#making a comp and fuck i miss his long hair so much
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i will water his hair everyday if thats what it takes for it to grow
#making a comp and fuck i miss his long hair so much#(jimin)#although this is valid for jin and jungkook too ☹️
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Songs 10/28/2023
Is it good to post? To etherize. To become myself for a lovely pixel mystery front end i know so little about. Before my computer gets completely full of crumb dust I wanna blog some songs that I liked this month, I'll be a writer.
PAL - Safety Corridor
youtube
I'll start with one of the tens of albums I've listened to that came out this year, since I'm really really into new music. This is egg punk from Ohio and they have a great limited set of inputs - pleasing timbre dead pan vocalist, scraggily guitar, and bendy melodies. They use the first two of those here with their constant base and spare drums. It is a pleasing mix and something about this frank dick sucking song creates a believable erotic, dry as most truth is. The whole EP is good, I hope they make more stuff.
Razor - Speed Merchants
youtube
More discovery shit on my part, thrash metal isn't something I've explored too much but this album (Evil Invaders) rocks. Listening to this song just short of 40 years on feels like it agglomerates many disparate long-haired doer activities: rocking, gaming, being a tight end, drinking 12 beers. I do to feel like a speed merchant:
"Speed Merchants live for pleasure, Speed Merchants live for pain
They live for understanding and sparks to start the flame"
Sounds like bipedal existence. My pain comes from loss of pleasure. Blah blah blah. Musically this shit is x-games rocking. It has that nice hook break down and then its all button mashing guitar strumming over a blast beat w ride smashing thrown in. Then there is real shredding in the middle... and it comes back, fuck the high pitched guitar turnaround goes soooo hard. Good shit Canada, idk much about Razor again, I thought this was going to be some valuable-only-for the album cover music, and it ended up being true mind expansion muzik. Look at some other album covers. LEGENDS!
Dynarec - Need The Teacher
youtube
Ok I looked up what dynarec means a couple weeks and it is something to do with running emulators and CPU usage on your comp. Could be totally wrong but I like that ok. Difficult to pick a song of this "User Input" album that's best, but this was one of my favorite. It has a nice detuning vibe and excellent cursed (not evil) toy box vibe, that talking synth melody that underlies the entire thing is a thing of distant beauty. Lovely! I listened to a lot of electro last month, and realized its a very strange genre often centered on elements I find have been done much much better in the development of hip-hop, techno, and other dance genres. But in this particular track there's idiosyncratic electro jamming!! Sweet.
2sdxrt3all - zack and cody
Ok I had to traverse forsaken urls to realize his name is phonetically dirtball, but I am a fried guy and thats why I'm still on soundcloud. This might not be the best example of dxrt3all, as there are songs where his adlibs almost argue with his main vocal track and show some of that beloved newness, but this beat! Oh loved that vibrato that comes in under the spooky high sine for the hook. The weight of "... he can't stop thinking about it" is intense, and admittedly, is a bit misleading of the manner dxrt talks about murder/robbery in most of his music. But he is a 17yr old ad lib master, and i recommend this song and then his discog (which I still need to explore). It's also cool he has a producer homie who he's almost exclusively linked with, there's still soul in the game! Hey I'm excited about a teenage SC head who isn't xavier (is he 20 yet?).
The Unlovables - I Want a Boy
youtube
Ok, seems like I'm bad at this shit, cause this is another consolation song from one of my most listened to albums of the past years. By that I mean there's a lot of good songs on this 2004 new york pop punk (power pop?) album. It is that pure candy muzik I fucking love, and I wonder if there's more like this to see. Still can't believe I missed that Everyone Asked About You show, but this song fucking rocks. I really want to cover it cause I think a version of this with 200+ bpm digital blast beats and overdriven synths instead of guitars would rock, the structure is so good. Unlovables have the best backing vocals, and all the musical cheese is liberated by the even cheesier lyrics. Perfect music, we should all get to feel immanence like this on a regular basis, sadly no one is as keen to soy as I am, and for that we will continue to burn. Hallie Bulleit is a really good vocalist.
Well let us hope that the world won't be completely fucked, and that it ends unnaturally instead of just being Joever. Americana should be perserved, global America needs to burn god damn. Hopefully I'll post more and that there will be initial and continued solutions in Gaza. Thanks
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get to know me tag game!
tagged by my belovedest @petrichor-han <3 tysm for thinking of me!
birthday: i'm a capricorn, take a guess
favourite colour: light grey, sage green, muted blue, pastel purple, warm brown
do you have pets? nah.
how tall are you? 5'4 (165 cm)
how many pairs of shoes do you own? uhh... 10 maybe? but i prob wear 5 lol
favourite song? page by got7, somebody else by the 1975, love in the dark by adele, night view by monsta x, same dream, same mind, same night by seventeen, sober by childish gambino among a few lol OH WAIT how much a dollar cost by kendrick lamar as well
favourite movie? the wolf of wall street, la la land, httyd, princess mononoke, the lord of the rings trilogy
who would be your ideal partner? dawg my boyfriend lmao. tbh i thought that i was going to end up with the dark mysterious brooding type but my boyfriend wears his heart on his sleeve and says the cheesiest shit lmao. he's outgoing/extroverted and makes me laugh ALOT. like when we first started talking, i was shocked at how much i laughed with him. so honestly, i'm the brooding one! if i could assign a relationship dynamic it would def be sunshine grumpy, like i'm grumpy and he's sunshine lol. we have that healthy banter where we're both stubborn and have that "make me" mentality lol i really did snatch myself the hottest comp sci nerd ever that's also a gym bro hehe i love him so much <3 did i mention that he's so fucking hot like his back muscles alsdkfjdls
do you want children? yes. a girl and a boy.
have you gotten in trouble with the law? nah lmao
what colour socks are you wearing? none lol
favourite type of music? r&b hehe
how many pillows do you sleep with? 2
what position do you sleep in? side. always.
what don't you like when you're sleeping? if someone gets in the way of me sleeping i literally get irrationally angry lmao. so snoring makes me v mad. also when it's too hot. i HATE that shit. also i'm not a fan of cuddling while sleeping. i can't do it lol my bf and i established that we kiss each other goodnight and turn to our side of the bed LMAOOOO but my bf always keeps some contact, like his hand on my wrist/arm
what do you have for breakfast? everything bagel toasted with butter. crepes/french toast with strawberries and whipped cream. chicken and shitake mushroom congee.
have you ever tried archery? yes! in junior high but i suck at it lol
favourite fruit? mangoes, sugar apples, strawberries, apples
are you a good liar? depends. yes, when i need to be lol
what's your personality type? istj-a
innie or outie? as in bellybutton? lmao
favourite food? vietnamese subs, mango salad, garlic sauce eggplant, pasta, focaccia bread, chocolate cake
favourite foreign food? as in everything i eat? lmao korean, viet, japanese, italian, malaysian, thai, sichuan
are you clean or messy? depends. i am usually clean but when i get really stressed out, my surroundings def reflect it and shit gets messy af lol
most used phrase? miss girlie miss ma'am. ay yo (i said this before meeting my bf but now i say it SO OFTEN because of him)
how long does it take for you to get ready? 20-30 mins
do you talk to yourself? YES LMAO
do you sing to yourself? when i'm by myself? absolutely.
are you a good singer? NO
biggest fear? the unknown lmao. heights. insects.
are you a gossip? i don't actively seek out gossip but if i overhear it, i'm like omg what's the tea lol
long or short hair? long.
favourite school subject? chemistry hehe
extrovert or introvert? INTROVERT 100%
what makes you nervous? big crowds filled with people i don't know
who was your first real crush? this latino guy named leo in junior high when i was like. 12 lol. i thought that he was so cute and i think that he liked me too (he msged me on fb back in the day, and that's how u know because it was so out of the blue lmao). i moved away and the crush fizzled lol
how many piercings do you have? 7.
how many tattoos do you have? 3.
how fast can you run? lmao i hate running idk
what colour is your hair? black/dark brown
what colour are your eyes? dark brown.
what makes you angry? when someone is the reason why i didn't get enough sleep, people who don't seem to care about something i care very deeply for, wasting my time, and disingenuous people.
do you like your name? yes! my english and chinese name heh
do you want a girl or boy as a child? both lol
what are your strengths? responsible, organized, proactive.
what are your weaknesses? not being able to turn off my bluntness sometimes lol, overly bossy/harsh lol
what's the colour of your bedspread? white/grey and sage green!
what's the colour of your room? idk white mostly? lol
tagging: no pressure at all hehe @bruh-changbin @kinzavskpop @shiningwonho @decembermoonskz
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Ch. 1
Shigaraki Birthday Week! MINORS DNI DO NOT PUT THIS ON TIKTOK
Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, let me know if I’ve missed something
Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6
Summary: Tomura gets stuck taking an English class to graduate and is partnered with you, a bitchy try hard (his words not mine) for his final project. But over the course of the semester he finds that while he hates everyone, he might hate you just a little...less.
AO3 mirror
The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming.
He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more.
“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?”
Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair.
He recognized you.
The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie.
Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late.
Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest.
“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.
“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled.
You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in.
“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class.
Of fucking course you did.
Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall.
It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of.
As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’
It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that.
He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule.
The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates.
And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you.
Fucking disgusting.
“Tomura Shigaraki.”
He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top.
Only fucking English profs used Helvetica.
He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist.
No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D.
One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??
With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working.
This was going to be a nightmare.
From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again.
If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging.
“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side.
“Yeah,” he nodded.
It most certainly was not.
But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy.
People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for.
So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence.
“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in late so I missed that last bit.”
Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell.
And god if he thought you were irritating.
“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking Clorox wiped down the seat before sitting.
Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop.
“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions.
It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier.
It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A.
That walking condescension on the other hand—
“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask.
Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it.
“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.”
You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression.
“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence.
You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.
“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees.
Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with bated breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing.
But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did.
“Really? Well they should.”
Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head.
“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.”
He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie.
God just talking to you made his skin burn.
“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see.
“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed.
Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable.
He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option.
It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else.
“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”
“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.”
You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up.
Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever.
He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch.
He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long.
Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either.
Maybe he was fucking allergic or something.
Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat.
“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.”
The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out.
“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support.
For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day.
Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge.
“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.”
Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.”
Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks.
“God,” you huffed and turned back to him.
His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity.
Did you fucking bathe in the stuff?
He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him.
“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension.
Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware.
“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers.
“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone.
He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?
It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?
He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either.
“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours.
His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand.
Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students.
He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text.
Unknown Number:
— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt
— not very plus ultra of him...smh
— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?
Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality.
#tomura shigaraki x reader#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki x reader#tomura x reader#bnha fanfiction#tomura shigaraki imagines#fem!reader#incel!shigaraki#college au#bee.writes
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Mr. Komaeda’s Lesson
THE FILTH ARRIVES
Summary: You should really proofread your assignments before submitting them...
AKA: Professor Komaeda fucks you over his desk (literally my dream)
Word count: 4258
Contains: she/her pronouns, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, professor/student relationships, gentle dom nagito (he’s very gentle i swear)
Read on AO3
ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!
The soothing smell of camomile lemon tea wafts around the small office. The blinds are half open, casting the orange light of the setting sun across the smooth leaves of a peace lily that resides in a pot hanging in front of the heating unit. The warm air rocks it gently back and forth. The atmosphere in the room is light and pleasant, but it does nothing to ease your nerves.
“Do you want some?” Professor Komaeda asks as he pours himself a cup of the aforementioned camomile lemon tea. He has a little teapot sitting on his desk, it’s very cute.
You clear your throat, fidgeting in your seat, “No thank you, I’m fine.”
“Okay, let’s get started then, shall we?”
You’ve been dreading this meeting for weeks now. Your professor had been very insistent that this wouldn’t be a discussion about the quality of your work, but more about what he could do to help you maintain focus in lectures. There was also a brief mention about your most recent assignment, he said that he wasn’t concerned, but did want to run through a few things with you.
He was very polite about it, which makes the true nature of your distraction only more reprehensible.
“So, first I want to start with a simple question. How are you doing?”
“Uh, fine?”
He nods and takes a sip of his tea, “No problems outside of our classes? You don’t need to answer if you aren’t comfortable.”
“No i- uh. I’m fine outside of classes too.” You fidget again, twisting your hands in your lap, “I’ve been...tired? But that’s my fault, I stay up too late.”
He hums thoughtfully and rests his chin on the palm of his hand, “Could that be having an affect on your focus? I can see that you have been distracted in our most recent lectures and just want to make sure it isn’t a fault of myself or my material.” He laughs a little to himself, “I know I can be a little boring sometimes.”
Professor Komaeda is not boring. He’s probably the most engaging lecturer you’ve ever had, passionate about his subject matter and very enthusiastic about class participation. He also wears really tight trousers and has long dexterous fingers that you can't help imagining inside of your-
“I mean, being tired could be the problem?” A bold faced lie.
“Well in that case there isn’t much more I can suggest than a good night's rest.” He gives you a long look that makes you squirm in your seat, “I only graduated a few years ago myself, I understand the urge to make the most of your day, but you can’t keep burning the candle at both ends.” He takes another sip of his tea, a drop misses his mouth and rolls down his chin. He catches it with his thumb, which he then brings up to his lips and sucks. You swallow deeply, tearing your eyes from where his lips are meeting his skin. Your knee starts bouncing. Nerves.
“Would it help if you sat a little closer to the front of the lecture hall?”
It wouldn’t. Especially not on warm days when he loosens his tie and undoes the first three buttons on his shirt. You spent a whole lecture transfixed on the dip of his collarbones once. Not great for your note taking, “maybe I’ll give that a go next week” you say. Another lie.
“Okay, try that out and let me know if it helps.” He gently sets down his teacup and starts working his white hair up into a bun. His fingers are so delicate as he combs through the strands, pulling his hair up and away from his pale throat, exposing the length of it to your hungry eyes-
A noise escapes from your mouth. Almost a whine, but not quite. Professor Komaeda doesn't say anything, but his intense eyes meet yours for just a moment. You clench your thighs together.
“Are you ready to talk about your assignment now?” He asks, picking the teacup again. It’s decorated with sunflowers, almost criminally cute, “No reason to be nervous. I want to make it clear that this matter hasn't had any affect on your grade, just some advice for next time.”
You nod shakily. Despite all of his reassurances, you are still very nervous. Partially because you wanted a good grade, partially because you had worked on that essay day and night with the intention of impressing him. So stupid.
He gives you a pleasant smile and rifles through his desk for a moment, pulling out what you quickly recognise as a printed copy of your essay, “Take a look, i want to see if you can figure it out first.”
“Um...okay…” You skip past the title page and into the meat of the essay, reading through all of your points and making sure there weren't any obvious spelling mistakes. There wasn't anything that you could see, “Sorry...um...what page is it on?”
His teacup clinks when he sets it down again, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin on his hands. You can feel your heart fluttering in your chest, your palms are getting sweaty, “It’s on the title page actually. I’m surprised you didn't notice it.”
You shoot him a quizzical look and flip back to the first page. Your stomach plummets.
Titles have never been your thing, summing up an entire essay in just a few words isn’t easy, so you usually use a placeholder right up until you submit it. You remember changing it, you remember triple checking it was changed before you emailed it through. But something must have gone wrong because in big bold capital letters, the title of you assignment reads:
ESSAY SO GOOD PROFESSOR KOMAEDA WILL FUCK ME OVER HIS DESK
Your hands are shaking, the edges of the paper crinkling under your tight grip. You are going to fail...you are going to be expelled...you are going to-
“Ah. I see you’ve realised your mistake, hm?”
Your head shoots up, forgetting for a moment that he is still sitting across from you.
“Professor...I-I’m...obviously I’m…” you can’t get out a goddamn sentence, your mouth has all dried up, “I don’t even...I can’t…”
You are taken aback, when Professor Komaeda giggles. It’s a light little sound, he covers his mouth with a hand, “You are very bold, aren’t you?”
“I….”
“No need to worry, I’m not reporting this to the dean or anything like that. I see no reason to expel you over a silly little mistake like this one.”
“You...You dont want me to drop you class?”
He laughs again, you shrink under the intensity of his green eyes, “I’m not going to make you, no. If the situation isn’t going to make it even harder for you to focus during lectures, you can still come to class. I won't stop you, it is your choice.”
He is being remarkably cavalier about all of this, it’s almost unsettling, but you don't want to drop his class so you can't help being grateful, “Thank you so much, I...I promise i won't do this again.”
Professor Komaeda hums aloud, eyes half lidded as he looks at you from across the desk, “Won’t do what again?” he asks, though honestly its more of a purr, “Won’t think about me fucking you, or wont make the mistake of writing it down?”
Hearing the word fuck drop from that perfect mouth of his sends you into overdrive. Your thighs are clamped so tight together that your legs are shaking, you can feel yourself breathing hard, “I...uh...I....” you swallow, “I won't do...either?”
“There's no need to lie to me.” He breathes, standing up from his chair and rounding the desk. You can feel yourself quivering in his shadow, he towers over you. Your breath catches in your throat when one of his hands makes contact with your chin, slowly lifting your head up until you meet his eyes. His expression is positively hungry, “I want to make something very clear. This is your chance to leave, if you do we will never speak of this again. If you don’t, well…”
All you can do is stare at him, mouth going dry with realisation.
“Your essay was very good, by the way.” He leans down until his nose is almost pressed against yours, you can smell the tea on his breath. You can feel the warmth of his skin, you can count his eyelashes, “Good enough that i’ll fuck you over my desk if you still want me to.”
In a moment of hungry lucidity, you grab him by the tie and tug his lips down to yours. Colliding in a positively ferocious kiss. You feel him laugh against your mouth before he slips his tongue in between your lips and traces your upper row of teeth, his tongue is wet and warm, your thighs are rubbing together as you grow desperate for any sort of friction. Professor Komaeda must be in a similar state, because he grabs you by the waist and tugs you up to your feet. Pressed firmly against him like this, you can feel the evidence of his arousal through his slacks, a moan escapes you when you feel his hips buck.
He laughs again, pulling away from your mouth to press a hot kiss to the side of your throat. You feel his long fingers toying with the hemline of your skirt, slowly slipping up underneath it, “These pretty little things…” he whispers, tugging on the top of your thigh high stocking and releasing it with a snap, “do you wear them for me?”
There’s no point lying anymore. You can’t stop shaking, “I...yes…”
You feel him moan against your skin, sinking his teeth into the join between your neck and shoulder, “Did you really think I wouldn’t take notice? Of the way you undress me with your eyes in class, of these tiny little skirts you started wearing?” He grabs a handful of your ass and you squeal, “you’re so gorgeous. You could have anyone in that class if you wanted, but here you are with me-“ he grinds up against you, cock warm and hard through his slacks, “-I don’t understand what I’ve done to deserve this.”
His voice is so soft and gentle, even while he’s palming your ass and grinding his hips against yours, he still talks like he’s giving a lecture on historical literature. It’s hot, how easily he is able to maintain his composure while you are little more than a quivering mess beneath him, but still...you want to see him come undone.
You hear more than feel your knees colliding with the wooden floorboards. Professor Komaeda is unable to give little more than a surprised look before you have his slacks and boxers shoved halfway down his thighs and his cock in your mouth. He lets out a shocked little moan, burying his long fingers into your hair as his hips stutter forward. Now that was the reaction you wanted.
“Oh...ohhhh-“ he whines, slowly moving himself in and out of your mouth as you tease his head with your tongue, “ahh...your mouth feels so good, angel.”
You were not expecting him to call you angel. It’s like a bolt of lightning to your cunt, your hands jump up the dig deep into the meat of his thighs as you moan downright salaciously around his cock.
“I can feel you moaning.” He whispers, “I can’t believe how much you’re enjoying this” you look up at him through your lashes and see his cheeks are red, his perfect lips are swollen from his biting them incessantly. You moan again just from the sight of him, he hisses and his hips cant forward deeper into your mouth, “wow. You...You really like doing this don’t you? Wrapping your perfect soft lips around my filthy cock?”
Filthy? That makes your eyebrows jump. You could always tell that your professor had some sort of inferiority complex, but you didn't realise it was...this intense.
“S’pretty.” You managed to slur around him, “Tastes good.”
He laughs again, it explodes from his mouth and shakes his shoulders. Unbridled, almost wild. He grins down at you, “I’m sure it doesn’t taste as good at you.” He purrs, tucking your hair behind your ear, “get up on the desk.”
Well, you weren’t going to say no to that. You give his cock one last long lick before standing back up from the floor, just before you hoist yourself up on the table, Professor Komaeda grabs you by the wrist, “Panties off, please.”
You feel yourself turn crimson, but dutifully shimmy out of your panties and let them drop to the floor. He smiles at you, hands curling around your waist as he leans into your ear, “that’s my girl.” He whispers, and lifts you up onto his desk. His hands are cold on the bare skin of your thighs peeking out from the top of your stockings, your stomach twists and curls as he slowly edges your legs open, and drops to his knees between them.
“Oh my god…” you squeak, he’s staring up at you with a look that is downright sinful and he doesn’t break eye contact, even when one of those perfect fingers slips inside you, “agh!”
He chuckles warmly, gently thrusting his finger in and out of you, “you’re so wet, angel...I can’t imagine why someone like me is making you so aroused, but I’m not complaining.”
His finger curls inside of you, and your hips jolt, “Mmph! Pro-Professor I-“
He smiles saccharinely as a second finger pushes its way inside you, “Nagito.” He corrects, pressing a hot kiss to the inside of your thigh, “We’re well beyond the need for formality. Don’t you think?” You cover your mouth to muffle a squeal as he adds a third finger. Your knees are wobbling and you can barely breathe, he’s just sitting between your legs and grinning at you, “Now let’s see if you taste as good as i imagine, hm?”
He pulls your clit in between his lips and sucks. You have to bite down on your hand to keep yourself from screaming, “F-Fuck...Nagito...I--hng!”
“It is after hours, you know.” He whispers, you can feel his breath on your cunt and you shiver, “There’s no reason for you to restrain yourself.” He licks your clit again and moans, “Haa...It may be selfish of me, but i want to hear you. If you’ll let me.”
“Oh god-” You hiss out when his tongue starts circling around you, “-keep doing that, and you’ll hear me alright.”
Nagito giggles and peers up at you, “Then I suppose I'll get back to work.” He hoists your thighs over his shoulders, and starts eating you out in earnest. You lean back on your elbows, and watch his soft white hair bob between your thighs as his tongue works it’s magic, he alternates between running the flat of his tongue up the length of you and focussing directly on your clit. Your toes are curling, mouth wide open with a constant stream of moans and whimpers that you have no hope of stopping. It feels so good, you had dreamt about this alone at night in your bed and even in those fantasies it hadn't felt this good.
His fingers slip out of you, but before you even have a chance to complain, they are replaced with his tongue. You moan so loudly that it rumbles through your chest, your hips rise up to meet his mouth and his hands curl around the soft flesh of your thighs, tugging you even closer. He groans. The wet muscle is slowly thrusting in and out of you when he presses down firm on your clit with his thumb, “I--mmph...Nagito m’gonna cum…” your hips are grinding relentlessly up against his face and you can feel your hair sticking to your forehead with sweat.
“Cum for me, angel.” He whispers, thumb rubbing your clit in brutal circles, “I want to feel you squeezing around my tongue.”
You throw your head back in a howl as his tongue slips back inside, the desk rattling with the force of your quivering hips. You can hear the slick sounds his mouth is making against your cunt, the way he is panting and moaning just from the taste of you. The tightness in your stomach grows unbearable, then he curls his tongue upward, and it snaps. You see whiteness behind your eyes, thighs shaking with the intensity of it. You can feel the vibration of Nagito’s moan inside of you and his fingers dig tight into the meat of your thighs. He’s enjoying your orgasm almost as much as you are.
When he finally pulls away from you, the lower half of his face is glistening with your wetness. He gives you a pleased smile, eyes half lidded as he brings his wet fingers up to his mouth and licks them clean, “I knew you would taste good.” He whispers, wiping the mouth with the back of his hand, “Think you can cum again, angel?”
Just watching him suck on his fingers is enough to get you going again, “Yeah, I definitely can.”
He laughs and stands up from the floor. His cock is flushed red and dripping, you suddenly realise he hadn't touched it that whole time, he must be painfully hard at this point. You lick your lips, you can't help it. He follows your line of sight and smiles, “Be a good girl and bend over the desk for me, please.”
You slide down off the desk, ready to follow his orders but quickly stop yourself, “Oh. One second.”
“Hm?”
You grab the teapot from the desk and quickly rest it on the windowsill, “Sorry. That was a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Ah, yes. You’re right.” His hand slips up to your cheek, thumb resting on your lips. He smiles when you pull it into your mouth and suck, “I’ll have to thank you for saving my carpet. Unless you see any other hazards, i would still like to fuck you.”
That word again. It sounds doubly filthy when he says it, the way his lips mold around it is downright sinful. A shaky moan drops from your mouth as you turn around and do as he asks, your breasts are squished up against the sturdy wood, and the desk is a little too tall for you, your feet are dangling just above the floor. You’re shaking with anticpation, and it grows even worse when you feel the warmth of Nagito’s palm caressing your ass, “For my own peace of mind…” he whispers, his other hand running a finger up the length of your sex, “When do you graduate?”
You laugh, “It’s a little late for that, isn't it, Professor?” you feel his hand still on your ass and you clear your throat, “Uh, this is my last semester. A few months.”
He sighs pleasantly, “Ah, that’s good. This has been very fun, though i'm not sure we should do it again.” You feel the head of his cock kiss your entrance and hiss through your teeth, “At least...not for a few months.” You can hear the smirk on his face.
“I’ve waited this long.” You say, grinding backwards into his cock, “I can wait again.”
He leans down until his mouth is right beside your ear, “Good girl.” He whispers, and finally thrusts inside of you. It feels so good, he fills you so well. Your cheek is pressed firmly against the hard wood of the desk and a pathetic little mewl escapes your mouth at the feeling. You cunt already dripping from your last orgasm, you take him so easily, so smoothly. It feels like he is meant to be inside you.
You feel a hand on your lower back, pushing you further down onto the desk and Nagito hisses through his teeth. Pumping slowly and deeply inside of you, like he is savoring it, “You’re doing so well, angel. I--fuck...You’re so warm.” his breathing is laboured, the rhythmic sound of his hips hitting your ass is echoing around the room, “I still can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you. I must be the luckiest man alive.”
“Please...more!” you whine, trying to force him deeper inside of you with the movement of your hips.
Nagito lets out a strangled moan and starts pounding faster, one of his hands slipping down between your legs to circle your clit, you cry out at the extra stimulation, toes curling inside of your shoes. The desk is shaking with the force of his thrusts now, there's a cute little statuette of a frog that falls down to the carpet with a clatter, but he doesn't stop.
“You feel so good, darling...I--I don't think i can-” a groan rips through him and you can feel his thrusts growing sloppier, “-you’re so good for...so perfect...I can't hold--ah ahh” he swallows, “Please, angel, i want to feel you cum again.”
You’re close, mouth raw from panting and moaning, legs going numb from behind suspended in the air. Then, the finger on your clit presses down firm and his cock grinds up against your g-spot. That is all you need, you come unraveling under him, the walls of your cunt clenching impossibly tight around him.
“Ah, yes!” He cries, grabbing your hips and pounding you desperately, relishing in the feeling of your hot, tight cunt. Milking him dry, “Good, girl. So good for me.” Then, he cums, you feel his cock throb deep inside of you as his hips stutter and slow.
It is only now that you are hit with the realisation. You just fucked Professor Komaeda. Holy hell.
All you can do is lay there while he slowly pulls himself out of you. Wincing a little at the wierd feeling of emptyness. You manage to roll yourself over, laying flat on your back with your legs still dangling from the desk. Nagito laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek, “Are you alright?”
You laugh weakly, “We’re going to get in so much trouble.”
“Not if no one finds out.” He tucks some of your hair behinf your ear, “Don’t worry about it, I’m very lucky with this sort of thing.”
“I just dont want you to get in trouble.”
He giggles, “That’s very kind of you, but this was as much my choice as it was yours.” he runs his fingers down your cheek and gives you a gentle kiss on your lips, “I meant what i said, about meeting up again.”
You manage to pull yourself up until you are sitting upright, you give him a sleepy smile, “Yeah, me too. I like you a lot.”
“How very sweet of you to say, angel.” He presses his forehead to yours and tangles your fingers together, “Let’s get you cleaned up now, hm? Can’t have you walking home like that”
To be honest, you aren’t sure you can walk at all.
____________________________
A few months later, you are sitting in the local cafe and applying for some jobs on your laptop. You did well on your final assessments and graduated with flying colours. It’s only a few more days before you need to officially move out of the dorms, and finding a new apartment (along with a job to pay for it) has not been easy so far.
You huff and push your hair back from your face. Your phone pings, and you ignore it. It’s been pinging for the past few minutes and you are not in the mood to check it. The job you are currently applying for made you retype all of the information in your resume even though you just uploaded it, and you are not happy.
The phone pings again and you groan, grabbing it and flipping it over. It looks like it’s just the group chat, as loud as always. As you go to close the message notifications though, you see one from about ten minutes ago that isn't from your group chat. Your heart is racing.
Hello!
I still have your number from when you asked for an assignment extension at the beginning of last semester. I hope you don't mind me using it. It’s been a few months, I'd like to see you again, if you wouldn't mind.
-Nagito
Oh shit. Your heart is beating a rapid tattoo in your chest. You had been so caught up in the job hunt and apartment hunt that you had all but forgotten about...this. You swallow and manage to force your shaky hands to type.
Oh hey!
It’s nice to hear from you. I’m free this weekend if you want to meet up, I still live in the dorms though, so it’ll have to be your place.
It's only about a minute before you get a reply.
Lol! I was thinking we could start with coffee, but I'm not going to lie and say i wasn’t hoping it would end up in my bedroom.
This weekend works for me. I can pick you up around 11?
You smile at your phone, cheeks turning crimson.
Sounds good. I’ll see you then.
You quickly update his contact details in your phone from Professor Komaeda, to Nagito <3.
#komaeda x reader#nagito x reader#komaeda nagito#nagito komaeda#danganronpa#danganronpa x reader#danganronpa fanfiction#sdr2#super danganronpa goodbye despair#FILTH
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title: mishpachah
rating: T+
word count: 3,085
summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.
For @fibulaa 💛 Thanks so much for commissioning me!
READ HERE
The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.
Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.
Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.
He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.
Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.
“Good morning, papa!”
His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit.
“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.
“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”
This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.
“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”
“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.
“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”
Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”
“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”
“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.
“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.
“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”
“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”
“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”
“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”
Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”
“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.”
Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”
“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.
“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”
--
This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.
Fuck prophecy.
They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.
“Can I have bread?”
Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.
“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.
“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”
“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”
Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.
Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.
He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time.
“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”
“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle.
“I believe you were partially his influence.”
Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.
Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips.
“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation.
“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”
“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”
Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.
Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.
“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”
“But what about the c… the calla!”
“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”
“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.
The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.
“Can you guess what’s inside?”
“Is it treasure?”
“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.
“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”
“Papa’s home?”
Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”
“What do they say?”
Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water.
“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”
“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”
Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.
--
The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.
Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.
“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.
“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.
“Something wrong?”
“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”
Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.
“You even smell better.”
There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.
“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”
Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”
He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade.
“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”
“Better to clean you now than later.”
“Always so fucking odd…”
“You love it.”
Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.
“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”
Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.
Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.
#castlevania#castlevania fanfiction#trevor belmont#alucard#alucard castlevania#sypha belnades#trephacard#my writing#*cvfic#jewish trevor
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Cheerleader Captain {HCs}
Includes: Terushima, Oikawa
THIS IS WRITTEN WITH A GENDER NEUTRAL READER!
Authors Note: This is a sort of collab with @lexysclubhouse based on our conversations LMAO, but seriously go check hers out!
If a part 2 is wanted, leave an ask!
Warnings: Cursing
Terushima
aLRIGHT KIDS LETS GET TO IT
also hello go check out Lexy’s part of this (collab? Idfk)
SO
you two probably met while he was in practice, but since you’re the cheer captain, you needed to get the last jacket for one of your competitions coming up
so they’re on a water break and they just see a random person come in like
👀
are you lost baby gorl 😏
ANYWHO
Terushima comes up to you smirk and all
“Hey gorgeous, you lookin for me?”
You just look up at this man
Bored as hell
And you’re just SILENT
sO HES JUST LOSING CONFIDENCE LMAO
“No.”
YOU JUST SHOVE PAST HIM
HOMEBOY LOOKS LIKE A LOST PUPPY
so you go to your coach, and immediately a smile comes of your face
and he’s like oh my god
Angel 🥺
so you talk with your coach, get the jacket and say goodbye to her
jacket w a v i n g in the wind behind you like there’s literally a fan on but there’s not?
you’re just so cool to him
so he has already fallen like
IMMEDIATELY
was trying to find you but he can’t
He’s over here thinking you’re a 3rd year from how mature you were
(You’re a second year hehehehe)
so the next time he sees you, YOURE at practice!
His team wasn’t told that their gym was gonna be used for a little before practice
So his team got their early and saw your team doing a routine to “Livin’ La Vida Loca”
ONCE AGAIN HE HAS FALLEN IN LOVE AND CANT GET OUT
DUDE
YOU WITH YOUR POM POMS?
YOUR HIPS
MF ALMOST GOT A NOSEBLEED SHIT
LIKE IT WASN EVEN EROTIC
YOJ WERE JUST SO STUNNING AND COOL LIKE SHIT
HE FELT LIKE A LITERAL NERD
the words “I don’t deserve their oxygen” full on came out from his mouth
ONE OF HIS TEAMMATES JUST STARTED WHEEZING LIKE
OH MY GOD
THEIR CAPTAIN?
W I M P
Like you’re practicing in sweats but shit I mean I’d simp 😳
About 2 weeks later he hears about you guys winning your competition
At this point you kind of know him? Like after that small interaction the cheer team and volleyball team were introduced to eachother
Especially since you were going to be cheering at prelims in 2 months
So the next day he pulls you aside and confesses
Stuttering and ALL
HE GOT YOU FLOWERS
LIKE HE GOT ROSES CUZ HES A BASIC BITCH
BUT LEAVE HIM ALONE HES TRYING 🥺
Shit I’d KILL to get flowers from someone
especially him
okay lex not the time
HE TAKES YOU ON A DATE TO THIS REALLY CUTE DINER
YOU KISS HIS CHEEK AT THE END OF THE NIGHT EIRHHTHTYN
YOU LUCKY MF I LOVE HIM SO MUCH
literally the first conversation was about his tongue piercing
And he got REALLY self conscious
BUT
YOU HAD ONE TOO?
WHICH WAS SUPER COOL
LIKE OMG TWINSIES
like of course you took it out for comps and stuff but for just hanging out you had it in
You look so hot with it to him
so two weeks pass and it’s pre-lims!
At this point you’re one of Johzenji’s favorite couples
Like why didn’t y’all get together sooner you cute as FUCK
So you guys are doing a small routine while Terushima goes up to serve
ITS THE SAME LIVIN LA VIDA LOCA ROUTINE LMAO
MANS IS JUST HOLDING THE BALL STARING AT YOU
NOT KNOWING THAT THE WHISTLE BLEW ALREADY
AND THEN HE SNAPS OUT IF IT REALIZING HIS 8 SECONDS WERE UP
HE LITERALLY G A V E A POINT TO THE OTHER TEAM BECAUSE YOU WERE SO PRETTY
Now between switching sides after losing the 1st set, you walk up to him
He’s just staring at you smirking
“So, you wanna talk about that serve?”
“OH IM SOOOOORY, my pretty baby was just so beautiful, I couldn’t look away.”
THIS MAN DOESNT WALK AWAY
HE MF S K I P S
YOURE RED AS HELL
PRETTY BABY?
BEAUTIFUL?
UGH
Oikawa
heheh HES WEARINT MY NUMBER I ALWAYS SCREAM AT THIS
OKAY SO I HAD A DRESM AB THIS
AND I LOVED IT
SO ITS HAPPENING
ENJOY
OKAY
SO
here’s what I’m thinking
Terushima HAS a cheerleading partner?
Oikawa HAD a cheerleading partner
Your schedules just never lined up and it was a mutual break up!!
You guys broke up about 3 months ago so the awkwardness is basically gone?
Like y’all are friends ya know
And yeah both of you do both still think about it randomly
mostly oikawa 👀
So they’re at practice and you come in SPRINTING
LIKE BOYS ARE ABOUT TO BLOW THE WHISTLE TO START A GAME AND THEY JUST SEE YOU ZOOM
SO EVERYONES JUST KINDA WATCHING LMAO
you don’t come out of the office for a while so they end up starting the game
you wanna know who’d up to serve
Oikawa :)
boy serves RIGHT when you come out
Like the universe was like “oh? let’s scare the mother loving SHIT out of ‘em!”
literally hits the wall next to you
“OIKAWA TOORU GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!”
MAN FREEZES
like shit
He was already gonna get scolded by iwa
but you?
he comes up to you with his arms behind his back, his eyes obviously terrified
“Do you know what you just did?”
“Yes.” 🥺
“And do you realize what you’re gonna do?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Homeboy has never eeen this side of you so he’s terrified.
And when you go to walk away he realizes you’re wearing a captains jacket
“Wait, Y/N, you got promoted?”
“Oh, yeah, I tried for it like a month ago.”
“Congratulations.”
he kinda just stares at you walk out like
Me?
oIKawA tOoRU
missing my ex?
n e v e r
okay maybe sometimes
so the next time he sees you they’re at the prelims against date tech
And he seems you come in in your uniform
wOOSH 🥰
So you guys lock eyes and y’all wave at eachother
you can see his face is r e d so you’re smiling
the game starts, you guys doing simple cheers, but as they get to the transition to the second set, you guys start doing a cheer to “Idol” by BTS that you choreographed
And seeing you as a captain?
H I T THIS MAN
HIT IT TIL IT BREAKS TYPE BEAT
he literally paused to stare at you, iwa was like
“GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND DROOL AFTER THE GAME”
stan iwa honestly y’all would make fun of him together whenever you guys had time to hang out
So, end of prelims, they lost to Karasuno
And you’ve been to his house maybe a few times when you guys were dating?
so you remember where it is
his mom?
kinda shocked to see you?
especially in a cheerleading uniform since she never realized you did that?
but you were talking about how you just wanted to see him
so you go upstairs and into his room and he’s just in the corner with his alien plushy sobbing
Your heart is breaking at this point for this man
You go and sit beside him, him not really acknowledging you
“Tooru, I’m really really proud of you and what you’ve become. That will not be the last time you’re on a court, and I will make sure it that as long as I live.”.
he turns to you and turns his alien pushy, instead clinging onto you
You can feel your uniform getting soaked, but you run your fingers through his hair anyway, giving him forehead kisses
after a while of crying, he lifts his head to look at you, eyes still very puffy
You look at him back and you give him a small smile
And he puts his hand on your chin
Gotta get that kiss kiss after missing you for so long
SOFT MAKEOUTS WITH OIKAWA OKAY
so here you guys are at about 2am
Talking about how you missed eachother
“Y/N, I really want to get back together with you.”
😳
“Who would I be to say no to an offer like that?”
You guys go to school the next day
Give the rest of Seijoh 4 sQUEEZES
cuz they deserve it I love them dearly
on Saturday you guys actually went on a date!!
you wanna know what song came on the radio
MF IDOL
HE TURNS TO YOU GRINNING AND GOES
“Ya know you looked really cute doing this cheer, might want to see it again~”“OIKAWA TOORU I WILL NOT HESITATE TO CRASH THIS CAR”
End note: “Just a Friend to You” begins in two days and I’m v excited! (Once again thank you for 100 notes!) (self promotion ✨) But in all seriousness, please go check out Lexy’s stuff! She’s a great writer and is so sweet ❤️
~ Lex 🖤🤍
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu x reader#oikawa headcanons#oikawa tooru#oikawa x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#terushima headcanons#terushima yūji#terushima x reader#terushima yuji x reader#haikyuu oikawa#haikyuu terushima#Royal Flush
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CONTENT CREATOR YEAR IN REVIEW
was thinking for 84 hours where should i post it but as its my creator blog i m doing it here <3 i was tagged by @taemaknae @suhdays @ynki @honsool @jjeongukie @taeyungie @dearbangtansonyeondan @lifegoesmon @everythingoes @flipthatjacketjiminie @yoongi-bts @jiminslight @hopekidoki @cowboyjinbop @yoonqiful @jcngkooks @pjmsdior @hobeah @balenciaguks @jinvant @hobibestboy @vjimin @yoongikook AND THANK U SO MUCH FOR INCLUDING ME T_T ik maybe its not a big deal but its a big deal to me and im touched :(((((((((((( also gimme some time to check all ur posts 👉👈 also im in a mood to say that ive collected many pokemons here djfksfhsakjddld ok nvm
also sorry for a long post ik tmblr fvcks things up sometimes when there is keep reading so dont fight me plz <3
❀ first creation and most recent creation of 2020
ok this is the fist one (still very pleased with colouring here T_T the stage lighting was,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, well yeah as always lmao) and this is the most recent (TBH DKJSKDSDK I WISH MY MOST RECENT POST COULD BE A DIFFERENT ONE THE ONE I WANNA MAKE FOR A MONTH NOW THE ONE ID PUT A LOT MORE EFFORTS IN SO IM A LIL FRUSTRATED i literally just missed giffing but couldnt watch anything new so took an old vid i wanted to gif once I DIDNT EVEN USE MYCOLOURING PSD IT LITERALLY HAS ONLY COUPLE OF LAYERS uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh :( but whatever,,, it just kinda doesnt show the difference -_-)
❀ a creation u r really proud of
well 👁👄👁 there r quite few,,, and the main reason is colouring most of these r comps and i a b s o l u t e l y sucked at comps and esp at making the colouring consistent there lol so lets begin lol 1 (u have no idea how muchi love this set) 2 (i fucking mastered it i wanted to remake it for two years and i finally did!! 60 fps smooth good moments iconic performance iconic hair colour his attitude bruh and ofc the fact that i could do sth with colouring,,,,,, and chose such an unusual colour scheme that i doubted jckdckfdk and it still worked out 🥺) 3 (lol i had this idea written down since 2018 as well and this year i could finally collect all moments i needed and oh boi yeah,,, AND COLOURING I COULD ALMOST yeah almost do sth decent with it there r still couple moments id changed but im pleased) 4 (im so happy whenevr i see this CUZ IT ALL WORKED OUT it was such an impulsive comp i literally only saw couple moments for past few years as well where i could see three of them in one frame and suddenly I WAS LIKE I FUCKING MUST POST THOSE MOMENTS SOMEHOW and im so proud of colouring it looks so well T_T) 5 (the colouring ofc im still :o that i could get rid of that shitty shit dkksjkj AND THE MOMENTS ITSELF?????? AND BLACK SWAN???????? EVERY PERFORMANCE???? HAIR?????? OUTFIT???????? EVRERYHTIGNM???????? HIS FUCKING STARE? FACE??? DONT MAKE ME CONTINUE AAAAAAAAAAA also if im not wrong this set in particular made me start my before/after posts 🥺) 6 (i jujst love everything about it e v e r yt h i n g also i could made ppl believe that jin fr has purple hair here when in reality its brown djhfdhskdf one of blending modes or adjustment layers worked this way lol) 7 (i wont even comment this tried a great tutorial with great beautiful resuls for the first time ever and it worked out so well and i like it so much and the whole yoongi here,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, also love me some borders that add cinematic feels to some gifs or just make them pretty in a dif way just like i did with prev post i mentioned imo lol) OK LAST ONE 8 (I USED A VIDEO OF STARS AND ADDED IT TO THE GIF FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER I FUCKED WITHMASKING FOR 3 HOURS GRRRRRRRR THIS IS SO HUGE FOR ME!!!!! i cant even explain whew IVE NEVER DID ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE SO I WAS REALLY PROUD TOO even tho i fucked masking up on some layers lmao but lets not pay too much attention to it 👀)
❀ a creation that took u forever
ohhhhhhhh i think this one cuz the moments were long i couldnt decide what do i want to include + it ts file so u kno,,, the speed,,, of processing,, + somehow decided to put them all together + fucked with colouring + had to get rid of the logo and as we know japan likes a lot of big braight text around haha and draw hair in moments where logo made it look blurry + had to adjust the order and all that stuff but getting rid of logo was the longest part
❀ a creation from 2020 that received the most notes
whew this iconic one im still amazed tbh they looked soso incredible and im glad how everything turned out here <3 (could change some colouring on bg tho so it could look better and more hq :c)
❀ a creation u think deserved more notes
lol this one cuz i was so hyped to make it cuz their concert in saudi arabia is one of my fav things in the world and i waited for so long to have mood and energy to go throught it to find jk moments and i couldnt choose some for this comp for so long and just,,,,,, overall,,,, the way he looks here............................................................... its a special comp to me haha ill def gif more of it i have shit ton of clips left and also there r other members and i just want to sit and enjoy yhe whole thing to so may find more stuff to gif here lol
❀ a new fandom u joined an a creation u made for it
i didnt join anything heurheru
❀ a creation u made that breaks ur heart
OKAY LISTEN DSJAKDJHFDKJ THIS ONE IF U KNOW U KNOW AND IM SURE IT BREAKS ALMOST EVERY HEART tbh whenever i see soft smiles or soft interactions or anything like this im just :’( <3 even my serotonin boost tag does it to me cuz its too precious T_T
❀ a ‘simple’ creation that u really love
this one cuz everything about it ah and this one 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
❀ a creation that was inspired by someone else
ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm idk maybe this one ? cuz i never did anything like this before and maybe i saw someones beautiful headers and decided to try one too ? i could do a lot better there is not enough depth but oh well,,, lol
❀ a favourite creatin created by someone else
oh its gonna be hard :) dear every conten creator i hope u dont mind if i wont go though the whole 2020 gif tag but choose form the most recent ones i loved? u know how much i appreciate ur content cuz i never stop screaming about it in tags but truly there r more content makers and i want u to know that i really love ur content :(
@syubb welllllllllllll i wont even comment this is iconique.....
@jinv T_T val i miss u but there should be bday comps with that BIG ASS IMAGE THAT HAS ITS PARTS ON EVERY SINGLE GIF I CANT EVEN EXPLAIN that icant even find dfjksfskj
@jung-koook i literally couldnt choose ehdskjdjksd but i decided this one cuz its sososososososososososososososososososososo well made every single detail here is chefs kiss
@kkulmoon i truly really cant get enough of ur colouring lately T_T
@minhope !!!!!!LITERALLY EVERY PANTONE COMP OR ESPECIALLY 7 YEARS WITH BTS PANTONE ONE IM AAAAAAAAAAAAA and lmao i think this is one of the most reposted things ive ever seen on internet T_T
@jjoon hng amy u know how i feel about ur content T_T decided this one cuz f l a w l e s s
@hopekidoki stuff like this makes my jaw lie in the floor dsjkdj
@flipthatjacketjiminie idk whats up but it makes me scream like a madman every time i see it.........
@lifegoesmon i cant even explain why i chose this one but everything here is so incredible !!!!!!!!1
@hobeah one of those good fucking bye ones.....
@taeyungie this made me feel so many things and a whole ass a w e so cool T_T
@jiminfilter i will never shut up about bts core jungkook one should also be here
@seoksjin THE COLOURS I SCREAM OH MY GOD O HMY OGD I JUST WENT TO CHECK OUT AND SAW THIS AND IMMEDIATELY DJKSJD DECIDED THIS IS CRAZY THE PASTELS THE PINNKS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA EVERYHTGIN but also those birthday posts ahhh T_T
@jinvant i wanna YELL but also u know how much i love ur quality and blacks T_T and gfxs too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
@yoongi-bts i love everything here with my whole heart!!!
@everythingoes SHOUWLD I EVEN EXPLAIN WHY
@hobibestboy THIS IS SO COOL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THE COLOUR SCHEME
@joenns I WONT EVEN EXPLAIN IM SO HURT HES SO THIS IS SO T____________________T
@jjeongukie idk i cant get enough of skin tone!!!!!!!!!!!!
@chaylani i really love the colouring and love these posts with highlights T_T
@eklipxe COLOURING AND EVERYTHIGN
@oncupid cant get enough of every colouring ive seen <3
@jiminslight THIS WHOLE GIF RIGHT HERE
@6dis-ease COZY AND PRECIOUS T_T
@ofkimtaehyung I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDS ITS SO PRETTY
@taee it was really hard to choose too T_T decided to go with this cuz,, u kno
@yoonqiful CUZ THESE COLOURS DRIVE ME INSANE
OK THIS IS GETTING TOO LONG KDSFJSAKDL I WOULD ADD A LOT MORE CUZ THERE IS A LOT MORE TO ADD BUT IVE BEEN DOING THIS FOR THREE HOURS I BETTER CHILL
❀ some of your favourite content creators from this year
ok i may forgot someone + in no order in particular + literally every creator that i follow/whose content i reblog @taeguks @tearuntold @cyphertaehyungie @love4hobi @kimnamtaejin @taejoon @jimiyoong @namkook @taeyungie @jinvant @jinv @6dis-ease @jiminrolls @daechwitas @syubb @syuga @jjeongukie @cowboyjinbop @hope-film @minhope @hopekidoki @joonie @namgination @jung-koook @faerieth @kooksv @lifegoesyoon @yoonqiful @j-sope @chaylani @jiminfilter @jjoon @everythingoes @varietae @seoksjin @dearbangtansonyeondan @ofkimtaehyung @yoongi-bts @gaypeople @seokjinyoongis @agustdfeatrm @joenns @houseofarmanto @namjoon (will miss forever) @thebtsgenre @honsool @vjimin @seokjinite @jiminswn @taee @hobeah @lifegoesmon @taemaknae @gukgi @kkulmoon @flipthatjacketjiminie @jintae @jcngkooks @ynki @yoongikook @yoongiandthebiaswreckers @jiminslight @gwkie @oncupid @eternalbulletproof and many more <3
OK SO i wanna say a special thanks to every content creator ever and also i wanna say that im really glad to be a part of this community all of u r so cool and creative and make such beautiful things and many of u made me feel EMOTIONS with ur sets or not only sets ill be forever grateful that i discovered bts and for everything they do to me without even knowing ALSO THANK U FOR STILL BEING HERE ON TUMBRLDSDFKJ yeah this year was less active there were few issues many ppl went on twt but thank u for still being here also happy new year <3333333 i think i sounded deeper and more emotional when i was commenting ppls gifs :| but its almost 2 am so i hope u will understand dkfjkfsjk im happy there is this corner on the internet that feels cozy and so welcoming <3 i love u i wish u a better year ahead <3 ok for checking notifications purpose ill tag my blog lol @eternal-bangtan
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A Close Call
After starting off her day on a rather sweet note with Viktor, V goes out to do some jobs before getting an urgent call from Misty, telling her that Vik's been hurt.
Female V / Viktor Vector
This fic contains very minor, vague mentions of a couple of events/aspects of the game.
Ao3
— — — — —
They had become accustomed to the sound of metal banging against stone, of little objects falling off tables. It was easy not to mind it so much when all they could hear and focus on was their heavy breathing and soft moaning.
V held tightly onto broad shoulders, her eyes shut as she felt Vik's stubbled chin against her skin. He kissed the base of her throat, the side of her neck, her jaw, and she could feel his hot breath against her. It drove her mad.
Propped up on the table beside his couch, she was barely leaning against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist tightly as he slammed himself into her, over and over. His fingers pressed hard into her thighs, sure to leave some kind of mark when they were done.
"Oh-fuck-ing-hell," V exclaimed between his fast thrusts. Her jaw dropped and she buried her face into his shoulder. From the intensity of him moving inside her, she dragged her nails across his shoulders. That earned a deep groan from him just as he called her name out, his hips buckling hard toward his climax.
The table clanged, something fell over, the wall protested, and Vik continued to thrust in her—once, and again, letting the world know how good it felt before gradually slowing himself down.
V lifted his head by his hair and gave him a sloppy, breathless kiss. The two of them were trying to catch their breath, but were unable to get enough of each other, hands palming at every inch they could reach. As Viktor pulled himself out of her, he must have noticed that she did not find her release one last time before he did, so his hand dutifully went down to remedy that.
"It's okay," V whispered to him with a faint smile. "You don't- you don't have to—ooh," she paused. She closed her eyes, feeling those stupidly skilled fingers of his tease and play with her clit.
"I don't have to what, V?" he grinned.
"Mmm, don't mind me," V relaxed, sighing as he then inserted a couple of fingers into her. They certainly weren't his dick but he sure used them just as well. Moments later, her brows pinched to a tight crease, her body began to arch and her moans grew louder and higher in pitch—then to one, small, silent pause. Her legs pulled upward and pressed tight as her hips twitched beneath her. V's chest heaved in wide curves as she melted in Vik's grasp. "Fuuuuck, I could stay here all day," she moaned, finally opening her eyes to see him watching her with low lids. Fuck, he looked hot when he did that.
Viktor captured her mouth with his for a long, sweet kiss. Pulling away only slightly, V grinned. "You know, most doctors used to give their patients a lollipop after their appointment," she chuckled, a nudge about the fact that they could not keep their hands to themselves the moment her check-up was over.
"Is that a joke or a suggestion?" he raised a brow.
Before she could reply, there was a voice mumbling from behind the locked front door, and then a heavy knock. V snorted, trying to muffle her laugh after seeing the look on his face. Another knock sounded and he groaned in frustration, turning his head away from her to yell, "I'm coming!"
V tapped him on the shoulder once and raised a brow. "I think you already came."
Vik dipped his head, shaking it as he laughed at that. V couldn't suppress her own, taking his face in her hands to kiss him on the cheek. Just as she was about to stand and get dressed, he pulled her back by the waist and gave her one last kiss. He then smacked her on the ass and turned to fix his clothes.
V bit back a grin. "We still on for dinner later?" she asked as she pulled her pants up.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sweetheart," he promised.
—
Just over an hour later, V had just dropped off a briefcase for a gig she had picked up the day before. She could not stop thinking about what would come later on. For two weeks, she and Viktor had been planning that dinner. A soothing night out in town, somewhere nice but not too fancy—and they both preferred it that way—with the promise of a lovely time after.
The thought brought a smile to her face as she mounted the bike, sending off a text to a fixer about the job being completed. Just before she was about to drive, she received a call from Misty. V sat up, answering the call, about to speak when she heard sniffling and crying on the other end.
"Misty?" she asked, now extremely alarmed.
"V, you-you have to come to the clinic," Misty cried. "It's Vik, he's... he's been shot."
Everything in the world stopped in place.
Viktor.
Shot.
"Is-is he—"
"He's still breathing, but please come quick," she begged.
V had already started the bike up and started moving. "I'm on my way."
She wasn't certain just how many times she had nearly gotten run over, or how she survived the sharpest turns, but V sped through the streets like she never had before. Getting just outside Misty's Esoterica, the bike shrieked to a stop on the sidewalk, startling the passersby. V leapt off and sprinted through the store, bursting into the clinic a moment later.
It was an absolute mess.
There was blood all over the floors, a couple of AirHypos discarded, medical equipment strewn about, bloodied gauze and bandages tossed aside. Viktor was laid flat on the very same bed that was used for her a while back. His shirt was unbuttoned, tank top cut open, and his chest was covered in blood. There were bundles of cloth that Misty had pressed into the wounds—two wounds to be exact.
Before V could give in to the immense emotions building up inside her, Misty had her run over to help. The bullets were still in him, stopping him from bleeding out, but she needed her help to get them out and fix him. V did not waste any time, getting her hair out of the way and listening to every single order that Misty gave her.
She had been around to help Vik once or twice, but it was nothing more than just bringing him what he needed. It was Misty that worked right across the alley, it was Misty that had seen him in action and helped him more times than she could count. She wasn't Viktor, but she knew what to do. It was more than V could say for herself. V did not dare to look Viktor in the face, to see his unconscious state, to see how the blood had drawn from it and how he might not even make it through.
She did not dare spend a single second cursing at the person that had done this. She could not think about that yet.
She could not think about losing him.
The dinner. That's what she thought about.
—
V had not realized how exhausting it was, working until time had lost meaning, trying to keep someone alive. She wondered if this was what he had to do, all those times she had come into his shop looking like death either from the chip or just some other terrible wound. She wondered if he, too, could not think about moving away and could not bear to turn away from her for more than a second. She wondered if he felt that way about every patient or just the ones he cared for.
They were all things she'd have to ask him herself when he'd wake up. If he'd wake up.
V shook her head, taking a deep, staggered breath and wiping a stray tear from her cheek. There had been a lot of those that she could not wipe away during the operation. Sitting there, in his own stool, right beside him, V continued to stare. She soon felt a hand on her shoulder, Misty's gentle touch, being told to go wash up. She promised V that she would look after him until she returned and so V listened. V was covered in Viktor's blood, her shirt, her hands, even her face.
Finding herself stumbling into a washroom at Misty's, she slowly glanced up at the mirror. An image flashed in her mind. The very same image, but a different bathroom. A different time. A different loved one's blood all over her. He, too, was shot, but she could not save him. More tears pooled in her eyes as she looked down at her hands, moving them under running water and wondering just how many more times she would have to be in this position.
—
Stepping into Viktor's clinic, she saw Misty paused mid-step, looking at her. "Hey, honey. You clean up okay?"
V nodded, then walked through the open gate, turning to her left immediately. Vik was still there, he was still unconscious, but he was still breathing, his heart still beating. Standing beside him now, her face was hardened into a cold expression, but she could not stop those goddamn tears.
"Who did this?" she asked through clenched teeth.
"It was... one of his clients, one of his appointments..." Misty replied. "Went right through the Esoterica."
"Do you know his name?" V prodded, eyes stuck on Viktor's bandaged chest.
"V, why do you—"
"His. Name."
Misty sighed. "I don't know, but... Vik has their files in his system."
V stepped away from Viktor's bed, walking over to his desk and turning on the monitor. A log-in screen. Fuck. She hoped she'd be able to crack it, but first she tried any password she could think of. Fighters' names, special dates, variations of his names, Misty's—
She blinked hard and hoped she'd be wrong when she typed in her name. Her real name.
The insides of his comp opened up to her, free for her perusal. Her head dipped low momentarily as she suppressed the emotions that burst within her chest. V then sniffled and looked back up at the screen, brows furrowed and eyes sharp with purpose. She scrolled through the list of clients that Viktor had dossiers and files on, having Misty identify the man that shot him. Once she did, she asked V what she was about to do, but V did not reply. She simply checked to make sure that her mantis blades were working right before urging Misty to lock down the clinic after she left.
—
Perhaps there was no point in washing up after all, if she was going to be returning to the clinic covered in blood again. This time, it was a mix of her's as well as others'. The client was some hotshot Tyger that had a few friends around when she finally tracked him down. Now, with her in the clinic having returned safely, he had absolutely nothing.
Misty offered to help clean her up and she did not refuse, but she was not going to leave the clinic again. Not for another while.
—
"So I finally handed it over to her and told her I never wanted a job from that sleazebag corpo ever again. Besides, he talked too much," V sighed, spinning around in the stool a little bit. She then finally came to a halt and scooted closer to the bed, gently lifting his hand with hers. "I miss you..." she whispered, thinking that she had enough in her to admit it and be okay.
She didn't.
V immediately began crying and she shook her head, looking down at her shoes. "I can't... I don't know what to do, Vik, just... tell me what to do. I can't lose you. Not you too, not you."
She finally built up the courage to look at him again, moving a little closer to bring a hand to his head. She gently stroked his hair, small comforting gestures without any real purpose. "Come back to me soon, okay?" she sniffled, bringing his hand up to her lips and just holding it there for a bit. At least in the days that he had been recovering, she noticed some color seemed to return to his face.
After he was stabilized, V had called on the other Rippers she knew, finally finding one that would come meet them and check in on him. It became a habit after it was clear that he would not be waking up right away. Since then, V had set herself up just around the corner, having been sleeping on the pull-out couch just to stay close by.
—
A few days later, V had been sitting on the ground beside Vik, leaning against his bed. She had been talking about her day, about a few things she remembered from a while back—anything she could think of just to fill the air, spend the time, when she felt something.
There was a brush against her shoulder, and when she looked down, she could see Vik's fingers weakly reaching for her. V got up onto her knees, taking his hand immediately as her eyes locked onto his face. Viktor let out a faint cough, brows furrowed and eyes struggling to open.
"Viktor?" she called to him. He made a small sound. She checked his vitals quickly, finding nothing to be out of the ordinary. V waited patiently as Vik finally blinked, eyes darting around until landing on her. "Look who's finally awake," V tried to smile, but her voice cracked and her heart ached.
"Fuck..." he spoke, his voice coming out dry and raspy.
"Try not to move," she warned. Flinging a quick thought into her comms, she sent Misty a message then focused on Viktor. "How are you feeling?"
"Like a million eddies," he joked, the corners of his lips twitching.
Misty soon came through the door, sharing a similar expression to V's. Eyes tearing up, full of relief, urgency to be sure everything's okay. So V left her to it. She remained by Vik's side and kept holding onto his hand, listening as Misty explained everything to him, his condition, his wounds, and the procedures the ladies had done to keep him healthy.
Partway through their conversation, Vik had turned his head to look at V, saying nothing but just watching her. Her eyes were fixed on his hand as she held it. She looked as though she were holding the most fragile thing and the look on her face was far too much to handle.
His focus finally came back when Misty placed a hand on his shoulder and kissed his forehead. "It's good to have you back, Vik. Just keep resting, we'll have you up and walking around in no time."
"Thanks, Misty," he smiled at her, and gave her a small nod as she walked away.
Misty reached for V as well, giving her shoulder a small squeeze on her way out. Once the door was shut, Vik nudged her hand with his own.
"Hey," he whispered to her. "Come closer."
V obliged, shuffling a little closer and raising herself up to see him properly. She still could not find it in herself to make eye contact with him, but the thought of him being awake, that he was going to be alright...
Fuck. She was crying again.
Viktor raised his hand to cradle her cheek, "Hey, come on now..." he cooed, a thumb brushing her tears away. "I'm gonna be just fine."
"You fucking bastard, you scared me," V scolded, her head hung low as her body shook with each sob. Her nimble hands wrapped around his forearm, holding onto him. "If something happened... If..."
"Stop that," he spoke calmly, "Look at me, I'm gonna be all better."
She finally did look up at him, seeing the face that she had come to love so dearly, finally awake. "You've just... you've never been on this side of it before, not in front of me..." she explained. "I was so scared I'd lose you too."
"Worst way for the tables to turn, huh?" he chuckled dryly.
V let out a chuckle that was akin to a sob, bringing a sleeved wrist up to wipe all the fluids from her face. "Fuck," she whispered to herself, realizing it was a lot. As she did so, Vik noticed a healing gash on her face that he had not seen the last time they were together.
"That's new," he observed.
Slowly getting up from the ground, V found the tiniest sliver of mattress she could sit on just so she could lean in properly. "Don't worry about it, it's almost gone anyway."
"That's gonna leave a scar," he sighed, a thumb tracing the pink line along her jaw. "Who do I have to pay a visit for doing that?"
"No one important," she promised. "It's taken care of."
Viktor looked her in the eyes for a moment, trying so hard to read her expression. Beyond the relief and beyond the sorrow, there was a hint of something, a coldness in her that he had not seen since the days she recovered from the landfill. It was pain and anger combined, a dangerous mix.
"Well," he brushed her long, precious waves behind one ear and took a breath, "I guess we're going to have to rain check on that dinner then, huh?"
She couldn't help but smile at that, "You just focus on getting better and we'll have a bunch of nights to make up for it, alright?"
"You got it, darlin'," he chuckled.
V leaned down to give him a small kiss, being almost too gentle with him. When they pulled away, she remained close and looked him in the eyes. "I love you, Viktor."
Oh, if she knew what those little words did to him every time. He gave her a warm smile, not missing a beat, "I love you too, V."
#cyberpunk 2077#female v x viktor#viktor vector#v/viktor#viktor x v#v x viktor#smut#angst#smut and angst B)#fluff#can't forget about the fluff#viktor's biceps
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FrostIron Part 1
So I volunteered to write a FrostIron fanfic for @belligerentmistletoe , please let me know what you think. I’m always open to honest critique.
I hope it is going to be as much fun to read as I had writing it. Please excuse any typos or weird phrases, I’m not a native speaker.
Had to split it, cause I’m unable to write less than 6k it seems 🙈 I have to remind everyone, that I don’t own any rights to the characters. You read that on your own responsibility. Its a ship, so I don’t have to tell you what can and probably will happen. No violence to it tough. Enough talki-talki, enjoy.
LokixTony
We are at an alternative Timeline, in which Loki joined the Avengers, after he came to earth together with Thor. Thanos never interfered, so we find Loki wandering the Avengers Tower.
All the halls looked the same to him. He lost orientation some time ago, yet he would never admit that. Not to the people who crossed his path, with their ghastly looks and the mistrust they didn’t bother to hide. And when Romanoff and Barton turned the corner, he slipped into the next door hastily.
Loki found himself in a big room with large windows and a bar in it. The light was dimmed and in front of the counter he noticed a figure leaning onto it. Loki stepped closer to see who that was, it turned out to be Stark. And because the god had no other plans he decided to join him.
“I’m still waiting for that drink,” Loki said, sitting down on a barstool next to Stark.
The mechanic was staring at an empty glass, playing with it, as if he would think about what decision to make.
“Your bad, I stopped drinking a long time ago,” Tony answered after a while, as if he would just realise the presence of the god.
“Then why do you look like you would yearn for one?”
“That’s none of your business,” Tony said, turning away gazing out the window.
“Hard day, hmmm? May I help myself to a drink?” Loki asked politely and Tony nodded absent minded. The god made his way round the counter to get himself a glass, which he filled with whiskey. He sat back to his former place and sipped from his drink now and then. The two men sat in silence for some time.
“You know that nearly the whole crew was against having you in the team?” Tony interrupted the quietness.
“I didn’t expect anything else,” Loki shrugged his shoulders, “what is your opinion on the matter?”
“Hmmm,” Tony started playing with the glass again, “to be honest, I’m not happy either. But as I have experienced it myself, I know that people have the capacity to change.” He scratched his head, “I think you deserve a second chance. Anyway, that doesn’t mean I would trust you,” he admitted.
“Fair enough,” the god emptied his glass. “So what made you hide in here? Did Rogers ask for a private conversation?” Loki chuckled.
Tony groaned, “it’s my fathers birthday.”
“And you have no ambitions to get to see him?”
“He’s dead. Steve’s friend ensured that and like you, he’s part of the team now.” Tony dropped his head into both his hands, “seems like everyone deserves forgiveness, even mass murderers. No offence.”
“I’m sorry for your loss Anthony,” said Loki. If Tony would have looked up, he would have seen that the god wasn’t.
“No need to be sorry. Howard was an asshole,” Tony slammed his fist onto the table.
“Then why do you even bother?” Loki raised an eyebrow.
“Would you not, if someone killed your parents?” Tony mumbled the words to his glass.
“I would give everything to get my mother back and to bring revenge for her death. For the Allfather? I would send a letter of appreciation,” Loki smirked. “Unfortunately I have to send it to myself.” The god wasn’t in full control of his facial expressions and for once more they proved him a liar. Tony gave no reaction to it, so Loki felt encouraged to go on. “He was a miserable father most of the time. You know, kidnappet me from my realm. Promised me a throne that he never intended to give to me,” the longer he talked, the more agitated he got. “I never understood why he took me away from my home in the first place. To make me feel like a freak, once I discovered my true nature?” Slowly the illusion slipped away. His skin turned blue, the eyes red. When he realised he had unmasked himself, he turned back to his human appearance in an instance.
“In the end he was just an old man full of regrets,” Loki ended his monologue.
Tony let out a loud snore.
“Anthony?”, Loki asked in surprise.
“He’s asleep Sir,” a bodiless female voice informed him.
“Thank you for pointing out the obvious,” Loki rolled his eyes, “well, I’m sorry my story seemed to bore him that much.” The god jut his chin forward.
“If that’s a comfort Sir, he was tired the whole day. The fight with Miss Potts made it even worse,” Friday explained.
Loki slid down the barstool and stepped towards Tony.
“Can you explain to me how to find his bedroom?” he asked.
Friday gave him directions, while Loki lifted Tony into his arms. He just hoped that nobody would see him. Not because he would be ashamed of carrying another man, but because of the general distrust that was brought to his person.
The AI woman followed him, to assure that her boss would make it back to his room safely. Not even a humanoid person trusted him, if that wasn’t good news!
Carefully the god placed the fragile human into the sheets. Loki kneeled down to untie Tony’s shoes and placed them on the ground.
He even ensured to pull the blanket over the mechanic's body.
Loki hesitated a second, somehow he liked Stark. With a soft touch to his fingertips he brushed some stray hair out of the other man's face.
Loki turned away and made his way back to the bar. He felt the urgent need for a bottle of wine, or better two.
***
Tony opened his eyes, because the sun was beaming directly into his face.
How did he even get to bed? He couldn’t remember.
“Friday, please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid yesterday night?” he asked into the void.
“No sir. But I’m afraid your company has,” she answered.
“My comp—oh fuck! I was with Loki, wasn’t I?” he didn’t bother to wait for an answer, “where is he now?”
“Shop floor,” was the hesitant answer.
“You let him in?!” Tony flared.
“Mr. Laufeyson has been very charming,” came the snippy answer.
“How could he charm you, you’re not even a real person,” Tony grumbled.
“But he treated me like one.”
“Remind me to look over your coding,” he said.
“Yes Sir.”
Tony made his way through the maze of floors on the Avengers Tower until he reached his sanctuary. When he stepped inside his feet shoved a bottle on the ground. It slid away, crashing into more empty glass.
“What the fuck?” he raised his arms in disbelief.
The scene was like a bad comic. Loki lay in the middle of the room, surrounded by wine bottles. The gods head popped up when he heard Tony enter.
“Aaaanthony,” he beamed at the new arrival.
“Are you drunk? I didn’t think it was possible, according to how much Thor can drink,” Tony slapped his hands onto his cheeks and let them slide down his face.
“He had about twenty bottles Sir,” Friday informed him.
“Twenty?!” Tony looked onto the mess on the floor, “and why did he drink them in here?”
“I couldn’t find the corkscrew,” Loki babbled.
“And so what? You decided to use a hammer instead?”, Tony shouted, which made Loki twist his mouth in pain.
“It was a screwdriver to be accurate,” Loki corrected him.
“How did that even work?” Tony was shaking his head, “anyway, don’t you have a place to go back to?”
“Of course, it seems like I’m the guest who stayed too long. My apologies, I’ll leave immediately,” Loki pushed himself back onto his feet. Not without some effort to keep his balance.
“If you give me the address, I can call you an Uber,” Tony offered, without hiding the annoyance in his voice.
“No need for that,” Loki assured, pointing at his boots.
Tony looked at him, as if the god had lost his wit.
“Darling, would you mind opening a window for me?” Loki asked the ceiling.
“Not at all Sir,” Friday answered. Instantly one of the big windows slid open. Meanwhile Tony had crossed his arms, watching the scene in disbelief.
Loki clicked his heels together like little Dorothy and started walking on thin air. His seven league boots had proved great benefit to him over the years.
“Those god’s and their magic stuff,” Tony mumbled to himself jealously, looking at the god’s back. “Uh-oh,” he gasped, the second Loki reached the window. The god had stepped way too close to the ceiling, but as he had turned his head to give a superior smile towards Tony, he didn’t see the mural. His head collided with the wall and he fell over backwards. With a nasty sound, Loki smashed onto the ground.
“Oh for heaven's sake, Thor is going to kill me!” The mechanic ran to the god’s side, checking if he was fine.
“Vital signs stable Sir,” Friday informed him, “I scanned his body, it’s nothing but a cut on the forehead.”
“Fucking drunkard,” Tony had troubles not to slap Loki while he was already on the floor.
“Ouch—where did that mural come from?” Loki said with a raspy voice.
“It was there all the time you jerk,” Tony was rolling his eyes.
“Maybe I better take that Uber?” Loki rubbed his forehead, smearing blood all over it.
“First of all, we need to look after this cut,” Tony commanded.
“It’s nothing. I don’t want to bother you any longer Anthony,” Loki said, getting up again.
“You stubborn…” Tony began.
“It will heal,” Loki interrupted him.
“Yes, after you spilled blood all over the floor,” Tony grabbed him by the shoulder. With one fast move he had sprayed something onto the cut. It cooled the throbbing wound in an instant which took Loki by surprise.
“What was that?” Loki asked.
“Something to close the cut. Now tell me where your brother is?”
Loki was shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know.”
“Didn’t he tell you where he wanted to go?”
“No—by chance I would think he’s stalking Miss Foster again,” a smirk appeared on the god’s face.
Tony hid his face in his hand, he had no clue Thor expected him to play babysitter. “You can stay if you want to,” he sighted.
“I’d prefer to sleep in my own bed.” Loki was brushing his bloody hands on his pants.
“Fine, I’ll drive you!” Tony snapped at him.
“Please, I don’t want to be a burden for you. I’ll find my way back home on my own,” Loki bitched back.
Tony ignored him, “Friday, make sure the Audi is waiting for us.”
“Yes Sir.”
***
Loki’s flat was surprisingly ordinary. Tony would have expected it to be an opulent palace with shiny gold statues showing the god’s counterfeit. One could almost call it minimalist. There wasn’t even much furnishings but a sofa opposite a TV and a big bookshelf covering the wall next to the door. That’s all Tony could see when stepping in. There was a corridor to his right but he felt uncomfortable exploring it without permission.
The polite god had had a feeling that there wasn’t any chance to get rid of his Nanny, so he asked Tony in.
Loki offered him a place on the sofa, but the mechanic disliked sitting down, he preferred to browse the bookshelf.
“Make yourself at home, please. The kitchen you’ll find next door, if you want something to drink. If you could excuse me for a while, I need to have a shower now,” Loki said, disappearing down the corridor.
Tony was fascinated by the books, some of them were written in languages he had never seen before. But also there were many classics he did know, like Shakespeare (at least it must be familiar to Asgardians, as they used this sort of language), Dante, Goethe and many more. Tony randomly grabbed one of the books and pulled out an old, leather bound copy of the Norse Myths.
‘Why would Loki want to read his own tales?’ Tony wondered. He made his way to the sofa and sat down, flipping through the pages. He found notes, scribbled in a child like writing to the side of the text.
One said: ‘After studying Shakespeare, I wonder if he used Valstagg as a role model for his Falstaff? Utter fun.’
Tony was frowning his brows. He had read the Myths before, yet he was interested in seeing them through the god’s eyes, so he started from the beginning. At some point Loki came back in, bringing with him two freezing cans of Coke. He handed one to Tony, when he sank into the pillows next to him.
The mechanic didn’t even bother to look at him, missing the fact that Loki was wearing nothing but boxer shorts. Loki sipped his drink, watching Tony with some interest. After a while he placed the can onto the small table in front of him and let his body sink deeper into the sofa. Loki’s head tipped over to the back, leaning against the wall. He had dark spaces underneath his eyes, the twenty bottles had taken their toll him. Loki fell asleep.
Tony wouldn’t have realised that either, if Loki didn’t sink onto the mechanics shoulder.
“Hey,” Tony tried to push Loki away with one hand. With the effect that Loki’s head landed in Tony’s lap, what made him look down at the god.
“Sweet Jesus, couldn’t you find a T-Shirt?” Tony shifted uncomfortably. Never had he imagined the guy would be so heavy. There was no chance to free himself. Tony sighted, finally he made himself as comfortable as possible and read on.
He was absorbed by the story, when, without his doing, Tony’s hand found its way into Loki’s hair, running his finger through it. The mechanic did that quite a while, until Loki turned around facing the opposite side. Tony got aware of what he was doing. Shocked, he stared at his hand.
Did he just pet another man?! And why did it feel so natural?
He shook the thought off. That was all because of the fight with Pepper, he told himself. He should phone her and apologise. But at this very moment he had no intention to do so. His attention was focused on the god in his lap. Observing Loki’s face this close for the first time, he realised how young he looked. That there was some sadness to it, but also an innocent peace in his sleep.
Tony felt the urge to trace Loki’s cheekbones with his index finger.
Trying to resist, he couldn’t tell how much time had passed. The light was fading slowly, when Loki opened his eyes again. He looked surprised about the delicate situation he found himself in.
Tony was bowing over him, with his face so close that Loki could feel the other man's breath on his cheek.
“Uuuhm, Anthony?” he whispered.
That woke Tony from his rigidity, he shied back.
“You wouldn’t wake up…,” he tried to explain, yet he couldn’t help but stare at Loki’s lips.
What the fuck was wrong with him?!
“I need to pee,” Tony stuttered just to get away from Loki.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the god sat back up.
In an instant Tony was on his feet, heading towards the bathroom. It wasn’t a lie that he had to pee. The Coke wanted to leave his system.
Fiddling for his zipper he froze.
That couldn’t be true! Did he build a tent in his trousers for a guy who once tried to kill him?
Even worse, did Loki realise he had?
Tony felt panic creeping up his chest. Taking some huge effort, he fought the panic down, forcing himself to empty his full bladder.
The mechanic flushed the toilet, turning around to wash his hands. He splashed cold water to his face, tearing out his hair with wet hands.
Tony was desperate about his unusual behaviour. How had Loki managed to charm him? It must have been a spell, there was no other explanation to this awkward situation.
‘I am a straight man, I am a straight man, I am a…’ Tony kept repeating his Mantra.
Well of course there had been some experiments in College, but nothing that ended up to be serious.
When he found he had cooled down, he went back to the living room.
“I just got a call, I need to leave,” he told Loki, staying away as far as possible. He turned towards the door, his fingers already on the door handle, as he felt the god’s hand closing on his wrist, holding him back.
“Uhm, you’ve been my first guest…and, I…thank you for visiting my place,” Loki said, looking at the floor.
Tony opened his mouth in surprise. This day couldn’t get any weirder.
“Thanks for having me,” Tony replied with a little smile, “I really have to go now,” he insisted and Loki let go of his arm.
***
Stark had been in such a hurry to leave, that Loki wondered if he had done something wrong. He was laying on the sofa again, breathing in Tony’s scent that was still lingering there. It reminded the god of machine oil and iron with something fruity to it, but Loki couldn’t figure out what it was.
Did Stark intend to kiss him?
Loki couldn’t tell. The only thing he knew was that he would have allowed him to, this very moment. He wanted it as he saw Tony’s eyes resting on his lips. That’s what worried him most. What would Thor say, if he’d know?
Probably something like: “I knew Stark first,” that made Loki laugh deep down in his throat.
At times he missed his brother, yet he knew why Thor left him here. The god of thunder wanted Loki to get along with everyone on his own. And Thor had to care for New Asgard of course. But they had agreed not to give away too much about it right now.
Loki was the one to stay in New York and keep an eye on the doings of the Avengers.
Yet he wanted to be with Tony for very different reasons.
The mechanic dominated his thoughts and made a new desire grow within him. One he wasn’t sure he ever felt before.
#frostiron#loki x tony#tony x loki#mcu fanfiction#fanfiction#loki#loki of asgard#tony stark#iron man
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Outside chapter 17: Dinner at Home
New chapter, new plot. Plus got to see a little bit of Danny in this 'verse. :D
And plans are in motion now. What's gonna happen? Stick around to find out.
Stacy sighed as she got into the truck, undoing the professional looking bun her hair was in. Scout popped out of her bag when she set it in the passenger seat, gasping over-dramatically.
"Oh stop that. You're fine." Stacy told her, buckling herself in. She started the car, and got ready to back out of the parking spot.
"Says you! You aren't spending eight hours a day in a fucking bubble!" The puppet flopped out of the bag. "Are we going home yet?"
"No, we've gotta go grocery shopping." Scout groaned and threw one arm over her eyes.
"Aw man. I hate Walmart." She grumbled. "There's always too many kids staring at me."
"It'll be fine. We can go look at movies again before we get the food."
"Okay fine." Scout climbed up the door to look out the window. "But I want Pop Tarts this time! Real ones!"
"I think I can do that." Stacy agreed as she pulled into the parking lot. She reached over and grabbed her wallet before grabbing Scout, letting her settle into the hood of her jacket as they entered the store.
They checked movies, though there was nothing new out yet that they hadn't seen, and then went on to collect the items on Stacy's list. A quick checkout later and they were finally on their way home. It could not have come soon enough for Scout.
The way home from Walmart wasn't too long, maybe a ten minute drive on a bad day. So they got home quick enough, and Scout watched as Stacy started to juggle the many bags. She ended up having to sting them onto her prosthetic in order to get them all into the house, but did succeed in getting all the bags to the kitchen.
Will was downstairs, as he usually was at this time of day. Though, whether he was working on computers or his... hobby, was anyone's guess. Scout certainly wasn't going to go down there to check, either way. Instead she Jumped to her room, which was almost more of a closet with how small it was. But, it held a bed(in her own size!), a charging station for the Switch, and sometimes Stacy's laptop when she could be bothered to drag it in there. The walls were lined with multiple shelves with rope ladders connecting them, giving her a lot of storage space. Most of it was still empty, but she had collected a few things over the past several months.
Including clothes, apparently. Stacy had expressed concern with Scout running around with Mortimer's face on her shirt, and had enlisted Lisa to make her some new ones. Not that Scout could take her "shirt" off, of course, but she could wear other ones over it. Her favorite so far was a green one that said "eat dick and die". It was the best one, no contest, but Stacy wouldn't let her wear it outside the house.
"It's crude, and while I know you love that stuff it's not a good idea to wear that to my job. Someone could go to HR about it." Her Host had told her. Scout thought that was just stupid, but had agreed not to wear it to the workplace.
Stacy, meanwhile, worked on putting groceries away. It was good practice for her arm, especially in not crushing the groceries. She managed to mangle to bread only a little bit this time, and figured she was probably doing better than she usually did. Scout reappeared a moment later, wearing the green shirt Lisa had made her. She handed over the Pop Tarts to the puppet, who immediately tore into the box to grab one of the foil packets.
"It's almost suppertime, so don't eat too many of those." Stacy warned her, only to be met by a muffled grunt in response. She sighed, and just collected the stuff she needed; Kraft macs n cheese, premade burger patties, and some green beans for a vegetable. Maybe not the best dinner, but Will was still working and they needed some food.
As she got the stove going, a pan of water for the mac set up, and the pan for the burgers got oiled. She selected three patties and put the rest back in the freezer for another day while things heated up. The beans she dumped in a third pan on the back of the stove, adding a bit of salt for taste.
Scout watched all of this while softly crunching on the Pop Tarts. Months in the Host World, and she still didn't understand why Stacy wanted to cook. It was much easier and quicker to just grab one of the snacks laying around. Then again, maybe it had to do with that "nutrition" shit Will had told her about once.
As Stacy cooked she started typing out a message to Will on her phone, mostly to let him know dinner was done. He may have been just right in the basement, but she didn't want to go down there if she didn't have to. But as things finished cooking and she started to set the table, Will still hadn't come upstairs or even answered her text. And so, with a sigh, she covered the food and made her way downstairs.
"Will? It's time for dinner." She called as she reached the bottom of the stairs. No answer, but the muffled beat of heavy metal and the high pitched whine of a buzz-saw. She went through the door and was greeted with a mess. A wooden doll was stretched on the exam table in the middle, and Will was standing over it with the buzz-saw, shouting over the pounding music and whining noise.
"Hey, bitch! Make your boyfriend turn it down!" A red haired doll in a welded shut dog crate yelled over the music. She ignored it and instead punched a nearby gong with her metal fist. The resulting metal bang startled Will enough that he almost dropped the saw. He looked over and, once he spotted her, rushed to shut everything down.
"Yeah babe?" He asked, like he hadn't been threatening a sentient doll. The puppet in question was gagged, but sending a quite fierce death-glare at him.
"It's dinner time. Finish up here and come up, I made burgers." She told him, smiling a little as his face lit up.
"Score!" He quickly shoved the saw away before turning to take the doll off the table and put it into a cage. It swapped it's glare to her as he shoved it inside the crate, but Stacy just stared stonily back at it.
"Yeah, you keep trying that buddy. Nothing stops these two assholes. Ow!" The red headed doll sent Stacy his own death glare as she kicked his cage, knocking him over.
"Keep quiet." She growled out, not even looking at him. "Be thankful you're not tied up too."
"Yeah yeah. Go back to your favorite toy, Bitch." He huffed out. "Can't believe you keep that thing living up there with ya. If you had any kind of integrity, she'd be down here, in a cage, with the rest of us. Ow! Fuckin' shit would you stop that?!"
"Chucky, be quiet." A nearby doll in a ripped wedding dress scolded. "You know better than to antagonize her."
"What, it's true! That thing up there is just like us, but she gets to live in the lap of luxury! Hey!"
Stacy propped a foot up on the cage, tipping it onto it's edge and leaning down to glare at the toy inside. "You wanna stop talking now? Or do you want me to come back down here after dinner, Mr. Ray?"
The dolls said nothing more and Stacy righted the cage as Will finished up. The went back upstairs, locking the door behind them.
On the table was Scout, with half a burger patty in her mouth. She froze when the two Hosts walked into the room.
"Scout, seriously?" Stacy asked. "You're supposed to wait for us before you start eating."
Scout spat out the half eaten patty. "You were taking too long. I wanted to eat."
"You still should have waited. We only took a couple of minutes."
"But I didn't want to wait."
Stacy just sighed, and grabbed a bun out of the bag to squirt some ketchup onto. This was a fight just not worth getting into, especially when it wouldn't change anything.
Instead they made up their buns and sides, and were sat down to eat. Will prayed, and Stacy waited for him to be done before digging in. Scout didn't even wait, and just finished off her meat patty before digging into the macs and cheese.
The trio ate in silence, too hungry to talk at first. But eventually Stacy swallowed a bit, and decided she was sick of the quiet.
"So, you make any progress with the Gardner job?" She asked Will. Doll torturer or not, he did still have a "real" job, same as her.
"Eh, a little. Gotta ask who usually uses the computer, though. It's full of viruses from porn sites."
"Ew. Do they have a kid, or just a really stupid adult?"
"They've got a twelve year old girl, so she's the most likely suspect." Will swallowed another bite. "Miss Gardner is always away and working, like, three jobs so it's gotta be the kid or a friend she has."
"Who would go on a porn site? It's just naked sweaty Hosts, they're gross."
"Uh..." Stacy wondered how to handle this. And then wondered if Scout had ever gone on one of those sites, to know about that part. "It's... just a thing. Some people like to look at." She coughed. "Don't question it."
"Sure." Scout comped down on a green bean, and Stacy gave a soft sigh of relief. Scout was bad enough with her language already, and Stacy didn't want to risk her learning more words and terms.
Dinner ended soon after that, with Will loading the new dishwasher when everyone was done eating. He went back downstairs to finish up what he'd been doing. Stacy and Scout meanwhile went to play video-games. Well, Stacy played, while Scout watched her do quests from her lap.
"Go down that tunnel! Go! The left!" Scout pointed forcefully, waving her arms when she was ignored.
"No, that's where we came from." Stacy sighed, annoyed yet also a little amused. "Would you rather be the one playing?"
"No. I can't hold the controller." The Puppet waved her off before suddenly yelling. "You're not looting the bodies!"
"And you won't shut up." The Host muttered, looting a single body before going back to chasing the objective. "Are you sure you don't want to play?"
"How would I even fucking do that? Don't answer that."
"Okay." Stacy fought a few more Drauger. She thought about mentioning that she wouldn't really mind it, if Scout wanted to play, but decided against it. The body swap was still a sore subject, and she didn't want to ruin the good mood.
A ping from her phone, and she paused the game to answer a text from her brother. Being the nosy Puppet that she is, Scout tried to see what she was typing. "Who's that? I thought you didn't have friends."
"It's my younger brother, Danny. Doc wanted me to talk to him more, so I am."
Scout blinked. "You have a brother?" She thought back, tried to think if she'd ever seen any pictures of Stacy's family, but couldn't remember. Will she knew had a picture of his mother, but other than that neither Host talked about their families that much.
"Yeah." A couple of swipes, and she lowered the phone to show the Puppet a photo of a younger boy. He had the same reddish hair she did, but with much paler skin and brighter blue eyes. He was also wearing an absolutely atrocious looking sweater. "He's about eight or nine years younger than me, depending on who's had a birthday at that point."
"Oh..." Scout stared at the picture. "Why is he wearing headphones?"
"Those are part of his cochlear implants. He's deaf." She swiped back over to messaging to finish her text. "But he got the surgery at a young enough age that you pretty much can't tell. He's just got a little bit of a weird sounding accent."
"Oh, cool." Stacy finished her text and went back to the game, Scout watching quietly this time. "I have a brother."
Stacy fumbled an attack, but recovered quickly enough that she didn't die. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Yeah. And three sisters." She squirmed a little, playing with the hem of her shirt. "... They probably all have Hosts by now. They were a lot better at... fitting in, than I was."
"Oh." Stacy paused the game, considering. "I'm... uh, do you you wanna talk about it?"
"Nah. I just thought you should know about them." She settled back, and Stacy unpaused the game. "I doubt I'm ever going to see them again, anyways. They were all assholes."
"Sounds like it, if they were able to "fit in" over there."
-------
Canon huffed, doing her best to try and suck in air. This was the... she didn't know how many times she'd been almost torn apart by the spells Mortimer was working on. Not really, of course, but it certainly felt like it. Like there was a scalpel carefully slicing into each stitch, cutting the small threads one by one.
"Hmm, looks like things are going well. I think I'm just about done with this spell." The magician commented, ignoring how the smaller Puppet lay limply on the floor. "Yes this plan has come together splendidly! Soon your sister will be right where she ought to be."
"... Great..." She groaned, trying to force herself upright. She failed, falling back to the floor with a soft thump. "I... can't... wait..." She had to finish the rhyme, at least, no matter how much it hurt.
"Indeed." He smirked, then grabbed a phone off the wall. "Oh Riley, we're just about ready to start! All we're missing now is the star! So gather your tools and a henchman, and go warm up the car."
"Preparations have already begun!" She relayed with an excited giggle. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"
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Laying in Wait (Indruck)
The prompt for the third was:Legend of Hag Hill
When you’ve lived somewhere your whole life, you develop one of two relationships with local legends: complete and utter belief, or the belief that the legend is utter bullshit.
For Duck, Hag Hill is solidly in that second category. Weird lights, sudden, disorienting fog, ghostly laughter; he’s hid out on the hill smoking or making out or killing time and never seen any of it, no matter how dark the sky is when he’s there.
He’s here for a slightly new reason tonight, as some kids from his Comp 101 class at Kepler Community College asked if he wanted to hang out and pull some mild pranks on the hill. Sure, hardly anyone comes on it this time of year, because Halloween looming on the horizon always gives the tales about the hill more substance in people’s minds. He mentioned this, hoping he could sway them towards a night at the Wolfe Bar and Grille or maybe just chilling in someone’s apartment or dorm, rather than freezing their asses off on a hillside, but they all insisted. So here they’ve sat, for over an hour, under a midnight moon, with not a soul passing by.
Then again, what else would he be doing? Sitting in his shitty apartment, swearing at the heater and watching some late night, bargain bin movie? The only thing he likes doing at home he can do here. Well, kind off. Odds are the other guys would complain if he started jerking off.
See, there’s this guy in his entomology class. Tall, with a weird face and a weirder demeanor, and only taking the class because he needs to fulfill his breadth requirements. He sits at the back next to Duck, didn’t say a word to him until two weeks ago, when he asked if Duck would help him study for the upcoming quiz. Duck assumed it was because he was the closest person to ask, but once they sat down in the coffee shop on H Street, it became clear that Indrid, his new study buddy, had another reason.
“Thank you for agreeing to help me. You, ah, you clearly know your stuff.”
“How the fuck can you tell?” He barely spoke in class.
“I see you filling in the slides with the correct answers well before the professor says them. You know some of this already.”
“You gotta know a decent amount about bugs if you wanna work for the forest service.” He mumbles, bracing for the Smokey the Bear joke.
“Oh! Oh of course, that makes perfect sense. I imagine invasive species, and symbiotic ones, are of interest in that field.”
They hadn't gotten to the notes for the quiz, because Duck got going about invasive insects, which lead to a discussion of moths, which lead to Indrid showing him his Deaths Head Moth tattoo, proudly explaining he’d designed it himself. They met at the cheap Chinese buffet the next night, and did actually study between trading stories about how they came to be in Kepler. Indrid laughed at once point, dyed-silver hair catching the warm light in the dim room, and Duck suddenly found that strange face strangely handsome.
It’s nice to have a crush, it’s been awhile since he had one on a guy who might one day reciprocate. He’s pretty sure Indrid’s been checking him out this week. It’s hard to tell with those red glasses he wears.
“Fucking finally.” Colton, he’s pretty sure that’s the guys name, shushes them into position, shattering Duck’s fantasizing.
“Can’t believe he fell for it.” Says the guy next to Duck
“I’m a pretty smooth talker when I wanna be” Colton whispers.
Duck suddenly has a bad feeling about this, tries to back up only to snap a stick and have Colton grab his arm.
“Hello?” A voice carries from the other side of the outcropping of grey stones.
“What the fuck man, let go.” Duck hisses, leaves rustling under his feet.
“I really hope that is a deer.” The voice mutters.
“Now.” Colton pops up, dragging Duck with him, all the boys letting out their most blood-chilling screams.
There’s a responding yelp, followed by a cry of pain as their victim falls backwards into bramble. Duck recognizes the pink and yellow sweater as soon as he sees it, and his heart tries to crawl out his toes when the frightened gaze lands on him.
“You get it?” Colton looks to his left, where one of his friends is holding up his phone.
“Yep. Fuck, man, you really think we’d invite you to chill with us up here? You’re such a fuckin weirdo.”
Indrid doesn’t even look at the others, his eyes remaining on Duck.
“Is, is that what you truly think of me?”
“Pfft, see, this is what I mean. That weird way of talking, those glasses, even heard you talking to yourself, which is even fuckin weirder than that thing you do with your hands.”
Duck likes it when Indrid flaps his hands; it means he’s excited, and an excited, happy Indrid is a sight he’s rapidly grown to adore.
Without a word, he grabs the offending phone, deleting the video before the others register what's happening.
“What the fuck?”
“You wanna see a funny prank? Fetch, dipshit” He hurls the phone as far as it will go, the others flipping him off and calling him every name under the sun as they run after it.
Indrid is gone when he turns back, but he’s in time to see a flash of color disappear around the next curve in the trail. The taller man is picking thorns from his sweater, and freezes when he hears Duck’s footsteps.
“I swear, if you try anything like that again, I will push you down the hill.”
“‘Drid” Duck reaches out, touching his arm to stop him, “I’m so fuckin sorry, I had no idea that’s what they were plannin, I thought we were hanging around to do some silly jumpscare on anyone walkin by, not that they fuckin lured you out here.”
Indrid is clearly contemplating pushing him down the hill anyway.
“C’mon, I’m tellin the truth. Remember what happened the last time I tried to lie?”
The other man blinks, then snickers, “Ah yes, the abysmal attempt to blame cockroaches for your missing homework.”
“I’m still real fuckin sorry. And, uh, I deleted the video. Hope that phone broke on the rock when I threw it.”
Indrid raises an eyebrow, “Valiant.”
“Hush, I’m tryin to help.”
“I know.” He grins a little wider, “it's a pity, I’ve never lived in a place with a haunted hill before. I was looking forward to observing it with friends.”
“Eh, you ain’t missin much. Place is about as haunted as my apartment.”
Indrid elbows him playfully “Come now, don’t ruin my fun. Is it true people have seen strange lights?”
“That's what they say.”
“And that you get lost in a fog never to be seen again.”
“It's a tiny hill in the grand scheme of things. Hard to get that lost. Uh, where are you goin, by the way?”
“Back to my car.”
“But the parking lot’s-” he turns, finds low, thick fog behind him, “thataway?”
“I thought it was this--oh, oh dear.” The fog is all around them, seeping into Duck’s skin.
“Okay, uh, well, we now it’s at the bottom of the hill, so all we gotta do is follow the slope.”
“...What slope?”
“The fuck?” The ground is flat, no matter how far he feels out with his feet.
“I propose we keep walking until we either get out of the fog or find the road.” He seems incredibly calm.
“Good, uh, good plan.” He falls in just behind him, keeps his ears open for cars or other signs of life. He’s starting to worry, gets so distracted by it that he collides with Indrid’s back.
“Duck, are the lights associated with Hag Hill red and orange, by chance?”
“Yep.”
Indrid points to where two lights hover in the distant, dark fog, like the eyes of a waiting beast.
“Well, fuck.”
“Run!” Indrid shoves him back the way they came, sprinting behind him on his long legs. It isn’t even two minutes before they hit a dead end.
“What the fuck, this cliff bit is on the other side of the fuckin hill from where we were!”
“Somehow I doubt the spirits care where we began, merely where we end up. Quickly, down here.” He tugs Duck behind a large, dying tree, the two of them huddling close together.
“Dare I ask what happens to people who see the lights?”
“Never seen again.”
A bitter chuckle, “of course.” Indrid scrubs his hands up his face, tilting his glasses up as he does. Then he hisses, “Ouch, damn it all” and pulls a thorn from his finger, “gah, it still stings.”
“Here, lemme see.” Duck gently takes his wrist, “huh, yeah, looks like you got it, so at least it ain’t gonna fester. As for the sting..” Quickly, he dips his head and kisses the skin. Looks up to find Indrid blinking his brown eyes in confusion.
“What was the purpose of that?”
“To, uh, to make you feel better?”
“Are you trying to flirt right now?”
“No, uh, fuck, uh, I mean, I, uh, fuck, Indrid, if we’re gonn get eaten by ghosts or some shit, there’s somethin I wanna do.”
With that, he grabs Indrid’s forearms and pulls him forward, kissing him. Indrid sighs against his lips, then hums happily as Duck works his way into his lap. He growls a little and Indrid shivers, breaks the kiss to nip and kiss at his neck while Duck brings his fingers up to his mouth, kissing his knuckles before drawing the pricked finger between his lips and sucking.
“Duck” Indrid purrs, nuzzling his cheek.
“Right here, darlin.”
Chills skitter up his spine and Indrid goes dead still in his arms, eyes wide as they stare over his shoulder.
“Oh dear, our apologies young gentlemen.” The red light forms into a woman as it speaks, the orange light doing the same. Both are dressed like they belong at a living history museum.
“Yes, we did not know you were lovers. Those for whom our hill was meant.”
“Your hill? But don’t that make you-”
“Hags? Yes, by the language of our fellow townspeople, we were such things due to our magic.”
“I lost my life to them.” The orange-eyed sighs.
“And I mine avenging her. They buried us here, unmarked, not knowing it had always been our favorite space. A space we wished to be for others in love, in our absence.”
“I’m sorry they were so cruel to you.” Indrid says softly.
“In the end we triumphed, our love stronger than death. We live eternally in our beloved hill, they rest uneasy and miserable in their graves.” Red eyes waves her hand, and the fog clears.
“There is your way to town, should you wish to depart now.” Orange eyes smiles, “and if you wish to tarry, around that bend you will find a place better made for privacy.”
“Thats’, uh, that’s mighty generous of you, but I’m gettin cold.”
“And I ought to check on my rats.” Indrid stands, helping Duck up before bowing a bit awkwardly, “thank you both for your, ah, help?”
The women share an enigmatic smile, and then they’re gone.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
“Agreed.”
As they wind their way down to the parking lot, Indrid looks at Duck shyly, “Was your desire to kiss me purely near-death experience related?”
“Nope. Been thinkin about it all week. You, uh, wanna go on a date this weekend? One with less fog and mortal terror?”
“I’d be delighted.” They reach Indrid’s beat-up compact, “would you like a ride home?”
“Sure, thanks ‘Drid.”
Indrid opens his door, then pauses, fingers drumming on the car, “or you could, ah, could spend the night at my place?”
Maybe it’s a leftover adrenaline rush, or maybe it’s just Indrid, but Duck’s suddenly feeling pretty damn brave.
“Hell yeah, darlin. Let’s go.”
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The Start of Our Love Story
Summary: Before there was a me and you, there was me and there was you
Word Count: just a hair over 7k (buckle up y’all)
Warning: fluff and feels, a little bit of angsty longing, a little bit of messy, a bunch of sweet
Author Notes: So this is another one of those that festered from a tiny germ of an idea after something @fallinallincurls said and it kind of became, well this. It’s how it all started for these two. A look at their backstory. I kind of really love this. For me, I always want to make things I write feel real, that it’s not too much of the storybook, easy cliché. I want it to feel like this could actually be a thing that happens. This one feels more like that than anything I think I’ve written. I’m quite proud of it.
As always, this falls in my yet to be named verse. The rest of my works can be found here at my newly cleaned up and shareable masterlist. This honestly, if you’re just starting to read my pieces now, would be the first to read, then follow the rest as I’ve got them down on the master. However, it can be read as a solitary one shot. Much love to @whenidance for listening to me whine constantly at stupid o’clock that I’m writing more fic yet again and to @fallinallincurls for being the kickstart to this and for being the best damn cheerleader.
Toronto was never in your plans. Work wise, you were grinding away, working like crazy to make a name for yourself. That’s what mattered. Nothing else outside of work, your tiny apartment on the Upper West Side, brunches at Sarabeth and Jacobs Pickles and abusing Class Pass studios with your best friend Didi made it on your radar. But when the SVP of Charitable Corporate Giving came to you to chat about the expansion of their presence through the other international offices outside the US, more so growing and figuring out new ways to introduce corporations with their donations and their CSR programs with new charitable efforts; specifically an opportunity that would have you sitting possibly between New York and Toronto for a few months, eventually leading to full time position in Toronto, you sat up to listen. She immediately sets up time for you to head to Toronto along with a dossier of meetings with key folks there.
Didi came with you the first time you went up to Toronto for the exploratory conversations. The both of you came to love your time traipsing through Canada, Toronto and Montreal specifically. Plus, you both have friends scattered between the two. “This also means we can go harass the shit out of Hirashan, who we have not seen nearly enough of,” she trills off gleefully. “Plus, you know he throws killer parties, if we both visit you know he’ll do something fun.”
She was right. As soon as Hirashan found out you were coming into town, aside from the key smash that you may be in town for more than a brief trip if all works out well, a calendar invite for dinner shoots through immediately, then with a quick follow of ‘my friend Tristan is already having a few friends over for drinks that Friday night, we’re crashing’ which had you and Didi rethinking your packing knowing how Hirashan rolls.
After a day full of productive, thought provoking meetings that have you questioning everything back in New York, dinner with Hirashan, his boyfriend Miguel and Didi was exactly what you need to put the heavy thoughts in your head back a bit, at least for now.
“Tristian’s place is like Architecture Digest worthy,” Miguel raves, arm in arm with you as you head into the building. “The views of downtown and the CN are ridic. I’d say splurge if they want to drag you here and give you budget, but I’d much rather have you closer to us.”
“There is no way I’d be able to afford this building, let alone this neighborhood,” you quip, heels clicking on the tiles as you head up past the front desk to the elevators. Tristian’s ‘few friends over’ was tamer than you had expected, a solid number of people are scattering through the condo, but enough room to still feel like you could breathe.
Hirashan introduces you around like a proud parent, it’s sweet and not nearly as embarrassing as you thought he would be. There’s no way that you’ll remember everyone, your brain already feeling at max capacity after the day you had. However, luckily for you after the first full round of the room, you fall into an easy conversation with Tristian. He’s down to earth, a transplant from Georgia, and someone you could easily see becoming friends with if this move becomes an actual thing
“I have to introduce to my friend S,” Tristian says his thick southern twang bleeding through, craning his head around looking for him. “Normally, you can’t miss him he’s so dang tall. Whenever he gets here though, I must make the intro. I think y’all would get along well. He’s my neighbor, well not directly, but he lives in the building too.”
Didi and Miguel pull at you, passing around shots, and passing you around to meet and talk with other people. Your head is spinning, less from the whiskey you’ve been plied with through the night, more with the sheer fact that this night is making you see that Toronto may have to become a thing; and you’re smiling.
“Wait, here she is,” you hear Tristian first, before you feel him tug at your elbow before you go stumbling forward before tipping sideways. Another pair of hands come to steady you at your waist.
“Easy Tris, don’t break the girl before I can meet her,” the voice belonging to the hands at your sides retorts. He helps right you on your feet and you’re met with a pair of the prettiest eyes you’ve seen in awhile.
“As promised my dear,” Tristian grins, throwing his arms around the both of you. “This is Shawn.”
He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t place it or him. He’s quite stunning though, gorgeous really. And unlike some of the others around the apartment, he’s dressed for the occasion. A well put together man is a weakness for you. Let alone one with eyes like this, a swath of riotous dark curls and a bright smile.
You fall into talking easily, not even noticing when Tristian leaves. This Shawn of his is well spoken, funny and it feels like you’ve known him for much longer the way the two of you chat. You wander into the kitchen at some point to grab another round of drinks, a glass of white for you, a beer for him, continuing the conversation of why you were up in Toronto this week in the first place.
“Sorry man, I need to borrow this one for a few if you don’t mind?” Tristian calls from over the breakfast bar. “Couple more folks I need to introduce her to before they head out.”
“It was really lovely talking to you Shawn,” you say, smiling. “I’ll find you before I leave.”
A few minutes turns into an hour, Tristian and Hirashan passing you around through a new group of people that just arrived. Next thing you know, it’s almost 1:30 am and the boys are starting to fade. You’ve lost track of Tristian, as well as his friend Shawn. You were hoping to see them both before leaving.
“Can I steal you for a minute before you go?” Shawn inquires, as you’re grabbing your coat from Didi’s outstretched hand. Miguel just smiles, elbowing Hirashan and pushing Didi towards to the door.
“We’ll go down and wait for the Uber,” Miguel says, nudging you forward.
You slide into your coat as he walks you around the perimeter of the living room, out the French doors to the balcony.
“I didn’t want to ask in front of everyone, especially your friends,” he gets bashful, a light pink flushes his cheeks. “But I really liked talking with you tonight, getting to know you. Can we stay in touch? Even if Toronto isn’t in the cards for you, I’d still like for us to talk more. Become friends even.”
You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah, I’d like that. Here’s my card. Everything is on there. Cell, email.”
“I’ll text you in the morning, so you have mine,” he replies, squeezing your hand after sliding the card from it. “Let me walk you to the elevator.”
He loops your arm through his, guiding you back through the groups of people in the apartment, down the hallway and to wait for the elevator to pop back up.
“You don’t have to wait with me,” you say softly, hands in your pockets so you don’t do something like reach out to grab a hold of his.
“Yeah I do,” he smiles, and it seems like he shifts closer to you. You get a whiff of his cologne, and you hope in lingers in your nose for the rest of the evening.
The elevator doors slide open. “Thanks for the lovely night, Shawn.”
“We’ll talk soon,” he responses with a smile and a cute little wave before the doors close in front of you.
“Good night?” Didi asks flopping down onto the bed in your hotel room. “I saw that look on your face a few times, this is gonna be a thing now isn’t it? I should warm up the Star Alliance frequent flyer number soon, eh? Figure out the best flights from LaGuardia up here.”
“It’s feeling good, I want to really think on it though once all the big brass talk everything over,” you start, changing quickly, the day finally catching up to you. “And more so what they’re thinking with transition plans and comp package.”
“You do realize though you were all chatty flirting tonight with Shawn Mendes, right?” Didi fights through a yawn once they’re in bed. “Major thing to throw in the plus column for this. He looked all smitten kitten too, especially when he came over before we left. Get it girl.”
You’re suddenly not as sleepy as before. “What the fuck, no way Dee.”
“Mmhmm, why do you think the three of us let you guys be for as long as we did. Tristian mentioned him coming by. Thought right off the bat you two would get along after you and Tristian got to chatting. Tris was right and I’m glad he made that happen,” Didi mutters, face smushing against the pillow. “Plus, he’s so your type. One of us needs to tap that, and I think Tomas would be beyond pissed if I did, so it’s your mission now. And you must share all the details once you get dicked down by that hot piece of man candy.”
You throw the smaller decorative pillow on the bed over at her face. “I didn’t, I mean. We were just talking Dee. He looked familiar, but. Oh god, Didi,” you grab the other pillow and place it over your face to scream.
You try to put it out of your mind, especially with everything else going on around the Toronto whirlwind. Even more so when a few days go by and you don’t hear from him. He flat out asked for your number, you slid him your card which had your cell and your email address. He said he was going to text you, so you had his number, and he wanted to stay in touch. You thought he was being sincere. You try not to let it get you down. Thinking of it now after everything, he’s a massive pop star, what would he want to do with someone like you? He was probably just being polite. You’re about to pop into the meeting with the SVP of Charitable Corporate Giving, when a text pops up from a number you don’t have in your phone.
Hi it’s Tris! Found your card in my guest room, must have slipped out your bag at some point when you were here last week. Let me know when you make your decision. Welcome to crash here until you find a place if the decision is a YES!
The only card you gave out that night was to Shawn. Did he lose it? Did he leave it there? Too many questions, you had an important meeting to get to.
Your apartment is almost completely packed up, the movers coming in a few days to take everything. It was a no brainer to say yes, though it meant less time of a transition and more of an immediacy in Toronto. You decided to spend your last full Sunday in the city at some of your favorite places. Breakfast at BEC, a facial from Facehaus, a wander through Strand Book Shop and an afternoon at Té Company. You manage to snag your favorite table: a half-padded booth in the back corner next to the window. A pot of tea and a book that has nothing to do with work and you’re ready to take a deep breath or three.
“That young man asked me to bring you over a fresh pot of whatever you were having,” the server gestures, swapping the steaming pot in her hands with the cooling one you have on the table. “Shall I bring over another cup?”
You look up from your book, and from her, to see him. Your breath catches for a moment. He’s got a shy smile, looking straight at you. Beat up black boots, dark jeans, cozy grey sweater, a vintage black leather bomber. Curls a windswept mess and eyes bright. He looks like he belongs here, in your perfect Sunday afternoon in New York City. You don’t know how you feel about the fact you’re thinking that way, especially after everything. Damn your subconscious. You’re too polite to ignore him or flip him off, so you nod and wave him over.
“Of all the gin joints, Shawn…” you sigh out softly.
“This is so crazy, that you’re here. Hi. So, I owe you an apology,” he explains carefully, sitting down across from you despite wanting to slide onto the bench next to you. “Because the nervous asshole I am, I totally put your number in my phone wrong. I tried texting you a few times, and nothing. I figured when they weren’t going through as iMessage I got it wrong and then I realized I lost your card, so I had absolutely no way to check or get in touch. I also didn’t want to look desperate or completely pathetic tracking down your friends through Tristian to hound them for your number when I had already asked for it myself, especially the way I did, or stalk you on social that would have been worse.”
He’s adorable when he’s flustered. “Take a breath, Shawn,” you smile softly. “Tris has it. He texted me the following week that he found it in his guest room.”
“I went in there after I walked you out,” he runs his hand through his hair, messing his curls about even more than they are already. “Needed a minute cause the pretty girl I talked with all night actually wanted to keep in touch too. I sat on the bed and put your number, or what I thought was your number, in my phone. I thought I slid it back into my pocket, it must have jostled out.”
“I thought, well, honestly I didn’t know what to think,” you begin. “I didn’t realize you were, well you until after I was back at the hotel with Didi. I thought you looked familiar, but I just couldn’t place it. Then when you didn’t reach out, I was like what would this guy, this Rockstar, want to do with me?”
He shakes his head at first. Then, he slides his phone out of his coat pocket, flipping through a few things before sliding it across the table to you. “Go ‘head,” he nudges it closer to you.
There were four or five green text bubbles in the open message window, an 8 in the place where the 0 should be in your number.
I know I said I would wait until tomorrow, but I just wanted to say how nice it was to talk with you tonight. It’s Shawn btw :)
I know you’re probably crazed with just getting back but wanted to see how decisions were shaking out? I’m bias but I’d be happy to talk up Toronto some more.
Let me know when you’re back in town? Would be great to see you.
I may be in New York soon, would love to see you in your element. Can we grab a drink if you’re around?
Chat soon?
“He was kind of taken with you right away. Because that night? He got to just be just this guy Shawn talking to the prettiest girl in the room, who also happened to be so easy to talk to and laugh with,” he says honestly.
“It’s happening by the way,” you respond, pouring him a cup of tea despite your shaky hands. “Toronto. Next week. It’s my last full Sunday in New York, I’ve been hitting some of my favorite spots today as a last hurrah, including here. Movers come Tuesday; I fly out Thursday.”
“I found this place on my first solo trip to New York, and have been coming here ever since,” he sips at the mug that looks awfully small in his hands. “How many times do you think we crossed paths here and didn’t even know it?”
“We did on the time it really matters though didn’t we?” you smile over your mug.
You’re there for hours without even realizing it. Talking about whatever comes to mind. Everything from Toronto to New York to music to hockey, life and everything in between. After the second pot of tea, he moves to sit next to you on the banquette. By the third, he’s turning to face you straight on, head resting on his left hand with his knee pressing warmly into your thigh. Not once did anyone come to interrupt or bother the two of you, no wonder he’s gravitated to this place. By your fourth, you’re mirroring him, turning towards him. It’s comfortable, he’s comfortable. It’s easy, too easy actually. There are no awkward silences, no weird blips in conversation. It scares you. You’re already on the precipice of something majorly life-altering. You’re not sure you can take up another major change. And you believe him and his rambling explanation before. You do. But there’s a part of you that’s scared. Maybe you were just meant to have these pockets of time together, these brief beautiful moments. Nothing more. Your head is a swimming mess of emotions.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you two, but we’re getting ready to close,” the older gentleman you’ve come to know as one of the managers explains.
“Holy shit, it’s almost 8,” you stretch, popping your shoulders. “I didn’t realize it was that late.”
“What time did you get here?” he asks.
“Only 20 minutes before you did,” you say, timidly, resting your hand over his that’s resting on his knee. “But this was a really good way to spend my last Sunday in New York. Honestly.”
He flushes brightly, “I’m really glad I came in here today.”
“Now, may I please see your phone?” he questions, a sly little grin creeping up one corner of his mouth.
You nod, reaching for it out of your bag and unlocking it.
Shawn takes the most ridiculous selfie, you can’t help but fight giggling, then flipping back to poke at the screen before handing it back to you.
“You’ve got mine and I sent a text to make sure I’ve got your right number this time,” he expresses, his finger tracing over the knuckles on your hand. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate and it’s all going to be crazy for a good while for you, but I’d like to keep whatever this may be going.”
You duck your head, threading your hair behind your ear, nerves suddenly rearing their ugly head. Your stomach flips at his touch.
“I don’t want to lie to you Shawn, or lead you on,” you exhale, voice shaky. “This is all a lot. The new job, the move, this, you. I’m pretty fucking terrified as it is. But then add this in? Especially cause you’re you and… This isn’t a no, but it’s not a yes. It’s a not right now and I know that’s a lousy answer and the last thing I expect is for you to wait, because why would you. I’d like to text, when I can, at least for now.”
You know that answer wasn’t what he was expecting. Honestly, it wasn’t what you thought you would say to him either. You want but you also know you to listen to what your gut is telling you, despite your head and your heart fighting to have a say in this too. You’re afraid to look up, to meet his eyes, as you fear it could be the last time you see them up close and in person like this.
“Hey,” he replies softly, nudging your chin up with his pointer finger knuckle. “You’re turning your entire life and everything you’ve known upside down. I get it. It also means a hell of lot to me that you’re being honest. It also means you’re not placating me, which I’m appreciative of. It’s actually really refreshing and kind of a turn on. I’ll be here and I’d really like it if you still texted, call if you want even. I promise you I’ll answer, anytime ok?”
You nod, trying to fight back the fog shifting across your eyes, a small sniff breaking through though. “I’m going to just…” you say gesturing to the ladies room.
“I won’t leave,” he states.
You quickly splash water on your face, blow your nose, grateful you had your facial before, so you don’t have a mess of makeup to clean up. Taking a few more deep breaths, you head back out. He’s got your bag in hand, your coat over his arm. He’s making this whole not now thing hard to stick to, but you know truly know that if it’s meant to fall into place, despite everything, it will.
“What about the…” you start, looking around the table for the billfold the owner left.
“Taken care of,” he cuts in before you could finish, holding out your coat to help you into it. You itch to hold his hand as you head out and down the steps, but you don’t want to go back on everything you just said. Instead, you set to order an Uber. You peek over, and it seems that he’s doing the same, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as well.
The nip in the early spring air is out, now that the sun has set, and you snuggle further into your coat. He shifts closer, rubbing his hands lightly over your arms. You’re coming to realize how much touch is a part of his language.
“I won’t let you say goodbye, because it’s not that. I won’t let it be that,” he murmurs. “It’s a see you later, ok? And, I’d like, if you’re comfortable with it, to give you a good luck I’m here for you hug before you go.”
You nod, thankful it’s dark so he can’t see you blushing. He takes you in his arms easily and holds you close. He’s warm and solid, he smells like fresh laundry, boy and springtime wrapped together and it feels like you fit just so. He leans his head down to rest on top of yours, squeezing his arms around you tighter. “I mean it,” he whispers. “I’m here ok? However you need me to be, whenever you need.”
He keeps you in his hold until a car pulls up, and of course it’s yours that comes first; the driver calling your name through the open window.
You pull away slowly, reaching for his hands and squeezing them in yours. “We’ll talk, I can promise you that, Shawn. Just bear with me?”
He nods, squeezing your hands in return, “Travel save and go be awesome.”
Your resolve lasts a whole four days, texting him simply a photo through the plane window of the approach into Toronto.
She’s looking all pretty for your arrival – welcome to your new home! he texts back with a Canadian flag emoji and a red heart.
It’s not easy, you knew it wouldn’t be. Your new apartment is lovely but it’s still not feeling comfortable and like your home yet. You’re thankful that you have friends that have taken time to wait for the cable guy, accept furniture deliveries and your moving truck because you don’t have the time. Not with work. Work is hard, harder than it was in New York. They throw you right into the fire immediately. It’s new office politics, it’s a new role, new everything. Even the fact you don’t have your favorite Starbucks baristas nearby anymore to supply you with your afternoon pick me up the way you like it when things are crazy irks you. You look back through your texts, hovering over the chain you’ve got with Shawn. You haven’t texted him since that flight photo. You want to, but it would just add more to an already full plate.
Bringing you dinner and a surprise! LMK what you’re jonesing for comes through from Tristian late Friday afternoon after your second full week in the new office.
A gigantic bottle of white? you text back with the side eye tongue out emoji. He’ll think you’re kidding. You’re not.
I’m bringing a few bottles and Japanese. I’ll use the spare I need to drop back off. See you in a bit!
The surprise, you come to find, once you’re both on the couch with chopsticks in hand, is even a mystery to Tristian.
“I couldn’t say no,” he fights out around a mouthful of shrimp teriyaki, pointing at the package on your coffee table with his chopsticks. It’s carefully wrapped in butcher paper with a pretty silver ribbon. It’s a box, thin and flat, nothing too large with a white notecard underneath the ribbon. “I’m not going to butt in on what’s going on with y’all, but we had drinks after he got back from New York. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that besotted, but all he’d tell me was that he’s playing off your lead. He’s not pushed or anything. So, when he asked me to help get this to you, I had to. At least I didn’t give him your address, girly.”
“It’s complicated,” is all you can really give to Tristian to explain or encompass it. Because that’s exactly what it is. You slide everything off your lap to exchange it for the box. Carefully, you unwind the ribbon, it’s too pretty and something you’ll want to keep to use in another way. It’s two notecards under it, and they fall out into your lap. They’re handwritten in deep blue scrawl, to match the border of the card. You pull the shorter of the two notes out first.
I’m really hoping this isn’t too much or crossing any lines. I saw this and thought of you immediately. It’s just a little something as you’re conquering the world. – Shawn
The little something is a gorgeous journal, soft deep midnight blue leather covered in silver embossed vintage maps with a silver pen slipped in the loop.
“Damn,” you mumble, fingers tracing carefully over the leather for a moment before snagging the other notecard.
I know you’re probably still figuring everything out and exploring. I’m giving you a list of some of my favorite places in the city, so don’t go spilling my secrets ok? :) If you go to the link at the bottom, it’s a Google Maps planner so you can save it to your phone.
“This boy,” you sigh, leaning your head back on the couch. It’s sweet and thoughtful and just on the right side of tugging at your gut. Damn him.
“Tell me why y’all aren’t knockin’ boots yet?” Tristian quips, leaning over you to grab a Spider roll.
“Because I still don’t know my head from my ass up here yet and he’s Shawn fucking Mendes, Tris,” you take a large sip of your wine. “And I’m just some girl.”
“By the looks of it, you’re not just some girl. Just saying,” he says, nudging your shoulder.
Well after a few bottles of wine are polished off and Tristian on his way back home, you’re finally in bed. You’re still not used to the sounds of this city and you’re fidgeting, tossing your phone back and forth between your hands. It’s late, too late to call. So, you do something completely out of character, you record a voice memo to send to Shawn.
“I wanted to call, but it’s too late and I’ve had a little bit of wine that would make my resolve even weaker if we actually talked on the phone and I heard your voice. But your delivery boy came by this evening,” you speak quietly and carefully. “Thank you, Shawn. It’s perfect and so beautiful. I’m going to start using it on Monday. Then that list, with that Google link? That’s the absolute sweetest. I know I haven’t reached out and I’m sorry, really, I am. This is a lot harder than I thought. I miss home, this doesn’t feel like home yet. I know it will, but it’s not right now. Work is kicking my ass, and I’m grateful they trust me and for the challenge, but it’s so different than New York. It’ll all come together, but right now it’s just a fucking lot. I think though that this weekend, I’m going to try some of your list and I’ll try to share my adventures along the way. I promise you though Shawn, I am thinking of you and I want to get through this and feel like I’m good to talk more to you, with you. Thank you again, sweet dreams.”
You can’t bear to listen back, so you just save it and quickly shoot it off in a text to him with an old school t9 heart. You wait a solid 20 minutes before setting your phone on do not disturb, plugging it into charge and flipping over to try to get some sleep.
The next morning, your phone is scattered with different alerts: a missed FaceTime call and a handful of text messages, some with attachments, from Shawn. You press play on the memo first.
“So, please forgive me for trying to FaceTime, especially at like 1am, but you sounded so defeated in your message and it just killed me. Then I realized what time it really was and hoped you were already asleep, or your phone was off, and I didn’t wake you. I was in the studio head down working on something when you sent that, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you right away especially after I told you to reach out at any time,” he rambles before taking a breath. “First off, you’re welcome. I spotted it and knew it belonged with you. Please do let me know what you think of these places, I’d offer to come with you especially since you’re having such a hard time, but I’m going to respect your wishes. Just know, if you do need company, I’m good for it. I’m sending you a couple things to read and to listen to, too. Things that have helped when I’m on the road and just feeling overwhelmed or scrambled. I hope they help some. I’m here, remember that ok?”
You send him a video of your mug of tea next to the journal on your coffee table, steam swirling from the mug with his latest album playing in the background.
Step one – making this journal about me and for me, not about work, with my favorite tea at the ready and I may or may not be listening to something special today to get me started.
You do something you haven’t in a long time, you write. You journal, and you let yourself feel and get everything out. Including about this darling boy who keeps making his way into the forefront of your mind.
I feel honored – need to know what your fav is, you know for reasons ;) I’m hoping it gives you a bit of a breather that you’re needing.
You spend the day concentrating on you, hitting two spots off his list: the tea shop and the record store, purchasing way more than you need at both. Once you make it back home, you feel lighter, more at ease. You spend time setting up the new record player, immediately sliding the first item you searched for onto the turntable and snapping a quick picture.
You sound better on vinyl btw – please don’t make me pick a favorite, I kind of love this whole entire album.
From there, you keep randomly texting, haphazard things, no rhyme or reason. Just talking and photos and whatever comes to mind, and it goes both ways for the both of you and you keep that up for a few weeks. It’s easy, it’s fun, neither of you putting pressure on the other for what’s next or what’s to come.
A touch over a month after you sent him the vinyl photo, he texts you a Dropbox link one afternoon.
A little something since you liked the album so much. Hope you enjoy.
That little something? It’s the whole album, acoustic, just him and his guitar stripped down. It’s soft and intimate and absolutely amazing.
Shawn, are you kidding? This is stunning. How come I haven’t heard any of these before?
It’s only late that night when you’re about to fall asleep that you think you hear your phone chime. You don’t pick up, waiting to look at the message the next morning. There as plain as day is his very simple response.
Because I worked on it for you.
You want to call to really talk to him, hear his voice, you want to see him, something, anything. But you can’t. You’ve got an important meeting at 9 am sharp that you cannot be late for, a jam-packed schedule the whole day and an event that night with one of the new clients, a charity benefit showcase at Horseshoe Tavern they asked you to go with them to. You don’t want this to be a brief tete-a-tete either with him. You quickly send off a string of every heart colored emoji there is because right now that’s what it feels like, your heart is exploding in its feelings.
The club is filled to the brim that night, your clients are overjoyed and your new boss keeps texting how she’s pleased the clients are happy. However, you’re frowning at your phone. Nothing from him, not a peep all day. You normally wouldn’t be concerned, but after yesterday, you’ve got a little bit of worry niggling at your stomach. You can try him after you’re out the doors of the club later, but for now, you need to put on a smile and make sure the rest of the night goes smoothly. The talent wrangler for the evening is dragging you backstage with your clients. A surprise guest is coming to perform and the CEO wants them to all meet before this person heads up to the stage for the last songs of the night, a thank you to your clients for their support of the charity. Backstage is a shit show to say the least, you’re jostled around trying to make your way back to the green room before being slammed by one of the sound guys and his massive rig bag.
“Watch it,” you call out, rubbing at your hip as you try to catch up to the rest of the group ahead of you.
“Damn, are you ok? It was a hell of a hip check if I ever saw one,” you hear from behind you.
You know that voice. “Shawn?” you ask, turning around to face the voice.
His eyes grow wide, his smile even wider.
“Oh, I see you’ve met our special guest,” the wrangler says, nudging Shawn forward. “Shawn, you can head back with this group if you don’t mind? I need to find a few other folks for this meet and greet.”
He agrees easily, shifting closer to you as you head back to the green room. “Fancy seeing you here. An unexpected surprise for sure. The best one really.”
You nod, biting your lip, the corners of your lips quirking up. “It is. Let’s get the business stuff out of the way first. Then maybe, after everything, and the show’s done tonight, we can talk?”
“I’d like that,” he snags your hands, squeezing them in his before he lets you go to you knock on the door.
The green room is small given the venue, but it’s a loud cacophony of sounds and people, and you’re both pulled in opposite directions immediately. You can’t help but catch sight of him here and there, he’s one of the tallest in the room so it’s not difficult. He looks good. His hair’s a little longer, curlier. You can’t help but smile, for a few reasons now, but at this moment you hear his laugh from across the room and it’s bright, infectious. It simmers in within you, but you can deal with that after the event’s over. The rest of the evening flies smoothly. You manage to sneak a drink from the bar in time to catch Shawn taking to the stage. You stay out of sight, tucked in the corner, wanting to observe him in his element. Him performing is nothing like you’ve seen before, especially in such a small venue. This could easily become something very addictive. Just as the show wraps, you shoot him a quick text.
Need to get my clients out the door then I’m free, maybe take me 10 more min. Somewhere around here good for a drink of some kind? Quiet?
His answer is quick, quicker than you expect, in two rapid texts.
Yes, Suite 114: https://www.suite114.ca/
It’s a 20 min walk from here, about 2km not bad - but I saw your heels so there’s none of that tonight. Uber over? I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m done with packing up and I have to say goodbye to the club owners. Promise I won’t be long.
Once you’re wrapped, an Uber comes quickly, surprising for a Friday night. It’s a quick hop over and the bar is cozy, dimly lit and decadent. A modern-day speakeasy vibe. He’s right though, it’s quiet, not overly full and there’s a couch you can claim towards the back of the room. You order something simple, a champagne cocktail with grapefruit and St. Germain, to sip on as you wait for him. Something light and celebratory. It was a good day all around.
“Am I allowed to say you look beautiful tonight?” you look up to hear him say, your cocktail and a rocks glass in hand with a few fingers of something dark in it.
“Only if I can wax poetic about seeing you perform live tonight,” you reply, fingertips brushing his hand as you slip the glass from his grasp. You may have done it purposely.
He blushes, settling down close to you with his arm stretching across the back of the couch. “I just might have switched songs at the last minute, after seeing you. Wasn’t supposed to do Lost tonight, but it just felt right.”
“Special in a room like that, like that small and intimate yeah? It felt that way at least, from watching it. You’re something else up there, Shawn,” you muse, twirling the flute carefully between your fingers, eyes catching his.
“Had a pretty girl I needed to impress tonight, so,” he drawls, looking down at the drink in his hands. “It was the best thing seeing you there tonight.”
“I wanted to call you this morning,” you begin, sliding your free hand to his forearm on the back of the couch. “But I didn’t want to rush the conversation. I had meetings, this tonight. I just. I had to send something, so I exploded all those hearts in that text. I needed to make sure I had the time I wanted, that, after your text with what you said, and that Dropbox. Shit, Shawn you’re making me all jumbled and to be perfectly honest? After seeing that text when I woke up? All I wanted to do was to hear your voice, talk, laugh, spend time with you, hug you tightly. I didn’t expect any of that. Whatsoever. It’s thrown me for a loop. A good loop, but still a loop.”
He places his glass on the table next to you, slides yours out of your hand to take a hold of it. “The last thing I want to do is scare you or overwhelm you. But. Is it okay if I say I feel the same? After Tris’ thing, then even more so after New York, I knew I needed to have you around, whatever way you’d let me. Your call and your speed. I was drawn to you in a way that I hadn’t been to anyone before, and I didn’t want to give that up. I was so glad to hear from you, after Tris got you that package. Your voice I mean. And then, the last couple weeks, not going to lie here. I’d look forward to your texts, those random little photos you’d share of those looks of how your life was settling in here. When you went to Sonic and it was my album you got and started listening to, it just hit me and I went into my studio at the condo to start laying those tracks down for you. That was, it meant a lot to me, so I wanted to just do something for you just as special.”
You lean your head on your hand, the one that’s still laying on him, now closer to his wrist and take a deep breath. “Honesty continuing? I’m scared. This whole being here is still such a rollercoaster, and then add in what this could be, especially… You’re you, Shawn. Shit, I don’t want to sound like that but it’s there. There’s a lot that goes with it, you get that right? I don’t think…”
“Take a breath,” he murmurs, slipping a piece of hair that’s fallen across your cheek behind your ear and trailing his finger down your cheek ever so lightly before tanging his fingers with yours. “I understand. I do. I’d like to, if you’re game, see where this goes. No pressure, nothing but the two of us. Only the two of us. Can I take you out on a proper date? I’d love to, please?”
This boy, this sweet, kindhearted adorable boy, this ridiculously famous pop star, really wants to take his time and spend it with you. This time, you listen to what both your head and your heart are telling you. Take the jump.
“I’d really like that, Shawn.”
TAG LIST: @whenidance, @parkerdavis, @sinplisticshawn, @hollandraul, @fallinallincurls, @itrocksmysocks, @rainbowshawn, @lasingphomustra, @illumecherry
#shawn mendes#shawn mendes imagine#shawn mendes fanfic#shawn mendes fanfiction#shawn mendes fic#shawn mendes oneshot#shawn mendes story#shawn mendes fluff
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Goodbyes: Chapter Three
Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson
Warnings: DARKER THEMES AHEAD. Angst, Bucky is a dick, mutual pining, self sabotage, male-on-female violence, mentions of non-con/rape if you squint, (purely for backstory) PTSD
A/N: WOW! I am so incredibly happy! Thank you guys for enjoying the first few chapters so much! This chapter is the turning point in the story.AKA SHIT GOES DOWN. Please keep interacting and commenting. It means the world!
Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)
Bucky was already in the training center when you arrived. You yawn, hoping it would expel the exhaustion from your body.
Last night, you and Steve had decided to catch up over pizza and a movie. You talked well into the evening; almost midnight. After kicking him out at 11:45, you kicked yourself for being up that late in the process.
The floors of the room were covered in gray mats, and the walls in mirrors. Practice weapons were strewn about the room for use. There were monitors along one wall and a table against another.
“Morning.” You speak flatly. Refusing the hope that maybe he’d greet you first.
He moved a practice dummy with ease, “Morning.” He responded, continuing his task.
Wow. You think. That’s a first.
Bucky had his back to you as he began to wrap his hands in tape. Had he even looked at you since you walked in? You didn’t think so.
You observed him whilst his back is to you, in awe of his physique. Muscles looking like they’d been carved from marble. Despite enjoying the view, you noticed how incredibly tense his body was; like a rubber band ready to snap. Something was different about him today, and you couldn’t put your finger on it. He was just...off.
“So, what are we starting with?” A question in an attempt to cut the tension.
He didn’t speak for a moment, but you heard a sigh escape his lips. “Right just uh,” he stumbled over what to say, “Show me what you know.” Bucky gestured to the dummy he’d brought over earlier.
Okay, who the hell was this and where is Sergeant Barnes?
Quickly, you grab the tape from Bucky and tape your wrists and knuckles, then stand in front of the dummy to get in position.
Bucky nods at you, signaling you to begin your strikes. Lefts, rights and uppers thrown with ease. Knees and takedowns came just as easily. You barely broke a sweat, but then again it was just a dummy.
You’re stood waiting for approval from Sergeant Barnes, but he doesn’t even look at you.
“Um hello? Did you miss all that?” You ask, already irritated.
He shakes his head subtly to bring himself from his thoughts. “What? Yeah, yeah that was fine.”
You scoff, “Alright you’re obviously not interested in training today so...”
“So what? I said it was fine.” He retorted
You shake your head, “So I’m gonna go. Your mind is clearly somewhere else.”
You turn from him, and begin to remove the tape from your hands. “Did I say you were dismissed, Cadet?” He asks angrily.
You look up at him momentarily, his eyes are dark and there’s very little of that gorgeous cerulean blue showing. “No, but—“
Bucky grabs your wrist firmly, not enough to hurt you, but enough to let you know he’s serious.
“You don’t leave until I say you can leave.” He practically growls.
You snatch your wrist back from him. “Don’t touch me again, Barnes.”
He doesn’t respond to your comment. He just stares at you for a beat, before crossing to the other side of the room.
“Hand-to-hand, now. Show me a takedown.” He orders, pointing at the spot on the mat in front of him.
You shake your head. “No. I’m done with you for today.”
Bucky stares at you, a bit in shock of your defiance. As your hand grips the door handle, you hear a loud scoff.
“Maybe if I get Steve down here you’ll be happy to train.” The way he said his friends name was almost taunting you.
Your feet carried you back to Sergeant Barnes faster than your brain could stop you. “Excuse me? What the hell does Steve have to do with this?”
Bucky let out a sharp laugh. “C’mon Ella.”
You cross your arms in front of you, “Am I suppose to know wh—“
“Tell you what,” He interrupts. “Next time you and Steve decide to spend the night together, you might wanna make it on a weekend so you can actually start making some progress.”
You look at him with confusion before you realize what he is insinuating.
“Are you serious right now?” The anger coursing through your veins was making you tremble.
Bucky held his hands up on defense. “Hey not judging, but if you’re gonna bring a guy into your bedroom, you should make sure your door is shut next time so the whole fucking compound doesn’t hear the two of you.”
A scoff of disgust left your lips, “How dare you!”
Bucky took a step closer to you. “How dare I what?”
You push him back with all the force you could muster, sending him stumbling a few steps.
“That’s your new plan? Spy on me? You listen to me Bucky and you listen real fucking good,” you take several paces towards him and look up into his eyes.
“My life is mine. My choices are mine. You have no right to follow me around and monitor who you assume I’m sleeping with. Got it?” Bucky’s jaw was clenched and his fists were tight. “Last I checked, Steve was your best friend—why didn’t you ask him what was going on between us, hm?”
Bucky was visibly shaken by your words, but you didn’t care.
“Ya know what? I would actually love to do some hand to hand. Right now.” Swiftly, you hit Sergeant Barnes’ left knee with yours, causing him to drop down to one knee. You plant your foot hard against his chest, knocking him backward.
“Have I got your attention, Sarge?” You quipped.
Bucky could’ve stopped you easily, but he deserved it. He tried to control his tongue and his temper, but when he saw you he couldn’t get the image of you and Steve...together, out of his head. It made his stomach churn.
He stood quickly after your takedown and looked at you. “Again.” He ordered.
He watched you charge him. He dodged both of your punches, and grabbed your arm, twisting it behind your back.
You did a back flip to put yourself in a position of leverage, and Bucky allowed it, curious to see what you’d do next.
You were good, naturally good. Practically anticipating the moves he’d try next. The only thing concerning Bucky were the takedowns you used were all too familiar to him.
Using his own arm against him, you jumped behind him swinging his right arm over his neck, yanking him down to the ground. With a twist of your body, you grappled with both of his wrists, pinning them to the mat, and Bucky watched with panicked eyes as your knee aimed for his groin, but you moved it an inch down before you made impact.
Bucky was breathing heavy, as were you. You brought your face inches from his, feeling your warm breath mingle in the space between. “I’m not fucking your friend, Barnes.” You seethe.
Your eyes flickered to his lips that were teasingly close to yours. They looked soft and gentle in contrast with the prickly stubble growing across his face. You imagined how easy it would be to kiss him like this. How it would warm you from top to tail, but his comments from earlier returned to your mind, discarding those.
You pushed off of his chest, jumping to your feet, begrudgingly offering him a hand to stand. He took it, watching you cautiously.
“Where did you learn that?” He asked flatly.
You look at him inquisitively, “Learn what?”
“That,” he said. “Those moves. Pretty advanced for a rookie. Where did you learn them?” He asked again.
Bucky asked you like he knew the answer. Did he know? No. Steve said he didn’t say anything.
“I-I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.” You stuttered, quickly unwrapping the tape from your hands.
He walked closer to you, causing you to back up until your hip hit the table.
“Stop lying.” He ordered. “Where were you trained before this?” The metal vice grabbed your wrist again, only this time it was meant to hurt
“S-Sergeant Barnes, you’re hurting me.” You said, a small tremble in your voice.
The blue of his eyes was completely gone, and they were dark and bloodshot.
“Who the fuck are you?!” He shouted, causing a ringing in your ears.
You twisted and pushed off of him, making a run for the door. As you reached it, you felt a powerful tug on the back of your hair. The force of being slammed into the ground knocking the wind from your lungs. Bucky dragged across the room by your hair, holding down so you weren’t able to escape.
He threw you to the center of the room. “FRIDAY! Get Steve!” You shout.
“I’ve already alerted him Miss Monroe, he’s on his way!” She shouts.
Bucky released your hair, and moved his metal grip to your throat. “Я знаю кто ты! Ты один из них!” He shouted at you in Russian. You knew what he was saying, he thinks you’re one of them.
“B-Bucky...” you choke. “I’m not. I s-swear!” Your eyes are full of tears as you plead with him.
He doesn’t register what you’re saying—he just grips your throat harder. You punch and kick with everything you have left, but he doesn’t move an inch.
Vision spotty, and feeling yourself losing consciousness, you suddenly hear the door of the room burst open.
“Bucky! Stop!” You hear Steve shout. You watch as he grips his friend shoulder and rips him off you with ease.
“Sam, get her outta here!” He shouts.
The man scoops you in his arms, “I gotcha. Don’t worry.” You’re still faint, but safe. The last thing you see is Steve attempting to hold Bucky back.
Before you knew it, you had passed out completely.
The scar where metal met flesh was burning and his head was throbbing.
Bucky’s eyes took their time adjusting to the bright lights. Groans escaped his lips as he shook off the delirium, realizing he couldn’t fully move.
He looked at his left arm, it was strapped down to the floor with what he could only assume were vibranium restraints.
“Buck?” He heard his friend call.
Bucky’s eyes looked to the wall opposite him. Steve was there, arms folded leaning against the off-white walls of a holding cell.
“Steve.” Bucky gently tugged at the restraints, “What...what did I do?” he asked, sounding defeated.
He hadn’t had a relapse in months, damn near a year. He thought all the progress he’d made with therapy had finally been working for him, and now it seems that’s all down the drain.
“What do you remember, Pal?” Steve asked kindly. He’d been through this with Bucky before. He knew it would be better for Bucky to recall things himself, rather than painting him a vague picture.
Bucky let out a puff of air, “I-I was in the training center.”
Steve nodded.
Bucky was struggling to fit the puzzle pieces of his mind together as quickly as he would like. Her face flashed across his memories, except it was distorted. Scared.
“Ella and I. Ella was there. We were training, fighting...we had a fight.” Bucky’s voice was painted with sadness and embarrassment at the thought of fighting with her.
The cloudy images of what happened next began to enter his mind. He saw himself on top of her, choking her. He remembers wanting to kill her...
He felt his blood pressure rising and his heart pounding in his chest. “Oh my God, Steve. Where is she? Is she okay? Did I...” Bucky swallowed hard.
“Did I hurt her?” He sounded like he would cry if Steve’s answer has been yes.
Steve shook his head, “She’s okay, Buck.” He walked to his friend, undoing the restraints and hoisting him to his feet.
“Did I hurt her...” Bucky asked again firmly.
He nodded. “She’s a little banged up, but nothing...serious. Sam took her back to her room. She’s resting.” Steve said, putting a reassuring arm on his friends shoulder.
“Shit...” Bucky cursed, rubbing his face. He felt his heart nearly split in two at the thought of what he did.
“What happened, Buck? Do you know what triggered it?” Steve sounded as if he knew the answer.
Bucky sat down again, leaning his head against the wall next to Steve, waiting for him to join him. When he sat, Bucky let out a shameful sigh.
“She—Ella, she reminded me so much of HYDRA. Everything she was doing, and with the way she moved. I’ve only ever seen HYDRA agents know how to take me down that way.”
Steve rubbed his hands over his knees a few times; an old habit from when he and Buck were kids and Steve was nervous.
“I know you said you know her, and you trust her,” Bucky spoke. “But how, Steve. Who is she? Where did she come from?”
Steve sighed. He knew Bucky needed answers, he just hopes Ella forgives him for spilling her secret. “Okay, first things first, she’s not HYDRA.”
Bucky kept his gaze on the floor as his friend spoke. “She was...raised, I guess you could say, by them. She was kidnapped when she was 9 or 10, she doesn’t remember exactly how old she was.”
Bucky looked to his friend, confused. “What? HYDRA takes kids?”
Steve nodded. “Yeah. She was one of the first. Took her from her family while they were on vacation. The theory was if you eliminate the compassion—the innocence before it can grow, you have someone...something that doesn’t know anything but rage and obedience and violence.”
Bucky felt sick to his stomach. In all the time he was kept by HYDRA, he’d never seen them take kids.
Bucky didn’t speak, so Steve continued. “They...they did things to her. Experimented on her, trained her to be a sword-for-hire, and used her for...other really horrible things, but she survived. That’s what she does Buck, she’s a survivor. All the hell they put her through, she found a way to hold onto that little piece of herself.”
Bucky wanted to cry. He wanted to run to her and hold her in his arms and never let her go. He wanted to make her feel safe, and wanted and loved.
But he couldn’t. He screwed up, like he screws everything up. He’d pushed you away, making you feel like you didn’t matter and worse than anything...he hurt you.
“How did you find her?” Bucky asked with tremors in his voice.
“Around 8 years ago, we were storming the last active HYDRA base over in Romania. Got all the hostages out, right in time to blow the building. Then Sam tells me he’s getting heat signatures in the basement. It was her, Buck.”
Steve helped Bucky to his feet, and continued talking as they made their way back toward the compound.
“She was surrounded by 4 or 5 of them, she was chained to the wall...the things they were doing to her...” he shook his head in an attempt to erase the memories, “It’s a scene I’d never want to relive, and I don’t think she would either. I got her out right before the first charge blew. From there I brought her to a SHIELD infirmary, she was there for a few months. After that she was debriefed and gave us anything we could ever need on HYDRA. I set her up with a place to stay, and a job...anything to help her try and find a sense of normality.”
Bucky still hadn’t said a word. He knew what HYDRA was capable of, and what those men probably did to her. He also knew how lucky they were to have been killed already, before he got his hands on them.
The two of them reached the housing level of the compound. Steve heading into the kitchen with Bucky on his heels. Each of them grabbing a water from the fridge before taking a seat at the table.
“Ella’s not a threat, Buck. You two have a lot more in common than you think. Give her a chance, she’s a great gal.”
Bucky nodded at his friend. “All you’ve done for her, why’d you do it?” He asked.
Steve smiled softly. “I’ve seen what happens when HYDRA takes someone’s life from them, this time I had the means to give one back.”
When the pair had finished talking, Bucky headed for his room. He strolled down the hall, instinctively stopping in front of her door. He heard her breathing, steady and rhythmic. She was asleep.
He put his hand flush with the door, wanting nothing more than to go see her, and apologize. Instead he stood there for a moment, repeating a silent apology to himself over and over again.
Bucky slipped through his bedroom door, stripping himself of the dirty, sweat stained clothes currently clinging to his body. He entered his bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go.
Steam filled the room in seconds and Bucky jumped into the scolding water, not caring how his skin was screaming at him to get out. He washed himself thoroughly, scrubbing his hair and rinsing that too.
By the time he was done, the water had run cold. Bucky didn’t care, he pressed his back to the glass wall of the shower and slid down it. He brushed his wet hair back with both hands and closed is eyes.
In the icy water, it was easy to feel the hot tears spilling down his cheeks. He sat there weeping for what felt like hours. When was the last time he’d cried? He couldn’t remember.
Bucky was embarrassed, and he was ashamed. Ashamed of what he had done, and what he was still capable of doing. Hurting you was his biggest fear and now look at the mess he’s made.
When he’d had enough, he climbed into his bed somberly, bracing himself for a sleepless night. He knew he’d have to see you again, but he also knew it would probably be the last time.
It’s going to hurt him. To not see you smile every morning at the sunrise, not hear your voice wish him good morning, or see you steal those momentary glances at him everyday.
Distance. That’s the only way it could work. No more training, no more contact. Just removing himself from your life, one day at a time.
Bucky’s lost you before he even had you, but maybe that for the best.
Chapter Four: A Mistake
#samthemarvelfan#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x original female character#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes series#sebastian stan#sebastian stan fanfiction#mcu#marvel fanfiction
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Take A Giant Step - Chapter 2
Warnings: Fluff?, Hangovers, Language.
Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!O/C
Word Count: 2,063
Updated A/N: I have done a little bit of re-editing on this fic. So yes, you have read this before. But now it’s better.
A/N: Here is Chapter 2! If you would like to be tagged in upcoming chapters, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Please enjoy. <3
“Hi. Yeah, this is Frankie Morales. We met last night at Applebee’s and you gave me a ride home?”
“Oh! Hey. How are you doing this morning?”
“I’m fine. How are you? How’s your friend doing?”
“Oh, Jeff? He is probably super hungover, but he’ll live. Despite what he’ll tell everyone.”
Frankie gave a small chuckle over the phone.
“I didn’t know if Jeff was just being nice or if he was really wasted last night, but he mentioned that I could see your show sometime. He said you were the best person to call about this.”
“While he was feeling VERY good last night, he meant it. I would be more than happy to set up a ticket for you. We have performances at 8:00 PM on Fridays and Saturdays. On Sundays we have matinees at 2:00 PM. The show is running for the next two weeks.”
I walked over to my desk and opened up my laptop. As I was logging into our box office system, I asked him if there was a particular date that he was interested in seeing the show.
“Do you guys have a show this afternoon?”
“We do! Let me see if we have any seats available.” Of course we did. We always did for Sunday matinees. Especially now that spring was in full bloom. I couldn’t fault anyone for choosing a leisurely afternoon walk outdoors over being shut in a dark theater examining the absurdities of human nature for two hours. That afternoon’s box office report came up on my screen. We had only thirty tickets sold. Seating him would be no issue.
“Awesome - it looks like we have plenty of space. Our theater is on the smaller side, so there really isn’t a bad seat in the house. Would it be okay if I put you towards the middle. Or would you like to sit closer to or further back from the stage?”
“The middle sounds great. Thank you.”
“Are you going to need one or two seats?”
“It’s only me, so just one.”
“Coolio. What name do you want me to put your ticket under?”
“Francisco Morales, if you don’t mind. I prefer my full name on that sort of thing, but like being called Frankie in person.”
Hmmm. Francisco. He didn’t necessarily take me as a Francisco at first glance, but I could see it the more I thought about it. Such a quiet and strong name. From what I could tell though, he seemed to be more on the reserved and gentle side. I caught myself getting lost in thought and snapped back to reality.
“Okay. I have you set down for one seat this afternoon at 2:00 PM. We are located at 1564 Broad Street. There is plenty of off-street parking on the weekends, so that shouldn’t be too much of an issue. All you need to do is show up at least fifteen minutes before the show starts and then go to the box office. Just tell Laurie, the box office manager, your name and she will take care of you from there. Do you have any questions?”
“Um, will you or Jeff be there this afternoon?”
“I’m there for every show as I am stage managing this particular production. Jeff just shows up during pre-show to check in with folks, talk with patrons, and give a curtain speech. Once the show starts, he leaves.”
“Oh, okay.”
“If anything else comes up, don’t hesitate to call me?”
“I will. Thanks again.”
“My pleasure. I’ll see you later. Bye!”
“Bye.”
I didn’t know much about Frankie at that moment. I knew that he had lost his job, liked Bud Lite, and was very polite. I also know that he was in the military and that he was kind enough to defend my shitty car’s honor the night before. However, my gut was telling me that I was really excited to see him again.
**************
I was up in the tech booth doing my pre-show checks of the lights and soundboard when Jeff arrived. If there was ever a poster child for a hungover middle aged man, he was indeed it. His brown hair shot up in different directions. He had his Ray-Ban sunglasses on and was clutching what I could only hope was a cup of black coffee. He looked a mess, but at least he showed up and was ready to do what he needed to.
“Hi,” he croaked.
“Hey. How are you feeling, partner?”
“Like death. I am sure this is the one that is going to kill me.”
“You can’t die yet. We need to finish out the season. Then you can die.” He grumbled.
“Everything good on your end?”
“Yeah. The lights and sound are fine. The set hasn’t combusted and the actors are in relatively good spirits.”
“Good.”
“Segue - you are not going to believe who called me this morning.”
“Oh my god, if it is Amy, let her know that her goddamn check is in the mail. All that noise over a single staged -”
“No. Our friend Frankie from last night.”
“Who?”
“I thought this would happen. Frankie - you bought him a shot. We gave him a ride home. You offered him a comp ticket for the show. Gave him your business card with my phone number on it.” Jeff nodded knowingly.
“I think I remember now.”
“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Not a fucking clue.”
I sighed. After explaining the previous evening’s adventure, Jeff’s hazy memory was somewhat jogged. I then went on to tell him that Frankie would be seeing the show that afternoon.
“Really? If you see him -”
“Yes, I will text you where he is sitting. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on the actors and open house.” I smiled and brought up the pre-show lights. Jeff told me to have a good show and then headed to the lobby to schmooze with patrons.
After I checked in with the actors and crew, I was ready to open the house. I sent Laurie a text letting her know that I was ready to let people in. Pulling up the QLab soundboard app on my phone, I tapped the play button to start the pre-show playlist.
I sauntered to one of my favorite spots in the theater - behind the curtains that masked the backstage. Watching patrons enter and find their seats from backstage was a bad habit that I’ve never been able to break. A small sense of excitement always jolted through me when I recognized people in our audience. That afternoon seemed to be filled with our older subscribers. I was happy to see them, but there was a specific patron I was scanning the room for. As fifteen minutes to curtain approached, I felt my stomach dip as I went and made my call. Maybe he wasn’t coming or maybe he got lost trying to find the theater. While my brain was entertaining several scenarios, my eyes caught the sight of a navy Standard Oil baseball cap.
Frankie had made it! I felt a smile stretch across my face. He was wearing an olive button down shirt and khaki pants. As he was finding his seat, I was able to notice things about him that I didn’t the night before. How could I have missed those broad shoulders, long legs, and soft tummy? Was the Applebee’s so dark last night that I couldn’t see them? Did I just not pay enough attention? Was I developing a silly little crush on this man?! I needed to find that answer out later. I had a job at hand that needed my complete focus. Taking in a deep breath, I collected myself and went on to make my ten minute call.
**************
The show went well. It lacked the audience’s live energy, but it was fine for a Sunday matinee. I was preoccupied with helping my assistant reset the stage after the show. We did this after every performance as it made set up for the next one a tad easier. It was also a really good time to check in with her and see where she was in the process. My assistant, Alexis, was fantastic. I could not have asked for a better second-in-command. She was incredibly organized, funny, and always willing to help out no matter the task. We had just replaced the sofa on stage when I heard a soft, gruff voice call my name. I turned downstage to find Frankie looking up at me. He had a sheepish smile plastered on his face. I walked to the edge of the stage towards him.
“Hi!”
“Hi.”
“You made it! Thanks for coming out. Were you able to find us alright? Was parking okay? Did you enjoy the show?” It was like my brain switched over to dork mode and I couldn’t stop asking questions.
“I liked it. I’m not quite sure that I -”
C R A S H.
We both turned upstage to see Alexis sitting in a pile of wooden pieces that used to be the desk in our show. I rushed to her to make sure that she was not injured.
“Alexis! Are you okay? What happened,” I calmly asked.
“I noticed that the picture frame on that shelf was at a crooked angle. So I pushed the desk against the wall so I could stand on it and adjust the frame. I’m not hurt. I’m not too sure about the desk though… I’m sorry.”
“Desks are replaceable. You, however, are not. Don’t worry about this. I will take care of it.” I gave her a reassuring smile.
“I just wanted to help - “
“I know. I appreciate your initiative and willingness to do so. But next time, could you please use a ladder instead of a set piece? Please?”Alexis chuckled nervously and stood up. She tried to apologize again, but I went in and gave her a big hug. I made her promise that she was to go home, take some Advil, and keep me posted as to how she was feeling for the next few days. She thanked me and headed out.
Once Alexis had left, my attention returned to the desk. I was able to do small maintenance repairs, but that’s where my stagecraft abilities ended. There was no way I would be able to fix this. I was going to have to spend the next four days trying to find a new desk that matched the old one’s measurements and design. Of course this had to happen with only two weeks left in the run and with no scenic budget left.
I was so lost in brainstorming solutions, that I did not notice that Frankie had climbed onto the stage to inspect the damage. I pulled out my phone and began to text Jeff about the situation.
“I can fix this.” I looked up from my phone at Frankie. My face must have conveyed a look of disbelief and skepticism.
“It’ll take some elbow grease, but it is possible.”
“I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me. Are you positive that you can repair this? If not, I need to find a new desk ASAP.”
“I promise I can repair this. Woodworking is one of my hobbies and I’ve been doing it for years. If I am unable to fix this in time, I will personally buy and deliver you all a brand new desk.”
“I can’t really say no to that offer. Do you think you would be able to come in tomorrow?”
“Um, I don’t think I can do it tomorrow. I’ve got a meeting thing that I’ve got to go to.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as pushy. Sometimes that happens and -” His coffee colored eyes met mine and he gave a smirk.
“No. You weren’t being pushy. You need a problem fixed and you’re just trying to make sure that it gets taken care of. I can come in Tuesday morning. Would that work? I can bring in my tools and materials.”
“Tuesday sounds wonderful. This is so awesome of you and thank you so much. We’ll get lunch that afternoon. My treat. I can also be around to be an extra set of hands if you need them.”
“A free meal and pleasant company? I don’t think I could turn that down even if I wanted to.”
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TAGS: @larakasser @absurdthirst @yespolkadotkitty @fioccodineveautunnale @wickedfrsgrl
#frankie catfish morales#francisco morales#frankie morales fanfic#frankie morales#catfish morales#frankie x oc#catfish x oc#triple frontier#francisco catfish morales#abuttoncalledsmalls#takeagiantstep
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Sean the LAX Bro
four score and many a year ago, i wrote this. a fun, one-off ficlet about the start of dex’s tryst with a lax bro. since then, it has continued to be a hc of mine that dex is one of two people on the team, prior to whiskey, who has in fact fucked a lax bro (the other is holster, that is Another Story).
until now, that has been the whole story. BUT NOW i will be posting the beginning of the Canonical Sean the LAX Bro fic that i started a long time ago and never got the inspiration to finish. it is not as cracky/playful as the original, but every time i’ve read it over i’ve really liked it and as a part of the WIPitgood thing going around the fandom, i’ve decided to post what i have
some warnings for homophobia and age difference in a relationship (my oc Luke is back y’all) but otherwise it’s p tame
i hope y’all like it :)
It happens because of a frat party, surprisingly not a Haus one. Instead, it’s a party at one of the nerdier frats, a street over from the road where the Haus sits. It’s not a terrible party—it’s got pretty good music, efficient booze, enough people attending to shake the floors—but, after a kegster, a regular old party just won’t hold up anymore.
Dex is not having a good time. Aside from the fact that he misses the bone-deep thrum of a kegster like a physical ache, the only person he knows at the party is some guy from his comp-sci class, John or Jake or whatever, and he left Dex alone within ten minutes of arriving. Now Dex is stuck wandering aimlessly through the house looking for something to do. He finds an uptight game of pong in one room (too many physics majors calculating trajectories instead of just going off skill) and, in the next, he finds either a body shot competition or an orgy, so he hurries to get through there real quick before he gets sucked in.
The door he finds lets out into a quieter but still full room of—surprise— even more people he doesn’t know. He takes a long sip of his drink, which doesn’t take the edge off like tub juice but does the job well enough. When he pulls his cup from his mouth, it reveals a pretty boy with a big smile standing right in front of him.
“Hi,” the pretty boy says. God, he’s gorgeous. Big blue eyes that twinkle with his pristine white smile, perfectly clear skin and angular features, soft in just the right places. Dex feels his fingers tighten around his cup. He vaguely wonders if his reaction is due to his generally little experience talking to pretty boys with the potential of actually doing something about it, or if Dex would be this Shook no matter what. Pretty Boy says, “I’m Sean.”
“Dex,” he responds, a second too late, his voice rough. Sean’s grin impossibly widens.
“You look about as lost as I did at my first frat party,” Sean says, leaning in closer, as if he’s sharing a secret only Dex gets to know. Breathe, Dex, breathe.
“S’not my first, actually,” Dex says, rubbing at the back of his head. Did Sean’s eyes track the movement? Dex must be hallucinating. “The ones I’m used to just usually have more people I know.”
Sean hums, and Dex can hear it over the music only because of their proximity. “Well,” he says, a thoughtful look on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know me now, right?” He knocks his cup lightly against Dex’s, his smile wide and enticing, and Dex finds himself listing forwards as if he’s being physically pulled.
Within minutes, Sean has Dex snorting unattractively into his cup, laughing so hard his chest aches. Dex has no idea why Sean is still talking to him, as Dex is making an absolute ass of himself, staring blankly into Sean’s face like a middle-schooler with a crush. Still, Sean talks and jokes and—flirts? Dex doesn’t exactly have experience with flirting with men, but he’s pretty sure all of this—the soft teasing, Sean finding a reason to reach out and touch Dex’s hand, arm, chest, Sean’s eyes filled with heat—it has to mean something, right?
They talk for an hour or so, slowly filtering into other areas of their lives. Dex talks about how he’s adjusting to being away from home for the first time and Sean shares tips he’s learned since being here for a year. They talk about their families, a little, Dex mentions his asshole of a brother and how he misses him anyway, and Sean shares a story about when his sister shaved off one of his eyebrows in his sleep. Dex finds himself sharing fears about college that he hasn’t even told the team or his family back home. Sean is funny and kind and easy to talk to—not to mention he’s fucking hot.
Sean finishes his drink and knocks his empty cup against Dex’s matching one. His has been empty for the past twenty minutes but he hadn’t wanted to stop talking to Sean. He leans in closer and, his voice soft, he asks, “Would you like to get out of here?”
Dex may have little experience with the flirting thing, but this, at least, is familiar territory. He grins. “Definitely.”
It’s just starting to get cold out, so they make the walk back to Sean’s place pressed together, shoulder to shoulder. Dex is tipsy but not drunk, just a pleasant buzz under his skin, anticipation building in his chest. They cut through the backyard towards a frat house, as Sean apparently lives in one. They go in through the backdoor and climb the stairs, trying to be quiet so they don’t wake up Sean’s housemates. Finally they reach his bedroom and Dex follows him inside only to be pushed up against the inside of the closed door.
“You okay with this?” Sean asks, already a little breathless, and in the semi-darkness of the room, the only thing Dex can see is the moonlight reflecting off of Sean’s wide smile. He presses his hands into Sean’s tense abdominals and there’s little to no give.
“More than okay,” Dex says, and leans down to finally get a taste of that wide, enticing smile. It hasn’t been a ridiculously long time but kissing Sean reminds Dex of how fucking good kissing can be, even when it’s like this, a bit tipsy and messy but hot. Dex feels like he’s being consumed and he’s completely fine with it, wants it, wants to disappear under Sean’s lips and teeth and hands.
Dex throws his head back to try and suck in a breath, and Sean takes this as invitation to drift lower and suck pretty bruises into Dex’s skin. “Fuck,” Dex exhales, shaky, and feels Sean’s mouth spread into a grin against his neck. “Don’t get cocky,” Dex says, digging his nails into Sean’s shoulder, realizing then that he wants Sean’s shirt off more than anything else.
“Thought that was the point?” Sean says into Dex’s collarbone, stifling his giggles, and Dex groans because how the fuck. How can Sean be hot and seductive and delicious, while also being ridiculously endearing? It isn’t fair.
“Oh God, shut up.” Dex pushes his hands up under the edge of Sean’s t-shirt, rucking it up until Sean gets the message and pulls back to tug it over his head and throw it somewhere behind him. Dex sighs at the sight he makes, skin gone soft in the moonlight, muscles tight and defined, slightly crooked grin on his face.
Oh yes, Dex thinks, stepping forwards to push Sean back towards the bed, tonight is going to be good.
*~*~*
Dex wakes up with the sun in his face, a heavy arm around his waist, and a satisfied warmth running throughout his whole body. He stretches, sitting up, and Sean grumbles, pushing his face into Dex’s hip. Dex smiles faintly, brushing his fingers through Sean’s hair as he reaches for his phone on the bedside table. It tells him that he has practice within the hour, so he pulls himself from Sean’s bed and clinging limbs to try and collect his clothes.
He finds his briefs hanging from Sean’s desk lamp and puts them on, hopping around to find his t-shirt on the ground. He scratches at his stomach, where cum has dried to his skin and left it hard and flaky. He grimaces, pulling his shirt on over it. He’ll definitely have to go home and take a shower before practice and or he’ll never make it through the chirping. Then he looks up, in search of his pants, and sees himself in the mirror, neck covered in marks that drift down under his collar and most definitely spread even further. Guess the chirping is a sure thing no matter what, then.
“Mm, where’re you goin’?” Sean says, muffled, into his pillow, and Dex huffs.
“Probably to be teased to death by my teammates for all the marks you left on me, dude.” Dex spots his pants on Sean’s bookshelf and grabs them, bending over to pull them on. They apparently make his ass look great, or at least Bitty says so. He’s right, if the way Sean’s eyeing him as he pulls them on fully is any indication.
“Teammates?” Sean asks, dragging his eyes back up to Dex’s face, where he’s grinning knowingly. Despite his blush, Sean asks, “What d’you play?”
“I’m on the hockey team,” Dex says, searching idly for his socks and shoes. When he looks back at Sean in the bed, he’s lost all the mugginess of sleep and is staring, wide-eyed and horrified, back at Dex. “What? What’s wrong?”
“You’re on the hockey team?” he asks, voice much higher than before.
Dex nods slowly. Hadn’t that come up last night? Maybe not. “Yeah. Why?” Sean groans and buries his face in the pillow in front of him. Dex shifts in his spot. “Dude, c’mon. Why’s that a big deal?” Sean says something into the pillow that just sounds like a series of anxious grunts to Dex. “What’s that?”
Sean sighs and turns his head, staring up at Dex with something half-sad, half-terrified. “I’m on the lacrosse team.”
Dex freezes in place. He can feel as his face mirrors Sean’s worried expression. Fuck. “I’m in the LAX frat right now?” Sean nods gravely. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Dex takes a seat at Sean’s desk chair and puts his face in his hands. “Fuck. Fuck. I fucked a LAX bro. Shitty’s gonna kill me.”
“Chad R. is going to kill me. So is Chad S.”
“You have two guys on your team named Chad?” Dex looks up to give Sean an incredulous expression.
Sean says, “Three, actually.”
Dex groans. “What have I done?” He shakes his head. He thinks back to last night, talking with Sean, opening up, laughing. God. It had been good, okay, the talking and the banter and the everything. Dex liked Sean. Still does, if he’s honest, but he’s a LAX bro. Even if Dex didn’t agree that they were all kind of assholes—which he does, the LAX team is a petri dish of toxic masculinity and misogyny and they’re also just huge dicks—trying to date a LAX bro would never work.
He looks up from the floor and stares back at Sean. He can feel the weight of all the dead possibilities between them, heavy and suffocating. Dex swallows roughly and takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says, and he shouldn’t be this sad, they haven’t even known each other for a day. But they could’ve been—no, it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. “Okay,” Dex repeats, “this’ll be fine. No one has to know. I won’t tell anyone, you won’t tell anyone. I’ll leave now and it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah,” Sean says, and his lips quirk up at the corners, the horror in his expression draining, leaving behind a soft melancholy that Dex wants to kiss away. He says, “It’s been fun, Dex.”
Dex grabs his socks and shoes and offers something like a smile back. “It could’ve been,” he says, and turns towards the door.
Suddenly, there’s a knock. “Sean, brah, get the fuck up! We’ve got practice!” Dex jumps, turning to share a panicked look with Sean, and then they both simultaneously look at the window.
This is how Dex finds himself shimmying down the drain pipe on the side of the LAX frat without his shoes on. He makes it to the bottom and hops down, the cold dew of the grass freezing his toes. Sean sticks his head out of the window and grins down at him. “I’ll see you around.”
“Probably not,” Dex calls back up at him, and then runs to the other side of the street, pulling on his shoes. He makes it back to his dorm and showers, changes, and then leaves for practice. The whole while he tells himself that this is fine, it was a one-off, good time and that’s it.
It should be it. It’s not.
*~*~*
Team breakfasts are loud. Dex doesn’t really know what to do with them, sometimes, so he tries to keep to himself at the end of the table. The hickies on his neck still haven’t disappeared, though they’re now nearly gone. Still, whenever any of the guys see them, they make a face like they’re proud, or want details or something, and Dex doesn’t know how to say it was a guy let alone it was a lax bro so he ducks them whenever he can.
Bitty takes a seat on Dex’s left, talking a mile a minute about something back home that his mother told him about, and Dex listens to his voice, if not the words. Something about Bitty’s lilted and slow tone is comforting to Dex, and he lets that cover him like a blanket as he tries not to fall asleep into his cereal.
Vaguely, Dex hears someone call, “Shut up, already!” from one table over and he doesn’t think much of it until Holster and Ransom are standing from their seats and yelling back.
“What’d you say to him?” Holster asks, his usual playful expression gone with a second. For a 6’4 dude, Holster almost never looks intimidating, but right now Dex wouldn’t even get near him.
“He won’t shut up and it’s fucking early, man,” the same guy says, and Dex turns to see he’s sitting at the LAX table. Sean isn’t there, which Dex can’t help but be grateful for.
“Then fucking plug your ears and leave us the fuck alone,” Ransom yells back, and the surrounding tables do not seem pleased with all the commotion and Dex would be embarrassed but these dicks are harassing Bitty. Bitty. The embodiment of everything good in the world.
“Just tell your girlfriend to keep her mouth closed,” the guy says, smirking all shittily, and Dex knows that kind of grin well, knows the kind of taunts that come from between those lips, and his blood boils before he can help himself and he’s going to hit something, he knows it—
“The fact that you use gender as an insult just reinforces the lack of confidence in your own masculinity,” Shitty says, using his matter-of-fact asshole voice that Lardo says is the closest he can sound to his father. He only uses it when he wants to piss people off.
“What’d you say to me?”
“He said you’re just a part of a broken machine aimed to eviscerate the emotional capacity of masculine people,” Ransom says, catching Shitty’s condescending tone.
Holster continues in the same vein, “Yeah, you’re just part of the problem, man. Don’t you get tired having to assert your dominance over every fucking situation? Just take a seat, dude, let your emotions out.”
The LAX bro mutters something that sounds like, “Fucking hockey team,” and turns back around to his table. Bitty is now completely pink and hiding his face in his breakfast, but his lips are upturned in the corners.
“Y’all didn’t have to do that,” he says, quiet, and Holster ruffles his hair softly, softer than he usually is.
“Of course we did, Bits,” Ransom says with a wide, handsome grin.
“Got your back,” Shitty says, resolute, and they all go back to their breakfasts.
After a minute, Dex prompts, “So what did Mrs. Henderson do about her missing begonias?” and Bitty starts talking again, not even a degree softer than he’d been before.
Walking home from the dining hall, Dex tries not to make comparisons to his old team, how they’d wait until he turned his back before they called him any number of slurs that cut at his skin, how that had been the most respect they could’ve held for him. There are an endless number of comparisons to make—the difference between chirping and insulting, how having your back on and off ice is more than just a means to a win, the way Dex smiles more than he ever thought he could—and Dex could tire himself with trying to evaluate them all, but still.
It’s nice to have the difference.
*~*~*
The next time it happens, Dex really can’t be blamed.
Samwell is very big on making sure there are an infinite number of spaces for someone to acquaint themselves with. Only a month into the school year, Dex is a part of a program for first-generation college attendees, athletic scholarship awardees, financial aid awardees, STEM oriented students, and student athletes. And those are only the ones sponsored specifically by the college. Dex is in a handful of other clubs and organizations meant to aid his transition to college.
Mostly, Dex hangs out with the team, some friends he made from class, and people from the tech club he’s in. People from the other organizations are mostly acquaintances. If he sees them on campus or in class, he’ll give them a nod, but they aren’t planning any kegsters together or anything. Still, Dex attends the soirees they invite him to, standing scratchy and uncomfortable in a suit that doesn’t fit quite right—“You should get something tailored,” Nurse would say, infuriatingly—and sips at his sparkling cider and counts down the seconds until he can leave.
He’s having a particularly boring conversation with a trustee or an alumni or a donor or whatever when Dex sees Sean from across the room. It’s been a few weeks since Dex climbed out his bedroom window and he hasn’t thought about him constantly or anything, he’s not obsessed, but. Well, sometimes he’ll pass the LAX frat on the way to the Haus or he’ll see a couple of guys tossing a ball around on the Quad or he’ll be trying to fall asleep to no avail, and he’ll think of Sean, of his laughter and his hands, and he’ll miss him, just a little. A tiny, manageable amount.
Now, now Sean is talking to his own donor/trustee/alumni, throwing his head back slightly in a beautiful laugh, and Dex wants way more than a manageable amount. He excuses himself from the conversation and heads for the bathroom to cool down and get ahold of himself. He grabs a paper towel and soaks it in some cool water, dabbing lightly at his face to try and stave off his blush. He huffs as it doesn’t go down at all and throws away the towel. He looks at his reflection, tugs his collar straight, stares himself down.
“You will be normal,” he says, firmly, just as a man leaves a stall. Dex’s flush gets deeper as the man gives him a short look before washing his hands and leaving. Great. The being normal thing is going just gr—
“Dex?” Dex looks up and there’s Sean, standing half in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at Dex’s reflection with an open-mouthed, soft expression that Dex wants to touch.
“Sean.” Dex swallows. “Hey.”
After a few loaded moments, Dex realizes that he hasn’t turned around yet, so he steels himself and does it. Sean cleans up nice. Like, really nice. His suit looks tailored, if the way it fits him is any indication, and he might not have a hockey ass but damn is it a good one. His tie is a soft blue that complements his eyes. There’s one stray curl at his collar that Dex wants to smooth out but he doesn’t. They just stand there staring at one another until Dex can’t handle it anymore and coughs.
“I’d better—”
“Yeah, I don’t want to—”
“—get back to the—”
“—keep you.”
“—party.”
They seem to have only managed to gotten closer, as Dex tried to leave and Sean tried to move towards a stall. Now they’re so close that Dex can see a spot where Sean missed when he was shaving and all Dex wants to do is brush his thumb against it. “Fuck,” he hears himself say, and in the next second Sean is kissing him.
(See, Dex really can’t be blamed.)
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Dex manages to get them behind a stall door before he lets himself melt into it. It still is a school sponsored function and he really doesn’t want an alumni/donor/trustee walking in to find Dex shoving his hands up the back of another student’s button down.
“God, you’re fucking huge,” Sean mumbles against Dex’s mouth, his hands curling around Dex’s shoulders. Dex hums and surges even closer, wrapping his arms around the small of Sean’s back, pulling him tight against Dex’s body. “Couldn’t stop thinking about your arms,” Sean says, pushing his hands inside Dex’s jacket to scratch at his chest through his shirt. “Bet you could hold me up against the wall and just—unngh.”
Sean trails off as Dex finds a spot on the hinge of his jaw to focus his attention on. He really does have great skin—fucking LAX bros—and Dex has no reservations about staying there and working on making a deep pink-purple bruise like it’s his job, but he hears the door to the bathroom open and realizes that two pairs of feet in a stall are very suspicious. Looks like Sean’s going to have his fantasy come true.
“Jump,” Dex mutters into Sean’s cheek, and then picks him up, pinning him against the wall, in one fluid movement. It knocks the breath out of Sean, but apparently in a good way, because he immediately rolls his hips against Dex’s.
“God,” Sean says on a breath, and Dex kisses him to keep him quiet. He pulls back after a second or two to muffle his hiss into Sean’s shoulder as Sean reaches down and cups Dex through his slacks.
“There’s someone in here,” he whispers, furious, into Sean’s ear.
Sean simply grins. “You’d better be quiet, then.”
About ten or so minutes later, they leave the stall, both thoroughly flustered. Dex’s flush is a complete lost cause and Sean can’t seem to get the stupid, smug grin off his face, so it’s very obvious what he’s just been doing. God, they’re hopeless.
“Okay, so, that happened.”
“Yeah it did—”
“Sean.”
Sean’s smug grin softens into something sheepish, kind. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ve just, kinda, been thinking about you.”
God, that’s gay. Why does Dex like it so much? “I—I guess I have too.” He shakes his head. “But this would never work. We couldn’t tell our teammates, we couldn’t be seen together, I—I…”
“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Sean steps forwards and puts his hand on Dex’s hip, comforting. “I don’t want to force you into anything. We don’t have to do this again, we can control ourselves.” He smirks a little. “I hope, at least.”
Dex looks at him for a few moments, thinking about the possibility of it all. He likes Sean, for his looks, sure, but more than that, he’s a nice person, kind and funny and interesting. Dex could see himself dating Sean, like actual, out-in-public, playing-footsie-under-the-table dates. He never thought he could have that with a guy. He wants it so much it aches.
But the idea of sneaking around, like he had to back home, not telling any of the guys, his friends…. Dex doesn’t want that.
“We can,” Dex says, and he must be imagining the fall in Sean’s expression. “We have to.”
Sean smiles, but it’s heavy. “Yeah,” he says, leans up to press a kiss to the corner of Dex’s mouth. He leaves the bathroom with a lingering look and Dex is left alone, wanting.
*~*~*
�� Being alone in the halls of an unknown rink is creepy. Dex is half-exhausted and half-keyed up from their win tonight, and he finished showering and redressing faster than most of the guys in his pseudo-state, leaving him to walk the path back to the parking lot alone. It’s quiet, so the only thing he can hear are his footsteps echoing around the halls, and he’s got nothing to focus on except his thoughts, which are worrying enough that he wants to actually run from them. But that would just be weird so he walks, contained, tense, and hopes more than anything that no one—especially one no one— will find him.
His prayers must fall on deaf ears.
“Dex!” Jogging casually down the hall comes Luke Rossi. He’s got on the same grin he always wore back in high school, wearing a tight, soft-looking t-shirt that reads Cornell across the chest. Dex swallows down whatever feeling has lodged itself in his throat. “Hey,” Luke says, slowing to a stop in front of Dex. His brown eyes look a shade softer in the fluorescent lights, deceiving. “Long time no see.”
Long time is a bit of a stretch. They saw each other over the summer. It was similar to every time they’ve seen each other over the summer for the past four years. Dark car, quiet beach, hands over mouths to stifle whatever sounds came out. At once, it feels both like it’s a million years away and as if Dex is still living that same moment. Luke has that effect on him.
“Yeah,” Dex says anyway. He shifts his weight, nervous. “How have you been?”
Luke laughs, bright, cheerful. Dex wonders if it always looked that fake or if he’s learned Luke too well by now. “Oh, you know. Hockey, school, the works. You actually know now! Finally in real school.” He claps Dex on the arm. “Samwell, whoa. I always knew you’d go somewhere smart.”
Despite himself, the praise warms Dex. “Yeah, it’s been nice.”
“I bet the folks back home lost their shit,” Luke says, with another laugh, this one shorter, more pointed. He knows better than most the rumors that clung to Dex’s back all through school, and going off to the Gay Ivy did nothing to alleviate them.
“Yeah,” Dex says, and looks down.
“But hey, you played a good game tonight. An assist and everything. We should go out and celebrate, I know this great place—”
“Dex?” Dex looks up and over to see Ransom and Holster coming down the hall, both of them frowning. Dex shrinks down without thinking. “Is everything okay?”
“Who’s this?” Ransom asks, coming up on Dex’s right. Holster takes his left. Dex feels even smaller between them.
“This is Luke,” Dex says, half-gesturing towards him. “He was my old captain back home.” Luke grins, charming, at the introduction. He sticks his hand out.
Holster hesitates. “I thought you were your team’s captain,” he says, frowning.
“He was captain when I was a freshman.” Dex fidgets, pulling at the material of his sweatpants. “I took over when he left.”
“Oh,” Holster says, nodding exaggeratedly. He takes Luke’s hand and Dex sighs out his relief. “So you just want to catch up?” Holster directs to Luke.
Luke grins wider, more charming, more plastic. “Yeah, man. Just thought I’d take him out with some of the guys, talk the game, stuff back home.” He shakes Ransom’s hand next, who returns his grin with a flat stare. Luke falters and looks back to Holster. “You know how it is, old teammates, I’m sure.”
“Oh, I know—”
Dex cuts Holster off. “I’ll see you guys later, okay?” He takes a step forwards and turns so he’s facing Ransom and Holster and standing next to Luke. They both shoot him downturned-lip-furrowed-brow worried expressions. “Tell Chowder I’ll be back at the room a bit late.”
“You sure?” Ransom frowns, staring unflinchingly at Dex.
Dex—he doesn’t know what to do with this. The protectiveness. The care. It makes him fidgety, nervous, almost itchy. He doesn’t know if he likes it or not yet, and though he doesn’t really know how to describe the way he feels about Luke either, that pit in his stomach is at least familiar.
“Yeah,” Dex says, and Luke throws a casual arm over his shoulders. It’s uncomfortably heavy, but it’s a weight Dex knows how to deal with.
“I’ll have him back by midnight, boys,” Luke says, joking, though the looks on Ransom and Holster’s faces seem to imply they would appreciate just that. Luke nods. “Alright then.” He turns and starts walking them down the hallway towards the exit Dex had been looking for earlier. “Your teammates are a bit strange, Dex,” Luke says with a laugh, as they make their way out.
“They’re just big on taking care of each other, at Samwell,” Dex says, and identifies the curl in his chest as guilt for not defending them.
Luke laughs. Dex can see the exit clearly from where they are now. “Of course the sissy school is big on caring shit.” Luke’s arm tightens around his shoulders. “You must hate it there.”
They’ve reached the exit to the stadium. It’s too late to turn back, so Dex just says nothing and follows. Luke always liked it best that way, anyway.
*~*~*
Within half an hour, they’ve reached a secluded field. Luke turns off the car. He gets out and flattens the backseats so there’s one big opening in the back. Dex joins him, quiet, and begins taking off his shirt.
They say nothing for the next twenty minutes. Luke keeps his fingers pressed tightly over Dex’s lips even though he’s long since trained himself to be silent. The soft sounds of skin against skin and choked-off breathing fill the humid air. It’s cold outside but it’s boiling inside the car. It was always like that, too, back in Maine, the car so hot it almost felt like he couldn’t breathe. At one point, Dex convinced himself it was probably the closest he’d ever been to Hell.
They dress in silence. During, Dex usually thinks of nothing except guilty, horrible pleasure. After, there’s nothing else to focus on but the adjectives. He sits in the passenger seat in rumpled clothes that stick to his sweaty skin, quickly cooling into something uncomfortable.
Dex thinks of Sean, ridiculously. Of walking back to his dorm with cum drying on his stomach and going through a school function with slightly dirtied underpants. Both times he was dirtier, physically, than he is now, and still right now he’s the most uncomfortable.
Sean didn’t make him uncomfortable. Sean made him giddy, made him smile, made him happy. Dex forgot, somehow, the desperation of being with Luke, the guilt and the fear. Now Dex remembers the way he used to pray, afterwards, ask God forgiveness for his sins, his inability to stop making them. His tongue tastes like communion wine gone sour and his body feels stiff with disgrace. Even now, all he can think of is how wrong he is.
Twice he was with Sean and both times Dex had forgotten to repent.
It wasn’t guilty with Sean. It wasn’t dirty or something to hide. Even when they had to be quiet, it was fun. There was laughter in his fingertips, a smile tucked under his tongue for Dex to find, to enjoy. Enjoy.
Dex had never found joy in having sex with a man before.
The weight of the aftermath with Luke lifts, then. Because it doesn’t have to be like this. Dex isn’t bad when he’s with a boy, he’s just bad when he’s with Luke. Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe he just tied all his childhood fears up in Luke and he can’t separate them now. Either way, Luke isn’t good for him, not anymore. Maybe he never was.
“See you,” Luke says, when they pull up in front of the motel the team is staying in for the night.
“Goodbye, Luke,” Dex says, and means it. He gets out of the car.
Dex can like a boy. He can like a boy without his tongue curling itself into knots out of self-preservation. He can like a boy without looking over his shoulder for the godly reprimand he can’t help but anticipate coming. He can like a boy without hating himself for it.
The lightness in his chest carries him up the walkway. He can like a boy. He can like a boy.
The lightness fades, decently, when Dex remembers that he can like any boy but Sean. Then again, he thinks as Luke pulls away before Dex reaches the front door, he was never really destined for happiness anyway.
*~*~*
It’s too fucking cold to be lugging a laundry basket back from the Haus, but Dex’ll be damned before he coughs up cash for the dorm washers when there’s a perfectly shitty washer and dryer at the Haus. Poindexters are nothing if not stubborn to the point of physical injury. Which he’s dangerously close to accomplishing, at this very moment, as he attempts to get his dorm key out of his bag while squishing the laundry basket between his hip and the door.
He gets the key out right before the basket slips and he triumphantly shoves it in the lock. Letting himself in, he drops the basket on his bed and turns around to shut the door only to see Sean standing in the open doorway.
What.
“Dex,” he says, breathless. “Hi.”
“Uh, hi?” Dex is still kind of stuck at what. “What, uh, what are you—why are you here?”
“Yeah, um.” Sean swallows. “About that.”
“Sean?”
“Okay, this is going to sound really creepy, but remember I’m cute, okay?”
“What?”
“Okay, so, uh. I saw you leaving the hockey frat with your laundry and I sort of, followed you and, fuck. I can’t stop thinking about you?” He winces at himself. “This is sounding so much creepier than it’s meant to. I just, I really like you, okay? I think we can get past the team thing. It’ll be kind of like Romeo and Juliet, right?”
“They killed themselves at the end,” Dex points out.
“Well, as long as you don’t take drugs from any priests and I don’t kill your cousin, I think we’ll be pretty okay.”
“Sean,” Dex tries to say firmly, but he’s smiling.
Sean half-smiles back. “I think we can do it. I really do.”
“Sean…”
“And remember how cute I am,” Sean adds quickly. “Also remember that I just ran up three flights of stairs because the elevator was full just for you.”
“How did you even get in the building?”
Sean grins. “I am very cute.” Dex gives him a flat look. Sean relents. “Okay, I pretended like I lived here and went in behind someone who opened the door.” He points at Dex. “But I am cute.”
“I feel like you’re searching for validation here.”
“And the polite thing to do would be to give it to me, wouldn’t it?” Dex looks at him, standing there a little short of breath with a small, crooked smile. Dex thinks about destiny and bad decisions and how it feels to like a boy.
Dex takes half a step closer to Sean, and then two quick full steps until they’re kissing, soft, smiling. Fuck destiny. Dex is going to be happy if it kills him.
#dex#william poindexter#sean the lax bro#check please#wipitgood#my writing#sort of fic#actual fic#?#idk y'all i just really like sean#and i hope y'all do too#also i had A Day and i just wanna share some fun#i hope you like it :)
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