group.

“Hey, I saw your set,” He said, talking only to Maija. “Maija, right?”

“Yep, that’s me!” She said, putting on a voice eerily similar to Tuli’s customer service voice.

“Well, you’re really funny, and I was wondering if you might like to go out with me sometime.” Maija’s face went a deep red, and her fists clenched at her sides

“Um, thanks, but-”

“Have you ever heard of a straight woman with a rat tail?” Ylva asked, and threw her arm around Maija’s waist.

“If you have, I’d actually like to meet her.” Neither of them noticed, but Runa seemed to wince, pulling her arms even tighter around herself. Her cheeks had gone red, but the door hadn't been open long enough for it to be attributed to the cold.

“Oh, shit. Sorry, uh, you don't look gay.”

“I’m-” Maija sputtered, “This is my girlfriend. But I’m sure you’re- You’re very sexy to some. Thanks- Thanks for coming to my show, bye!” Tuli felt bad for laughing, but Ylva clearly didn't. She cackled, in fact, as they filed out the door and away to their car.

“But you should really get rid of the rat tail,” She told Maija, and Tuli couldn't agree more.

“It’s a part of my look!” Maija whined, running a hand through her hair. Though she had employed copious amounts of gel to preserve a coiffed look, it was mostly falling apart by now.

“Yer look is…You should change it,” Astrid said snidely.

“What’s wrong with it?” Maija asked, walking backwards so she could face Astrid, although she kept one hand firmly in Ylva’s.

“The rat tail, f’r one. Yer hair’s a mess, clothes never match, and-”

“We can't all be models, Astrid.”

“She’s got a point,” Ylva said.

“You’re all bullies!” Maija whined, turning back around. “I can't believe my own lover would betray me like this.”

“I said what I said,” Ylva said, seeming unbothered, though she yelped when Maija attacked her with a side hug.

“You guys are so loud!” Runa whined, hands now in her pockets.

“It never ends,” Tuli warned, though her tone was jovial, “You’re lucky Ylva’s already graduated.”

“Don’t remind me,” Astrid said, her cheeks paler than usual. Tuli chuckled softly at the memories- Ylva was probably the worst student out of the lot of them, and college had been a stressful time for her. Where Tuli wanted to rip out her hair sometimes, Ylva actually had. It was actually concerning how many times someone had found Ylva crying with fists full of blond hair. Not that college hadn't been stressful for all of them. Tuli was set to graduate in May, and her experiences had made her question grad school.

Though she was only a year younger than Astrid, she was further behind in school, due to her gap years. They had known each other for a long time, and had been together since high school, but Tuli had never seen Astrid more stressed out than when she was applying to PhD programs. Stress remained simmering ever since, but Tuli wasn't sure if she was willing to put herself through that. She would probably be fine getting a job at a museum or something, given her major of theology.

The group reached the car, only for Ylva and Maija to break out into an argument over who would drive home. Both claimed the car to be theirs, even though it was actually Astrid who paid for most of it. Ylva won out in the end, and she continued arguing with Maija the whole time. Runa seemed mortified by the whole ordeal, but Tuli didn't want to prod. Once they got home, Astrid fulfilled her promise of cooking dinner, and they enjoyed a round of extremely loud conversation, as was typical of their household, before Maija started drinking to celebrate her set. Though the air in the room was jovial, everyone was tired, and they somehow managed to get to bed before the time became ungodly.

December 22, 20XX

Saturdays. There should have been more stuff on Twitter, given that it was a Saturday. More people- Ylva, Maija, Tuli, Astrid- should have been out, given that it was a Saturday, but no. Weren’t you supposed to go out and party every night when it was a Saturday night? Four college kids sitting around the living room drinking wine and knitting and watching TV wasn't what Runa had expected when she crashed with Ylva. Weren't there places to go, things to do?

Instead, she had a pillow under her chest and her phone clenched in her hand as she laid on the floor, watching the nth consecutive episode of Sense8. How was there so much of a show that only went on for two seasons?

“So wait, is he actually there?” Maija asked. Ylva sighed, and paused the show to explain every detail of the situation. That was how, Runa thought. She turned her face into the floor, scraping her nose against the rug. Her neck thanked her for relieving it of the odd position she had been in previously. As Ylva prattled on about the ins and outs of Sense8, Runa brought a hand up to stroke her newly shorn head. She couldn't stop touching it- Although she sort of wanted to, it was getting greasy. Her hair had never been so short, and she didn't know what to think of it. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but she didn't know how to feel now that her hair didn't rest against her shoulders.

But it didn't matter. Her hair didn't matter, right? All that mattered was that she got into Princeton. She was smart, and she was going to Princeton, and she had a place to stay until Christmas. What am I doing? Sleeping on her sister’s couch while avoiding her mom wasn't something to be proud of, but it was all she had. But a song she liked was part of the soundtrack, so she turned onto her side, and watched the show. Maija was right, it was really confusing, but at least the soundtrack was alright.

Eventually, Runa redirected her attention to social media, blindly scrolling through various apps until there was nothing left to scroll through. Finally, she resorted to scrolling through her own Instagram page. She only had twenty posts, and eleven of them were of birds, with eight of those being pictures of her pet parakeet, named Puffin. Ylva teased her about it when they were kids, but it wasn't her fault puffins were the only bird she knew. Fortunately, since then, Runa had become more educated on the dopeness of birds. Scrolling through her own page didn't help, though. She was only reminded of how Puffin was dead. Maybe she could get another bird when she was at Princeton, if they let students have birds.

“Runa?” The sound of her name caught her attention, and she jolted into a sitting position. Ylva stood at the end of the couch, staring down at her with a blank expression.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Maija’s in the shower, and we’re out of toilet paper, so Tuli went to get some. Astrid’s right there.” Astrid was, indeed, right there. She sat cross legged in an armchair, brows furrowed as she worked on some knitting, though there was a half empty glass of wine next to her. As if on cue, Astrid looked up.

“Hi, Runa,” She mumbled, and went back to her knitting.

“Hey,” Runa said, “What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you in the other room?” Ylva asked, by which she meant her bedroom. Runa couldn't really say no, so she got up and followed Ylva to the bedroom.

“Are you okay?” Ah, the age old question. Would she ever learn how to answer it in a way that didn't launch a whole discussion? Experts remain puzzled.

“I guess,” Runa shrugged, “I had a fight with mom. But it was really stupid,” Runa mumbled, and it really was. Things hadn't been going her way lately was all. She was eighteen, and every day her mom dropped hints that she’d be kicked out soon. But apparently, being eighteen didn't mean she could smoke weed or hug a boy- Even though she wasn't sure she even liked boys. And then she got to learn that her best friend was moving to a whole different country, because apparently it was Oxford or bust for her mother, and she was leaving over break- Everything was so much. And, as any responsible adult could tell you, sex won’t solve any of your problems. So why did Runa think it would work?

“I don't care how stupid it was. You’re my little sister, I care about you.” Runa couldn't help but cringe at that.

“Half sister,” She reminded her.

“Half sisters are still sisters. What happened?” Ylva pressed, crossing her arms. She adopted a stern look, and even rose to her toes to appear more intimidating.

“It’s really nothing-”

“Bullshit, tell me the truth.”

“I just- I did something stupid, and…Will you hate me?” Runa asked. It felt irrational, but what if her sister saw her as some sort of…traitor? She wasn't even sure what she was scared of. Why did Ylva’s approval even matter? Even if Ylva decided she hated her, Maija liked her enough to let her stay…Right?

“I am legally not allowed to hate you,” Ylva said, and though it was meant to be a joke, Runa didn't feel comforted. The law was just a bunch of words, after all.

“Well, um. Mom and I got in a fight. I did something, she didn’t like it. I guess I knew she’d be mad, but I didn't think she’d be that mad. I deserved it, but-”

“Until I know what you did, it’s going to be hard for me to have an opinion,” Ylva said, finally coming down from her toes. Runa supposed she was right. It would probably be better to say something, but she didn't know how. Would it even be safe? Who knew.

“I smoked a lot of weed…”

“Everyone smokes weed.”

“I, um. Please never repeat this,” Runa asked. Once again, her arms came up to hold her body. It was almost protective. Ylva nodded, and reached out to grab one of her hands. She refused to be okay with limply holding Runa’s hand between her own, and squeezed so hard that Runa had to squeeze back, as a form of revenge.

“Um. My friend and I were smoking, you know, and…In the basement. And I sort of, um. I sort of did...” She paused, remembering. “You know.” Ylva’s eyes went wide, and she started nodding. That, coupled with what she’d just confessed to, had Runa’s cheeks burning.

“Alright. Getting it, that’s cool.”

“No it’s not!” Runa yelled. Absolutely none of it was cool. “Our friendship is over! Mom said she’d leave us alone, but then she came downstairs, and we were just- She wouldn't stop yelling, and I was- I was still on the floor, and, and-” She could feel tears welling up in her throat, but refused to acknowledge them. She wouldn’t cry. She hadn't cried when her mom was yelling, or during any argument since then. Or before it, for that matter. No, Runa Stelisdottir didn't cry. Except now she was, and Ylva was watching her.

“I hate Mom.” Runa wiped her nose, because she couldn't cry over this.

“Me too,” Ylva said, and it really ticked Runa off how calm she could stay about the whole thing.

“You don't get it,” She said, though she despised sounding like a teenager.

“You don't understand! Your life is so perfect, with your girlfriend and your apartment-”

“My life isn't perfect just because I have a girlfriend and an apartment,” Ylva said, but Runa wasn't listening at that point.

“Mom was always so nice to you, and- And you have so many friends! You don't get it, you can't get it, and mom’s not gonna let me come home, and I don't have anywhere to go, but you won't-” Runa hiccupped, and she couldn't. She started crying harder, sobs shaking her body.

“Runa-” Ylva’s hand came down on her shoulder, and though her touch was gentle, it was even more unnerving.

“Don't touch me!” She shook Ylva’s hand off her shoulder, and ran. Her hiding place seemed to be the laundry closet, where the washer and dryer hummed away in their neat little stack and color coded baskets- Blue, yellow, black, and red- almost filled the rest of the room. Runa sank to the floor, phone clenched in her hand. It wasn't her fault, she told herself. It was all her mom’s fault. If she didn't want her daughters to act out, she should’ve raised them not to.

Knowing that didn't stop her from crying, though, and cry she did. She was an embarrassment, having a temper tantrum like a little baby. But eventually, she cried herself to sleep. Uncomfortable, cramped sleep, with her neck resting at an unnatural angle against the dryer, but sleep nonetheless.

She woke hours later to the faint hum of the dryer and the muffled sound of hushed voices.

“I think she’s depressed,” said one woman. Ylva.

“Really? That’s pretty bad.” Maija.

“Yeah. I mean, she’s got parental issues out the ass and doesn’t even trust me when I’ve been more of a mom than our literal mother.”

“Well, I mean, maybe that’s part of why? And it doesn’t automatically mean she’s depressed.”

“She’s on her phone all day. And I know, I know I sound like a boomer, but that shit’s not good for you. She doesn't talk to anyone, and…you know, maybe you were right about her running away with a boy.”

“I thought she was, you know…”

“I did too, but I guess not.” Runa choked at that, pressing her ear against the door. Was this a regular occurrence, that they just- just gossiped about her?

“Eh, it doesn't matter. I just hope she doesn't get into anything harder than weed.”

“You know that thing about weed being a gateway drug is bullshit, right?” Maija said, “They just say that to scare kids out of doing drugs-”

“Is it really that bad of me to want her sober? I mean, I’m not, like, saying you should never do drugs, but-”

“No, it makes sense. It would really suck if she got arrested or something.”

“Yeah,” Ylva murmured, and the conversation seemed to pause for a minute. “I just- Why wouldn't she tell me about the shit she clearly has going on?” Runa cringed at that, and she wanted to cover her ears, but there was something inside her that demanded she keep listening.

“Well, you said yourself that she doesn't really trust you,” Maija said. Runa wanted to rip her hair out. No! That wasn't it at all- Did they really think that poorly of her? Of course she trusted Ylva! It was Ylva who didn’t trust her, and only played the sisters card when things were going badly.

“She doesn't,” Ylva agreed, “And I sort of get it, ‘cause high school sucks, but since she doesn’t talk to me, I have to assume the worst.” Oh, come on. She talked to Ylva plenty.

“Yeah,” Maija hummed, “Do you think-”

“Runa doesn't care what I think.”

“I’m sure she does. But I’m not Runa.”

“It would be pretty weird if you were,” Ylva said, then paused. “I’m glad you’re not.” At that point, Runa couldn't keep listening. Her hand came up to the doorknob, and she was about to open it when Maija spoke again.

“Hey, it won't be that long before she’s out of your hair.”

“Yeah.” Ylva sighed, and the tone she said it in made Runa shiver. Like she was a temporary form of entertainment, or an obstacle, or- “At least I’ve got you.” She burst out of the laundry closet to find Maija sitting on the counter, one arm around Ylva, both with mugs in hand.

“Stop talking about me!” Runa shouted, and took a moment to relish in their surprise before she spun around and ran out of the apartment- A terrible idea, since she didn't really know the area. Her wallet and phone charger were in her backpack, which she had left behind. But she wasn't here to make good choices, apparently. No, she was there to anger her sister then leave all her shit behind after she had pissed off her mom.

Runa made her way into the lobby of the building, ready to leave, but the snow falling from a pitch black sky made her pause. Maybe she could find some storage room to spend the night in. According to her phone, though, she'd already spent most of the night in Ylva’s laundry room. And it was technically Sunday, so most people probably wouldn't be up and about for a while. So Runa set about wandering the first floor of the building- Not that there was much to wander- until she came across a door labelled T. It housed a dumpster and a recycling bin, both of which were empty. Sure, Runa thought, I can stay here. Besides, she was tired, and what harm was there in sitting down for a couple minutes? So she did, hiding behind the dumpster. Eventually, she managed to fall asleep, although her new position was no more favorable to her neck than the last.

December 23, 20XX

There was a certain sort of silence that came the morning after a heavy snowfall. It was a silence that Astrid found very peaceful, when accompanied by the correct lighting. Unfortunately, this morning was not one of them, which made waking up a lot easier. Though it would be more fun to stay in bed all day, there were things to do. Okay, she was getting up…now. Now. Okay, hug Tuli a little tighter, then…Awake! She reached across Tuli, still asleep, and felt around the nightstand for her glasses. Once she grabbed them and shoved them up her nose, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. There, Astrid combed her fingers through her hair, contemplated braiding it, but ultimately decided she could do that later, and rolled out of bed.

Upon emerging from the room she shared with Tuli, she spotted two things. One, the couch was empty, and two, her knitting basket was out of place. Instead of dealing with either of those things, though, she meandered over to the kitchen and pulled some mugs from the cabinet. She liked her own coffee black, so she didn't touch it before pouring her own mug, but for some reason, her roommates liked theirs with all sorts of flair. She left the remaining mugs on the counter and leaned against the sink. While she waited for her coffee to cool to a drinkable temperature, Astrid removed the filter from the coffee maker and tossed it in the garbage can. I should probably take out the trash, it’s getting kind of full. But then she’d have to put pants on…Eh, it would give her coffee time to cool off.

Astrid returned to the room, threw on a hoodie and a pair of running shorts, and after a moment’s thought, grabbed her phone. She grabbed the trash, replaced the bag, and slid into their Community Crocs, which were generally used for getting the mail or taking out the trash when nobody felt like putting on actual shoes. She checked her phone, saw that Maija had sent her a series of deep fried memes, and clicked away from Instagram. Maija sending her memes at four am was the least of her worries when it came to online harassment- Yet it somehow managed to be the most annoying. Astrid did modelling work as one way of paying for her degree, and apparently the rainbow flag and diamond ring in her bio weren't enough to deter the advances of the general public.

The elevator reached the first floor, and Astrid shuffled out, blinking in the bright lights of the lobby. With the trash bag slung over her shoulder, she felt like a woman on a mission- And she was, sort of, but in her head it was more along the lines of Stealth and Adventure. Maybe it could be, in her head. In an alternate world where spies take out the trash…

Or. In the regular world, where there might have been a dead body next to the dumpster. That was fun, and also the beginning of a cop show. Astrid dropped the bag in the dumpster, and kneeled down to get a better look- Or, in the regular world, where Runa was hopefully sleeping next to the dumpster.

“Runa?” She asked, shaking the girl on the floor. “Runa, are ya okay? Alive?” After a moment, the girl became awake, yelping and leaping away.

“Whatthefuckareyoudoing!?” She shrieked, then seemed to notice Astrid. “Oh. Uh. Hey, Astrid.” She made a move with her hand, as if to adjust her hair. Her cheeks only grew a deeper pink when she remembered she had none.

“Hey, Runa,” Astrid echoed, “What the fuck ‘re you doin’?”

“Oh, um.” Runa stared at the ground, her knuckles going white as she gripped her cell phone.

“Are ya okay?” Astrid asked once again, adjusting her glasses. Runa shrugged.

“I mean- I don't know.” She paused. “Can I tell you something?” Astrid nodded.

“Well, I, um. I kind of eavesdropped on my sister and Maija talking about me. Rudely.”

“Maija’ll do that. Ylva too, but less,” Astrid said. She sat back, leaning against the wall. “D’ya wanna talk about it?” Runa shrugged, leaning back against the dumpster.

“What even is there to say?”

“Not talkin’ about it is horse shit,” Astrid said, “Stuff happens, usually not great.”

“I think Ylva hates me,” Runa murmured. She ran a hand through her hair, and tipped her head back against the dumpster. “And our mom.”

“Why?”

“Well, mom hates me because I like getting high, I like to drive, and because I, um. Will you judge me if I tell you about something I did?” Astrid shook her head. Not because she wasn't judgemental, but because she didn't really care. From the way Runa was talking, it was just regular problems that seemed so much bigger to her because she was young. And everyone had those sorts of problems, so who was Astrid to judge?

“Don't really care ‘bout your probl’ms. No offense, but I’ve got my own issues to worry ‘bout.” Runa nodded, seeming to understand, then launched into an explanation.

“So, I have this friend, Li, and she’s pretty cool, but she’s moving away. To London. For college. ‘Cause of some weird custody battle that I don't really get. But then it’s like…She’s leaving me behind! And I’m- I don't- It’s weird, okay?” Runa spoke defensively, yet Astrid didn't know a single teenage girl named Li. Let alone one who was moving to London. “And we have this other friend, Noah. And his family’s also kind of weird, but that’s mostly his sister. Anyway, um. I don't know, there was this weird tension, and now Li’s gone, so I, um. Made out with Noah?”

“Why?”

“I don't know!” Runa said, “Why did I tell you that?” Astrid shrugged.

“Because 'm quiet, therefore ’m not a gossip, therefore ’m trustworthy?” Runa’s face scrunched up as she considered the possibility.

“Huh. But then my mom walked in on us, and Noah left, and we had a fight. Then his sister said we weren't allowed to hang out anymore, and my mom took my driver’s license away. And then I shaved my head, and we had another fight, and…Well, then it was now.”

“So ye’ve been busy,” Astrid said, “Sorry. ‘Bout your friends.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Runa said. “I still don't get why I told you that?” Astrid shrugged.

“Ye don't have to. But ye probably should tell yer sister.”

“That would be humiliating,” Runa complained, hugging her knees. “She makes me feel dumb.”

“Yer not dumb,” Astrid said. “Ya know, I’ve got some little nieces ‘round your age ya might like to be friends with.”

“Oh, um. Cool?” Runa said, though her tone indicated she couldn't care less. Perhaps Astrid hadn't presented it the right way. Whatever. Her nieces were menaces to society anyhow.

“D’ya want me to talk to Ylva for ya?” She suggested. Hopefully that didn't make her sound like a poser, or whatever. But Ylva was probably concerned, and she could probably help with whatever mommy issues had arisen, so. Yeah. And did it make Astrid a bad person if she was thinking through the psychology course she had to take as part of her teaching certification? No, this was something she’d have to deal with when she became an actual teacher. It was fine.

“I guess,” Runa said, “Can I, um, can I come back to the apartment now? I’m cold.” As anyone would be, after spending the night on the floor of the trash room. Astrid hoped she’d be a better mother than Runa’s when and if she and Tuli decided to have kids.

After a few more minutes, Astrid helped Runa off the floor.

“You’re um, you’re really tall,” Runa commented, having to tilt her head back to make eye contact with Astrid.

“Yes, I know,” Astrid said as they walked. Her feet slid around in the Community Crocs- somehow. How was it possible that they were too big for her? How did Ylva survive in these? “Yer kinda short.”

“I’m not that small,” Runa bit out, and the conversation ended. Typical short person response. Though Astrid amused herself, the air between them remained tense on the elevator ride up. When they got to the apartment, Astrid unlocked the door and slid off the crocs.

“Took the trash out,” She announced to the now heavily populated main room. Tuli sat on the floor, head in one hand, eyes shut, but perked up at hearing Astrid’s proclamation. A sleepy smile crossed her face and god, she was so cute. Warmth flooded Astrid’s chest, before she remembered the Runa she had in tow. “Also, Runa’s here.” She stepped aside, revealing Runa. Ylva, who sat on the counter, slammed her mug down.

“Runa,” She said, voice neutral. “Hey.”

“Ylva,” Runa said, shoving her hands in her pockets. She shuffled to the side, allowing Astrid to block her from view once again.

“Hi, Runa!” Maija said, and took a sip of her coffee. “How are you?”

“I’m ok,” Runa mumbled. Astrid made her way across the room to join Tuli on the floor next to the refrigerator- Her wife liked iced coffee year round, and when she could not buy iced coffee, she made iced coffee. The only drawback was how long she had to wait for the coffee to chill. Astrid kept telling her it was easier to pour warm coffee over ice, but Tuli wanted to do it her way, so Tuli got to do it her way.

“Hi,” Astrid whispered, joining Tuli on the floor, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb the family drama going on around them.

“Mornin’” Tuli yawned, “Thanks for taking the trash out.”

“No probl’m,” Astrid replied. Tuli hummed, and leaned her head back against the fridge. She didn't incite any further conversation, so it seemed they’d just be listening to Ylva and Runa attempt to talk to each other about their mother. Awesome. Well, more like really bad parenting and a control freak mother- Which, actually, explained a lot of Ylva’s personality. And life choices. And taste in music. And women.

Though she did try to tune them out, Astrid was unable to ignore the pair forever. Mostly because Runa called on her to arbitrate the conversation, which was dreadfully boring, seeing as it turned out that not much had actually happened. Runa was acting rebellious, whatever that meant, and their mom didn't approve. Ylva sent her money, which Runa had allegedly spent on bus fare and food. She actually spent it on weed, until their mom took her license away for Bad Behavior, which was apparently the lying but mostly the Noah thing. Which was somehow related to the hair thing. If Astrid had to comment, which she didn't, Runa was just confused about a lot of things. Unfortunate, really. But! She was now staying with them until she had to go back to school, so that was cool. Maybe during that time she would become less confused- Although Tuli taking a coffee mug out of the freezer surely didn't help.

“Why was your coffee in there?” Runa asked, pulling Tuli into the limelight.

“Oh, I like iced coffee,” She said. She set her mug down on the counter, grabbed some milk from the fridge, and then honey from another cabinet. A generous amount of both went into her mug.

“But it’s winter,” Runa said, dumbfounded. Tuli only chuckled.

“Yeah, but I still like iced coffee. It just tastes better,” She said, taking a sip.

“It’s a seasonal beverage,” Maija butted in. She managed to stay silent while Runa and Ylva talked about what had happened, but it seemed that was over now.

“How is iced coffee a seasonal beverage?” Ylva asked, “It’s literally just coffee with ice in it.”

“It’s got summer vibes,” Maija explained, “Like how you wouldn't get, like, a peppermint latte in July.”

“I could if I wanted to,” Ylva snapped back, “If I liked peppermint.”

“Okay, but you not liking peppermint doesn't mean it’s not a Christmas drink,” Maija said, “I think you just lack fun.”

“Here’s the thing, though,” Ylva said, tapping Maija’s chest with every word.

“Peppermint exists all year round, so it’s not a goddamn seasonal drink.”

“Yes it is!” Maija shouted, “They only have it in the winter, how is that not seasonal!”

“You can ask Starbucks to make you a peppermint latte in the summer, it’s just not advertised as much.” Astrid, along with Maija, and at least Runa, rolled her eyes. If there was one thing the inhabitants of their apartment were good at, it was pointless arguments. Most of them broke out between Ylva and Maija- Hopefully Runa didn't take the wrong message from that.

“Welcome to our apartment,” Tuli said, almost drily, then turned her attention to Astrid. “I’m gonna go get ready, alright?” Astrid nodded, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She’d probably wander back to their room soon enough- She had so much work to do, it wasn't even funny. But for now, the greatest entertainment in town was watching Ylva scream at her girlfriend about the seasonality of peppermint lattes.

“Are they- Are they always like this?” Runa asked, once again clutching her phone to her chest.

“Ye get used to it,” Astrid confirmed, “Nd, for what t’s worth, your sister ‘sn’t that bad.”

“I know,” Runa sighed, “Thanks.” Astrid flashed her a slight grin.

“Not a probl’m.” After all, who would she be if she didn’t look out for her friends?

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evalinkatrineberg · 4 years

Text

Family

A/N: In which @arin-schreave meets the Bergs. Only 10k words this time. Includes bad hand puns because Anna made a typo that I thought was intention. In conclusion, I am a dumbass.

It was almost too easy to be swept back into old family rhythms as we chatted at the reception. Half the time, it felt like I had never even left, like I had just been away for a night or two, sleeping over at a friend’s house, but at the same time, it felt like I was meeting my family for the first time, as if they had just adopted me, and were filling me in on the family secrets.

“You’ve missed a lot,” Lydia informed me, her face dead serious, but filled with energy as she looked at me. Behind her, our mother nodded, folding her hands in front of her as she looked around the room at the other families. There was an interesting mix of people in the room, I had to admit, though it seemed like most families were keeping to themselves, just as we were now.

“So, fill me in,” I instructed, rocking back and forth on my feet from my heels to my toes once as I looked at my sister again.

“Okay, well,” she began, pointing at our father, “we know it’s early, but Father packed some birthday presents for you, so don’t let us forget that!”

I narrowed my eyes at my father, who stood to my side, completely straight faced. “You didn’t have to do that!” I knew that more likely than not, I was still going to be here for my birthday, but there was always the chance I would be sent home before then. I was painfully aware of that, especially with Christina bringing back more and more rumors about the other girls’ relationships with Arin each time she came to my room. Somebody saw him kissing Lady Jen last night. Well, I heard that he and Lady Clemence were pretty cozy today. Do you see the way that Lady Leana looks at him? Somebody saw Lady Regina in his office earlier. I still can’t believe that Lady Idalia touched his face at the ball. Did you hear that he and Lady Melissa kissed? I haven’t seen him with Lady Octavia recently.

Every time she said something, I couldn’t help but look at my phone. I was beginning to wonder if asking for his number had been a bad idea. I was so used to being the one to leave others on read, that having his number, but him not starting any conversations felt like a complete turn of the table to me. Maybe we really were never going to be more than friends. I’d have to accept that and move on, if that was the case.

Yet, that kiss we had shared last week, before I had attempted to sleep again, hadn’t felt like something between friends. That had been something more, something careful, something intimate. I had never kissed someone like that, and then called them a friend, and nothing more. I didn’t think I had ever kissed anyone with that level of emotion tied to the kiss itself, either.

I was in so fricking deep over my head.

Lydia forged on, completely unaware of my internal turmoil. Waving a hand through the air, she fixed her brown eyes on me, cocking her head to the side. “What, like we’d leave you presentless on your birthday? No way!”

“Presents aren’t everything, Lydia,” I sighed, offering her a small smile despite myself. She meant well, and I knew it.

“No,” she agreed, “but we put a lot of thought into these, so at least take two seconds to open them, will you?”

“Speaking of your birthday,” Gabriel chimed in, looking over at me from where he stood a bit off to the side, next to Sam, “I’ll be here for it, if you want to do anything.”

“That was my next piece of news. Thanks for spoiling it!” Lydia rolled her eyes at Gabriel, crossing her arms as she turned her body to face him more. I raised an eyebrow at the both of them, waiting for their staring match to end, and their explanation to come. Family week would have ended long before my birthday, so there had to be a pretty good reason as to why he’d still be in Angeles three weeks later.

It was Lydia who broke first, turning back to me as she pointed a finger at Gabriel. “He got that job he applied for, at the chemical testing facility here, in Angeles.”

“I won’t be returning to Knoxville with everyone else, once family week is over,” he confirmed with a nod. “I just need to finish furnishing my apartment, and then I am good to go.”

“Gabriel!” How was this only the first I was hearing of this? I knew he had applied for the job - he had done it while we were all still home in May - but nobody had bothered to tell me that he had heard back, or was even looking in to moving out to Angeles. “Congratulations!”

My oldest brother simply nodded, keeping his same neutral expression, despite the great news he had just told me about. Having Gabriel close by would be very nice indeed, if our schedules ever lined up in a way that would allow us to see each other. He was like a piece of home away from home, steady and constant no matter the conditions, like a boulder breaking up the rapids of a river.

Still, there were logistics to consider, even if we were close by, that had me shaking my head. “My birthday is on a Wednesday, though. You’ll be busy with your new job, and I’ll have classwork.”

He rolled his eyes at me, flashing a frown in my direction. “You’re not doing homework on your birthday. I’m sorry, but I won’t allow it.”

“And who put you in charge?” I raised an eyebrow back at him.

“Anyway,” Lydia interjected, now pointing her finger at Randall. I dropped Gabriel’s stare, and turned instead towards my younger brother, who was looking around the room, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Randall has a solo in his competition a capella group’s lineup this year, and is competing for music scholarships!”

“Randall!” I whirled around to look at my younger brother, holding my hands up in my excitement. “That’s amazing news! Congratulations!”

“He’s not actually going to pursue a career in music,” my mother chimed in from where she stood behind Lydia. Her eyes narrowed at Randall.

Lydia frowned for a moment, but then turned back to me, smiling once more. “Now, onto the biggest news - me!”

I rolled my eyes, watching still as my mother came to stand behind Lydia, placing one hand on each of Lydia’s shoulders. As she did that, Lydia thrust her hand out towards me, the ring on her finger catching and reflecting the light from the room. “I’m engaged!”

“To whom?” She hadn’t even had a boyfriend when I had left Carolina! I reached forward, grabbing her hand in mine. I was by no means an expert on wedding rings, but I was pretty sure this was a big one. Whoever he was, he must have a good deal of money, and a lot of charm to boot, to woo my sister in such a short period of time.

“Devon Judge,” was her answer.

My eyes went wide. “Devon Judge? The one who plays for the Braves? That Devon Judge?” A professional baseball player - a Two. The size of her ring was beginning to make sense to me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned my head around to see my father standing behind me, nodding. Holy crap. This was happening. This wasn’t an episode of Pranked! or an elaborate joke of Lydia’s. My sister was engaged, to a professional baseball player, after having known him for a maximum of three months.

“Congratulations,” I finally managed to stutter out, still staring at her hand like a fool.

There was another tap on my arm before I could say anything more. I flinched a little at first, startled, and looked up. Arin. I couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my face as I looked at him, taking in his own smile. “Arin! How are you?”

Around me, the chatter of the rest of my family members ceased, and they turned to face Arin, various degrees of curiosity evident on each of their faces. My father and older brothers kept their expressions pretty neutral, the most reactive being Gabriel, who simply raised his eyebrows. My sister, on the other hand, was now looking at Arin like she was at the supermarket, and he was an apple she was inspecting for bruises. Randall only glanced at Arin for a second before something else caught his eye and his attention wandered. My mother just smiled, ever the polite, well-mannered woman of the house.

Arin glanced at each of them in turn, still smiling as he did. “I’m doing well. I came over to check on you, and say hi.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I replied, still smiling as I gestured towards my family members, where they stood around me. “Let me introduce you to my family.”

Here goes nothing. I pointed to each of my family members in turn as I spoke, making sure Arin knew who was who before moving on to the next person. “This is my father, and my mother.”

My mother offered him a polite smile, while my father kept his face expressionless, simply nodding at Arin before I moved on. So far, so good. It was still early, though. There was plenty of time for someone to say something stupid, or for an argument to break out.

“This is my sister, Lydia. She’s the oldest.”

Lydia had withdrawn her hand, folding both of her hands together in front of her, and fixing Arin with a smile that looked a little too falsely saccharine for my own comfort. I had known going into this that Lydia was going to be the hardest for Arin to win over. The two of us had always told each other everything, and Lydia was also incredibly stubborn when it came to holding grudges. Already, she’d made multiple jokes about Arin’s behavior on our roller skating date, and she hadn’t even been at the palace for a full twenty-four hours. I doubted she would say anything outright, though. She was the queen of passive aggressive comments and backhanded compliments, her sweet words often so false in situations like these that they gave a new meaning to killing someone with kindness.

I moved on, not letting myself linger on my worries. Lydia would behave, especially with our parents around. I wondered if her new fiance could handle her as well as we had all learned to. He must have been able to, or else they wouldn’t have gotten engaged, right? I felt a pang of sadness as the realization of just how much I had missed at home while I was here washed over me like a wave, drowning out the rest of my senses for a brief moment.

I had been enjoying myself in Angeles, though. There would always come a point in life in which I would have to move on, and live without my family at my side every waking second. It was for the better that it had come sooner, rather than later.

I gestured towards my two older brothers, who stood a little farther away from my sister, my parents, and I, still facing each other, their heads turned towards Arin. “Then there’s Gabriel, and Sam.” Both just nodded once, their expressions almost a carbon copy of my father’s. Gabriel might be older than Sam by almost two years, but he still stood a full inch shorter than Sam and my father. Something about his build, the way he carried himself, still made it clear to me that he was the older brother, though. I knew it wasn’t something I had imagined, either. Many people often confused Gabriel for being the oldest out of all five of us, despite Lydia actually holding that title.

“And this is my younger brother, Randall.” I pointed over to the other side of my mother, where Randall stood, his head turned upwards as he analyzed something on the ceiling with apparent interest, seemingly having blocked out everything else that was happening around him. At seventeen, he was already a good four inches taller than me, and based on the broadness of his shoulders, which he hadn’t grown into yet, he still had a good few more inches to go. At the sound of his name, he looked over towards me, his eyes wide with confusion. Upon noticing Arin, he offered the prince a small wave, before turning back to whatever had captivated his attention before.

“Don’t worry if you don’t get all of our names right away.” By my side, Lydia inclined her head, smiling at Arin as if she was a lion sizing up her prey. “There’s a lot of us.”

I cut her a glance, but kept my mouth shut. Was this an insult - a jab at him, for having taken a while to remember my name, or where I was from, or anything about me, for that matter? If it was, she was being unnecessarily ridiculous. It had been months since I’d complained to her about that. Holding a grudge for that long couldn’t be healthy, and yet, I knew she’d hold on to all of his mistakes for as long as it took for him to own up to and apologize for them in front of her. Even then, she wouldn’t forget about them. Being the oldest hadn’t left her with the sense of responsibility and duty that many oldest siblings seemed to display, but it had made her extremely protective and defensive of the rest of us. It was a blessing, and a curse.

Arin didn’t waver under Lydia’s gaze. Instead, he kept his smile in place, extending his hand towards my mother. “Holly, right?” As the words left his mouth, he glanced at me for a split second, the question flickering in his eyes.

I offered him a small but encouraging nod, along with a smile. Where he had learned my parents’ names, I wasn’t sure, but at that moment, I couldn’t care less. He was going to make a good impression on them, at this rate. That was a good sign.

Lydia’s expression flickered towards one of surprise, her eyebrows darting up and down her forehead, but it didn’t last. As quickly as her expression had changed, it had returned back to normal, her sickly sweet smile finding its home on her face once more. A quick look at the rest of my family revealed that Gabriel was frowning, more at Lydia than anyone else.

My mother, bless her, commanded Arin’s full attention at the moment, the smile she was giving him genuinely pleased. “Yes,” she answered as she shook his hand, the motion light and delicate on her behalf. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I knew what her hands felt like without even having to touch them. Those were the hands that had held mine when I was young, cold yet soft to to the touch. Those were the fingertips, calloused from years of playing the violin, that had wiped away my tears when I was hurt. It almost seemed odd, now - the little details that stuck with me, despite being apart from her for so long.

I felt my father remove his hand from my shoulder, and I looked back up at him to see him wrap his arm around my mother’s shoulder, smiling down at her, his eyes alight with contentment, before he turned to look at Arin.

Arin inclined his head, turning his attention to my father and extending his hand to him. “Harald.”

I watched their interaction like a hawk, noting the way my father nodded once at Arin, and then shook his hand, his grip clearly firm. I couldn’t believe I was thinking it, but Arin almost looked kind of short, next to my father. Then again, who didn’t? I always felt like I was tall, in comparison to many of the people around me on a daily basis outside of my house, but I was still the shortest one in my family by a good two inches. Giants, they were.

I caught my mother as she attempted to subtly elbow my father in the side, as if that would prompt him to say something. My father must have taken the hint, because within seconds, he pulled his hand away, replying, “Pleasure. I got your phone call to my work phone, the other day.” His tone was almost curious, like he wasn’t entirely sure how Arin would respond to that fact.

“Ah, yes.” Arin cut me a glance, before turning his gaze back to my father. “Sorry that I missed you.”

I shook my head at Arin, frowning as I considered what my father had said. Had Lukas told him about the call, or had he been there the entire time? Why hadn’t he mentioned it to me, either? The morning after Arin had called him, I realized that I had three missed calls from my father, but he had never left a message, so I hadn’t really thought much of it, figuring that if it had been so important, he would have at least sent me a text, asking me to call him back. I set my gaze on my father then, raising an eyebrow. We were owed an explanation, just for his last comment to Arin, at the very least.

“All calls to the landline are recorded for quality assurance,” he explained, fixing me with a frown. “I thought you actually read your contract when you got your internship.”

Did anybody actually read those contracts? I blushed a bit, answering, “I guess I skimmed over that part.”

“You? Not being thorough about something?” Gabriel’s tone was amused as he took a few steps towards where my parents, Lydia, and I stood with Arin. He shook his head, grinning ever so slightly as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Unheard of.”

My father turned his attention back to Arin, paying no mind to what Gabriel had said. “Sorry about Mr. Bernhardsen.”

It was almost odd, hearing him refer to Lukas by his last name. I knew that my father hadn’t been overly fond of him since day one, simply claiming that he felt something was off about Lukas, but he had never been outwardly rude, or even cold, towards Lukas, whenever he had been over at our house with me and June. He had always called Lukas by his name, or simply by, “young man.”

Looking back at it now, it was almost comical how right my father’s initial impression of Lukas had been, without him even realizing it. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, after all.

“If you’d like to file a complaint for the way he spoke to you, I could make sure it gets processed quickly,” my father offered, keeping his face carefully expressionless, not revealing how he felt one way or the other. I knew him well, though, and could hear the faint note or urging in his tone. He wanted Arin to do this.

Had he really disliked Lukas that much? He had said that he never liked him, after he had watched me push him off our front porch the night before I left for Angeles, but I supposed I had never really considered to what extent he felt that way. Why did he feel that way? My father was generally good at reading people, so perhaps it was just a vibe he had picked up from Lukas, but he normally didn’t develop feelings this strong off of something so small.

Arin was silent for a moment, looking as lost in thought as I was. Knowing what I had told him, what I was still trying to process myself, I couldn’t blame him. I swallowed, watching as he turned his head to look over at me, and murmured my name, the sound soft, but still loud enough that my family members could hear.

Where was this going? A quick glance at my family members revealed that their thoughts probably held the same question as mine, or something very similar, as they looked between Arin and my father, question marks written in all of their expressions. Gabriel’s grip on my shoulder tightened, and when I looked up at him, I noticed his jaw was clenched, his eyes focused only on Arin. What had set him off? Was it the way Arin had murmured my name? This was a mess, already, and we’d all barely said more than a sentence apiece.

I bit my lip, hesitating for a couple of seconds before swallowing my apprehension. “Yes, Arin?”

He stiffened, but his voice was soft - almost distracted - when he spoke. “It’s nothing.”

It didn’t take a genius to realize that it clearly wasn’t nothing. He probably just didn’t want to say anything in front of my family. I didn’t know why that made me feel as relieved as it did.

I reached out, my fingertips lightly grazing his arm, my voice barely louder than a whisper, so that only he would hear. “Tell me later?”

He didn’t reply, so I forged ahead, a little louder this time. “I only heard half the conversation, so it’s your call.” Shaking my head, I looked from my father back to Arin, narrowing my eyes at both of them in turn. “Did he say anything bad?”

“He was pretty rude - not that that’s a surprise,” my father admitted, shaking his head a bit. “I don’t think many people would miss his presence in the lab.”

He did have a point there. Lukas has never exactly been popular amongst our fellow interns, but then again, neither had I, really. The professors and other staff had always seemed to like him well enough, though. How many times had they joked that he and I should get together, and become a couple? I swallowed as I thought back on it, coming to the realization that their seemingly innocent comments must have fed into his own desires. The lab’s Christmas party, the kiss under the mistletoe, stood out in my memory. Had he asked them to help orchestrate that? My father had been away for a conference in Waverly that week, meaning he wouldn’t have been able to put a stop to such nonsense. It was no secret in the lab that he was fairly protective of me, but I didn’t think anybody knew of his dislike for Lukas. They had probably seen it as an innocent, romantic gesture.

My mother’s voice snapped me back into the present moment, dragging me out of my thoughts before they could consume me whole. I had never been so grateful to see her glaring at my father. “This is no place for conversations about work politics, Harald.”

“I’d think this is the perfect place to talk about the political,” Randall argued, looking at the ceiling as he spoke, smirking.

Arin paid them no attention, instead glancing down at my hand, and then back to my father. “If it's alright with you, I'd like to think on it.”

“Of course,” my father replied, his eyes steely as they flashed towards me, and then towards the hand I had on Arin’s arm. I waited with baited breath for him to say something about it, but he only nodded. “You know where to reach me.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised that it was my mother who made the first comment on my gesture. Her smile was polite, but there was something weary in her expression as she looked at my father. It vanished when she turned her attention to Arin, though, as if her curiosity about me placing my hand on his arm invigorated her. “It seems like you and Evalin have grown pretty close, over these months.” There was no malice in her tone, only genuine joy, as far as I could tell.

Arin had passed my mother’s test. That was the easiest one, though.

Lydia’s expression hadn’t changed throughout this entire conversation, and the smile that dripped with poisoned honey wasn’t going anywhere now. “Yes, it seems there’s been a big change of tune since your first date.”

“Lydia!” My mother frowned, and I couldn’t help but agree. Of course she would bring this up. Lydia would forgive, eventually, maybe, but she wouldn’t forget. Right now, she had yet to do either, on my behalf. I loved my sister dearly, with all my heart, and would be forever grateful to her for everything she had done for me, but it was times like this that I just wished she’d choose her own battles.

She looked over at our mother, her eyes wide, the picture of innocence. “What?”

I really hoped Devon Judge knew what he had gotten himself into.

A quick look upwards revealed that Gabriel was now frowning at Arin, as if he, too, was holding a grudge over this date that had happened months ago.

Was I going to make it through family week without losing my mind? I was skeptical. I shot Arin an apologetic smile, unsure of what to even say to smooth things over. Sorry for telling my sister about our horrible date, I was really upset at the time! I had a feeling that wouldn’t do anything.

His back stiffened again, but he still smiled at all of us. “Many things have changed over the last few months.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lydia replied, her voice lacking any ounce of genuineness.

“I’m sure it’s been a wild ride for you, as well,” my mother offered, looking at Arin with a polite smile.

Randall frowned, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes. “It’s been quiet without Evalin - the opposite of a wild ride.” I could only imagine that it had been quiet, for him. The two of us were the last kids at home, and much of our time had been spent with each other, while our parents worked. There had been quite a few nights that we had stayed awake together, talking about everything from our worries about the future, to topics as simple as which childhood cartoon had been more entertaining. To have the house entirely to himself, now, when our parents were at work couldn’t be as fun as it sounded, I was sure.

“I hope there’s been some moments you’ve actually enjoyed,” Gabriel stated, his grip on my shoulder loosening a bit, though he kept his hand where it was.

Arin cut me a glance. “I can only speak to my experience.”

“I think it’s definitely been full of good experiences,” I offered with a reassuring smile, unsure as to whether in doing so I was saving him from my family’s questions, or setting him up for more. It was hard to tell, with my family. With there being so many of us, with very different personalities, it was easy for us to pull the conversation in separate directions, rather than working as a unit to move it down one path.

My mother beamed as she looked over at me. “Well, I’m glad to hear it, but -” She turned to Arin, her smile a little more subdued now. I had seen her use that look before, when a student was arguing with her over whether or not they deserved points off on a test, and she didn’t want to upset them by just outright saying that they did. “We are quite interested in hearing what you have to say. We would like to get to know you better.”

“Yes!” Lydia echoed, nodding enthusiastically. “Of course we’ve heard the stories, but seldom do stories do reality justice.”

My mother frowned at Lydia, and I was inclined to do the same. Before either of us could say anything, though, my father swept in, turning to Arin. “Evalin’s told us almost exclusively good things. The only negative word I heard from her was after your first date, but well -” he cast a nostalgic look at my mother, and I knew immediately what story he was about to launch into “- I wouldn’t worry about that. Holly called me a Three with a savior complex when I first asked her out, and we’ve been married for thirty-two years now.”

He really had brought up marriage, after meeting Arin for the first time. Was this some kind of test that my father was giving him, to see what his true intentions were? The possibility didn’t seem unlikely, to me. I had never thought I’d be envious of a chameleon, but I wouldn’t have minded having the ability to fade away into the background of this room, camouflaging myself from both my own family and from Arin until I could escape this conversation, right about then. Lydia might be ready to talk marriage after three months, but Arin and I? We weren’t even close to that point.

Once again, Arin stiffened, glancing over at me. “I guess only time will tell.” It was a non-answer, sure, but it was one of his better ones, if I was being honest. It wasn't entirely untrue, either. Only time would tell if he was going to send me home, or if I was here for the long haul.

I felt my brother’s grip on my shoulder tighten once more, and looked up to seem him grimace, before he met my gaze. After a second, he looked over at Arin, pausing again before offering, “You survived a conversation with Lukas without yelling, it sounds like. Kudos.” With that, he nodded, as if that fact alone was enough for him to accept Arin into our family.

I had suspected that Gabriel wasn’t too fond of Lukas, but we had moved past that part of the conversation. I narrowed my eyes, furrowing my brows as I kept my gaze on him. I had expected more resistance, more push-back, from him, if I was being honest, especially given the comments he had made to me before I had left for Angeles. He had been the one to warn me not to be, “the royal rebound,” after all. Why the sudden change of heart?

“So.” Lydia’s voice dragged my attention to her. She was frowning, looking at Gabriel out of the corner of her eyes as well, a hint of betrayal tinging her expression. She must have expected the same level of antipathy towards Arin from Gabriel that I had, then.

Despite that, she turned back to Arin, her smile genuinely curious now. “What else have you and Evalin talked about, or done? Someone -” she narrowed her eyes at me, pouring every ounce of accusation she could muster up into that one word “- has been a bit too busy to call often, lately.”

I narrowed my eyes right back at her, a snappy comment already on the tip of my tongue, but the look on my mother’s face stopped me. I knew that expression. It wasn’t quite a death glare, but it was as close as you could get to one while still maintaining a pleasant, polite air. It was better for me not to start an argument with Lydia here, anyway. We were a family, a unit. We put each other before all else, even if we did tease each other incessantly, and bicker amongst ourselves often.

“Books, mostly,” I answered, doing my best to soften my expression, despite the frustration I felt coursing through me. “He also took me to the ballet -” I shot Arin a teasing smile “- and lived to tell the tale.”

He looked between my sister and I. “We did go to the ballet, and I survived - which I actually have some experience with.” He paused again, and then added, “But I’d say Evalin had been fairly busy with school.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lydia turned her attention to me, placing her hands on her hips. “Of course you would come all the way here, and choose to focus on school. Would it kill you to take a break?”

I elected to ignore her comment, opting simply to elbow her in the side instead. Turning to Arin, I raised an eyebrow. “You have experience with the ballet? You never mentioned that.” He had seemed rather familiar with the layout of the theater, now that I thought about it, though. I supposed that would come from experience, rather than anything else.

“Ah, so you appreciate the arts!” My mother beamed at him, and I knew that she meant to take this as a golden opportunity to brag about all five of her children. “I made sure all of my children were involved in at least one music program when they were in high school!”

Arin turned to me first. “It never came up,” he said, his voice soft.

Never came up? We were literally at the ballet!

I kept my mouth shut, though, as he smiled at my mother and said, “I appreciate them, but not as much as I could. My sisters are more into the arts than I am.” He motioned to some of the paintings around the room, which my mother looked at as if she was seeing them for the first time.

“What are you into, then?” Randall furrowed his brows, looking first at the ground, and then at Arin.

I couldn’t keep from snickering at his comment - something I’d often wondered myself, when I had first been getting to know Arin - though upon seeing the glare my mother shot Randall’s way, I covered my mouth with my hand. Behind us, Sam sighed, and then walked over to Randall, ruffling his hair a bit when he reached him.

“I’m interested in reading, when I have time,” Arin answered, looking at Randall. He paused for a brief moment, and then added, “and running.”

“Oh,” Randall responded, looking over at me. “You’ve found a new running partner, then.”

I frowned. I hadn’t even known that Arin liked to run, and I definitely had never seen him out running in the mornings, when I usually ran. It was pretty empty in general around that time, which was kind of nice. We could all use a little reprieve from the hustle and bustle of palace life, sometimes.

“Randall, I doubt anyone is awake when she runs,” Lydia argued, as if she could read my thoughts just by looking at me. “Miss I’ll-Wake-Up-Before-The-Sun.”

“Yeah, I tend to run alone, these days. We have talked about reading, though,” I admitted, turning to look at my father. “I gave him the journals I published under Proctor.”

That seemed to pique my father’s interest. He hummed thoughtfully, turning his gaze to Arin once more, and raising an eyebrow. “Any thoughts on that?”

I had never seen Arin look so in need of a rescue. Either he had never read them, or he had tried to, but couldn’t understand what they were about. I really couldn’t blame him either way.

“Would you mind walking with me for a moment?” I asked, looking at him. I saw my father raise an eyebrow at me from where he stood, but he kept silent.

Arin shot me a confused look, but nodded nonetheless, motioning off to the side of the room. “Sure.”

I turned to smile at him as we walked, before casting a look over my shoulder at my family. They had formed a huddle of sorts, chatting with each other in a small circle, with little gesturing or animation. It was like watching a jury deliberate. They had to be talking about Arin, I was sure of that, but part of me would have killed to know what they were saying. At the same time, I was kind of glad I wasn’t close enough to hear, as if any negative opinions of theirs would taint the rest of my time here.

“Sorry,” I began, turning my attention back to Arin after watching Lydia and Gabriel leave my family’s huddle, walking off to the other side of the room. I pushed my curiosity about their actions out of my mind, wanting to focus solely on Arin. “I just needed to get away from them for a moment. They can’t be a lot.”

Arin simply shrugged. “I’ve experienced worse. They’re not that bad.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, I felt someone link their arm through mine.

“Good,” Lydia declared, looking over at Arin from where she now stood beside me. She must have snuck up behind us by taking the long way around the perimeter of the room, allowing her to avoid our direct attention. It had been a foolish mistake on my part for me to stop watching her. “Because as the oldest, and as Evalin’s only sister, I’m not done with you yet.”

“Lydia,” I sighed. I didn’t need a protector. I could handle Arin just fine on my own. I had been these past three months, with my family on the other side of the country. This display of hers was dramatic, unnecessary, and wholly in character, and I was beginning to get really fed up with it.

“Hush up, it's my job!” She elbowed me in the side, and then turned to her victim. I relented, giving her the silent permission to make her own bed, hoping that she was prepared to lay in it, too. “Now, Arin, I’m not going to give you the whole, ‘if you hurt her, I’ll kill you,’ spiel, but -”

“Lydia, leave them alone.” Footsteps and a loud male voice sounded behind us, and I knew it could only be one person. I looked over my shoulder only to see Gabriel, his face a mix of apologetic and disappointed as he took in the scene before him.

Arin raised his eyebrows at my sister. “Then what are you going to give me?”

This time, I wasn’t going to give her the chance to respond. She’d done enough damage, as it was. “She’s going to give you nothing because she’s coming with me,” I grumbled, shaking my head and shooting one last look Arin’s way. “Sorry.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at me as I led her back towards where the rest of our family - minus Gabriel, now - stood. “He’s not good enough for you. You know that, right?”

“I could bring home a Nobel Peace Prize recipient, and you would still say that he wasn’t good enough for me,” I argued with a sigh. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate Lydia’s concern, but I was getting fed up with the way she was treating me as if I was a little kid who didn’t know what was good for her, or what she wanted.

“I’m just saying,” she began, coming to a stop in besides my mother. “You need someone who will help you lighten up, who will bring out that goofy side of you that we get to see when you’re with us. Arin -” she poked me in the side, looking over her shoulder at Arin, who was now deep in conversation with Gabriel “- is so uptight, and tense. Yes, you’re like two peas in a pod, but neither of you is going to help the other relax.”

I frowned, my eyebrows knitting together as I considered what she said. There had been moments with Arin, though, where we had joked around - like in the car, after the ballet. There was a more relaxed side to him, it just took some time for it to come out. How was she supposed to know that, though, without simply taking my word for it?

“Two things,” I decided, looking up from the ground to meet her gaze, “the first being that maybe, he was so uptight because you were about to threaten him.”

My mother’s eyes went wide, her hand coming to rest atop her chest. “Lydia Reidun!”

“The second thing, and you’re going to have to take my word for this, is that there is a more relaxed side to him. Even then, though, I wouldn’t be able to live the rest of my days with someone who was all play, and no work.” I shook my head. “I need someone who understands what it's like to devote yourself to your work, and above all else, I need someone who is going to make me happy.”

“Does he?” Sam asked, his face expressionless. “Make you happy, I mean.”

I nodded, looking over at where he and Gabriel stood once more. A part of my was tempted to walk over there and drag Gabriel away, but something held me back from doing that. He and Arin were around the same age - only a month apart, actually. Maybe they would become friends.

I turned back to Sam, nodding. “Yes.”

“Then he’s good in my book,” Randall decided with a shrug.

The rest of my family exchanged glances, shrugging intermittently as they did, as if they were all reaching the same conclusion telepathically. Only Lydia refused to join in, still glaring in Arin’s direction. “There’s more to him than he’s letting on, in more ways than one.” She shook her head, looking down at me. “Mark my words.”

Gabriel watched his sisters go, tempted to follow after them. He didn’t know the man before him - the prince - and he wasn’t fond of the power the monarchy held as a whole, which only made him more uncomfortable as he forced himself to stay put. There was a long list of things he should have done differently these past few months. There was an even longer list of things he would have liked to change about the past year. Having this conversation, as rough as he predicted it would be, was only the beginning to making things better for the future.

“Sorry about that,” he sighed, not looking at the prince as he spoke. “Lydia is just a little protective. We all are.”

He cleared his throat, stalling for time as he figured out how to best phrase his next words. It felt like he was talking to someone much younger than him, even though he himself was only about a month older than the prince. It likely had something to do with the fact that it was his younger sister that the prince was dating, for lack of a better word. Even then, though, Evalin was only two years and nine months younger than he was. It wasn’t as if she was a child.

Mistake Number One: not trying harder to persuade Evalin not to apply for the Selection.

“Evalin seems to trust you a lot, and she’s a good judge of character, so I don’t want to think you’d do anything, but…” he trailed off, grimacing at his own inability to effectively voice his thoughts without potentially offending the prince. He was his father’s son, through and through, his grandparents often reminded him. He didn’t know how to mince his words, and his temper had run hot for all his life so far. His father must have learned to hide it better than Gabriel had, though, because Gabriel was of the conclusion that his father’s temper ran as cold as ice. That didn’t mean that either of them was better than the other. They both still had tempers.

Mistake Number Two: letting Evalin go to that fraternity’s Halloween party last fall.

“You’ve spoken to Lukas. He’s…” Gabriel trailed off again, not for lack of trying. He had a feeling he was going to have to add this conversation to his list of mistakes sooner rather than later. “He did something bad, with Ev, last fall, and I don’t even think she remembers it, but Lydia, our father, and I were the ones who saw her after, and just seeing her like that…”

Their entire family had been home that weekend, for one of Randall’s concerts. His group had been competing for the regional title that weekend. Gabriel couldn’t even remember whether they had won or lost. All he remembered from that weekend was Evalin, sobbing, almost incoherent as he had put his arm under her shoulders, practically carrying her up the stairs. He knew objectively she wasn’t tiny, but in that moment, she had felt like the smallest child in his arms.

Mistake Number Three: Not being there for any of his siblings when they needed him.

He shook his head. “I think it broke all of us, a little bit. I guess what I’m trying to say is, we never want to see her like that again.” Another shake of his head, and then he took a step back.

Lydia had been the only one really capable of calming Evalin down long enough for her to fall asleep that night. Then Lydia had come downstairs, and unraveled in front of him and their father. Gabriel hadn’t been able to sew the pieces back together. Lydia had done that herself.

The prince was silent, his gaze locked in on Evalin, where she stood with the rest of Gabriel’s family, shaking her head at something one of them had just said.

“Evalin remembers,” the prince said, finally. “She told me what happened.”

Mistake Number Four: Never talking about that night, again. Until now.

He blew out a breath, running his hand through his hair. He watched his younger sister throw her head back in laughter, the look so full of freedom, of light, as if she didn't have a care in the world. She jumped up, reaching for something that Sam was now holding over his head. What it was, Gabriel couldn’t tell. He was too focused on the fact that Evalin, Lydia, all of them - they all looked as if they had never known any darkness or suffering.

She remembers.

“Shit,” he sighed out, not knowing what else to say. “Okay. We…The next day, she told her friend June - who had driven her home, that night - that she didn’t remember anything from that night, so we assumed…” He trailed off, shaking his head. That was where they had gone wrong. They had made assumptions, instead of gathering all of the possible evidence and data, and then drawing a conclusion.

Mistake Number Five: doubting his younger sister’s sense of judgement, despite knowing how good it generally was.

“Thanks for letting me know. The fact that she opened up to you like that…” Evalin told him, but not us. Why? “She trusts you a lot. More than I thought she did.”

It hurt him to admit. That his own sister wouldn’t come to him with her troubles, and instead had confided in someone she had only recently met, stung, but he could understand why that was. He wasn’t a warm person. He didn’t offer solutions. He was terrible at giving advice, and was quicker to anger than he was to hug.

He was beginning to see the prince - Arin - in a new light.

Arin swallowed, his gaze still locked on Evalin. It was clear to Gabriel that Arin cared about his sister quite a bit, though whether or not he thought of her as a friend or something more, Gabriel was unsure. He didn’t really care to ask, either. That wasn’t his business.

“I didn’t realize,” was all Arin said by way of reply.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, looking at Arin as he spoke for the first time since they had started this conversation. “Did you think she would tell you something like that if she didn’t trust you?”

“I -” Arin paused. “I just didn’t know that she hadn’t told anyone else.”

Oh.

“So I guess I realize a bit more, now.”

Mistake Number Six: hiding his knowledge of that night from his sister.

Gabriel hesitated for a moment, almost not wanting to admit what he knew had to come next. “I’m not sure she knows that any of us know. She was in pretty bad shape, and it’s not exactly something you can bring up in conversation easily.” How did you even bring up a repressed memory to your little sister - the one who you were supposed to protect? Did you mention it around the dinner table? Did you sit her down after she had excitedly told you about her new project, or the A she had just gotten on one of her assignments? Did you wait until it was late at night and you were both still awake, reminiscing about childhood memories?

He exhaled through his nose, pressing his lips in a line and shifting his gaze back to the rest of his family. None of them had been able to answer that question. He, Lydia, and their father had lived with Evalin’s secret, and none of the others had been any the wiser. “I don’t know how our father manages to see him at work every day without doing anything.”

Mistake Number Seven: lying - often.

He knew how his father managed. His temper ran cold, icy, always latent. It made him a patient man.

Arin frowned, his gaze shifting to Gabriel’s father now. “He knows?”

Hadn’t they already been over this? Arin’s memory must not be stellar.

“Yes,” Gabriel answered, matching Arin’s frown with one of his own. “I did say that it was me, him, and Lydia who saw Evalin after, didn’t I?”

He shook his head, looking back at his family, at his father, who stood there, ever calm, ever quiet. Gabriel wasn't the only one guilty of lying, whether it was outright, or by omission.

“I think he almost can’t bear to tell her - like he can’t handle the thought of her being upset.” Evalin had been their father’s baby since the day she had been born. Their father loved all of his children, yes, but there had always been a little extra spark in his eyes when he looked at Evalin. It was the same spark their mother reserved for Lydia, and their grandfather for Sam. Gabriel and Lydia had always assumed that Evalin would remain the youngest, for that reason. Randall had been a surprise, though definitely not an unwelcome one. “It’s hard to be certain, though. He’s a very private man.”

Mistake Number Eight: not dealing with Lukas himself.

Arin pursed his lips. “And why is Lukas still around?”

It was a valid question, though it still left Gabriel frowning. “Let’s say, hypothetically, we filed a report. The victim tells her story when she’s highly intoxicated, and then doesn’t remember anything about it the next morning, and still actively wants to be friends with the alleged perpetrator. She’s not going to make a statement against him. I’m no lawyer, but a case like that doesn’t exactly sound like it’s going to hold up.”

There were other options, though, and he knew it. Gabriel sighed. “Alternatively, let’s say my father and I pursued a less legal route, and dealt with Lukas ourself. Where does that leave us? Jobless? Imprisoned? Plus, Evalin still liked Lukas as a friend, so she would be upset.”

A lot of it did come down to Evalin still keeping in contact with Lukas, as if nothing had happened. Despite being a sweet girl, she had never had many friends. She had always been a little peculiar. That was likely why. Still, that fact alone had left him hesitant to rip away the veil of friendship, to pull the rug right out from underneath her.

“In another scenario, let’s say we tried to tell her what she told us. Ev is stupidly stubborn, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and her mind was clearly repressing the memory for a reason. Either telling her breaks her, or she doesn’t believe us.”

Mistake Number Nine: not doing anything.

Gabriel pursed his lips, looking at Arin once more. “Believe me, I may be the world’s shittiest older brother, but I’ve given this issue a lot of thought.”

“But she already knows,” Arin argued, his frown deepening with each word that left his mouth, “and how can you know what she wants if you never talk to her about it?”

Mistake Number Ten: knowing he was in the wrong, but not allowing anybody but himself to tell him that.

He raised his eyebrows at the prince. “This is the first time I’m hearing that she actually remembers anything from that night. None of us knew that she remembered. You asked why Lukas was still around. That’s why. I think the fact that she continued their friendship after that night is proof enough that she didn’t remember until recently.”

The prince just nodded. “Okay.”

It wasn’t. Gabriel didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that Arin knew that, too, but he was tired of arguing. He had done his job, and said his bit. He could make peace with that, whether or not Arin agreed with him. He had never been there for the prince. He was only there for the girl now walking their way, a small grin on her face. He was only there for his sister.

I was beginning to think that I had left Arin and Gabriel alone for just a little too long, judging by the frowns on both of their faces. It was almost comical watching them talk, though, even if I hated to admit it. The moment one made a facial expression, the other mirrored it, going back and forth for as long as I dared to keep sneaking glances at them.

“Hold on,” I whispered to my father, inclining my head towards the pair chatting by the wall, “let me go retrieve Gabriel.”

It didn’t take me long to make my way to them, grinning as I looked at their identical frowns. They were more similar than I had ever dared to consider, I realized, now that I actually allowed myself to ponder the thought.

I raised an eyebrow at Gabriel as I got closer. “Everything okay over here? It looked like you were having a pretty intense conversation.”

It took everything in me not to laugh at the tight smile Arin gave me as he nodded. “Your brother and I were just swapping opinions.”

Oh, how I would have killed to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.

I narrowed my eyes at the pair, looking from Arin to Gabriel, taking note of the details as I did. Arin’s answer was a bit vague, as per usual, his smile one of the most uncomfortable I’d seen from him in a while. Gabriel had on his pensive face, from what I could tell, his lips pressed in a thin line, and his eyes somewhere far away.

“Well,” I began, looking at Arin as I motioned to my brother by inclining my head in his direction. “Lord only knows he’s got a lot of them.”

There was no shift in my brother’s expression as he nodded. “Guilty as charged.” He began walking past me then, patting me on the shoulder along the way. With one last glance back at Arin, he nodded, and concluded, “Nice talking to you.”

I waited until I was sure that he had rejoined my family before turning to Arin, channeling all my self control into keeping myself from laughing at his facial expression.

“Are you enjoying your family being here?”

I nodded, placing my hand on his arm. “Yes, but that look on your face says you might not feel the same.” I shook my head, casting a quick look in my family’s direction, before flashing Arin an amused smile again.

When I looked back, his gaze was focused only on my hand. “I’m fine.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, grinning a little. “This looking-at-my-hand-whenever-I-touch-you thing is becoming a trend - and just when you’d stopped staring at me.” I shook my head, my curiosity getting the better of me. One of these days, I was going to have to formulate a list of all of the things about him that still mystified me, and go through it one by one.

On second thought, maybe that’s a bit too much.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I hadn't noticed.”

I raised an eyebrow right back at him, the perfect pun popping into my head at that moment. “I guess you could say you’re a little out of touch.”

My joke landed on deaf ears, I realized, as his look turned to one of confusion. “Am I?”

Sometimes when talking to him, I couldn’t help but wonder how it was possible for someone to be so clueless. Laughing a little, I explained, “You seem not to notice a lot of things.”

In the silence that followed, it hit me, that my words might have been a little harsh. He had had the same reaction to my touch the night before, after I had told him about Lukas. Was he uncomfortable with having physical contact with me, now? No, that was absurd. We had kissed later that very same night, for crying out loud!

Still, it was only right that I ask. I hesitated for another second, then decided to go for it, keeping my voice as quiet as I could. “Does me touching your arm or hand make you uncomfortable? Is that it? You were so kind and understanding the other night, and I don’t want to mess this up either.”

“It's fine,” he reassured me, giving me a smile. “I promise.”

I promise. I didn’t take the weight of those words lightly.

I offered him a smile in return. “It was refreshing to talk as openly as we did then. Though, I -” I pressed my lips together “- I have questions, but now’s probably not the time or place.” A pause, and another smile, and then, “But thank you, for being a little more open with me, that night, and for handling my family.” I inclined my head towards them, laughing lightly for a second.

“No problem. It's what I do.” He followed my gaze towards my family, nodding once before adding, “and we can talk later.”

“I'd like that,” I admitted, smiling and nodding once, before inclining my head towards my family again, laughing a bit. “I should probably get back to them. You know, despite Lydia's thinly veiled threats, this is the most open I've ever seen them be towards anyone any of us have introduced them to.” There weren’t many precedents, but that didn’t make the statement any less true, or the sentiment any less real.

The news seemed to cheer him up a bit, as a small smile, genuine this time, flickered across his face. “Well, that's a good sign. I'm glad I made at least somewhat of a good impression.”

“You made a very good impression, I think. Not an easy feat, with that lot.” I chuckled. My family was big, and opinionated, and filled with strong personalities, but they were good people, truly. I could only hope Arin saw that too.

He chuckled a bit, as well. “You should see my family at Christmas.”

“That’s always the biggest holiday in our house,” came my immediate reply, accompanied with a smile as I thought about Christmases past. “It’s basically a month long affair - my grandparents always come over, and make enough Swendish Christmas cookies to feed an army, and Gabriel’s birthday is the day after Christmas, so that always becomes a celebration. My mother’s parents always used to come too, before…” I trailed off, wanting to stop at the happy memories. There was no need to dwell on the negative today. It was a good day. We were surrounded by good people.

“Some people are starting to stare I think,” he murmured, chuckling as he glanced around the room.

“Oh,” I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, even as I took a few steps back, folding my hands in front of me. “Sorry, I hadn’t noticed. I’d love to hear what your Christmases were like, at some point, though.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured me, nodding towards my family. “You should go be with them.”

I hated the way he phrased that. He wasn’t going anywhere, of course not. This was his home. Me, on the other hand - well, he could force me out anytime he wanted to, maybe even after this week.

I didn’t let myself linger too long on the thought, nodding instead, and beginning to walk towards my family. “I’ll see you around, then.”

I hope.

#selectionoc

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arigatouiris · 5 years

Text

daughter of artemis // p.p — [12]

c h a p t e r t w e l v e

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff [on later chapters sometimes]; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Author’s Note: OKAY THIS CHAPTER WAS WHAT STARTED DAUGHTER OF ARTEMIS GUYS. Okay so this is the chapter I pictured first, because my mind strangely never works chronologically. So there’s a lot of Greek mythology here, which is all my personal interpretation, and forgive me if I’ve made some errors, it’s all fiction and in good fun! There’s mentions of abuse in this chapter, so please please discretion advised.

Word count: 5469

12 // δειλός coward

❅

(y/n) had always been curious about her father. Artemis never told her much, and even when she was a child, her mother would brush off topics about her father as quickly as they came. Now, (y/n) understood that this was because Artemis was trying to protect Tony and Pepper from Zeus because Zeus had always been angry about Artemis having broken her vow. However, what she didn’t understand was why her mother even slept with Tony in the first place? Especially if she didn’t love him.

“Why you?” (y/n) asked, narrowing her eyes, witnessing Tony’s suit turn into a small cube.

Tony then turned to her, blinked at her question and gave her a shrug. He had no idea, and was as clueless as she was. It was as if her mother had played a game neither of them knew anything about, and here was Tony and his biological daughter, coming face to face with nothing to say. Seeing her sit on the ground, Tony nodded to himself once before sitting himself down next to her, sucking it up and knowing a conversation was due.

“Your mother never told me about you. We never met after… after the art gala.” Tony placed his arms on his knees, looking down on the ground between his legs.

“I know,” (y/n) said, but since her voice was dry, she almost choked. “It was to protect you.”

“Wow. At least someone was thinking of doing the protecting for once.” Tony mumbled, sarcastically.

(y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, and the two met each other’s gazes once more. Tony observed her, noticing how similar her features were to her mother, but there was a distinguishing feature that no one could mistake. Her eyes. She had his eyes. Tony immediately looked away at the realisation.

“Do you always joke around about everything?”

Tony chuckled, finally understanding the situation. This girl, if he had met her when she was 13, would have been a child with no parent, no motive, all the confusion and anger of losing her mother, desperately in search of a parental figure because that’s what children do. If a child got lost in a supermarket, they look for the parent. It was everywhere in nature, and she was Artemis’ daughter, nature personified. Tony was guilty, but he was also genuinely sad; sad that he had no part of her childhood, and met her when she was clearly rejecting him, not wanting him around because he was a dead weight to her, a null void in her struggle for her own version of justice and purpose.

Now that he was a father to Morgan, a child he was completely aware of, Tony understood how painful her childhood might have been—after losing her mother and before. From what he had heard from her uncle, and Natasha, she was never really loved in Olympus, and losing the only beacon of hope in her life, she came searching for another. And then the blip happened. And then this prophecy.

“It’s a bad trait, glad you don’t have it.” He finally said, bringing himself out of his reverie.

Tony looked at her for a long second, his eyes scanning every part of her face. He wanted to hold her right then, and even if his arm stung, he ignored the pain. Whether he knew it or not, his heart knew about her; this, he was sure about. Maybe, Artemis had slept with him because she knew it would be (y/n)’s face he would see after snapping Thanos off the face of the universe. Maybe, (y/n) was there for a reason and even if she was not, Tony wanted nothing more than for her to be part of his life now that she was there.

“How do you know what traits I have and don’t?” Tony heard her respond to his question, cocking her eyebrow, and in the meanwhile, watching her lovingly.

She might be 18 years old, but she was definitely his child. The way he was feeling right then proved it; her fingers looked small all of a sudden, fingers that were supposed to wrap around his own as he guided her through a zoo or a park. Her hair was wild but it suited her, and he couldn’t admit how similar in feature it was to his own. She had his jawline, she had his eyes, and he couldn’t tell if he was pushing it, but based on the memory of her in the place he went to after the snap, he could tell that she had his smile.

“Good point,” He said, now looking at her curiously. “Then tell me what they are.”

(y/n) shook her head like it was a defense mechanism. He was trying, she admitted that. He tried to get to know her and be there now that he knew about her; he was trying right now. He had been looking for her ever since he heard the news that he might be a father to her. Artemis may have wanted that, but she had started this path when he was not in his life; and even if she doesn’t blame him, she knew he was too late.

When she becomes a goddess, there would be no use for Tony Stark in her life.

“Natasha must have told you everything, right?”

Her pressed her hands together to prevent them from shaking. Her heart was beating rapidly, and her stomach flipped with every breath she took. Her anxiety levels were off the charts, and her eyes watered with every blink. (y/n) had never felt this sort of fear, the fear that doesn’t claw at your skins but wants you to drop everything and not hide. The fear that tells you that everything you’re doing and have been doing was for naught, because the reason you came to this place is sitting right next to you.

The fear that didn’t allow her to embrace her father.

However, Tony noticed her fingers when they shook. Tony noticed several things about her that he probably would never have noticed in a person before. He had always been observant, but this was his daughter! Her fingers were shaking, she was avoiding eye-contact, she was sitting in a crouching position, trying to hide her physical self from him; all of the signs that displayed that she was nervous sitting there with him, nervous for the first time not because he was a genius, playboy, millionnaire, philanthropist, but merely because he was her dad.

“You can come live with me, (y/n). We can figure everything out. We’re family.”

“How is that possible?” (y/n) frowned. “So, you find out that you have a kid who’s like 18 years old, and you don’t care who they are? You want them to live with you despite everything?”

This time, she was looking at him. Tony also observed something; that moment before tears formed in your eyes, she was going through that.

“I missed those years in your life, kid. And I never knew about you. If I did, I’d have done things differently, you’d have done things differently—”

(y/n) shook her head, interrupting him. She licked her lips and stared at the ground, hanging her head low.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Everything.” (y/n) said, but not entirely honestly. She was thinking of the little girl that introduced herself as Ironman’s daughter. She was thinking about how happy Tony was that Morgan was safe.

Tony had a daughter. Tony had a beautiful wife. Everything in his life was perfect as it is, and what she was, was an unwelcome burden banging on his door. She wasn’t something he wanted, she wasn’t something he was even prepared for. And it wasn’t a choice. He was merely surprised with her as a daughter, and being the amazing person he was, he accepted her; but it wasn’t entirely his call to make.

Even if Tony’s gesture of accepting her was noble, she couldn’t accept his gesture. Pepper had asked her to come home as well, but there was nothing she could say that Pepper would understand. Tony was strangely flesh and blood; and was in threat at the moment, because Zeus could attack him at any given moment.

Staying with him, living a life as his daughter—this would only cause more harm. Zeus had made sure (y/n) lost everything. She never had a life in Olympus to begin with, and with the death of her mother, she was quite literally nobody. She was a demigod in a world where Gods declined. She was less than human.

Zeus had always played a major part in her life—the reason she lost her mother, and why her uncle left even if she did yell at him, and in many ways, she had lost her own life because of Zeus.

When she was wallowing in self-pity, she almost didn’t hear Tony say, “I might not know your traits, but this one’s mine.”

(y/n) blinked confusedly and looked at him. Tony smiled at her before continuing, “That stubbornness that you’ll do what you think is right.”

Her heart began to beat so rapidly that it began to hurt her chest. (y/n)’s lips quivered and a weak ‘Go away’ came out of her throat. Tony placed his hand on her shoulder and brought himself close. He could see how the tears were forming in her eyes now, how her lip quivered, how she was struggling to not accept him back even if she wanted to. Tony saw all this but also knew that it was still her call to make.

“You’re my daughter. And, (y/n), you might not know this but,” Tony sucked in a breath of air and blinked a couple of times, “After I snapped Thanos off the face of the universe, I should have died. And I would have, if not for you.”

Her eyes widened. She was confused.

“I saw you. I was in a weird field, there was nobody there. I saw no one. Not Pepper, not Morgan, not fucking Cap, or Peter, but you. I didn’t even know you at the time, but the sight of you, God… It made everything alright. You looked up at me, wearing this… this black jacket, your hair all over the place… You looked up at me and smiled. And that kept me alive, (y/n). You kept me alive.”

Maybe that’s why he looked like he had seen me before when I first saw him, she thought before blinking her tears away. She couldn’t tell him this but she also had a vision of him just as she came into New York. Of him and Pepper and Natasha and Peter.

Tony let go of her shoulder and pulled back, and stood up. He gave her one last look before getting into his suit wordlessly. He had said everything that he had to say.

And he really, really hoped she made the right decision.

❅

Apollo had never imagined that walking the halls of the palace of the Gods in Olympus would make him nauseous. He had been feeling gassy all day, he blamed the takeaway from the other night. It was a strange nuisance for a God, to be given the same mediocre ailments that men had.

He noticed how the walls were bizarrely empty. He had hoped to find any of the Gods out, doing their thing, enjoying their luxuries or trying to woo his sister Aphrodite. However, there was something morbid in the air that made Apollo understand that Olympus was not just empty, but in a phase of collateral shutdown. He rushed to the main hall and saw screaming Gods, one after the other, demanding Zeus’ presence.

Apollo noticed a drunk Dionysus and waltzed over to the ex-demigod for answers.

“Where’s Zeus?”

Dionysus laughed before shrugging. His hair had a wreath that needed to be changed, and his white flowy outfit had stains of wine. He was not always a drunk person when Apollo met him, but the Sun God knew Dionysus’ habit of drinking when he was stressed.

“We don’t know,” He said in a singsong voice. “That’s the reason for the commotion!”

Apollo turned to spot Demeter, throwing Zeus’ vases to the ground, screaming with each throw.

“Demeter!” Apollo exclaimed before heading to her, “What happened?”

“Zeus happened,” Demeter said, throwing another vase to the ground. Zeus had plenty, all stacked up from era to era, in a nice big shelf that was showcased at the exit of the main hall. “My stupid brother is a bloody coward of a King, hiding away when the prophecy draws near.”

Apollo blinked a couple of times before putting the pieces together. However, Demeter turned to him suddenly and blinked. She was a beautiful goddess, with radiant dark skin and flowy curly hair. Her eyes were amber, like honey, and freckles adorned her face.

“You had nothing to do with the demigod child, right?” Demeter asked, stunning Apollo.

“Uh,” He gulped before backtracking. “No. Of course not. That was my sister’s doing, not mine.”

He hated lying to Gods. They always figured it out. A moment later, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he spotted Athena, his heart fell to his feet because there was no hiding things from her.

“My lady, if I may borrow the Lord of the Sun for a moment?” Athena asked, smiling sweetly.

Demeter shrugged before getting back to breaking vases.

“Athena, I—”

“How is (y/n)?” Athena asked, when the two of them were a bit distant from the rest.

“She’s… She’s—”

“Let me guess, she wants to end Zeus’ life?” Athena asked, cocking her eyebrow.

“Yes! Yes, I mean, thank goodness someone understands—”

“Apollo, focus.” Athena said, standing up straight, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“Right.” Apollo said, nodding once.

Athena wasn’t considered a beauty, but Apollo always found people who didn’t think she was beautiful were odd. In his eyes, Athena’s beauty rivalled his sister’s, brown eyes, brown skin and brown hair—which most people considered were plain, but in his eyes, they were gorgeous.

“Speak to Hera,” Athena said, “Zeus hides because two of his henchmen have died at (y/n)’s hands. The last one still stands. I’m sure you know why Zeus made them in the first place?”

“To serve as his guards?”

“Apollo, I believed you were much smarter than that. He made them because he runs from fights. Zeus is no warrior. Ares, before he was banished, was his right hand man. Hades went against him because he knew of Zeus’ truth. Zeus has immense power, but no wit to contain it or use them.”

Apollo didn’t know if he had to feel offended, but what Athena said made sense. But, he didn’t know how this would help his niece. A hand fell on his shoulder, and Apollo turned to Athena’s determined expression.

“Find Hera. Now is the best time to speak to her. After that, you will know what to do.”

Nodding, Apollo headed over to Hera’s chambers; he knew she wouldn’t come out if Zeus’ name was being chanted for his disgrace. She would lock herself in, as she always did, staying away from every God and Goddess who had anything to do with her husband. A husband, Apollo wondered who definitely didn’t treat her right.

She didn’t open the door when he knocked, but Apollo could feel her in there. With a little force, the door budged on its own, and the Sun god went inside to find Hera’s back facing him, herself seated on her bed. Just as he was about to call out to her, she turned to face him from the side and Apollo stilled. His eyes widened slowly, and his heart fell to his feet. Hera’s usually clear skin was adorned with bruises, and she had a black eye on her right eye. Her lip was bruised and bleeding, which indicated that this wound was fresh, and her luxurious gown was torn in places near her shoulders and hips.

“Queen Mother—”

“You dare walk into your Queen’s chambers without announcement?” Hera snapped, not frowning too much because Apollo figured it hurt her.

Her expression softened when Apollo knelt beside her, his gaze fixed at her eyes. Hera looked like she was crying, her expression hiding a thousand battles, battles from so long ago. Zeus had done this, this much he was sure of. Tears slid down Apollo’s cheek and he felt Hera wipe them away.

“You’re too old to cry, silly boy.” Hera’s low voice stated.

“Mother.”

It was customary for every child of Zeus to address Hera as ‘Mother’. It was easy for everyone to despise Hera for her power obsession, for the way she got jealous over Zeus’ lovers and killed the mortal lovers that he had slept with. Hera certainly had terrible traits that made everyone believe she must not be a Goddess, but as a Queen? As a Queen, Hera was the best option out there. She was judicious where she had to be, she was righteous and proud, and even if Apollo and Artemis were not her children, even if most of the Gods in Olympus were not her own, Hera never did them wrong. She treated them coldly, she would brush off their advances, but she would commit no crime to hurt them or wrong them, unless asked.

“Freedom is more important, is it not, mother? Forget being Queen—”

“What Queen am I?” She let out, looking away. Her voice broken and low. “Queens are merely wives of Kings, and Zeus is no King. Zeus is a pathetic man-whore, irresponsible overgrown child.”

Apollo shook his head and spoke, “You are Queen of Olympus, now and forever, Queen Mother. Many disagree with you, but you have never backed down as a ruler. But, the way Olympus has been running is unfair.”

Hera did not meet Apollo’s gaze. There’s nothing I can do, she thought, brushing away every bit of hope that she may have had left.

Apollo on the other hand, finally understood what Athena meant. Zeus has immense power, but no wit to contain it or use them. The only thing left was for him to translate this to his niece.

❅

Apollo visited his niece that evening, just as the sun set. He found her where she would usually be, at her rooftop, sitting by the edge. It was as if she was almost expecting him, when she didn’t seem too surprised by his appearance.

“I’m very sorry—”

“What do you plan on doing to Zeus?”

It felt strange for him to address his father by his first name, but what he had learned changed things and put them into perspective. His gaze was narrow but sharp, and (y/n) merely blinked at his random question.

“I’ll kill him.”

This answer’s wrong, he thinks before speaking, “The prophecy doesn’t say you’ll kill him. It said you’d dethrone him.”

“It didn’t say that dethrone didn’t mean killing.”

“Hera. We were wrong about her. I was wrong about her. She was forced to send her henchmen after you, she was forced to do a great many things because Zeus cannot do it himself. Zeus constantly abuses her, commands his power over her, and it is Hera who—”

“She tried to kill me, and it seemed like it was on her own accord, uncle.” (y/n) interrupted, scoffing.

“She is who she is because of Zeus.”

“Do not justify her behavior because of the abuse she went through. What about me? What about my mother and the things she said? Hera is the reason my mother didn’t go to Zeus!”

“Hera is the reason the prophecy is still intact! Zeus would have killed Artemis—”

“Uncle, what are you on?” (y/n) asked, her eyes widening.

Apollo stopped abruptly. He looked at his niece disbelievingly, almost as if he didn’t even recognize her. Here was a standing, living, breathing embodiment of rage and pain gone wrong; manifested in ways that it shouldn’t have. Zeus was primarily responsible for this, too. And by behaving this way, she was playing into his game. However, there was no way she would listen to Apollo with the way she is now.

Taking a deep breath, he did the one thing he thought would help.

“The Boar is with Zeus. And Zeus is nowhere in sight. He abandoned Olympus, (y/n). All the gods are raging because they demand an explanation and as King, he is not there. Can you see why?”

(y/n)’s eyes widen at her uncle’s words. Those actions sound like the actions of a… She couldn’t even think it.

Those actions are that of a coward.

❅

Peter Parker normally didn’t have to worry about crashing into things because his spider senses kept him just that aware. However, when something crashed into him that day, while he was on his way to see (y/n), he was sure that it was not his fault. Whatever had crashed into him, had crashed into him intentionally. There was no coincidence.

Landing on the top of a roof, a few roofs away from (y/n)’s, Peter got up on his feet and saw a large man, holding what looked like an Olympic pole.

“Who’re you?” Peter asked, the voice through his mask vibrating.

The large man ran to Peter without warning, and just as Peter jumped in the air to avoid being hit, the man hit Peter with his pole and brought him to the ground. He then hit Spiderman once again with the side of his pole, before Peter webbed away. Landing a few feet away from the man, Peter noticed the sign on the pole.

That… Peter’s eyes widened. That looks like a javelin.

The large man threw the javelin at where Peter was standing, and Peter barely dodged it. Jumping to another roof, Peter rushed to (y/n)’s, knowing her dagger was the only thing that could bring this monster down. After hearing the warning that Zeus would go after Mr. Stark, Peter was slightly confused as to why this creature was attacking him instead. Was it because Zeus witnessed him standing alongside (y/n), when she killed the second henchman?

That must be it, he thought before landing on her roof, her uncle and (y/n) right there. (y/n)’s eyes widened when she saw Peter, but before he could say anything, a javelin landed to where he was, Peter having dodged again, but barely.

“The Boar?” (y/n) said, gasping, coming into her stance.

A moment later, just as Apollo was about to say something, the Boar’s javelin lodged itself into him, pinning him to the wall. Light escaped from Apollo’s wounds, with him screaming in pain. (y/n) yelled before running to him, but another javelin prevented her from moving from the spot.

He’s creating javelins from thin air? She thought before noticing the Boar land on her roof. It was the same creature that had hit her with the javelin, the scar for which she still had. Her hand unconsciously brushed against her wound before she grabbed her dagger with her right hand. Let’s finish this once and for all, she thought before running to him. The Boar used his javelin to beat her to the ground, but (y/n) hopped into the air and dodged the attack, only to be brought down with a smack from the Boar’s left hand.

Peter immediately sent a signal to Tony, not wanting to let this fight escalate. For some reason, he knew that this would be a difficult fight, the Boar seemed formidable, and strangely, (y/n) seemed a bit sloppy. It was as if she was attacking in anger, and attacking blindly, which caused her movements to slow.

Getting back on her feet immediately, (y/n) jumped onto the Boar and wrapped her legs around his arm and bends it, however, her knife fell to the ground as she did so. Peter immediately uses his webs and grabs the knife, before throwing it back to her, as she jumped down and caught the knife. Turning to the Boar, she tried to attack him, underestimating his speed, as the Boar brought her down to the ground, and kicked her in the chest, shattering a couple of her ribs with just one kick.

He kicked her again, earning a loud scream from her, but he felt Peter jump at him, punching his face. Peter shook his hand after punching him once, it was as if he was punching stone. The Boar grabbed Peter by the back of his neck and threw him to the ground, before trying to kick him. Peter moved aside, shot a web at the Boar’s face, and tried to slide him to the ground by kicking his legs, but that didn’t work. Peter turned to (y/n) and noticed she was unconscious now, after having taken direct damage from the large creature.

Turning to the Boar, who was struggling to get the webs off his face, Peter tried to think of what could be done. Just before making a final move, a large energy beam shot from behind him, directly to the Boar, sending him flying backwards. Peter noticed Tony there, wearing half his suit, as he directed Peter to an almost unconscious Apollo. Peter ran to where Apollo was, before pulling out the dagger using his webs.

Apollo instantly rushed to the Boar, and teleported away from there, without another word.

❅

When (y/n) came to, her first thought was Peter Parker. Opening her eyes felt like a task, and when her vision became clear she noticed Morgan staring at her intently. The child’s face was inches away from hers, and (y/n) groaned once earning a giggle from the girl.

“Hi… Morgan.”

Morgan smiled before saying, “(y/n). You’ve been sleeping for four days now.”

“It’s been four days?” She said, wincing when she tried to move.

Morgan moved back and stood by her bed, smiling at her. (y/n) smiled back weakly before falling back to her bed, unable to move. Her chest hurt and burned, she was sure she had broken several ribs from the impact of the Boar’s kick. She couldn’t remember anything after that, but she assumed that Peter must have brought her to Tony’s, since he was her living family. She wondered if her uncle was alright, after being impaled by the Boar. But, if she was here and the sun was shining, Apollo must be okay.

“It’s been pouring for four days.”

So the sun isn’t shining, she thought before wincing once more. If it was raining then Zeus was trying to find her. Looking around, she saw the white walled rooms, resembling a hospital room, with the right equipment fit everywhere. If she didn’t feel like she was dying, she knew she’d have tried walking around.

What she didn’t know was how Apollo returned and let Tony know a few things. For a brief second, Apollo told Tony to keep her away from the rains.

After struggling for a bit, (y/n) sat up, winced for a whole second before earning a click of the tongue from Morgan.

“You’re not supposed to be moving.” She said, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“They told you to watch me?”

Morgan smirked before saying, “I’m not supposed to be here.”

(y/n) chuckled before rolling her eyes, “Two of a kind.”

Getting out of bed took the life out of her, as she walked to the door of her room, which overlooked the living room. She could see the windows and the rain on the outside, and she could see the people gathered at the living room. Natasha, Tony and Pepper sat there, apparently talking. Making her way to them, to at least demand an explanation as to what she was doing there, she noticed Pepper freeze.

“Morgan! Did you wake her?”

Pepper rushed to (y/n) and made her sit on the couch immediately, earning a couple of coughs from the girl. Everything hurt, her feet, her stomach, her chest and she was starting to have a headache.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.” Pepper said, almost as if she was scolding her.

“What am I doing here?”

“You were resting after being beat up, kid. That’s what.” Tony said, seriously.

He wasn’t adorning the usual sarcastic tone like before. Something had changed.

“Your uncle asked us to keep you away from the rain.” Natasha said, looking at her.

“That’s none of your—”

“You fight now, you die anyway.” Tony said, snapping.

“When did he…?” (y/n) asked, about her uncle.

Pepper sat beside her and said, “It was after we got you. Peter sent us a signal indicating you were under attack, and after Tony came, Peter and Tony got you here. Your uncle seemed fine, and took that creature away somewhere.”

“Back to Olympus.” (y/n) said, raspily.

“You’re in no state to travel.” Tony said, glaring at her.

(y/n) wasn’t about to argue. She knew how weak she felt. Leaning back against the couch, she felt Pepper place a hand on her forehead to check for a fever.

“The fever’s lifted, but you’re in a lot of pain.”

“No kidding.” (y/n) said, chuckling dryly.

“Who said she didn’t have my sarcasm?” Tony said, spreading his hands at his side.

Natasha glared at him. Pepper looked at the girl before saying, “Peter came here everyday, (y/n).”

Her heart flipped at the mention of Peter. He had saved her life twice already, a lot more than that if she included how he had always helped her, ever since she had set foot into New York. And his brown eyes dragged her to every corner that screamed that she was making a mistake.

“Peter came and saw you every single day, funny because I thought he said he didn’t know you that well.” Tony spoke, looking at her.

A moment later, “She kicked that lady’s ass!” Morgan’s voice screamed, earning a laugh from (y/n).

“Morgan!” Pepper scolded instantly.

“She did not learn that from me.” Tony defended.

A while after, (y/n) went back to her bed and lay down. There was very little she could do at the moment, but the best thing would be to heal as fast as she could. Closing her eyes, she thought of Peter and how helpless she must have seemed. She hoped things would have been different; she dreamed that she was a human girl and could finally tell Peter that she liked him. She wondered how different her life would have been if not for this prophecy.

When she was about to fall asleep, Peter walked into the room. He stood by the door, his mask not on his face, and gave her the look she had always seen on him, even before meeting him. It was the same look, the look that screamed at her to not go, the look that had started her obsession with him.

“Peter—”

She didn’t notice him run to her. What she noticed was how all of a sudden, his hands were caging her cheeks and his lips were pressed to hers. Her eyes widened, her heart jumped out of her chest, and she could feel Peter’s hands shaking as he held her. But, just before she was about to kiss him back, Peter pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” (y/n) looked at him, confused. Her face felt like it was on fire, but she ignored the feeling for now. “I was… I was so, so scared. When that thing was beating you, and I couldn’t do anything, I thought… I thought…” His voice broke, and Peter’s hands were shaking at her cheeks.

Pulling back, with Peter’s hands still on either side of her cheek, “Please, don’t leave, (y/n). Stay here, with me.”

At that second, it made sense. She wondered from five years what that look meant—what it meant when Peter’s eyes told her not to go. It was not telling her not to go, Peter’s eyes, from the very second she had seen them in her vision, were begging her to stay.

Suddenly, she remembered funny details that she thought didn’t make sense. She remembered Peter saying a name after hearing her hum a song her mother used to hum. Peter had called out the name of the song, and had promised to make her listen to it someday.

And right then, staring into Peter’s eyes, she heard her mother sing it.

If you’re lost, you can look and you will find me.

Time after time.

❅

series taglist:

Those I could not tag, I’ve added your urls here!

@maddie-laufeyson, @mscoloneldanvers, @https://dancing-flame.tumblr.com, @daughter-of-stark, @spider-mendes, @nerdyandproudofitsstuff, @someonekeepstakingmyusernames, @alina-margaret, @yourwonderbelle, @viarogers, @https://huangsushii.tumblr.com, @eridanuswave @oliviaisnotlistening @mizpotatobiscuits @editsbyjenny @abbieroseb @justtrynagetthroughlife @secretlittlewonders @missmulti @shallowshawnshallowshawn.tumblr.com @eunoiametonia @adistiany @justletmesleeptillidie @ppunderoos @myheartonthemove @heir2chaos @honeybutterparker @truthdaze @mvmakki @-thatgirloverthere-@growingthornz @freddies-fried-chicken @jinxedleohttps://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/wrongyuckie @gogoca @kewl-r @death-by-viola @losersunitetonight @hungoverhellhound@ro2424@https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/blackkookiebunn @absmiles123@fxckingfat @ludwigvonbaethoven @xbabykookiix @madds-lolo @uwukinawa @sunflowernightss @diamonddia-mond @5knee @imsuperawkward @smileyishere92 @awkward-youtube-trash @spiderbabyx @theshortegg @samthesnoop

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btswishes · 4 years

Text

Are you for real?

Kihyun (Vampire Au)

Previous / Next

A/N: I wanted this to be a one shot, but my dumbass just had to start another series.Well good luck to me then, sorry for any mistakes made.

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: “ Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Kihyun vampire au? It can honestly be about anything! I love your work btw! “

Word count: 2,921

Warnings: Swear words, blood, organs mention of death.

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Still holding onto the small lock, you took a few steps towards the wide open window. You clearly remember closing it and pulling the curtains as far as they could go, but here you were staring at the garden. Gently placing the metal object onto your desk, you ran your hand over the window edge trying to find the bar that locks it usually. Yet you couldn’t feel anything more than 4 indents and a rough surface over them. Leaning towards it you could clearly see that something was pressed into it.The shape was irregular, but while you were inspecting it, your fingers laid comfortably in the shapes.

Your room was the same, nothing had changed and nothing was moved. Quickly you made your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth, in means to escape from this crazy scene, but not before pushing the window a bit closed. You were leaning on the sink, hand gripping the toothbrush and mind wandering around this mess. As you were thinking, your eyes landed on the way you were holding the plastic. A sudden picture of the broken lock appeared in your head, when you gargled the water and dashed to your room. Placing your hand on the indents you figured out that it was the perfect shape of a hand. Whatever broke the window lock used it’s hands and didn’t even make a sound as it was doing this whole thing.

During the first few hours of your morning you left the door of your room open and staid in the living-room.It felt unsettling sitting in that place after what could have possibly happened there last night.

“Hey?” your brother’s hand waved in front of your face

“Yeah?” you shook your head focusing on him “Did you say something?”

He pulled the chair in front of you and placed his cereal bowl, before sitting himself. Picking up his spoon, Hae pointed at you.

“You look out of it.Wasup?” the crunching sounds mixed with his words

“Nothing, I am just still tired.” you sighed, getting up to fetch some food for yourself too.Even with your back facing him ,you knew that Hae crooked his head to the side ,since you clearly heard the crystal clear ringing sound of the bell he wore as an earring. It was followed by a short and sharp laugh from him.

“You are 250 years too early to think you can lie to me.No one can.” you sat in front of him again with the same cereal as him “What is going on in that pretty head of yours little fox?”

“Ughh, how do I say this.” you were contemplating if you should tell him what happened, but knowing he will always find out the truth, there was no option. “How many....umm....creatures can leave their hand-print in metal?”

“What?” Hae leaned closer to you and scrunched his eyebrows “In metal?”

“Yeah. Like you can clearly see the finger indentations.”

“Where did you see this?” leaning into his chair, your brother couldn’t peel his eyes off of you “Out side?”

“No.” you scratched the side of your lip with your finger and looked in the direction of your room.In a matter of seconds you saw Hae jump up and pull you back to your open bedroom door. He stepped in fearlessly and started looking around, when his eye got caught by the shiny metal object on your desk. He picked it up in his big hand and followed the carpet to the window. He took one glance at the broken lock and the finger prints you were talking about.

“I asked what creature could do this, since I don’t think any human can...you know, do that.” you were rubbing your hands uneasily as your brother’s back faced you.

“If you actually want a serious answer from me...I don’t know to be honest. It could be too many to count. People these days can travel freely from one place to the other.You don’t know who or what can be living next to you.” he said

“What are we going to do now? Tell mom or dad?” you said

“We have no proof to just walk up to them saying strange things like this.Plus you know what mom would do.” you nodded knowing very well where your brother was going with this talk. “Let’s think this through later. We have plans for today.” he grabbed your folded clothes and passed them over to you “Go get changed in my room.”

“Ok.” you simply did as he said. Hae was looking around your desk and the objects in the room. There wasn’t much presence to begin with and nothing different.If the lock was broken than the intruder whatever he/she may be didn’t enter the room. Hae’s body was standing in the middle and moving his head from side to side, scanning everything he could.The only irregular thing was the small sprinkle of dirt that stopped under the window sill.

Walking back in your bedroom you found your brother kneeling at the end of your room looking at something. You placed your pjs on the bed and walked up to him seeing the small dirt partials on the carpet.

“Did you find something?” you asked

“Whatever it was it didn’t get in farther than the sill. Strange thing is that this is kind of wet. It didn’t rain last night and even if it did, it would have dried up by now.”

“Oh that!” you laughed out “Yeah, I was applying hand cream last night and the bottle kind of squirted all over my carpet, I didn’t know it reached that far.”

“That makes sense actually.” pushing up from his knee, he asked if you were done getting ready and you nodded “I will go put a shirt on, you wait downstairs with dad.” you always kept your skincare in one place and he saw the cream you were talking about. Hae left the door open before leaving.

In a matter of minutes you went out of the house and jumped in the car. Your had mutual friends with your brother and since it was Christmas vacation, you had some plans with them. Hae parked the car near the cafe you were going to meet at and went in. It was very nice small shop in town that had a nice ambiance. It was warm and cozy, contrasting the winter snow and cold ,outside the walls. You two found a nice place with enough chairs for when everyone arrives and took your seats. In seconds the waiter came up to you two.

“Welcome. would you like to order?” the man was standing next to your brother

“Yes, I would like a coffee.What do you want Y/N?” he looked at you as you were searching for your phone in your bag

“Ah, yes.” popping your head out you caught the waiter off guard since you looked a bit funny with the messy hair “I would like a hot cocoa.” no matter how you may look most men were infatuated with your looks. That was the main reason you would always sit in a corner ,when you were out with your brother.

“That will be all.” Hae cut off the staring man with his deep voice. In fact both of you were pulling attention. Your brother was tall, well build and had a muscular physique. He was handsome and his hair fit his face perfectly. He had a similar if not bigger body frame than the guy behind the counter with the orange hair.

The waiter didn’t take too long before he walked back out and placed your orders in front of you two. He flashed you a dimple smile and left fast. As you were waiting for your friends, you saw a group of handsome boys walk into the cafe. They seemed well acquainted with the store owner, waiter and the boy behind the counter. You didn't pay them much attention, until someone walked out of the kitchen area. You remembered the sketchy boy from last night. Apparently he worked here as the chef.

Your brother noticed you staring at the boys but didn’t say anything because your group of friends marched in. Hae stood up and greeted the guys and you your female friends.Everyone sat down and a small chat began.

“How have you been guys, I haven’t see you in so long!” Anny said out loud, gesturing a lot

“It feels like I won’t see you all till next year again!” Jack made the all time hated joke and your brother didn’t hesitate to punch him in the stomach, coaxing a strange sound from the poor boy

“I swear Jack makes the weirdest sounds in the world.”Anny commented

“Low key he sounds like a cross between an almost dead stabbed duck and a stepped on elephant.”added May

“Ok, how about we stop roasting the poor boy.” Mark clapped his hands pulling everyone’s attention towards himself “How have you all been?”

“I am almost dead from studying.”Anny sighed loud enough that the whole cafe heard her “I swear if I don’t a B at least, I am giving up on education.”

“Oh yeah we have exams after winter break.”

“Mark, you never study anyways. The only people here with good grades are Y/N, Hae and May.” Anny was right since you and your brother were perfect graders

“You are making me feel like some kind of genius.” you laughed out a bit uneasy, when the breath stopped in your throat. You felt that familiar chill run down your spine. Trying your best not to be obvious, you looked around and saw in the reflection of the glass, the table filled with boys. That guy, the one you met in the supermarket was staring at you. Could it have been him, causing the chilling feeling you had on your way home? He didn’t look like someone extraordinary, nor did his friends. The only interesting thing about him was the pale skin he was sporting. Now in day light it was very obvious how pale he was.Back in the old days a lot of Asian women would have envied him for that effortless dead look.

You were in the cafe for some time now and you caught yourself looking in his reflection quite often.Under all your suspicions he was actually very handsome and good looking. The way his hair framed his face, the choice of clothes and that comfortable position he was sitting in. For a moment you could have sworn he smirked at you, but you weren’t sure.

During this whole time, your brother was throwing you glances too, he had his suspicions but didn’t ask anything.

“Hey, isn’t anyone going to order some cake or pie?” May cut off the main conversation “I feel fat if it is only me gobbling down candy and sweet stuff.” she laughed out

“I actually want to get some cake too.” you jumped on the idea and May didn’t waste a second, calling the waiter over and placing the order.

“Will that be all?” he asked and you nodded.The man turned to the side and said with a louder voice “Sorry Kihyun, but your break is gonna get cut off a bit. You mind?”

The man you kept staring at, lowered his head and stood up”I don’t mind.Pass me the order.” he scanned through everything and looked up at his friend “We don’t have this cake right now.”

“It’s ok, I can get the same as her.” you jumped in to informed the change of plans. The man looked at you and licked his lips, almost like he was looking at glistening melted chocolate

“If you can wait a bit I can make it for you.” he suggested and you ended up agreeing to it. Your friends were talking to you, but you were too focused on Kihyun, now knowing his name. Everything he did was elegant, the movements weren’t too sharp. The way his fingers tied the apron behind his back, even the small hopping steps he took were in a way adorable. Your first impression began disappearing and being replaced by this new imagine of him. He looked more of the talkative guy with his friends ,but not when it came to people he didn’t know.

Hae was very attentive, he noticed the way you talked with the boy, he noticed the looks he was throwing you and on top of that he felt in a way that the boy was standing a bit far.Even when you two talked he didn’t come closer.It felt like he was keeping a distance, but not a wanted one. Not to mention the way he keeps making small movements when your brother's earring bell rings.

“I will go wash my hands guys, be right back.” you stood up and walked up to the counter asking the boy where the washroom was.He kindly pointed at it and you went in.

Washing your hands ,you pulled a small tissue and dried them up as well as you could. You fixed your hair and walked out of the area, but not without bumping onto someone again.

“You are a bit clumsy, aren’t you?” a hand let go of your back and you took a few steps back.

“Ah,I got you in this situation again.” you looked down at the tiles, a bit uneasy

“It’s ok, I would say it’s luck that it was me.” he placed his hand onto your head and patted it gently, flashing you a smile that caught you off guard “Don’t fall back or you might hit that pretty head of yours.” he turned around about to walk away, when your heart started beating fast and pretty loud to your ears.His foot steps synchronized with your heart and he stopped in his tracks.

“By the way, my name is Kihyun. I guess Jooheon yelled it out pretty loud, so you probably know it already. Just in case you forgot tho.” Kihyun turned back towards you

“Nice to meet you. My name is Y/N.” you said and stretched your arm out to shake his.

“Oh I know.” he mumbled as he grabbed your hand

“What?” you didn’t hear him well, or so it seemed

“I said the pleasure is mine.” his hands were pretty cold and firm

“Sorry about that.” he noticed, judging from your expression ,what was going through your mind “I was beating some egg-whites awhile ago and the icy bowl almost froze my hands off. It will take me some time to warm up.” he rubbed the back of his head a bit

“It’s ok.” you pulled back your hand a bit fast and your long nail cut his skin slightly “I am really really sorry! I am such a mess some times.I didn’t mean to scratch you.Are you ok?”

“Don’t worry about it.” he laughed out, seeing your panicked face.But he was about to leave just like that, when you grabbed his hand, pulling his sleeve up to check the wound.After the story Kihyun told you from the kitchen, you didn’t comment on his cold arm.The cut looked shallow, even if it felt deep.

“It doesn’t seem to be bleeding which is good.”

“Yeah...I will be fine.Don’t worry about me.Your friends are probably waiting for you.” he pulled his hand away fast, but you stopped him

“Um, I know this sounds strange, but I caused you a bit of trouble the past day.I want to make it up to you if possible.” you started talking fast when he pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket.

“Tomorrow here at 6?” Kihyun’s words shot out of his mouth fast

“Ugh, yeah ok.” your answer was as quick as the question

“Ok, then it’s a date.” he disappeared fast and you were left a bit confused

“A-a date?” placing his number in your bag, you went back to your table.Not long after Kihyun came up and place the cake in front of you.

“Hope you enjoy it.” he flashed you a smile and you thanked him.The talk was going on between you and your group of friends more than your brother. He was leaning into the chair and sipping on his drink, when a thought came up in his head. Focused on the wall in front of him, Hae started analyzing the whole mess.

The potential creature didn’t get in past your window sill and it seemed to be more of an active night lurker since he didn’t notice anything during the day.It was unnaturally strong and had an interest in you. Hae quickly remembered the scratch on your neck and added it without asking to his list of evidence.

“Took you long enough in that bathroom.” May said

“I couldn’t wash the cream off my hands and everything was slippery.Sorry.” you laughed out

Washed off? Hae thought to himself, when his eyes flew in the window reflection of the group of boys. The guy talking to you was pretty pale looking, the other noticeable thing was the small hop in his step and the stretches he did from time to time.None the less he didn’t seem to like looking at himself much as well. Wait. Hae almost jumped out of his chair.

“You good bro?” Mark’s hand rubbed his shoulder, when your brother laughed out and said he burned his mouth of the drink.Everyone continued their talk as Hae noticed something. He came up to her after she washed her hands.What was the cream Y/N uses always.He tried his best to remember the white packaging of your bottle. Jujube seed...

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