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bitch-butter · 3 years

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(Modern!AU Webgott idea. Longish? Will eventually be called true bluish light. Tell me if this is interesting lol

Rated C for mentions of Joe's poor COVID protocol)

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The blackout curtains that hung over the single window in the somewhat narrow bedroom were intensely effective, shrouding the occupants of the bed in a heavy darkness that even the daylight outside could not permeate. The still potent smell of sex lingered over the room, sweat and saliva and everything else casting a gross and homey aroma over the rumpled sheets and discarded clothing along the floor. Just around the edges of the curtain was a thin, white glow, but beyond that absent suggestion of light the room remained dark and still, as though nobody was there at all.

Pulling in a deep breath, Joe admitted he really shouldn’t have been there.

Shouldn’t have stayed the night, at least, if anything for the sake of his own reputation. He’s not typically one to go full spoons with a stranger (or, practically a stranger) no matter how good the sex had been, and he’s definitely never been one to spend the night somewhere that is not his bed. He’s spent years crafting his bed, has read actual magazine articles about how to create the best, most comfortable space, and after many years of hard work he is lucky enough to have created what many have called the Coziest Place in America. Suffice it to say, he does not like to spend a night in someone else's bed and he doesn’t think he needs to apologize for it.

This bed isn’t the worst, though.

And the guy that came with it wasn’t the worst either, he had to say. Joe had been ready to delete the app that led him to this guy and his bed, but it’s funny what a ‘ping’ on a lonely Friday night after nearly a year of no sex could do. Turns out that celibacy has made him into a fucking cuddler.

He’s not all that sorry about it. Keeping his distance from contact with other humans has handily prevented him from catching COVID thus far, and not everybody in his circle can say the same thing, as Tab had caught it first out of all of them via an ill-timed jaunt to Miami and Lip had had it twice now by virtue of his shoddy lungs and over-eagerness to lend a hand to people in his building. But a year is long, and half a bottle of cold Kim Crawford accomplished a lot at diminishing his capacity to give a shit about anything other than getting some attention on his dick. As long as the guy had sworn he tested negative, which he had, and Joe himself had tested negative, which he was, he saw no reason not to waltz into a total strangers apartment to merrily screw for as long as they both could stand to.

And it turns out this guy can stand a lot.

Joe has to admit at least half the reason he spent the night was that he actually was exhausted by the sheer voracity of their fucking. They oughta hand out medals for this shit, or something.

He finds himself smiling as he lets his mind wander over their earnestly passionate exploits of just a few hours past, and proceeds to let his eyes linger on the form of his companion. Though the room outside the warm enclosure of the blankets is a little cool the guy has one bare leg stretched out along the sheets, pressed up tightly against Joe’s own blanketed legs, with the remaining covers bundled against his chest. Resting mostly sideways on his belly, his face is turned towards Joe in sleep, mashed into the pillows and yet somehow managing to look as effortlessly gorgeous as he had looked in his photos on the app. His body moves with deep breaths, the steady inhale and exhale in combination with the sheltering warmth of the blanket nearly lulling Joe back to sleep.

Nearly.

He needed to get up, at the very least to find his phone and check the time. As carefully as he could he extracted his body from the tangle of covers, stepping lightly onto the carpet with his eyes on the other guy's face all the while, mindful not to disturb him. The night before he hadn’t even bothered to check his messages before passing out, and as such headed straight for the amorphous blob of his pants that rested just a foot away from the bed, crouching and reaching into his back pocket to grab his phone.

He hadn’t told Babe where he was going, as he’d only gathered the stones to go circa 11p.m. and he figured Babe was either asleep or performing his Getting Ready to Fuck routine and wouldn’t want to be disturbed. He almost feels sorry for Babe, who had loved the idea of dating a future doctor until this year when the sexiness of it was side-swiped by the actual danger the position entailed. As such, the Getting Ready to Fuck routine had an extra layer of manic energy to it, and Joe knew better than to try and pull Babe’s attention away from the hours preceding Gene’s rare, rare, rare visits to the apartment.

Even so, the amount of message icons he was presented with was unexpected to say the least.

He raised his eyebrows, nearly humming in interest as he noted the time. Jesus Christ, these blackout curtains are really worth their salt if it was nearly noon.

Tapping into his messages, he found a trickle of anxiety rolling down his spine.

FRI AT 11:42PM

Babe

Hey where r u?

I gotta talk to you

SAT AT 12:00AM

Babe

Are you coming back?? Srs need to talk

Feb 5 12:00AM

Missed call/Mobile

Babe

SAT AT 12:02AM

Gene Roe

Hi Joe, it’s Gene. idk if i gave you my number?

Trying to get a hold of you, call/text when you get a chance

Thanks

SAT AT 12:20AM

C h u c k

Babe is trying to find you

Feb 5 12:30AM

Missed call/Mobile

Babe

SAT AT 12:50AM

Speirs Ron

Why am i getting texts at 12:45 at night asking me to find you?

Well, something is fucking happening. And he’s at least 100% sure he wants no fucking part of it because any drama that starts after 11p.m. is the drama of the goddamn devil.

Fighting not to heave an enormous sigh, Joe reluctantly acknowledges that he should pull his clothes on and get out of here if there really is an emergency in the vicinity of his roommate. Looking back over his naked shoulder Joe tries to catch a glance at the guy in the bed, at the length of his bare leg in the semi-darkness, and the angle of his shoulder protruding from the blankets where he curled. He’d happily get back in that bed and go another round or five.

As though alerted to Joe’s presence by the cosmos, his phone begins buzzing in his hand. Huffing in annoyance, he attempts to reject the call at least until he can get out of the room, but throws himself off kilter and bangs his elbow into the bedside table, jostling a glass of water and a pile of paperbacks.

“Shit,” he curses, grasping at his elbow and shooting a glance back to the guy, whose eyes are already open and alerted to the noise.

Damn it.

The guy blinks slowly, bleary, for a moment before pulling his face from his pillows and angling up onto his side. “Hi,” he greets softly, running a hand through his mussed hair.

“Hi,” Joe nods back, grimacing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

The guy shakes his head, looking for all intents and purposes like he means it. “Not at all,” he sniffs, meeting Joe’s eyes in the darkness with a still-sleepy smile. “What time is it?”

“Oh man, it’s like noon.”

Furrowing his brow, the guy nods back before shooting Joe a wry smile. “We tired ourselves out, huh?”

Joe laughs, seeing his phone light up in his hand with a new message. “Speak for yourself.”

At the interested quirk of the other man’s brow Joe hastily gives a shake of his head and stands. “I’ll get out of your hair quick, no worries, just be a minute.”

The guy frowns, sitting up in the bed to let the blankets pool around his hips, hands coming to rest between his legs. “Oh, well, don’t feel like you have to.”

Joe pauses, pants in hand. “Oh, it’s not -”

“I mean, if you want to go then for sure, but like…” the guy waves a hand, pursing his lips before smiling and coughing out a laugh. “Are you hungry? I have eggs, I can make you something before you go.”

He hesitates, eyes pivoting from the guy, to his phone still in his hand, and back to the guy and his open, expectant face. After a moment, he clears his throat. “You know, I could eat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I could, could you?”

The guy smiles, and even in this mostly dark room Joe can see he has dimples and has to hold himself back from practically swooning, cursing his half-drunk self of the night prior for not remembering exactly how attractive this guy was. “I could use some coffee, is what I can use,” he says, stretching his arms over his head, and Joe is treated to the sight of his bare, bitten up chest. Usually he doesn’t take much notice of his partner's body hair, but as he lets his eyes trace over the guy's chest and legs as he moves to stand he finds himself clearing his throat and getting a little warm along his neck.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he responded distractedly, pulling his eyes away from the luscious sight of the guy's ass as he bends to retrieve his underwear and instead moving to put his own on. After a second thought he pulls on his shirt as well; might do him some good if he finds himself flushing up at just a glimpse of this guy's ass.

As he slips his shirt over his head, the guy turns to him with a bit of a sheepish look on his face. “Can I admit something?” he asks, lips scrunched.

Joe pauses, still grasping the hem of his shirt. “What?”

“I…” he starts, before chuckling somewhat awkwardly. “I don’t totally remember your name...”

A fair bit of relief surges through him at that, and Joe finds himself huffing out a laugh of his own, and adds another one at the half-embarrassed and half-expectant smile the guy gives him. “Can I admit something back?”

“What?”

“I don’t remember yours either.”

The guy's eyes widen minutely, before he tips his head back and laughs, nodding gently as he rubs a hand over his face. “Is it bad manners to say that’s a relief?”

“I think it’s alright as long as neither of us care,” Joe said, pushing his hair back, before stepping up to the guy and extending a hand. “I’m Joe.”

The guy grasped his hand in a sure grip. “David,” he replied with a little shake of their hands, before leaning in and pressing a dry kiss to Joe’s cheek. “Nice to meet you.”

Joe turned his face into David’s, catching his lips in a tender, if chaste, kiss. “Nice to meet you.”

#webgott #modern!au #it's my personal hc that joe not only loves to be in bed but is Very particular about it #mentioned:baberoe #this AU sponsored by Kim Crawford

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lawfully-lonely · 3 years

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my peace offering to you as a thank you (: low key based off of your submission which I’m still obsessed with! (This is not edited btw)

Blue ocean waves, clearer than she remembers, meets the shore over and over in a soothing rhythm. The smell of the sea salt in the air with the calming sound of the water brings a sense of peace for the brunette and her companion. She’s still unsure of what she should refer to him as, they’re tiptoeing the line between friends and something more; it’s driving her crazy but she also isn’t too keen on ruining their friendship. His voice brings her back down to the scene in front of them as he points out a dolphin jumping over in the distance. She smiles, letting her overrun thoughts wash away along with the waves, no sense in worrying when they were supposed to be healing their trauma together.

“This is nice, thanks for coming with me Court.”

His dazzling green eyes focus on her, with a smile so pure, she could die happy knowing it’s reserved just for her. She keeps her stare ahead so that she doesn’t do anything reckless by making a move, but he makes it hard to keep her distance when all she wants is to be closer. Her smile is genuine as she continues watching the ocean with a few seagulls basking in the sunlight right in their view.

“I wasn’t sure when you suggested it, but I’m glad I came too. This place is so different than I remember. I’m surprised this part of the island survived the explosion.”

“The best part came out unscathed, the scenery is nice and the wildlife is thriving naturally now that there isn’t a lunatic trying to run a reality show nearby.”

“Careful, you could summon him if you keep talking about him like that.”

“Nah, he’ll be behind bars for a long time. Thanks to a certain lawyer I know.”

He winks at her and she swoons, truthfully she wouldn’t have handled the case as well without his support. She had plenty of evidence as well as the other cast members involved, but Trent’s calming presence kept her settled while the trial was ongoing. She wonders how things would’ve turned out if they had been on the same team back in season one, maybe they wouldn’t have to deal with the heartache of being played on live T.V.

“I can hear you thinking from here, do you wanna talk about it?”

As usual, he knows exactly when something is bothering her. He may very well be the one person in this world who understands her more than Cate, a rare feat considering she doesn’t have the best track record at letting people in.

“It’s nothing really, I was just thinking about what would’ve happened had we been on the same team. Things might’ve turned out differently.”

“Maybe, but everything happens for a reason right? Maybe we wouldn’t have gotten as close if we started on the same team.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, we get along so well. We would’ve been inseparable. The only bad thing would’ve been betraying you to win the prize money in the end.”

“At least you think I could have made it to the final two.”

“Why wouldn’t you? The only reason why you got voted off was due to a misunderstanding and Heather’s a bitch. You and I both saw through her immediately, we wouldn’t have kept her on the team.”

“Fair point, but she’s not all that bad. We’re all friends now.”

“That’s true, you just have to knock down her walls and get to know her.”

“Remind you of anyone?”

“Shut up, Mr. Perfect Personality, some of us would rather be by ourselves than make a million friends.”

“Technically they’re fans, so they don’t count…”

At that she couldn’t help bursting out in laughter, trust him to pretend to be humble at a time like this. It’s true, since going solo, he’s gathered so many more fans than his Drama Brother days. She’s lucky he still makes time for her.

“Speaking off, don’t you have a tour to worry about? I’m surprised your manager let you take the weekend off.”

“She didn’t want me to, but I told her it was important.”

“We could’ve done this any time, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Courtney, you’re a workaholic, if we didn’t do this during your vacation, then we would never visit this place.”

“We would have eventually...”

“I guess I’m getting impatient, I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

“Wait for what?”

“How do you feel right now? Being back here. Does it bring back bad memories?”

She ponders over his question, it’s a valid concern given how hurt she was over the entire ordeal. There’s been too many times where she didn’t think she could overcome the feeling of not being good enough for anything, no matter how successful her life is. Some days are better than others, the road to recovery isn’t easy, but she’s still here and that’s all that matters.

“Strangely, I think I’m okay. I honestly haven’t even thought too much about my history with this place.”

“Does that mean you’re over what happened?”

Her gaze is downcast as she gives a melancholy smile. Her experiences here are bittersweet, but she’s slowly getting over the lingering bitter aftertaste she couldn’t let go of before. Trent’s right, everything happens for a reason, maybe this was the universe’s way to bring them together.

“I used to ignore this question every time someone brought it up, but I can honestly say that I am over it now. I understand why you wanted to come back now. To get closure.”

“It’s the next best thing right? Besides actually talking to them.”

“I don’t have anything to say to either of them, it is what it is. I’m not mad anymore, but that doesn’t mean I wanna hang out with them and pretend we’re all friends.”

He reaches over to place his hand over hers, this isn’t the first time they’ve held hands, but somehow this felt different than the previous times. She meets his eyes as he tells her how proud he is of her, she has to blink back the tears forming in her eyes. Every time he praises her like this, she gets emotional, he’s the only person on this earth who’s ever openly admitted he’s proud of her. When she decided not to write an angry letter back to her ex, graduating top of her class and a semester early in law school, winning the trial against the disgraced Host after ten months of going back and forth to the courtroom, seeking therapy after struggling by herself for so long, and right now as she chooses to let go of the pain she kept buried in her heart all those years.

“I’m really happy for you Courtney. Let’s keep moving forward together.”

They’re not quite there yet, but this is definitely a step in the right direction. Getting rid of all the baggage from past relationships to sit next to each other at the very place where they first met. They both subconsciously scoot closer together without acknowledging it, sharing space is nothing new to them. She lays her head on his shoulder the same time he wraps an arm around her waist to keep her from slipping off the rock as a wave makes a particularly big splash.

“You okay there Court?”

“With you Trent, always.”

Thank you so much @marshunter06 !! My Trentey heart has just exploded lol 😆. This is so incredible 💕.

#Trentney #submission #i love it so much!!!#thank you #this is so cute!!

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purplerose244 · 3 years

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Irrational - Chapter 5: I love you too much

HELLOOOOOOO!!! 🤩🤩

Here comes the fifth day of @spacecampweek with what is probably my favorite fic of the bunch! Little song-fic but not really situation in a normal world AU, where Krel is about to confess his feelings in a special way! 💕💕💕

Enjoy!! 😙

Summary: Prom is here at last, a night of entertainment, of happiness, to celebrate changes and the future. What better moment for Krel to finally express feelings that have been hidden for so long? Time to put those guitar lessons to some use...

Read it on the AO3

It was happening. No more holding back, no more thinking rationally about his chances without concluding a thing. Tonight, everything was going to change.

Prom had turned out to be an absolute oxymoron to walk into, between his deep appreciation for parties and his unsettledness at dealing with other people of different temperatures – or ‘cool’, as they liked to call themselves. Everyone was dancing like crazy, that was very good, and everyone was talking loud about nonsense, that was very not good. Adding to the unpleasantries was the music playing onto the stage, something pulsing yet in a hardly dynamic way. If this was another night, he would have liked to teach these people what real music sounded like and propose himself as a DJ, to properly say goodbye to Arcadia Oaks High. Then again, in another delson he would have not worn these kind of flashy clothes – he had lost the chance to call this a normal night the moment he had exited his house wearing a bow.

There was a lot of movement in the middle of the room, and in the middle some familiar faces. He could spot Jim’s questionable moves while Claire was laughing loudly with red cheeks, he could see Toby doing some robot moves while Darci danced along him, he managed to notice Aja spinning all over, between a super smiling Steve and an extremely radiant Eli.

It looked like they were all having fun, so much fun. Krel wasn’t… not yet.

“Hey Clint.”

He almost snorted at the sudden voice.

“Mary, I know you know my name at this point.”

“Whatever Kurt, whatcha up to?” The queen of the bees appeared in front of him, all sparkly in her pink shock dress. “Hank got all handsy, Dean is being shy, and that cute guy from Arcadia Oaks Academy that snuck in is being difficult. I’m up for some juice and it looks like you’re up to something.” And the queen of gossip too as well. She grinned at him, clearly playful. “Could it be you’ll stop being a wuss, at last? That would be nice!” He didn’t deny it. for a second. Big mistake, her eyes immediately widened, like she got struck by absolute knowledge. “Don’t tell me-”

He covered her mouth, realizing midway there that there was no point, the music was so loud it silenced everything. Despite that, he couldn’t bring her to say it. Not yet.

“Perhaps… maybe.”

Mary’s eyes turned into stars. She quickly wiped his hands off her.

“O-M-G, finally, I’ve been waiting for this for so long! Ha, I knew you were going to be the one to do it, Darci owes me five dollars! So does Logan! Pff, why was everyone betting on the space dork anyway… hey, what’s wrong?” She was perceptive. It happened after knowing each other for a couple of years. “Cheer up Kai.”

He laughed again. His chest felt like it was exploding, but in a good way. Seklos and Gaylen, for how long he had postponed what he was about to do, blaming time, work and consequences? It was terrifying in a way that was almost pleasant. Maybe. Perhaps.

“I am fine.” He swallowed, because of course the moment he had scanned the entire party, he had noticed it right away. Or rather, he had noticed a lack of him. “He… he is not here though.”

“He’s probably still bummed that he got into that accounting college his grumpy dad wants him to go but still doesn’t know about the engineering one.” Krel was holding his breath about that one too. Seamus had promised to be roommates in that case. Was it going to be weird if tonight wasn’t going to turn out the way he wanted? Was he going to be awkward around him? “Alright, I can smell burning thoughts, hashtag stopbeinganerd! You’re telling me you’re going to do it and I wanna know how, where and when, and if you try to chicken out now, I swear I’m gonna smash your precious guitar!” She sure knew how to get him riled up.

For the first time since he had come to this decision, Krel smiled, thinking of the backstage, the phases he had prepared into his head. He looked up, shaking his head.

“I believe that would be counterproductive for my plan.”

Mary’s mouth popped open, and if that wasn’t satisfying.

“No.”

“Kleb yes, I am not holding back.”

“That’s gonna be the bomb but you better don’t swoon anyone else, you dang charmer! I have all boy dates tonight and I wanna keep them focused on me only!” She giggled, patting his shoulder. “Just go for it, okay? You’re cool, even when you’re being a nerd.” It was as good of an encouragement as he could get right now. “Just wait until your dorky prince charming arri- Oh this is too perfect.” She was smirking, so much her makeup was scrunching up a little.

Krel didn’t have to turn around to know. He did it anyway.

What a view. This prince really wasn’t above physical appearance as he had first thought when he had arrived in Arcadia, powered by his absolute intellect, rationality, and general annoyance towards social interactions with amoebas. It had taken him a while, a whole while, to accept that even someone like him could get this soft inside.

Give then right time, and the right person.

Seamus was radiant, with the black jacket and the blue tie, with the polished shoes and the pulled back hair. From the relaxed eyes the discussion with his dad must had ended without a punishment, and he was actually smiling. Everything, he was so absolutely everything it made Krel choke up.

Mary was arching an eyebrow, although she most likely know what was going on. The prince swallowed, almost choking again, trying to keep his composure as usual.

Failing.

“… and… and you are absolutely sure…?”

“What in the world, Ken, yes! Yes he is completely head over heels for you, yes if you confess you bet your perfect grades he’s gonna reciprocate, yes the moment he will hear what you’ve prepared for him he might as well take a ring out of his pocket and propose in the middle of the dance room!” He grabbed his shoulders, shaking him a little. “You two are the absolute worst! C-bomb has actual guts to ask Jimmy Jam out, Darci and her Tobypie went for it naturally, even Steve is an idiot sometimes but not at dating and Aj and Eli practically gravitate around him! But you!!” She grabbed his collar, her stellar eyes turning into black holes. “You two are pining messes that I’m absolutely done with! So, I swear, Krel Tarron, if you don’t get on that stage and finally confess, you won’t have to make plans for college because this will be your last dance. Ever.” She could had stopped the threat at his actual name. That alone would have done it. Mary gave him the ‘I’m watching you gesture’, before backing down into the crowd without getting her eyes off.

Krel swallowed, nodded, watching her disappear into the party. Despite the dread of being murdered in cold blood being quite intense and even impressive, it was quickly washed away, as soon as Seamus looked at his direction with those blue eyes of him. There it was, that urge, that need to impress him somehow. It was their thing, the fulcrum of their rivalry that hadn’t stopped, even after years. The need to make the other break their mask of pride and turn it into amazement.

Bold enough, the prince grinned, winking at him. The way the blonde gaped warmed his heart. Was that pink on his cheeks? The lights were too strong and colorful, it was hard to tell.

Was it important? Not really. It was now or never.

Making his way towards the stage was a challenge itself, luckily his dancing skills were not to be ignored and swirling around these random kids was pretty easy and entertaining. The band was playing a pretty energetic movement, there was a keyboard player going absolutely nuts and a drummer doing their best. There was definitely something that could had been done to improve the whole performance – perhaps a few remixes on a DJ board, just saying –, but they were really into it. It almost felt bad going up there and show his own abilities.

Then again, Krel didn’t care.

He had a mission. With that determination in mind he immediately went behind the curtains of the stage, finding familiar locks of blue hair monitoring the situation. Having Douxie as the responsible one was still unusual, even though the ripped off pants and the numerous studs all over his suit were more likely. It probably wasn’t enough for him, he was tapping his foot over and over.

Krel cleared his voice, the older one turned, turning the frown into a smile.

“Krel, how’re you liking the show?” He snorted.

“Fine…” He really couldn’t help himself, it was too easy. “Would be better with some metal rock in it.” The smile was gone. Krel snorted again.

“Really, you’re going to put salt on it like that? Zoe already gives me a hard time because I didn’t get the Ash Dispersal Pattern to play here, don’t you get in the way too!” He turned to the band with a frown, shaking it. “‘Your music might not be a good example for the students’, fuzzbuckets, how old do you think these kids are?? Besides, how is techno a better alternative? Those moppets, I swear…” He muttered something under his breath, a curse most likely, then he sighed. “Alright, I’m fine. Extremely salty, but nothing a drink can solve later. I’m guessing you’re here to ask me something?” Perceptive. All of his friends had to be with him.

“Something like that, yeah…” He breathed in and breathed out, he was absolutely going for it but it didn’t make any of this easier for him. “Alright, I need a favor?”

Douxie smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah? You need a favor from this random guy who got nominated supervisor as cold comfort for not having his band play tonight? Little old me?” He snickered, shaking his head. “Should have thought before you came here to mock, shouldn’t ya?”

“Hisirdoux…”

“Nope, can’t let this one go, I’m out of patience tonight and I need to get at least one gratification. How about you apologize to me? I’ll even help, start with ‘You are the best guitarist I’ve ever known’ and… whoa, wait, what are you doing?” Was it a bluff? Krel was bowing already, but perhaps his brain was messed up tonight. “Dude, how are you actually doing it? What is this favor all about?” Oh. Right. He was the most prideful person on the planet. He had almost forgot.

Krel straightened up, shrugging a little. From the tone of the current song, it seemed that this band was almost done. He peaked from behind the curtain. Seamus was talking with Steve, giggling a little. The prince couldn’t help clenching his hand around the shirt over his chest. Ah, he wanted this, he wanted all of this.

He felt a familiar wave of warm. He turned back to the guitarist, and Douxie was gaping, blinking several times. It was probably clear.

“I want to make an exhibition.” His honey eyes widened.

“… yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“… alright then.” Douxie smiled, pointing at the backstage with his head. “Prepare yourself Lover Boy, I’m announcing you right after this.” If it wasn’t to preserve what was left of his pride, Krel would have hugged him. “Is it DJ Kleb time?”

Krel moved a few steps towards the back. He stopped.

“No,” He turned to the guitarist, smirking. “It is Krel time.”

***

“Alright, give it up for ‘The Raise of the Titans’! Amazing performance you guys, can’t wait to properly see you on Wednesday!” Douxie always looked confident on stage, he was born to have the attention of a public. It was something he and Krel had in common. Right now though, there was only one look the prince wanted all for himself. “Hope you’re having a blast tonight! How’s prom going?” A cheer followed. “That’s great, because we have a special exhibition right now. A special song, for a special someone! Give it up for Krel Tarron!”

The wood under his feet made a sound after every step, it was drowned by the voiced in the crowd. It made him smile thinking how many people were going to be surprised by his presence, his appearance, and especially him appearing with a guitar instead of his beloved keyboard. There was a single stool in the middle of the place, with a microphone already adjusted for his high. He thought that really needed to thank Douxie after this, for everything, as he sat down with the instrument on his lap. He had accorded it while he was in the backstage, but out of habit he did it again, the sound reverberating into his mind. It was like a reality check, a call to the place, as he finally looked up to the public.

Aja looked close to crying, absolutely overjoyed. Mary was smirking so much her cheek looked like it was being pulled. Steve looked absolutely astonished. Toby was grinning impossibly wide. Eli had his glasses shining and a bit smile. Jim had amazed eyes over him. Claire looked ecstatic. Darci was giving him a thumbs up. Everyone was there, everyone.

And then there was him. Him, adorably confused and starstruck.

Krel grinned. I hope you are ready for this, you math blonde.

“This song is for a dear person to me. I have never been able to express my feelings properly before. I have never been particularly good at.” He let another note fill his silence, it made him smile again. “But I will not shy away from it, not anymore. I went through everything with you, high school, my problems, your problems, math and space and everything between,” There was no doubt, not anymore. “I want to go beyond now.”

His mind was peaceful, his body was burning. It felt like he had never been more alive before. His fingers knew what to do, that song was a part of him. He just took a deep breath, and let the music take over.

I love you too much

To leave without you loving me back

I love you too much

Heaven’s my witness and this is a fact

I know I belong, when I sing this song

There’s love above love and it’s ours

‘cause I love you too much

It used to be just him, his mind, and his sister. Them against the world, with a mother that wanted her to be proper, with a father that wanted him not to be him. Everything had turned out so badly at first without them, and so not badly after, to the point he had managed to make an actual life away from Cantaloupia. Then, the escape had become home. Then, it he had become the place where he had met the only guy that was ever going to make him feel.

It used to be just him, his mind, and his sister. Now it was him and his sister, friends and family, a home and the world, and so many feelings in between. This was the right place, this was the right time, this was the right guy.

It used to be just him, his mind, and his sister. Now he could hardly imagine himself without the blonde in the picture, the one that could cloud his mind and fill his heart.

I live for your touch

I whisper your name night after night

I love you too much

There’s only one feeling and I know it’s right

I know I belong, when I sing this song

There’s love above love and it’s ours

‘cause I love you too much

The two of them weren’t the easiest people to deal with, their lives weren’t the easiest lives to deal with. It had been because of a cruel game of destiny or a lucky shot from faith that they had found each other, Krel at Seamus’ door whenever he felt like he didn’t matter, and Seamus at Krel’s whenever he felt like exploding? Was it bad that in their worst some of their sweetest moments together were born? Was it bad that overwise they might had not become this much of friends?

They were living in a world that was cruel and unforgiving, with people even less likely to welcome them. Krel liked to think that by knowing each other, they had managed to overcome that obstacle, and meet also the people that were fine. That were okay.

They were okay. He was okay.

He had never forgotten that one moment of them, not once.

Heaven knows your name I’ve been praying

To have you come here by my side

Without you a part of me is missing

Just to make you my own, I will fight

The song was a tragically familiar one. During the worst of his pining, when he thought he was never going to be good enough for him, when he thought that he didn’t deserve to feel something this pure and breathtaking, this had always been the song. Shannon had taught him the first notes after she had gifted him the guitar after a curious sequence of events, and then Douxie had taken over teaching him all he had needed to know. It was all so familiar now he hardly had to think about how to move, where to put his fingers, if it was too strong or just okay. It was cheesy in a way he never thought he could possibly be, with feelings he never thought he could have.

Aja had always listened from her room, he knew she had even though she had never said it, because before going to sleep the same delson she had always come to hug him. Mary had always told him that playing a love song to cure his – stupid – pained heart seemed a little counterproductive. Maybe she was right. But even if everything was to end tonight, he didn’t care.

He liked love. He loved love. He loved Seamus.

I know I belong

When I sing this song

There’s love above love and it’s ours

‘cause I love you too much

Caught by the sudden burst into his chest Krel stood up, almost making his stool fall down. He didn’t care. Right there the crowd’s cheering came to his ears, and despite how much he wanted to scan the place and look for that familiar strawberry blonde mane in between, he forced himself not to. Not yet, not until he said everything, not until he was sure he had delivered everything he had inside. He shushed his mind and let the rest of his body sing.

I love you too much!

I love you too much

Heaven’s my witness and this is a fact

You live in my soul, your heart is my goal

There’s love above love and it’s mine, ‘cause I love you

There’s love above love and it’s yours, ‘cause I love you

There’s love above love and it’s ours, if you love me…

… as much

When the last note left his instrument, an urge to cry mixed to an absolute pride took over. He did it, he actually did it. In his mind the song was still echoing, beautifully in the open as it was always supposed to be played. He was drained and so, so happy.

Then, as his head finally allowed in something other than exhaustion, it finally hit him the amount of people that was watching, and how crazy there were going with that applause. It was reverberating all over, he was surprised he noticed it only now. Steve was holding onto Eli and Aja, every single one of them looked close to tears. Mary was shouting something to one of her current dates, pointing at the stage then back at her, probably something like “I know him, he’s my friend, he’s cool because I’m cool, good old Kevin”. Toby was jumping up and down, with Darci laughing and applauding. Jim and Claire were holding onto each other, clapping with fervor. It was good, everything was so good right now.

Finally, Krel allowed himself to look.

Right then, his hear broke.

He wasn’t there. Seamus wasn’t there anymore. No blue tie around, no lock of blonde hair, no red freckles in sight. There was no way this prince couldn’t find him, so…

He left. He didn’t stay for him. He didn’t.

“How about that, huh?? Krel Tarron, everyone!!” Suddenly Douxie was by his side, Krel didn’t look at him. It hurt. He thought it wasn’t going to matter, but it hurt. “He will be all over you for autographs and junk later, let him rest for a moment, and welcome the next exhibition of the night!” His arm was onto his shoulders. Krel didn’t move. He didn’t want to. Then he got a squeeze, and he looked up out of pure instinct. Douxie was still smirking, like his heart hadn’t just gotten smashed against the solid ground of the ballroom. He pointed to the exist and Krel, sighing, obeyed.

He crossed the next couple of performers, who patted his back telling him how good he had been. It didn’t feel like a proud moment anymore. It felt like a waste. The guitar was hanging onto him by the lace, luckily, he would have forgotten it on the stage overwise. Krel sighed, putting the instrument down as soon as he was behind the curtains. He could deal with this.

He didn’t want to, but he could. He just needed some time to-

His hold was callous and warm. The prince knew it so well he almost didn’t have to turn. He did. Seamus had his entire face flushed. He looked outstanding.

“Come with me.” His voice was low, almost fearful, and Krel could do nothing other than follow his lead. He was dragged along as they were staying as far away from the crowd as possible, going for the exit. If anyone had noticed them, Krel was sure Steve or Mary would have taken care of them. As soon as they were out of the room, it was silence. The school looked almost dormant like this, without lights around, the abandoned lockers circling the corridors.

It was going to be one of the last times, in this special place.

There was little time for that kind of nostalgia, as they didn’t walk for long anyway. Seamus seemed in a hurry, he was moving forward without a single word. It almost made the prince fear that he had gone too far and had made him mad. Some more uncharacteristic apologies brushed his lips, at least as a precaution, no matter how weird it was going to be.

They died into his throat as soon as he was pressed against the wall. The echo of the music was gone. There were only those impossible blue eyes getting closer and closer and-

Krel would have laughed. He would have laughed in any other occasion, because this guy was rough and prideful and used to be really bad at dealing with his anger issues. Yet he kissed with the outmost gentleness, like he was genuinely afraid of breaking him, like he was terrified that at any point something was going to wake them up from this dream. Krel wanted to hold onto this dream. He held onto him, hands reaching for his shoulders, then up into his hair. They were not fluffy at all. Again, he would have laughed if he wasn’t this overwhelmed by the fact that this was happening, that Seamus was kissing him and it was happening. The hold onto his mane must had woken up the blonde, as he moved forward with urge, breathing in and taking more.

It was marvelous. It was uncertain and clumsy and they were both really inexperienced at this, and it was marvelous. Slowly the timing was getting clearer for the both of them, because despite pride and their social skills they were instead really good at learning and understanding. The rhythm drowned them both, and it almost made Krel forget he had lungs. It got him there, the urge for air, and he let out almost a strangled noise when he got out of one last kiss.

Seamus was panting just as hard, if not harder, his pupils blown. Krel had never seen him like this, it was a whole new side. He wanted to know it. He really wanted this.

“Sea-”

“Shut it.” Another kiss that made him hum, it was sweeter than before. He almost forgot the words. When he tried to talk again Seamus promptly kissed him again. He completely forgot the words. “You said more than enough, now it’s my turn.” The blonde was smiling of that beautiful smile again. “I’m gonna make every single word count.” His hand went over his hair, caressing his brown locks like they were precious treasures to keep. The urge to cry came back.

Along with another desire, that made Krel come back to his senses and smirk.

Once again, rivalry.

“Aren’t you an overachiever?” Seamus hummed questioning, brushing their noses together. It was too good, the prince giggled. “There are exactly 212 words into my song.” It was too perfect. This wasn’t an out of the world experience, this was the natural consequence of their relationship. Seamus was holding him, and he really didn’t want to be anywhere else.

The blonde seemed taken back by his words, for almost a full second, only to laugh. He brought him even closer, breathing against his lips.

The world disappeared. Prom could wait.

“Better start counting then.” He lunged forward, a quick press closer to a caress. “One,” Another one, deeper but still quick, that made Krel naturally lean back. “Two…” This time it was proper, making him decide that he didn’t really need his mind right now. There was no issue, no invention in standby, no math problem to solve. He could allow himself this. “Three.” He could take every single part of him, as a reward in a way, as a present even more. Without a single remorse Krel laced his arms around his neck, deepening every following kiss.

They stopped counting after nine.

#space camp #space camp week #toa space camp #kreamus #krel x seamus #krel tarron #seamus johnson #toa #tales of arcadia #toa 3below #3below #toa fic #toa fanfiction #fanfiction #toa kreamus

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chilling-seavey · 4 years

Note

Oooo blurb idea but what about Daniel and Florence meeting the girls' boyfriends?

I went with the girls’ endgames for this one and how they met can be found in each of their character profiles ;)

Clementine

Clementine was always a fiery spirit, a proud feminist too if you will, and she never let stupid boys get in the way of her aspirations. That being said, it was a bit of a surprise to Florence and Daniel when Clementine came home at age twenty-two giggling like a schoolgirl and absolutely gushing about this boy she met at her internship. Clementine rarely gushed about boys like that, if ever.

Clementine knew her father well and she knew he was going to be keeping a firm hand on her the day she would bring home any random boy for her family to meet so she pushed away the idea of dinner for a while. In fact, Winston didn’t meet Daniel and Florence until they had been dating nearly five months. Clementine finally caved and took her pleading and excited mother up on the idea of dinner, showing up at her family’s apartment at the end of September in black jeans and a dressy sweater with her well dressed boyfriend on her arm.

Clementine stopped right outside the apartment door and turned to him, “Dad might ambush you.”

“You’ve said that plenty.” Winston chuckled, his sweet British accent and small dimples already being enough to calm her nerves.

“Just…don’t be freaked out, okay? And be good. I want them to love you.” Clementine said.

“I’m always good.” Winston teased, dipping down to kiss her once before she was opening the door and leading him inside by his hand.

“Hey!” she called out as they took off their shoes and headed farther into the apartment.

Lucy was at the piano, already practicing her pieces for her university applications even she didn’t have schools or programs in mind yet, and her fingers slipped over the keys at her first glance at her sister’s handsome boyfriend. Her stumble made Daniel look up from setting the table, his eyes locking on the couple in the doorway and Clementine could see his eyes taking them in flatly.

“Guys, this is Winston, my boyfriend. Winston, this is my family; mum, dad, and littlest sister – Florence, Daniel, and Lucy.” Clementine rushed out quickly behind her nervous grin, her hand tightening on his arm.

“So good to finally meet you.” Winston smiled, offering his hand out to Daniel first.

“You too.” Daniel cracked a small smile to the young man who was just about his same height if not slightly taller, taking his handshake as he glanced over at Florence approaching from the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you could make it tonight. We’ve heard so much about you.” Florence said sweetly, sliding her hand around Daniel’s back.

“Only good things, I hope.” Winston chuckled. “Dinner smells divine, Mrs. Seavey.”

“Oh, thank you.” Florence bit back her smile at the formalities.

Clementine and Winston moved to the living room and Daniel followed Florence back into the kitchen, leaning over her shoulder to whisper a slightly mocking “Mrs. Seavey” into her ear in a little British accent.

“Be nice.” Florence smacked his chest with the tea towel in her hand.

“I am. That was just cute.” Daniel shrugged, his eyes falling across the apartment to where Lucy was showing off on the piano, messing up a few more times than normal due to the handsome stranger watching her from beside her sister. Florence let him stare for a while, offering him bits of the carrots that were cooking and a scoop of mashed potatoes as he kept his eyes on their guest.

“Do I need more salt?”

“Huh?” Daniel turned to look at his wife, eyes wide like a clueless puppy.

“God, I could have been being strangled over here and you wouldn’t have noticed.” Florence chuckled, pushing another spoon of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Does it need more salt?”

“Mm, no.” Daniel said, taking a quick inhale. “But it’s freaking burning my mouth.”

When dinner was ready and they were all around the table, Lucy had gotten to the point where she was just talking their guest’s ear off about everything and anything. Winston didn’t mind – he was used to keeping up with Clementine’s own rambling anyway – and he politely answered all of her rushed questions.

When Lucy took a second to actually breath, Winston turned to Daniel, “Clementine tells me you own a music production studio in the city?”

“I do, yeah.” Daniel said, a bit taken back by the fact that his daughter spoke about him when he wasn’t around…and to her boyfriend. “I started as an intern there in university and my friend and I worked our way up until the place was handed over to us a few years back.”

“That’s amazing. I dabbled a little in music as a boy but chose law as my career path instead.”

If it was possible, Daniel probably would have swooned right then and there and Florence giggled into her forkful of potatoes at Daniel’s little grin and excited shuffle,

“What kind of music?”

“Singing mostly. Just a hobby but I performed a few gigs at my local pub back home in secondary school. People said I was good.”

“You should come by the studio some time and we could jam a bit.” Daniel offered.

Clementine’s eyes went wide at the offer and she looked to her mother who seemed just as surprised. They shared small smiles and turned back to their plates.

“Yeah. That would be lovely.” Winston agreed. “Thank you.”

Dinner went well and Clementine was pleasantly surprised that her boyfriend wasn’t hounded with any ridiculous questions from any of her family members. After a good meal and a bit of tea in the living room catching up some more with Lucy’s gentle piano practicing in the background, it was time for the couple to head out as it was getting late. Daniel and Florence walked them to the door.

“We’ll have to have you over again when Penelope’s back from school.” Florence said.

“Yes, absolutely. I would like that very much.” Winston agreed. “Thank you again for supper.”

“You’re most welcome.” Florence beamed. Daniel draped an arm around her waist as Winston helped Clementine into her coat.

“Wait for me in the car?” Clementine asked him softly.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Winston smiled, dipping down to kiss her again before saying his last goodbyes and headed out of the apartment.

Clementine turned her lovesick smile around to her parents, clasping her hands together and rested her chin on her interlaced fingers, “So?”

Daniel started, “He was…”

“Dad, if you spew out critiques at me, I will never ever talk to you again.” Clementine whined.

“Oh my gosh, angel.” Daniel laughed. “Glad to know you think that way of me. I was trying to say, that he was amazing. I might want to date him.”

Florence smacked him playfully.

Clementine’s mouth fell open, “Really?”

“Why are you so surprised that we liked him?” Florence asked.

“Normally you’re so…dad’s so…annoying and protective.”

“Of course, I’m protective; you’re my little girl.” Daniel said. “But my little girl is also twenty-two now, so I think I don’t really have a say anymore, huh?”

“But honestly, you liked him?” Clementine bit back her grin as if it was too good to be true.

“So much.” Florence nodded.

“And he seems to treat you so well.” Daniel added.

“And he looks at you the same way this one looked at me.” Florence finished, gesturing to her husband.

“Looked? Past tense?” Daniel gaped at her. “I always look at you like a lovesick doofus, what are you talking about?”

Clementine scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned for the door, “God, you guys are gross. I’m leaving now. Love you! I’ll text you when I get home!”

Penelope

Daniel hummed softly to himself as he walked up the steps of the art gallery, an excited smile on his face as he was going to surprise Penelope with lunch on her break. It was an extra hot summer day so he was only in shorts and a tank top – not quite the attire one would wear to visit the gallery – but the employees at the front desk knew him well and they didn’t give his outfit much of a second glance.

“She’s in the studio on the third floor.” one of the ladies said before he could even ask and Daniel thanked her with a sweet smile before heading for the curving staircase in the interior courtyard. He didn’t notice the lingering glances of the young ladies on his exposed muscles and softly tanned skin lightly shining in sweat from the summer sun.

The studio classrooms were tucked away from the main gallery and they were where Penelope mostly spent her internship assisting the teachers and artists with their classes. Daniel let himself into her usual room, pushing open the cracked open door, calling out a lighthearted, “Hey, bug. I was wondering if you wanted to-”

He stopped in his tracks barely two steps into the room, eyes wide as Penelope pushed the strange boy away from her and wiped her lips with the back of her hand as she jumped off the table quickly.

“Dad! Oh my gosh-” Penelope tried to defend her actions behind terribly blushed cheeks but Daniel was already out the door and halfway to the stairs, nearly just as embarrassed as she was.

Penelope rushed after him, tugging off her paint stained apron on her way out the door.

“Dad!” she called, her voice echoing down the hallway.

“I’ll just see you at home, okay? I didn’t mean to interrupt or just barge in on your…work.” Daniel rushed out, stopping at the top of the stairs.

“Daddy.” Penelope sighed. “I’m sorry. I…gosh, I’m sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. I’ll go.”

“No. Don’t. Please stay. I want you to meet someone.” Penelope took his hand in hers.

“The guy who just had his tongue in your mouth?”

“Oh my gosh, Daddy, stop. I’m pretending you didn’t see anything.” Penelope cringed, pulling him down the hallway.

So he let his nineteen year old lead him back into the studio where the young man still stood quite nervously across the room, his hands in his pants pocket.

“I didn’t want you guys to meet like this but…Dad, this is Anthony. My boyfriend.”

“B-Boyfriend?” Daniel gaped, looking from the stranger to his daughter, her hand still in his. Penelope had never had a boyfriend – at least none that she went out of her way to be with – and Daniel was nearly stunned into silence.

“Yeah. I told you and Mum I was talking to someone.” Penelope mumbled.

“Yeah…talking to someone but it didn’t look like there was a lot of talking going on.”

“Dad!” Penelope squeaked.

“Despite what it looked like I’m quite polite.” Anthony chuckled nervously, his cheeks dusted in pink, he held his hand out to Daniel. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Daniel hesitated but shook his hand, his other tightening in Penelope’s, “You as well. Although I haven’t heard much of you.”

“We’re taking it slow.” Penelope said softly, shifting her hand out of Daniel’s to stand beside Anthony and leaned into him.

Daniel might have been a bit oblivious about women staring at him but he certainly wasn’t clueless when it came to Anthony’s slight stare towards his muscles and the protective father crossed his arms over his chest for emphasis. His height enough was slightly intimidating, standing 6’1” over the 5’10” young man and Anthony swallowed nervously.

“Anyway, I should let you two have lunch.” Anthony mumbled. He turned to Penelope and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Talk later, Penny.”

Penelope pulled a small smile and nodded, letting him leave the room without another word, Daniel’s narrowed eyes following him out. Penelope groaned in annoyance when they were alone.

“Dad, what the heck?” Penelope smacked his arm.

“What?” Daniel turned back to her.

“You were being so rude and possessive. Why can’t you be nice for once?”

“I was perfectly nice.”

“You didn’t say anything and just flexed your stupid muscles and glared at him like a weirdo!”

“Gotta make sure he’s up for the challenge.”

“Challenge of what? He’s not a wresting partner! He’s my boyfriend!” Penelope frowned. “And I’ve never had one before so just…freaking relax, okay?”

“Exactly. He’s your first boyfriend. So I gotta make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“Dad!” Penelope groaned through a pout. “You’re so obnoxious. I’m calling mom.”

Lucy

“It was so funny, Daniel, oh my gosh. So Lucy brought her boyfriend over for dinner last night and he was telling us-”

“What?”

“She brought her what?”

“Her…boyfriend? Xavier?”

“What the fuck? Who the fuck is Xavier?”

“He was one of her dance instructors and they started dating like last month. You don’t…know?” Tyler’s voice was much softer now as if he was just caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, the pixels over the FaceTime call buffering a moment through his worried frown.

“He was her teacher?” Daniel nearly shouted. “She brought him to my house for dinner to meet my family before I even knew he existed? Her teacher?” Daniel gaped into the phone.

“Daniel, relax, okay? It’s not a big deal.” Tyler said as gently as he could.

“So all of you met him?”

“Yeah. Christian and Anna came by home too.”

“What the fuck.” Daniel breathed, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“God, please don’t lash out.” Tyler groaned. “You always overact with this stuff, bro. It’s not like he’s 45. And he’s a nice guy, okay?”

“I gotta go.”

“Daniel-”

He hung up before his older brother could say anything else and he threw himself off the couch and stormed down the hallway towards the master bedroom.

“Florence!”

She had just gotten out of the shower – like barely had even pulled her underwear up her legs before he was barging into the ensuite. She knew he was angry when he used her full name and she pulled her shirt from the counter to keep herself someone decent under the emotional glare of her husband.

“What’s wrong?” Florence asked as gently as she could.

“Did you know Lucy has a boyfriend out in BC?” Daniel asked sharply, throwing his arm out like he was pointing to the other side of the country like that.

“A boyfriend? Yeah, I think I knew. She mentioned it in passing to me that she was talking to someone, why?” Florence said, walking past him to start to blow-dry her hair.

“You knew?!”

“She tells me a lot. I’m her mother. Did you not know?” Florence frowned, talking louder over the noise of the hairdryer.

“No! Did you know he went over for dinner with my family? And that he was her dance teacher?”

“She’s dating her professor?” Florence’s eyebrows raised as she stared at him through the bathroom mirror.

“According to Tyler! Tyler! Fucking Tyler knows before me.”

“Jesus, Daniel. Maybe because she knew you were going to blow a damn fuse like you are.” Florence laughed lightly, turning off the hairdryer and set it on the counter to give him her full attention. “Call her then, sweetheart. Take some deep breaths and grab a drink of something and call her.”

Daniel whipped out his phone and dialed their youngest daughter right away.

“Daniel, I said calm down first before you-”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Why the hell am I finding out from my brother that you have a boyfriend?”

Florence sighed tiredly and ran a hand over her face as Daniel took his conversation out into the bedroom.

Lucy’s face on the other side of the screen was answer enough, her wide eyes and shocked face as if she was a deer in headlights, “Uhh.”

“Yeah ‘uhh’.” Daniel scoffed. “And your professor of all people? That’s is hugely inappropriate. You’re just barely twenty-one, Lucy Elizabeth. I swear to God, if he’s closer to my age than he is to yours I’m flying out tonight to take you home.”

“Dad! Shit! Listen to yourself! You’ve gone freaking insane!” Lucy shouted to cut off his angry tangent. “I’m not an idiot, Dad! I know how to handle myself. Even still, do you think Uncle Christian and Uncle Tyler would let me bring around some old man? Or especially Grandpa? Yeah, he was my dance instructor last year but we didn’t talk seriously until after I was done his class. We didn’t break any rules so calm yourself.”

“How old is he?” Daniel asked, narrowing his eyes towards the screen.

“I’m twenty-six, sir.”

The voice coming from somewhere behind Lucy made Daniel’s face completely fall pale. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “Lucy, I swear, why couldn’t you have put headphones on-”

“Because you called me like a maniac to yell at me in the middle of dinner!” Lucy turned her phone to show her half-eaten place setting and he caught a glimpse of the young man across from her.

“Lucy’s a strong woman, Mr. Seavey. She knows when to put me in my place and it’s only been a month and things are going nicely. At least I think so. She decides what happens with us and when.” Xavier assured him as politely as he could.

Daniel sighed at Lucy’s prideful grin at her boyfriend sitting across from her and she turned back to their FaceTime call with a scowl.

“I know what I’m doing, Dad.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to make sure things were serious before getting you and Mom involved. The family out here is one thing but you two are my world and I gotta make sure I’m doing something good and something solid before telling you. So can you not scream at me like I’m six?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Daniel sighed, rubbing his hand over his face tiredly. “I was just worried about you. After what happened at prom I-”

“Oh my gosh, Dad. That was like four years ago. Nothing happened. I’m fine. I’ve grown up. Now can I eat dinner in peace?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m sorry.”

“If you’re good maybe I’ll bring him home to meet you guys.” Lucy chuckled.

“I would like that a lot!” Xavier spoke up.

“We’ll think about it.” Daniel said flatly.

“Love you, Daddy.” Lucy smiled, blowing him a kiss through the screen.

“Love you, princess.” Daniel sighed, watching the screen turn to black as she hung up. He flopped himself backwards onto the bed with a huff and ran both hands through his hair, staring up to the ceiling blankly.

“I know what Clementine would say if she was here.” Florence said from the bathroom.

“What?” Daniel mumbled.

“‘Someone needs to get laid.’”

“Was that an offer?” Daniel bit back his smirk.

“No way, pretty boy. I’m going to sleep. Move it.” Florence said, turning off the bathroom light and smacked his thigh to get him off her side of the bed. Daniel shuffled over and let her climb under the covers before laying down and resting his head on her stomach. “Tired yourself out, huh?”

“Shut up.”

#unedited as HECK #daniel seavey #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we imagines #anything but mine

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plutowrites · 3 years

Note

Hi so I’m in love with you !!

2, 7, 8, 10, 13 ,16, 17, 19, 24, 36, 42 and 49!

HEHEHEHEHEHE answer away 😁❣️

7. do you prefer poems or love letters?

omg i LOVE BOTH so much but I think when it comes to giving i would write a poem but to recieve i would prefer a love letter

10. favorite milkshake flavor?

cookies n cream, salted caramel, and chocolate!!

13. favorite perfume/cologne?

ouu i love my Lady Million perfume i always get compliments on it! it smells sweet and kind of floral! im rlly bad at describing scents omg

16. favorite love story?

this is embarassing but i am THAT person who rlly loves disney omg i think my favourite love story is tiana and naveen it’s just so....UGH

i saw a post that was like THEY invented love and you know what? they really did!

17. what’s the most attractive thing a person could wear?

cornball alert but i think a smile. I just love seeing people’s smile, it makes me fall in love with them

19. snow, rain, or sun?

sun!!

24. what makes you blush?

compliments, or random touches like if someone placed a hand on my knee i would blush

36. cloud gazing or star gazing?

WAIT this is hard! I think cloud gazing tho <3

42. do you prefer gazing wistfully out the window or lying dramatically over the sofa?

Lying dramatically over the sofa. No further comments.

49. hand kisses or nose kisses?

aww definitely hand kisses! When you wrote the playlist/matchup for me and included kenma kissing my hands it made me SWOON

thank you bunny! I love u so much xxx

#pluto answers #answered asks

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tohermcon · 3 years

Text

LINE WITHOUT A HOOK—chapter 4

Again DISCLAIMER: i don’t own Draco Malfoy or the houses of hogwarts or Quidditch. That all beloings to the author. Wheras I do own Allison Hale. This is a crossover ish story so if you don’t enjoy those don’t read this. Also this is my first time writing about quittich and it was really ffing hard. But we are getting closer to a really really cute part. So stick around.

Wordscount: 1194 words

@rainbcwmoony

I woke up with sweat on my forehead. The after effects of the nightmare still drawing out. My heart beat fast and hard in my chest. The darkness around me yet the light from my night candle reminded me that I was safely tucked in my dorm room. And that what I had dreamt—as horrible as it was was just that. A dream.

I couldn’t truly sleep the remainder of the evening. Sometimes drifting off only to awake in a few simple seconds. I was nervous to sleep again, constantly remembering the prominent face of Lucius Malfoy. And Fenrir Grayback. I knew I was halfway wanted, given I got away. I was turned but I wasn’t dead which had been Fenrir his original goal.

I got up when the light through my window made it clear that it was day, washing my face to keep the scars clean. As always I had scratched my throat deeply during the turning so I cleaned the wound with salt water. Putting bandages over them before grabbing my quidditch stuff. I wore the sweater to the field. My broom in my right hand. We had to play against slytherin, and despite the compition being real with them I knew they cheated. And badly. But I sometimes managed to kick their asses. And given Draco wasn’t their seeker anymore I had more of a chance.

As usual we were given a peptalk and all got to our usual spots. I immediately focused on the goal. Catching the snitch. So that is the goal I settled on. As the snitch was let loose and the game begun I got up onto my broom. I held it tightly as I soared through the air. It took a while before I found it again. And I wasn’t planning on letting it get from my sight again. So I flew; and fast. The seeker of Slytherin tailing behind me—bastard that he was. And when I came closer I outstretched my hand and caught it. The fluttery wings against my hand until it became a ball again.

“MISS ALLISON HALE HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! HUFFLEPUFF WINS”

I got down and got over to my team as for the first time in a while we didn’t have any wounded either. I embraced them as I looked over to the tribunes and saw how along the Hufflepuffs clapping, Draco watched me. He wasn’t clapping but he winked at me. And that was enough. I knew he couldn;t clap for me. It would tarnish his name. But I smiled, and winked back. Before focusing again on my team that was surrounded by pure and utter chaos. They didn’t win often so when they did it was something they truly celebrated.

I returned to the shower after the game. I always did. Cleaning of the sweat and making sure none of the dirt actually got into my wounds; I was too stubborn to visit madame Pomfrey again. The soap got into the wounds a bit. Making me let out small huffs cause it obviously burned like crazy. I go from the shower and put on my hufflepuff sweater.

I got into the great hall. Lunch was just served and after every match I was usually absolutely famished. I got to the table and started eating; they still talked about my triumph and how we won. I ate and laughed with them. Only to notice someone watching me. I felt it under my skin and it wasn’t exactly unpleasant. I looked up to find the gaze of Draco Malfoy. He then smiled at me as I returned the smile. For someone who bare,y smiled he smiled an awful lot towards me. It comforted me. I got up after eating and made my way to the astronomy tower. It was our usual meeting spot, and since he had left Lunch earlier I assumed he would be up here. I immediately noticed him, staring out of the window.

“Sad because your team lost?” I joked sarcastically, almost tripping over the last step. “Careful” he spoke as he then looked at me. “You deserved that win” he said as I got besides him. Sitting on the similar spot. “And why is that” “he tried to hex you” Draco said, muttering. I had noticed it of course. I had heard the attempt at muttering when I caught the snitch. “He failed” I then said as his eyes focused on a rather fresh wound of mine in my neck. I had forgotten to put a bandage or a scarf over it. “I had a small accident” I explained as he didn’t doubt or question it. ‘No classes for the rest of the day?” “Not really, how about you?” “Just a pile of potions homework.” I explained. Potions was the kind of class I liked to attempt last minute. And then failed at anyway. The ingredients always had to be perfect. I had to memorise a bunch of herbs that i remembered my mother having in the kitchen. And thinking too long on that usually actually made me quite sad.

“You need help with those?” Again I saw that doubt in his eyes. Wondering if he actually wanted to offer help or run off as fast as he could. I looked at him and shook my head. “No, thank you. I think I can handle it.” I explained. I actually just didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “Look...would you like to go to hogsmaede with me next week. I just as friends” i asked. And stuttered. I hated the stuttering. But I usually did it when I was a bit nervous. “Is next week the first trip already? Of course I could come” he said. I gave a smile. “That will be fun” I said. Sitting this close to him reminded me of the potions class. The smell he always had around him. Smelling like sandalwood, cologne and caramel. It comforted me. “Maybe i can get you the dark bitter coffee you so much enjoy” I explained. He laughed it off. “You and your obsession with getting me dark bitter coffee” “I just do not understand why and how you could like it bitter” i made a face that made him chuckle. “It is disgusting” “HEY I don’t make fun of your weak tea either” “my tea isn’t weak!” I argued as he shook his head. In this moment he again adjusted his sleeve. And for a moment he looked doubtful again. And dreadful almost sad. “How about a caramel apple then?” He asked me as if to take his mind off of things. “Those are nice” I agreed with a laugh. He smiled; the kind of smile I believed could make every Girl swoon. I had never understood those girls but now I felt flutters in my stomach and I felt blood rise to my cheek. My hands on my cheeks to hide the redness, i then looked at him. “I am going to change before dinner” i then said to him. And got up. “I’ll see you around” i said and with that left to my dorm.

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pocketfulofrogers · 5 years

Text

The one where sneaking out goes wrong

Pairing: Clint Barton x Daughter!Reader, eventual Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: It was supposed to be an easy in and out

Notes: Testing the waters with an OC I’ve turned into a reader insert, still a part of my drabble series. Prequel to a MCU rewrite I’m not sure I’ll ever publish, but maybe one day. Ptichka means ‘little bird’.

Rust and gun powder, glass shards trickling red down your forearms. You bite your lip to stop the trembling and try to push yourself up, but your hands are slick with your own blood.

Foolish, foolish little girl.

It’s quiet, save the leaky pipe dripping sour water in the distance- the odd creak in the old foundation of this warehouse. Your ears pick up on the sound of heavy footsteps drawing closer, thick tread breaking glass pieces. He’s cocky, believes he’s at the advantage here. You refuse to admit he probably is.

Pressing yourself as close to the crate you’re hiding behind as you can, you try to map his movements. He chuckles, low and vicious, and assume he’s found the trail of blood you must have left.

You check your pistol; withhold the groan the strain puts on the bullet wound on your shoulder. The deep red sticking black cotton to your skin makes it itch.

It’s empty. From your count, he has about 7 rounds left and all you have is a knife tucked into your boot. A gift from Natasha for your 16th birthday a few months ago.

Easy enough. Right?

You didn’t know much about the man trying to kill you, and that was only the third biggest mistake you had made tonight. Apparently, you’d grown sloppy in your restlessness.

The first was definitely not telling anyone where you had gone, the second? Not bringing enough ammo for the amount of people you didn’t know were going to be there.

He went by the alias Arjun, an arms dealer with an impressive body count. Oil slick hair with sunken eyes and a charming smirk that perhaps once swooned impressionable woman, but would now make them hold their purses a little tighter. He was looking to branch out into stolen intel. Specifically, from a SHIELD agent that had turned.

Clint had almost had him before he disappeared a little over a year ago. When a contact you had heard whispers of his return, you swiped the file using a badge you lifted.

“When did SHIELD start sending children to do their work for them?” He taunts.

“About the same time they realized you weren’t actually that big of a threat.” You throw back, gripping your blade tightly.

He tsks. “It’s not wise to underestimate.”

His footsteps draw closer and a countdown begins in your head. 15 seconds before he rounds the corner, 5 to get the gun, and another 5 to kill him before he kills you. You watch as his shadow approaches and pauses and hold your breath.

“I’ve heard whispers of the Angel, an enhanced child SHIELD raised to be the perfect agent, a great killer. I have to say, not impressed.”

His boot breaches your eyeline and you’ve sunk the blade deep into his foot before he’s even seen you. When you rip it out, a ragged scream tears from his throat, bright red blood splatters across your face. He raises his gun to your chest, but you grab the inside of his wrist and push.

The crate beside you explodes wooden shards as the bullet tears through.

You lock eyes with him, see fear coated in rage within his dark iris, and push the blade into his gut. He snarls with the twist of your wrist, and you swallow your nausea at the feel of warm liquid soaking your fingers.

He slips from your grasp, hits the concrete with a thud. Words gurgle in the back of his throat when you kick the gun from his weak grasp. Kneeling down, you hide the pain from your injuries with a smirk.

“It’s not wise to underestimate.” You echo.

He chuckles, a sickening sound that flecks dark blood onto his cheek. “Your age shows in your naivety.”

There’s a flash of metal and a searing pain erupts in your side. You fall back and his laughter devolves as he starts to choke on his own blood. His eyes grow wide, his mouth slacks, and his head lulls to the side. Lifeless orbs stare back at you and you feel sick.

The air outside is cold and damp, the smell of salt thick in the air. You only manage to make it half a block before you collapse- ignoring the rough grit of the brick wall on your back.

The sun had just broken the horizon, painting a fire within the clouds and your eyes well up. You pull out your phone and your finger hovers shakily over the call button. Clint would be asleep, you’re certain no one even knew you had left in the dead of night.

He’d be furious, they all would be, but you had never meant for it to go so wrong. Now the weakness in your arms and legs, the fuzziness on the edge of your vision made you think you didn’t have long. You’re healing hadn’t kicked in and you were starting to fear you wouldn’t even make it until he arrived.

It rings for a while, the sound bounces around your head. There’s a click, a grunt, and some rustling.

“If you’re anywhere other than on these grounds-“

“Dad?” Your voice trembles and there’s more rustling. “I’m sorry I woke you, I just-“ You pause to bite down a sob.

“It’s alright, kiddo, what’s going on?” His tone is softer, lighter. That’s when you know he’s afraid.

“I’m uh… In some trouble.” You manage.

The movement on the other side picks up, he’s whispering to someone. “Ok.” He says calmly.

A sob breaks through and you hear him yelling to the people around him. You look down through tears at the red soaking your hands, the puddle of blood growing beneath you.

Another sob.

“It’ really bad.” You choke out.

He hasn’t heard you so afraid before, so vulnerable, in a long time. “Ok, it’s alright we’re coming to get you now.”

You bite your lip, attempt to steel yourself. “I’m not sure I’ll make it that long.” He yells something you can’t make out- your eyelids fall heavy, slip closed. “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course, little bird. We’re close. You have to promise to hold on, though, alright?”

“Mmkay. ’m cold.” You mumble.

He says something you can’t make out; his words fade out- blur together. He repeats your name again and again until he’s yelling. You try to make some kind of sound, a last ‘I love you’, a ‘thank you’, maybe even an ‘I’m sorry’.

The phone falls from your grasp- clatters loudly as your strength dissipates.

Clint Barton is no stranger to fear. It encroaches on his dreams, licks at his heels almost every day. At a young age he learned to control it before it got the chance to take him.

When he finds you soaked in blood, your face bruised and body cut, he swears he has never felt fear like that in his life. He runs, kicks up asphalt with each pounding step, and slides over gravel to get to you. Frantic fingers run along your face, incoherent words slip from his lips.

He takes two fingers and presses them to your neck. He closes his eyes and for the first time, he prays.

He feels the pulsating. It’s soft and slow, but it’s steady. There’s a group of footsteps quickly approaching behind and he brushes the hair from your face, gripping tightly to the small piece of hope he’s been given.

You awaken to fluorescent lights and soft beeps by your head. The familiar itch of a needle in your arm and the smell of antiseptic coating your nostrils brings up unpleasant memories you try to push down. A pressure on your hip distracts you just enough.

Clint’s head rests on you, his arm draped protectively across. His brows are furrowed, bags beneath his eyes. Anxiety is thick in the air. It takes a moment for you to notice the heat as well as the red head sitting in the corner staring daggers at you.

“What the hell were you thinking.” Her viper eyes seep as much venom as her voice.

You try to shift without waking Clint and wince. “Hey Y/N, good to see you, glad you’re not dead. Did you really take out 12 men on your own including Arjun? Why yes, Nat, sure did! Hit a hiccup towards the end, though.”

Natasha rises from her seat, walks slowly towards your beside. You brace yourself for the verbal lashing you know you deserve, but you’re startled by the red of her eyes, the tears sitting on her waterline.

The heat from her anger dissipates.

“Nat,” You start, feeling guilty. “I’m okay, really.” You reach your hand out to hers, run your thumb along her knuckles.

“I don’t think either of us have ever been that scared.” She whispers.

She takes a seat on the chair that was previously occupied by Fury. He had insisted on staying by your side as long as possible, until someone practically dragged him away.

“How much trouble am I in?” You ask tentatively.

Natasha sighs. “You did get him, and four others we’ve been looking for… Fury is less than thrilled, but he’ll never blacklist you. Coulson is pissed at everyone but you. That’s alright, I’m pissed enough for both of us. Clint’s mostly relieved right now. I’m sure you’ll face his wrath in a week or so after you’ve healed.”

“So… punishment TBD?”

She laughs loud enough to stir Clint. “Oh, not at all, ptichka. I’ve been tasked with delivering a punishment that fits the crime.” Your eyes widen and Natasha smiles.

You spend three days getting your ass handed to you in the ring under the guise of training.

#clint barton x reader #steve rogers x reader #clint barton #Steve Rogers #marvel #natasha romanoff #mcu #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #clint barton imagine #clint barton fan fiction

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

Text

Miss Midnight (Steve Harrington x Vampire!Reader)

For the SPOOKTOBER 2018 Competition

Requested by @electroma89 : This is my Halloween themed request! I was thinking on a Steve Harrington x vampire!reader with prompts 118 and 155. Reader was trying to hide being a vampire (only dates at night, "I'm not really hungry", etc.) from Steve but he discovers her on Halloween night.

MasterList

Words: 4072

Warnings: Fluff and pining?? Sadly, despite the raunchy gif its quite tame!

A/N: Okay, turns out, for all my bashing of the mishandling of the vampire genre in YA books I’ve read, I am, in fact, equally terrible at writing for a vampire character. So I humbly offer this weird fic as penance for all the years I’ve spent shit-talking YA Vamp Books! Prompts in Bold-Italics. I tweaked one of the prompts btw!

Songs: Monster Mash and Spooky Movies

The night was young. You had decided to venture out into town -being bored and hungry were your two life staples at this point. First, you would hunt, the woods in Hawkins were surprisingly well stocked with adequate prey when there were no derelicts loitering about in dark alleys. Once sated, you would find something to chase the boredom away, maybe go to the arcade if it was still open.

While strolling through town, most of the shops were closed except for one, the local diner. You weren't hungry, not anymore and certainly not for human food, but you were bored and there was obviously going to be a jukebox or an arcade game stashed in the corner somewhere. You had a few quarters to spare so you walked over. In the window, a sign read: "NIGHT Shift Staff Needed @ Hawkins Movie Drive-Thru"

You laughed at how much emphasis was put into the word 'Night'.

When you walked through the diner's doors, your appearance no doubt drew the attention of the few strangling locals sipping down iced cokes and eating cherry pie. You could smell everything in the diner. From the sugary sweet strawberry shakes being prepared behind the island to the musky leather of the Greaser sat in the back, devouring a meaty cheeseburger. It was overwhelming and a little strange. This was one of the reasons you tried to avoid humans. Unless it was Halloween. Then you loved being around oblivious mortals and their unexplainable fascination with the things that went bump in the night.

You grinned, finding subtle irony in the fact most of the people were judging you based on your proclivity for wearing leather, studs and biker boots, and not the fact you actually were one of those creatures that went bump in the night!

You ordered a vanilla shake as an excuse to seem like you belonged, walked over to the Jukebox and played Spooky Movies before moving onto the arcade game plugged into the wall in a dark corner.

While you wracked up quite the high score, your keen senses picked up a new scent. You turned to see who it was. A young man of average stature, impeccable hair and a swoon worthy smile walked in. His hair damp from the rain that you hadn't realised had begun to pour. He racked a hand through his long-ish hair and walked over to the counter with a goofy smile, shrugging off his soaked letterman jacket.

"I'll have the usual!" He smiled and placed a few coins on the counter. Something about him intrigued you. Maybe it was his smile, maybe it was the sound of his voice… or maybe you just found that face of his a little too dashing. You took a slow slurp of your shake, forgetting that you hated its hefty dairy consistency. Your nose crinkled and you made a disgusted sound from all the cold sugar sliding down your gullet. When you put your shake down, you laughed at your own silliness and noticed that the handsome boy from the other end of the island was looking at you with an interested gaze. Feeling a bit cheeky, you winked at him before turning back to your game, finally breaking the high score.

When you sauntered out of the diner like someone who had just slain a dragon, you made sure to give the handsome boy one more cheeky wink before giggling mischievously as you walked into the pouring rain -doing a little dance to the song that was now firmly stuck in your head. Your ears picked up the low chuckle of the boy from inside the diner.

Two Weeks Later

"Would you like butter or salted popcorn with your corndog?" you asked the movie-going dates in front of you. Your eyes drooping and voice lifeless from boredom. The two dates eyed you unpleasantly.

"N-no popcorn, just--" He looked around the confection booth, "A bag of gummy worms." He pulled out his wallet.

When they got their order, you heard his date whisper in his ear when she thought you were out of earshot, "Jeez, would it kill her to smile a little?" When she turned around to look at you, you turned on the cringiest grin you could manage to pull, your vampire fangs fully extended. She gasped in shock and then rolled her eyes, "Jesus, I'll never understand people who wear Halloween costumes before Halloween!"

You laughed. As more and more people parked their cars into the Drive-Thru, you began to fill space by eavesdropping on all the dates that seemed to be going poorly. Strictly for entertainment purposes, of course.

In a blue Cadillac, an older married couple sat silently, the tension between them almost palpable.

"I still can't believe you, Mark!" The wife whisper shouted with a livid expression. The man sighed, "I swear I didn't mean to do it. It just happened so quickly. I--"

The wide held up a single finger and took a slow breath.

"Ooh, an affair?" You guessed allowed.

"You knocked my Father out of his fishing boat!" The wife said with a serious face.

You placed your hand on your mouth to withhold your snort of laughter.

"I told you fishing wouldn't be a good idea, honey!" The husband protested.

"He can't swim!"

"Then why does he have a fishing boat?"

The couple folded their arms and stared at the screen right as a particularly gory scene played out.

You turned your gaze to another couple, younger and not as tense. The young blond sat in the front waved giddily at her troupe of spunky friends who were pretending not to be spying on her and her date. You could just about make out the smell of her lip-gloss: cherry-red.

"So," Her date spoke, his voice familiar. "When I asked you on a date, I didn't actually think I'd be taking all five of your friends out too." He laughed nervously.

"What?" She asked confused. Her date pointed at the throng of girls sat on a stack of hey. Her eyes went wide from embarrassment. "Yeah… Well, you can just pretend to not see them."

"Right..." He said sheepishly, looking at the group of girls staring at him and his date. "Easy."

"Awkward," you commented.

"So, what do you do?"

"I uh, work at Scoops Ahoy," he said.

"You work at the mall?" She asked while twirling a strand of hair. Her expression was visibly disappointed. "I don't get it. Aren't your parents like… rich or something?"

"My parents, yeah." He said flatly. After a beat of silence, he asked: "So… you're a senior?"

The blond nodded enthusiastically, "Soon to be Prom Queen with a 3.8GPA and bound for Penn State! What about you? Future plans?"

"I- Uh… I'm taking life as it comes." He said.

"Ooh, Little Miss Perfect does not like that answer," you giggled.

"So…you aren't in college, you work at the mall… What do you do with your free time?" She asked, not at all thrilled by any of her date’s answers so far.

"I babysit. Mostly."

"Babysit?"

"Oooh, she really didn't like that answer!" You rested your chin on your hands, watching with eager eyes unapologetically.

He nodded. He drummed his fingers against his steering wheel then he turned to his date, visibly claustrophobic and asked: "Want any snacks?" His date nodded a little too enthusiastically and he was all too happy to comply, he practically threw himself out of his car and jogged to the concession stand.

When the familiar boy got to the stand, his face lit up with recognition. A smirk on his lips. "Miss Midnight." He said absentmindedly.

You cocked your head to the side playfully, "I'll be honest, most people just ask for a coke and a box of goobers." You teased. He blushed.

"The high score, at the diner. It's you, isn't it?"

You leaned in close, "Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to keep."

"As what?"

"The town introvert and resident trouble maker," you smirked. "Trouble in paradise?" You wiggled your eyebrows to the sight of his date pouting with her arms folded around her chest.

He shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the next, "Yeah, you could say that. I think she's just having her first disappointing date." He said in a low voice.

"Hey, don't worry about Little Miss Perfect. Something tells me she'll get over it. Besides, if you asked me, you're the lucky one. She seems like the kinda girl who would draft up a twenty-year life plan after a successful first date!"

He found some comfort in your words, "I think you're right! I'm Harrington. Err, Steve. Steve Harrington's the full name and apparently, I can't stop making an ass of myself tonight." His words fumbled as his cheeks reddened. You found it cute.

"It's nice to finally put a name to the face, Harrington, Steve. The name's Y/N." You said smoothly.

Steve rubbed his neck shyly, "Right. I guess I’ll see you around." He began back towards his car.

"Hey, Harrington, Steve!" You shouted. He looked back with a curious expression. You tossed him two cans of Coke, one after another. He looked at you with an arched eyebrow.

"Don't wanna go back to your date empty handed, now do ya?" You gave him your signature wink. He smiled and jostled one can about.

"Thanks. I owe you."

"I'll hold you to that!" You teased, flashing you fangs without thinking about it. Steve halted for a moment but then decided that whatever it was he saw, it wasn't important.

You watched as Steve juggled the cans about until one clumsily fell out of his hands. He made sure to place that one under his arm, probably as a way to tell which one was most likely to fizz when opened.

"Took you long enough. What did you get?" She asked. Steve gave her an apologetic shrug as he manoeuvred into the car, somehow managing to mix up the cans.

He held out a can of Coke.

"Wrong can Harrington," You noted as you watched on.

His date looked at it unamused. "It's not even diet," she mumbled to herself. When she popped open the can, she was immediately met by angry fizz spraying all over her cashmere pullover. Steve's face went pale with horror, his mouth hanging low in a half moon shape as his eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. His date let out a high pitched shriek in protest, and like the ancient art of yodelling, all five of her spying friends made the exact same noise in response. Steve had to pretend to cough so as to not let her find out he almost laughed.

***

Steve had turned into a regular aficionado of the cheesy slasher horror film and you guessed it wasn't by choice. He'd been spending more and more time with you. And the longer you were near him, the more you began to find his charm even more contagious. You liked being around him, you liked how he made you feel when he'd laugh or smile with you. If your heart wasn't dead you'd swear that on some days when he got close enough to you, or when his hand grazed your skin, it would threaten to start beating once more.

On this particular weekend (your favourite weekend since it was actually Halloween) Steve had used the excuse of babysitting as a reason to come by again -even though you both knew the monster film being screened wasn't intended for kids. You and Steve talked about nothing and everything, cracking jokes and being all handsy. To prying eyes, you most likely looked like a couple. In this instance, you were talking about what either of you did during the day.

"It's not like you're allergic to sunlight, Y/N!" Steve jabbed.

"Oh big deal Harrington, so I don't enjoy tanning and going to the beach," You replied. "It's not that uncommon for people to dislike Summer time!"

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes childishly before offering you some of his popcorn.

“No thanks, I’m not really hungry.” You lied.

"Okay, but think about it. I've never once, not once, seen--"

"Steve! Shhh!" Lucas placed his finger on his mouth, giving Steve a look. "We're trying to watch the movie!"

Steve rolled his eyes and threw a handful of popcorn at the group of kids. "Why don't you just go sit closer?" He asked with a shake of his head. He gave you an apologetic look, "Sorry, as soon as I mentioned the Drive-Thru, they all just tagged along. I had no say whatsoever even though they weren't invited!" He made sure to shout that last bit so they could all hear. Dustin turned around and gave him a big goofy smile and two appreciative thumbs up.

"But seriously, how long have we known each other?" Steve asked as he leaned on the hood of his car as though it were a La-Z-Boy. You eyed his frame from the corner of your eye, enjoying how laid back and open he was right now. Before you could answer, one of the kids he brought with whipped around.

You let out a dark rumble, "Hmmm… Let me think," you pursed your lips and placed a finger under your lower lip. You noticed Steve's eyes flicker towards them with a look of longing before they darted back to the screen, a flush of colour spreading along his nape. You smiled. "Films at this very sophisticated establishment screen for two weeks, and we officially met during the first week of the Great Slasher Marathon. So that makes it-" You mouthed out counting the days to sell your performance. "Ah, yes! Three weeks and two days." You said with a beaming smile.

"Careful, all that math might just overheat your brain," Steve teased, touching your forehead softly with a single digit. You looked up at his finger, paused and then jumped at him with playful chomping noises as you pretended to try and bite his hand away. His hand recoiled and he laughed at your quirkiness before he popped a peanut into his mouth.

"Right, what was I-- Yeah! Three weeks and two days and I've never once seen you out during the day!" He said.

"But Harrington, isn't it the very air of mystery that drew you to me?" You batted your eyelashes flirtatiously, turning your head to the side.

"Nah," he cradled his neck in his laced fingers, looking at the screen with a breezy look. "It was the free Coke's." You punched his side lightly and he grabbed both his sides dramatically.

"Ow!" He chuckled. His fingers brushing against your cold hands. "Are you cold? Your fingers are freezing." He asked with concern.

"A side effect of being immortal," you jested half-heartedly. Steve rose his brows at you. When the silence dragged for too long you smiled at him menacingly and dawned on the thickest, most stereotypical Dracula accent you could, "Muahahaha, foolish mortal. You have fallen into my trap! Now whimper before the immortal Countess Y/N! Or be banished to the concession stand, where thou shalt bring forth snacks for the little critters you hath taken on to babysit!" You pointed a straw like some ancient stave towards the group of kids Steve had dragged along with him.

"You are singlehandedly the second weirdest girl I've ever met, you know that?" He said in soft awe.

You blushed, "That better be a term of endearment, Harrington!" You scolded.

"Oh, believe me! It definitely is..." He looked into your eyes for an extended amount of time. The heat in his eyes and the soft opening of his mouth made your throat ache, and suddenly you were all too aware of just how much you hungered for Steve Harrington. And the hunger wasn't entirely related to the crunching of your empty stomach.

With more haste than you intended, you snapped your face away from Steve's and focused on the screen. Steve shifted subconsciously, suddenly going more rigid. You shook your head, your raven hair bouncing about, before clearing your throat. "How about I get those snacks."

"I can come with if you-"

"Stay and watch the movie. I'm pretty sure I've mastered the whole script of this one. Besides, I get an employee discount." You tried to put on your most winning smile to make sure Steve didn't feel like he was to blame for your weird behaviour. From the way his shoulders drooped at you turning him down, you weren't successful on that front.

You stood in line at the concession stand tapping your feet in exasperation. You were hungry but more than that you were antsy. Suddenly, a jock who was standing around with his drunk buddies made catcalls at you. His wolf whistle not at all subtle.

"Hello, Dolly!" He slurred, stumbling towards you -his breath holding the stale notes of cheap beer. You rolled your eyes. "Hey now, don't be like dat. Come on, sthmile for me..." He motioned to grab your ass when, out of the drunk jocks blindside, an arm grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around followed by the sound of a fist connecting to an open jaw.

"Get your hands off my girl!" Steve declared.

"Nobody shaid she was taken, man!" The jock protested. Then one of his friends scurried to try and tackle Steve, but your heightened senses picked up on this and you simply stuck your foot out to trip him. He crashed into the dusty ground, grazing his chin.

The boys looked at you with open mouths.

"Is this my cue to declare that ‘nobody touches my Harrington?’" You teased with a sly wink.

Steve shrugged, "That would be nice actually."

You took an instinctive step towards Steve, and he seemed to mirror your actions, but before you could reach him, another jock blindsided him and managed to tackle him.

As Steve wrestled with the musclier jock, you walked over to a group of bystanders who came to watch the commotion, grabbed a soda from one of them and marched over to the fight. You pulled the plastic lid off the paper cup and poured ice cold soda all over the jock -and Steve in the process. Both shrivelled from the cold touch of the ice and broke away from each other.

"Nobody touched my Harrington!" You said with serious eyes before helping Steve up.

When the crowd dissipated, you laced your fingers into his. "So… Is this the customary tradition one performs when asking a girl out?"

Steve squeezed your fingers, "Only if it worked."

"It did," you replied before closing the distance between you and kissing him passionately. Behind you, you heard the kids make kissy noises and the occasional 'Eeww'.

When your lips broke apart, the two of you laughed in glee as Steve wrapped his arms around you. As he walked you back to the car you couldn't help but notice the smell of blood on the ground where the jock scrapped his chin become more and more enticing. You swallowed hard, trying not to focus on Steve's neck pulsing with more vigour from the fight.

Midway through the movie, you noticed the drunk jock from before stumble into a dark corner behind the concession building. "I'll be right back," you told Steve, who was half asleep nuzzled in the crook of your neck.

***

When Steve had noticed you'd been gone for much longer than he anticipated, he got a little anxious. His hands kept fidgeting about, his mind racing back to the image of that asshole jock trying to grab your ass. When he couldn't talk himself down anymore, Steve went looking for you. After searching behind several cars and hey stacks, he finally found you, but he was not at all prepared for what he saw. You, standing over the drunk jock from before, fangs extend and bloody with a look of pure elation on your face. Steve's jaw all but fell to the ground as he flung his arms in the air in exasperation.

***

"Steve?" You asked, caught off guard and feeling the life drain from your body -a feeling that held more irony than you liked. You glanced down at the unconscious jock at your feet and then back to a nervous Steve. You noticed him pacing about, hands on his hips. The silence was killing you.

"Steve, I can explain-" you started, your eyes shining with sadness from the eventual panic and fear he'd undoubtedly have towards you now.

Steve held up his finger and wiggled it around, "You know, I've kept up with a lot. Demogorgon’s, demo-dogs, a kid with magic powers, literally almost getting eaten alive, but… but Vampires? Can't this stupid upside-down place cut me some slack?" He sounded like a grumpy old man who was addressing a group of annoying kids that would steal his newspaper every morning.

"Okay, I guess this is exactly what you think it is..." You walked towards him. He took a step back, pointing at the jock with crinkled eyebrows.

"Is he dead?"

"No. No! Of course not. I- I usually don't… He was just so drunk, and an asshole- besides, he won't remember anything tomorrow." Your voice came out shaky. “Are you mad at me?”

Steve nodded his head repeatedly, "Okay. Good, good." He then kept quiet for a long minute. "My girlfriend is a vampire..." he whispered in bewilderment.

”A vampire?" He questioned the universe, looking up at the sky like it held the answers. "What else are you going to throw at me? Werewolves?"

"Did you say… girlfriend?" Your cheeks blushed.

Steve looked at you as if you said something offensive, "That is what you take away from all this?"

You shrugged, "A girl's gotta have priorities."

Steve laughed nervously before he continued to pace, his mind in deep thought.

You wiped the blood off your lips with your sleeve, taking a slow step forward. This time Steve didn't recline away from you. You felt a glimmer of hope. "Steve, talk to me." You whispered. "Please," you pleaded.

He looked wounded by the way your voice quivered just then and instantly he strode over held you close. After two or three breaths, he let you go again.

"Is this… a permanent condition?" He asked.

"So far," you said playfully.

"Don't joke."

"Sorry," you bit your lips and rose your shoulders above your neck with a pout. You noticed a small smile try and force its way onto his face.

"And… is this," he waved in distaste at the passed out jock, "eating of people also a permanent thing? Because it may put a dampener on any future family dinners where you're the guest and we're the three-course meal."

You held back a laugh, "It doesn't have to be."

Steve let out a breath of air, "Aww, good because if you ate my Mom we'd have some serious baggage!"

You looked at him in surprise, searching his eyes. "Are you not afraid of me? How are you so… okay with all this?"

"If I told you half of what I go through… Half! You'd understand why." He made a 'mind blown' gesture with his hands. "Besides, you're the only non-boring person in this town… And now it makes sense why."

"Does that mean we're okay?"

"That depends," Steve placed his hands on either side of yours. "Were you sent here to do some evil bidding by some nightmare monster that exists in a parallel dimension called the Upside-Down?"

You furrowed your brows, unsure if he was being serious or not. "No?"

He squinted his eyes at your uncertainty. You cleared your throat and spoke again, "I mean, no! Certainly not."

Steve wrapped his arms around you, relief in his voice, "Good because I don't want to ask Eleven to vanquish my new girlfriend."

He leaned in, about to kiss you when he remembered where your fangs had been a few minutes prior. He gave you an odd look, "Maybe we should make it a rule that we only kiss after a thorough brushing after your… meals."

You giggled into his chest, "Deal!"

As Steve walked you back to the car, arm placed protectively around you, you asked: "What's an Upside-Down?"

Steve just sighed and let out an annoyed moan, "Oh, don't get me started!"

***

Note: This fic just kept getting out of hand, it just kept growing longer and longer... I may do a sequel, but no promises. Enjoy and sorry for the wait!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagines #fic request #spooktober comp 2018 #stranger things #vamprire!reader #vampires in Hawkins???

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gizkasparadise · 5 years

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lone candles: the queen (unfinished)

hey all, here’s the chapter i’m going to delete from lone candles because i’m not going to finish this storyline. thought i’d post it here for archival reasons!

fic: lone candles, the queen part I fandom/pairing: alina/darkling, grisha

The good Duke and Duchess discovered there was more to their daughter than they had hoped when she was six years old. It had been an average hosting season for their estate, and the spring social calls were drawing to a close following a final feast with the visiting Baron Golovin. Dinner had been a simple affair (he was only a Baron after all) of roast boar and jellied quail, and the men were enjoying a post-meal cigar in the smoking room when they heard a woman’s scream from down the hall.

Initially the two men (Duke and Baron, respectively) had themselves a good, nervous chuckle: no doubt the stresses of the season were getting to them all--especially the Duchess, who, as was well known in court, tended to lend herself to neuroses more often than not, and had in fact canceled an appointment with the official portrait painter earlier that month following a depressive episode inspired by a rather distasteful haircut.

But then the scream sounded again, and the cigars and chuckles were quickly forgotten.

They ran until they found the Scene: the Duchess, displayed gracefully on the floor in a swan’s swoon of taffeta and silk. The servant woman, holding the Duchess under the arms and wafting smelling salts underneath her nose. The cook, holding a lemon cake between his two beefy but uncharacteristically shaking hands. The Baron’s wife, in a far less dignified heap on the ground.

The Duke’s daughter, wide-eyed and far paler than fashion would have allowed, her arms hanging limply at her side. The Baron’s seven-year old son, severed diagonally in half.

The Baron tripped over his wife to hold what was left of the boy. The Duke looked at his girl, whose eyes filled with tears.

The lemon cake fell to the ground.

The indiscretion was later resolved with a generous land donation to Baron Golovin’s estate.

The Duke and Duchess then had to form a plan. Clearly, they could not in good conscience hand over the girl to an eligible suitor in marriage if she remained in this state. The poor, unsuspecting (and no doubt wealthy) man could very well also be sliced in half. Such a scandal would undoubtedly tarnish their reputation at court, and, well, they had just given over the Duchess’s second favorite orange grove in trade for a severed boy, and she was now quite adamant that she was keeping the first.

So they did what all nobility do when in fear of losing influence.

They turned to God.

The Order of Sankta Alina was the most fashionable religion at the time (in fact, the Sankta who died nearly 150 years ago was the namesake of their child because of the babe’s shockingly white hair—the Duchess thought herself quite inspired until she attended the naming ceremonies of a dozen other noble Alinas. The Duchess was then quite despondent when the Duke refused her petition to name their daughter Alyna instead), and naturally it was there they turned first.

(The Duke and Duchess were not aware that there was a crisis in said religion, as there had not been a new Sun Summoner born in the last fifty years, and the handful who were left, born after the Closing of the Fold, were growing older)

“Fix her,” the Duke said, shoving his daughter forward from behind his leg, “And we will build you a new church.”

The clergyman shook his head, “We don’t trade miracles for real estate here.”

The girl said nothing. She looked at the sunburst upon the altar, the gold of it flickering in the candlelight, before looking at the ground.

“But she’s one of you,” the Duchess pouted, pushing her daughter further forward in a shoo-shoo motion, “Go on, Alyna, show them!”

(It should be noted, that while the Duke refused to change their daughter’s name on paper, it did not stop the Duchess from pronouncing it as she wished.)

The clergyman’s eyes narrowed, “One of us?” He asked, not daring to hope. There had not been a new Sun Summoner born in some time. There were rumors that Sankta Alina’s holy protection was withdrawing from them—that the Soldat Sol had transgressed somehow.

“Do not,” the Duke hissed under his breath, “Kill this man.”

Alina did not kill that man. Alina did nothing. She remained quiet, staring at the slightly dusty toes of her small, buckled shoes.

The clergyman frowned, crouching down on his knees to kneel before her, “Are you like us, Alina?”

She didn’t look away from the ground.

The clergyman’s lips tilted, “Would it be alright if I held your hand, Alina?”

The girl didn’t say anything, nor did she resist when the clergyman took her small fingers in between his. The clergyman shut his eyes, using his own gift to draw out her own. And a call sounded out.

What answered made him drop her hand as though burned.

“Abomination-“ he hissed out of horrified reflex, standing and retreating as fast as possible, “We will not help you here. Leave!”

“What do you mean-?” shrilled the Duchess.

“You will fix her-!” demanded the Duke.

But the doors of the church swung shut just the same.

The Duke and Duchess then had to form a new plan. So they did what all nobles do when presented a difficult problem.

They tried to hire someone else to deal with it.

To fix their child, the Duke offered gold. The Duchess promised silk. Some came: retired soldiers, inspired scholars. All were paid to keep their mouths closed once they arrived and left in failure.

The girl became a secret. The girl became a shame.

The Duke offered land. The Duchess surrendered her favorite orange grove. More came: crooked highwaymen, swindling priests. All failed and were handed over to the King’s authorities.

The girl became a young woman. The young woman became lonely.

The Duke offered his ships. The Duchess began to drink. Fewer came: rival courtiers, misdirected travelers. None tried to help, and were gone shortly.

The young woman would sit in her rooms and come up with stories. Sometimes, she imagined a cure. More often, she imagined an escape.

The Duke, sorrowed and desperate, finally offered his daughter. The Duchess snorted, and started to auction off Alina’s trousseau for tincture (she had stopped with Alyna sometime after daughter’s thirteenth birthday, when she truly realized that uniqueness was not something to be celebrated).

One came.

ii.

“You’re off-tempo.”

Alina didn’t look behind her, though her jaw tensed just a little. But she kept her attention focused intensely on her fingers as they danced along the ivory keys, as they soured the notes of an otherwise beautiful adagio. She felt the stranger’s stare trained on her hands, her profile, but she ignored it. Just like she ignored her father standing in the corner, twisting his cuffs in anxiety.

“Alina,” the Duke muttered, chastisement in his tone, “Don’t you think it’s time to stop your piano playing and greet our guest?”

Her jaw clenched tighter. Her fingers tripped up on another key. And she scowled, “I believe your guest made it obvious that I should keep practicing.”

“Alina.”

She recognized that tone. And, as much as she loathed the endless parade of charlatans masquerading as tutors or holy men or healers, she loathed hurting her father more. With a resigned sigh, she stopped her playing, swerving on the bench to face the newcomer whose first words to her had been a critique of her music.

The stranger was handsome, if she was pressed to admit it. Though he looked…poor. The stranger wore plain charcoal pants, a wrinkled dress shirt, and a slightly faded waistcoat that was once probably black but now looked to be the same shade as his trousers. By his feet was a worn travel bag. Alina’s nose wrinkled. She certainly hoped he didn’t plan on staying.

His grey eyes coolly met her own.

The Duke cleared his throat, “My daughter, Alina.”

Alina knew this was where she was supposed to say charmed, or pleased to meet you. But in reality, she was neither. So instead she just crossed her arms, and her tone was dry, “The off-tempo pianist.”

The Duke sent his daughter another chastising look, but Alina kept her focus on the man in front of her. And was surprised to see the hint of a grin on the stranger’s face.

He inclined his head, but Alina and the Duke both noticed he didn’t go into a full bow or kiss her hand as custom would dictate, “I am Aleksander, and don’t worry. I also tutor in music.”

Alina’s fingers curled into angry fists in the fabric of her skirts, “I think I will manage without your expertise, thank you.”

Aleksander (and what a boring name—the last charlatan had enthusiastically called himself Mikhail the Roaming Ram), was silent. Though his stare did not waiver from her face. Alina’s eyes narrowed.

“I suppose I will leave you both to better your acquaintance,” the Duke said, signaling to the serving woman to stay in the room as a chaperone before he made a fast retreat, calling over his shoulder “Supper in an hour,” before disappearing entirely.

They stared at each other for a moment. Alina watched him warily, waiting for him to speak. To make grandiose practices, attempt to shove a tonic down her throat, or, as Mikhail the Roaming Ram had done, to make her stare at a candle for hours on end while inhaling some terrible, pungent smoke.

Aleksander the Charlatan said nothing. In fact, his only action was to trail his fingers over the edge of the shelf he stood next to.

Alina scowled. The charlatan seemed focused on ignoring her. So be it.

She smoothed her hands over the silk of her skirts, straightening in her seat, “Let’s make things clear.”

The charlatan paused from where his hands ghosted over one of her favorite figurines—a clear, crystal prism—and turned with an enigmatic smile, “Very well.”

Once more, she waited for him to speak. He didn’t. Her scowl grew, but she took a deep breath and began her usual speech, by this point well-rehearsed, “The trappings of the estate might give you the wrong impression, so let me be clear: we are no longer a rich family. Some ancestral lands were seized by King Nikolai for redistribution to members of the First Army decades ago. Others were traded away, and my father’s shipping industry isn’t making nearly as much coin as it used to now that the aeroships have become accessible.”

Aleksander’s attention was focused on the prism. He turned it a little, so it caught the light from the nearby window. Small rainbows scattered across the room. Alina tried not to unleash her irritation—more for the sake of her father than for the sake of this wandering sycophant.

“Elizaveta-“ she motioned towards the serving woman standing as their chaperone, “Will take you back to the stables and provide you with enough supplies to ride to the next town.”

Thinking their business concluded, and the wanderer not speaking in protest, Alina turned back to her piano. Taking a deep breath, she shook out her fingers and began to play once more. She was about four measures in when long, pale fingers rested over her own.

“What-“

“You play too fast,” the charlatan said as he leaned over her from behind, his head craned down so that he could whisper in her ear, “Follow my lead.”

Not sure what to do other than turn and punch him in the side of the head for his impertinence, Alina allowed him to move their hands together over the keys. The notes filled the air of the room, slow and melodic and Alina decided instantly that this had become her least favorite song and she was never going to play it again.

“No one hired a music tutor,” she finally muttered, their fingers stretching out to make a chord.

“What type of tutor did they hire?” He asked, and his calm voice was enough to make her fingers clench into a fist. He automatically smoothed them to play another chord.

Having enough of this, Alina ripped her hands out from under his. The charlatan removed his hands just in time to avoid her slamming them in the wooden cover for the keys. Alina looked up, glaring into those cold eyes.

“Take what you want and go.”

He stared down at her, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile, “What I want…” he took a step back, but she kept her spine rigid, “Is to indulge my curiosity for a while longer.”

And there it was. Alina’s eyes narrowed, “I don’t do parlor tricks, Mister Alexei-“

“Aleksander.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiled tightly, and, to her astonishment, bowed low as custom dictated: a neat, formal bow that effortlessly mimicked the ones courtiers had made on the rare occasion they visited their home, “You never answered my question.”

“What question.”

Something she couldn’t quite define flashed through his eyes, “What type of tutor did they hire, Alina?”

Her lips curled into a frown at the use of her given name, too informal and too bold for a traveler to use without her permission, “Apparently,” she stood, “One with poor manners and poorer sense.”

Without looking back, she made quick work of crossing the expanse of her music room, and slammed the door shut behind her.

---

“What do you know of the small science, Miss Starkov?” the traveler asked her, his knife cutting easily through his honeyed quail.

Dinner, which had been a strained but genial enough affair between Alina, the charlatan, her father, and Elizaveta, suddenly grew somber.

The Duke frowned in disapproval, “Hardly appropriate conversation for the dinner table, Mister Morozova.”

“Aleksander, if you please,” he said, eyes not leaving her. Alina ignored him in favor of roughly stabbing her potatoes, “And I meant no offense. But I believe our first lesson is tomorrow.”

She scowled, jamming her fork once more into the now mashed substance.

The Duke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “If you must know…Alina?”

She couldn’t stop the sneer on her face, “Why don’t we wait until the morning to see if he’s still here. I remember how the last tutor we entertained made off with mother’s silver candlesticks and was never seen again. And the one before that her diamond earrings. And the one before that-”

The Duke groaned, “Alina.”

The traveler only dabbed at his lips with a cloth napkin, seemingly unoffended, “Tomorrow,” he agreed, taking a sip of his sweet, red wine, “And you, your grace? Are you or your wife practitioners? It’s not uncommon for certain gifts to be passed down bloodlines.”

The stillness in the room quickly took on an entirely different form.

“Lineage,” the Duke said tersely around a delicate bite of pear, “is far from an appropriate conversation for the dinner table.”

“I was not aware lineage was a matter of concern.”

“Youare too bold for one of your station, nevertheless as one of my employ, Mister Morozova! And now I fear you have spoiled everyone’s appetites for the evening,” the Duke hissed, signaling the waitstaff with a roll of his wrist to clear the half-eaten meal away.

Alina’s fork was halfway to her mouth when her plate vanished before her. Another servant delicately took the cutlery she was loathe to surrender from her grasp.

“Should anyone have need of me,” the Duke’s expression clearly implied a not you in Aleksander’s direction, “I shall be in the smoking lounge enjoying a much-needed pipe.”

He stood, the chair scraped behind him, and he strode from the room with heavy levels of indignation.

Every morsel of food was cleared from the table. Even the fruit tartlettes.

Alina’s stomach rumbled.

Aleksander’s brows lifted.

If she did not care for the man before, she sorely detested him now.

“Tell me, is there anything else I am not to speak of?” Aleksander asked, as the two of them sat on a blanket on the hill near her mother’s favorite duck pond.

Alina haughtily turned a page of her book in lieu of answering. The sun was warm on her face, a comforting feeling despite the company she was forced to endure.

“A family curse, perhaps? Maybe a disreputable scandal with the Duchess-“

Alina set her book down with a growl, turning to face the incorrigible man, “And who exactly are you, Shurik Morozova, that you insult the persons housing you?” Her eyes narrowed, “Criminal? Vagrant? What?”

“Aleksander.”

“I don’t care.”

His lips twist into a smile, “I am not a criminal. Vagrant, perhaps. But before either of those, I am a wanderer.”

“And whatare you wandering for?”

“An answer to my curiosity.”

He was sitting too close to her to be entirely appropriate. But further down the hill, Elizaveta paid neither of them any mind. Alina made a note to have a Discussion with the servant woman and maintaining boundaries of propriety. First the incident with the piano, now the disregard for her personal reading space.

“You are wasting your time,” Alina said curtly, “And we won’t house you forever.”

“I don’t need forever.”

Alina snorted, resuming her reading, “You’re rather self-assured for someone attempting to solve a problem dozens have already failed.”

His fingers wrapped around her wrist, one by one by one. And Alina’s brows furrowed when the skin-to-skin contact caused something to jolt within her. Her mind went back to the day, years ago, at the Soldat Sol, and the priest who had tried to call something out of her. Alina’s gaze travels slowly towards the charlatan’s. A small, satisfied grin formed on his lips.

“What if,” he dropped her wrist to push back a strand of her white hair behind her ear, “I don’t see it as a problem?”

Alina did her best to cover the unsettled feeling blooming in her stomach, “So you’re an amplifier. Amplifiers have tried before.”

“I’m not just an amplifier.”

“Other than a crook trying to rob a destitute estate of what little fortune we have left,” Alina grumbled, shifting in her seat on the grass to fully face him, “And a man with an unremarkable name, what are you?”

The traveler’s cold eyes lit up with amusement, “Guess.”

Alina shook her head, “I don’t see the value of engaging in a game with you, Sasha.”

“Aleksander,” he is still far too close to her, but he withdraws after a moment, “How about a wager, then, Alina?”

“Miss Alina. What sort of wager.”

“If you solve what I am first, I will leave without taking a payment. If I solve what you are first, I collect the offer.”

Alina’s fingers clenched tightly around the book in her hands, “And which offer is that.”

“The one promised to me upon my arrival.”

“My father makes many foolish promises. You will have to elaborate on the one he gave you.”

The wanderer leaned forward, his forehead nearly touching her own. Alina’s teeth grit against each other, “A title.”

“My father doesn’t have the ability to grant titles.”

“Marriage contracts do.”

Alina felt herself pale. She stood, “You’ll have to excuse me, charlatan.”

“For?”

“I have an urgent need to commit patricide.”

“Where is he,” Alina didn’t waste much time with unnecessary things, like introductions, as she opened the double French doors to her mother’s sun room simultaneously. A dramatic gesture, somewhat ruined by her knocking over a potted plant with her matrimonial ire.

“Alina,” the Duchess glowered as she fanned herself on the divan, one hand delicately wrapped around a tincture, “I know I have raised you better than to conduct rash entrances.”

Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides, “Have you seen father.”

The Duchess only rolled her eyes, tipping back her glass and taking a hearty drink, “What possible business could you have with the man.”

“My father?”

“Indeed.”

Alina shook her head, “Did you know he’s promised my hand in marriage to conjurers?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alina. You can only be married to one conjurer at a time.”

“Not the point.”

The Duchess sighed, lifting her tincture up to the sunlight and twisting it with her fingertips, “It was my idea, actually.”

Alina’s heart flipped into her stomach, “Yours…?”

Her mother didn’t look away from the liquid in her hand, “Of course, dear. You are of marriageable age. Have been for some time. And your little indiscretion with the Baron’s son has caused considerable hardship for the estate.”

Alina felt whatever ire she had cool at the memory. Mollified, she looked at the toes of her buckled boots, “…I- I still do not remember the events of the incident.”

“Irrelevant, darling,” the Duchess sighed, “Truth be told, I am loathe to fully abandon your marriage prospects to men of higher social standing. But I am even more loathe to allow an opportunity for their dismemberment,” she flicked a manicured finger against the glass. It let out the resounding ting of incomparably expensive crystal, and the Duchess sighed in mourning, “The young Golovin cost us my favorite orange groves, you know.”

“The wanderer has nothing to his name,” Alina finally managed to choke out. Trying not to let the bitterness she was feeling manifest itself into tears, “And you have no other heirs.”

The Duchess turned and gave Alina her full attention for the first time since she entered the sitting room. Alina was not surprised to see the glazed-over quality to her mother’s stare, “Oh Alina,” she tsked in pity, “We have no true heirs now.”

Alina stood there for a few more moments, before dismissing herself with an appropriate curtsey.

Hours later, she found her way to the guest wing of the manor. In only her housecoat, and carrying a candle, her first knock on the charlatan’s quarters was hesitant. The second was louder, more confident.

The door opened. And the charlatan stared at her with an amused disbelief.

“Alina.”

“Miss Alina,” she corrected, trying to maintain whatever dignity she could, “I accept your wager. On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“I intend on disclosing my affliction,” Alina’s eyes narrowed in challenge, “but I will only marry you if you cure me.”

He leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossed over the plain, white dress shirt devoid of a waistcoat, “There’s no cure for the small science. Only control.”

Alina closed her eyes. Steadied her breath, and considered. “Very well,” she swallowed, “You teach me control. The remaining terms of the wager stand.”

The charlatan mulled this over, “So long as you swear to not hold back your progress, I accept.”

Alina clutched her housecoat tighter around her, “Aside from the unfortunate side-effect of marriage to a conman, the wager is in my best interest on either side.”

The charlatan inclined his head, “Very well-“

“I have another condition.”

He frowned, “You’ve already made one.”

“And now I have two.” Alina bit the inside of her cheek, “If you fail, or if I guess what you are first, you must help me leave the estate.”

“…You are not a prisoner here.”

“You’re wrong.”

The charlatan mulled this over, “Then I have a condition of my own.”

“What?” She snapped.

“You call me by my name. And I am allowed to call you by yours.”

Alina’s nose wrinkled in distaste, but it was a small concession to give, “Fine.”

Aleksander (the charlatan) gave an easy bow, and his hand reached for hers. She tried not to recoil in disgust as he kissed the back of it, “Then we have an arrangement.”

“We do.”

His lips continued to hover over her skin, as warm as the fingers wrapped around her hand. Alina quickly withdrew from his grasp.

“Goodnight.”

He smiled, “Goodnight, Alina.”

She walked back to her own rooms, discretely wiping the back of her hand against her housecoat and desperately trying to fight the voice of reason in her mind which proclaimed she had just made a deal with the devil.

Once in her bedroom, Alina blew out the candle.

She would simply have to beat him at his own game.

#grisha #the grisha trilogy #alarkling #!my post #lone candles #fanfic

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its-love-u-asshole · 6 years

Text

Universal Spite [fic]

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei/Kuroo Tetsurou

Summary: Kuroo never expected to meet Semi and Shirabu, but now that he has, there’s no way he can resist getting involved, nor can he keep himself from pestering Tsukishima about them constantly.

Or: Kuroo wants to know everything as usual, and Tsukishima is powerless to stop him.

Rating: T

Tags: siren au, soulmates, fluff, side semishira, kuroo has lots of questions once again

Note: Okay this is the last time I’m posting this week I swear lmao, I just had a big urge to write another one shot for this verse earlier this week, so here I am! I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much to @kirinokisu for being the best and for helping me plan this fic out!

Read on AO3!

Check out the rest of this series here!

For Kuroo, it had become increasingly difficult to listen to other types of music lately. He was quite proud of his playlists too, the various genres and bands organized perfectly and ready to be pulled up at anyone's desire. He was the go to provider of tunes, needless to say. Kuroo loved recommending music to people, and for a long time, he was the first one to know about any new singles or groups moving into the spotlight.

But nowadays...who needed that? When your boyfriend was a siren with one of the most beautiful voices out there, Kuroo didn't see the need for digging around mainstream pop for the rare gems. And he got new music often, since he'd finally gotten Tsukishima to agree to recording his gardening sessions so Kuroo could play the music back later.

No pain or headaches, just Tsukishima's ethereal voice drifting lovingly through his ears as he walked to class or studied.

Not to mention Tsukishima's embarrassment over the subject whenever he gave Kuroo the songs, truly the best kind of bonus.

Even now, Kuroo was sad as he pulled out one of his earbuds, stopping the song short. It felt like a crime almost, cutting off the enticing notes before they properly faded out. He knew the magic of Tsukishima's voice didn't exactly work on him, but he swore he could hear the steady beat of ocean waves fading out, the smell of salt and sand...

When he was sleepy and holding Tsukishima in bed, Kuroo would try to say it still felt like he'd get dazed from the music, like he'd been whisked away to some faraway sea, but Tsukishima told him it was impossible. Always the logical one.

Ha. A logical siren. What a thought.

Kuroo smiled as he wrapped his headphones up, bracing himself for a two-hour lecture. He just hoped there wasn't a pop quiz this time, he didn't have the energy. As he walked up the steps to his class with ten minutes still to spare, Kuroo glanced out across the mostly empty campus (fuck eight A.M. classes for real), the silence jarring to his sleep deprived brain. Maybe Tsukishima would surprise him with coffee today...

The thought didn't get very far, and the next thing Kuroo knew he was frozen mid-step, a heavy mist overcoming his mind. The edges of his vision went dark, focusing on one thing alone, which he couldn't comprehend. Something willed him to turn, and he did, each step weighted and uncontrolled as all rational thought left his mind. The last real thing he remembered thinking freely before he blacked out was that something sounded incredible, intoxicating, like a fresh glass of water. If that water was like...drugged with the world's strongest aphrodisiac. Then the world was black, and Kuroo didn't feel the need to mind one bit.

He woke up to Tsukishima's annoyed stare as he looked down at him, which by the way, rude as fuck.

Kuroo shook his head, squinting at his surroundings. He was still next to his class, but he'd wandered off to one of the little sitting areas around the corner.

His eyes found Tsukishima again, easily too, and his boyfriend's glare was equal parts adorable and concerning.

Kuroo pouted, the drowsiness seeping into his tone as he struggled to his feet. "W-what? Not happy to see me?"

At least he got that beautiful face to crack a smile, but the unamused huff which followed wasn't encouraging. What had happened?

He'd been walking to class and....Had there been a voice? Ugh.

Kuroo's head swam as he stood up, and he groaned, shaking the last of the haze away from his mind.

"Happier than you are to see me I bet," Tsukishima muttered, and it was then Kuroo noticed his boyfriend held a steaming hot coffee cup. Bless.

And as if.

Before he could claim his reward, he noticed a blur in the corner of his eye, and he found two other students standing there guiltily. Or...one looked guilty, the other just looked like he smelled two-day old dog shit.

Mixed with rotten eggs.

Wow, could Kuroo give him an award for most pissed off face or was that too intimate?

"What...are you talking about? Who?" Kuroo asked, his tongue feeling like sandpaper. Man, this fucking sucked whatever it was. And he was pretty sure he was late to class. Had he forgotten to eat breakfast? He took the coffee gratefully, his eyes begging his boyfriend for answers. "Did I do something?"

The way his blond's eyes softened made Kuroo melt. Things couldn't be that bad. Gladly, he took the first sip of his coffee (just the way he liked it as usual, his boyfriend was the best).

"Not really," Tsukishima replied, and his sigh might've been music to Kuroo's ears if it had stopped there. "Just flirted with someone right in front of me, no big deal."

Kuroo spat out the hot liquid and...oh...gross. Sorry grass.

"W-what? No I didn't! I--"

"Just kidding," Tsukishima said, smile smug. "Well, actually you did, but it wasn't your fault, it was--"

"His," one of the newcomers (the one with the scowl to rival all scowls) said, pointing to his companion with no hesitation. "But then again if you hadn't been out and about--"

"Don't blame him Shirabu," Tsukishima hissed immediately, before Kuroo could so much as utter a syllable, and if Kuroo swooned any more his ass would be back on the wet lawn (by the way, not fun). He'd just washed these pants.

"It wasn't his fault," Tsukishima continued, eyeing Mr. Guilty with less animosity. "I thought you'd learned to be more careful..."

"It was an accident," the other student muttered, his eyes softening in Kuroo's direction. Shirabu looked ten times more unimpressed, and Kuroo was thankful for Shirabu's baby face. Otherwise, such a stare would've probably melted him on the spot.

His friend approached him, bowing his head. "I'm really sorry about that! I had been singing to myself a little, just for...exercise. It was so early I figured no one else was around but then--yeah."

And thank god for Kuroo's brain, it all finally clicked together.

His eyes widened, the details rushing back. The haziness, the euphoria...then nothing. "Oh, you're a---"

"They both are," Tsukishima cut off, his annoyance fully aimed at Shirabu's stink-face. If Kuroo didn't know any better he'd say they were secretly shooting lasers. He was obviously missing something. "So now you know who to avoid."

"Hey, I resent that," the nicer siren said, and his tired smile made him trustworthy enough in Kuroo's book. "I'm Semi, by the way."

"Not that it should matter to you," Shirabu addressed Kuroo, rolling his eyes. "Keep your horrid pickup lines to yourself in the future."

Semi glared. "Shirabu."

Kuroo didn't even have time to unpack the exchange, all he could think about were his precious pickup lines, the ones he researched and reserved solely for--

"Aw man!" Kuroo slumped forward, and for the first time, Tsukishima broke his ‘who can set each other on fire first’ contest with Shirabu. "Did I use my pickup lines on him? I was going to tell you those later..."

He'd been saving them dammit.

Tsukishima's ghost of a smile made him feel a bit better but still.

"Yeah you did, and they were pretty bad," Semi interrupted, unaware of Kuroo's crisis.

Fuck.

Eyes still on his boyfriend, Kuroo pouted. "Did they make you laugh at least?"

Tsukishima's expression didn't change.

"...maybe."

Success.

"When Terushima told us you two were disgusting, I didn't want to believe it, but now I know for sure," Shirabu muttered.

Who now?

Tsukishima scoffed beside him, crossing his arms. At least some of the hostility died down, but Shirabu was still glancing at Kuroo like he was a dumpster so. "How would he know? I haven't talked to him in weeks..."

"Bokuto calls him often."

"Fucking..." Tsukishima turned towards the direction of his apartment, and Kuroo hoped Bokuto wasn't home while the blond remained on the warpath. He wouldn't tell Tsukishima but knowing his closest friend approved of them made Kuroo want to attempt walking on water.

(He'd ask about Terushima later, and based on these reactions, it would be a good story.)

"Just keep your boyfriend to yourself," Shirabu said, his lips lifting into a smug little grin. "If you can."

Semi apparently had enough. Thank god too, Kuroo was not going to try and hold Tsukishima back. Who would?

Semi grabbed Shirabu by the shoulder, his tone stern, no room for nonsense. Somehow, Kuroo figured Shirabu wouldn't care. "Go easy on him, it was my fault this happened."

"Yeah it was," Shirabu mumbled grumpily.

The way the two bickered finally gave off some form of familiarity, and really he'd be an idiot not to notice. Guess his awesome pickup lines had gone and made some people jealous...

Kuroo glanced at Tsukishima as the blond looked to the other sirens with a purely 'done' expression, and couldn't help but wonder if he'd made his boyfriend feel the same way. It made a fond satisfaction seep into him, not that he liked making his boyfriend jealous, but...Tsukishima was so cute when he was.

Ah, he'd better set this record straight (ha) before he caused the other sirens to break up.

Kuroo stepped forward, breaking up the fight. Tsukishima looked somewhat impressed, the other two did not. "Oh hey, look I'm sorry I flirted with your boyfriend. Trust me I did not mean to." After all, he had his own thanks, and Tsukishima was the only one in his mind stunning enough to be worthy of his artful flirtations. "I would never otherwise."

But you know, magic and all that junk.

For someone who'd only known of its existence for a month or so, Kuroo had become pretty damn used to it. Like yeah, this might as well be a thing.

He heard Tsukishima choke back a laugh, and that should've been Kuroo's first indication he'd unintentionally stepped on a land mine.

Such was his life.

"He's not my boyfriend," both Shirabu and Semi hissed, and damn then get restraining orders I guess.

"He sure isn't," Tsukishima sighed, half amused and half defeated.

Shirabu growled, hiking his backpack further on his shoulders. "Just watch it next time."

Yes, because Kuroo sure had a say in being mind-fucked by old almost-mermaid magic.

Or maybe Shirabu had been talking to Semi, with the way the other had already begun to storm off in much the same fourteen year old fashion. "Yeah, yeah."

What the fuck just happened?

Could Kuroo rewind all that? He really hoped so. There had to be some kind of magical being who could do that for him.

"Nice to see you both too," Tsukishima muttered as both sirens stomped away, and Kuroo wondered if they went off in different directions for the drama of it all. Like...did they actually have to go that way? Unlikely.

He looked to Tsukishima, praying for an explanation. It was too early for this. Kuroo deserved to skip class (he'd only missed like ten minutes but it was too late now).

A few seconds of silence passed before Tsukishima's phone alerted him to a text, and Kuroo watched as those honey eyes read the words, lighting up in amusement a split second later. The blond turned his phone for Kuroo to see, and...okay.

Semi: Sorry for storming away, we should catch up soon.

Tsukishima shook his head. "As polite as ever, I guarantee you he only half means it. What pieces of work..."

"How do you know them?"

He figured it was rude to just assume all sirens knew each other. Kuroo would not be ignorant.

Tsukishima shrugged, his posture finally relaxing. He dropped his arms back to his sides; open, inviting. Kuroo gladly pulled him forward, the body heat welcome in the cold morning air.

Much better.

"We have...mutual friends I guess you could say. I met them about a year ago when Semi transferred here," Tsukishima said as Kuroo nuzzled his neck, and he was either too tired to mind or he'd finally come around to Kuroo's shameless displays. Kuroo would be fine with either.

"Are they always like that?"

"Sadly yes," Tsukishima huffed, and he pulled away slightly, head resting against Kuroo's. "Soulmates are all different I suppose..."

Ah, yeah that was true.

"Wait." Kuroo pulled away, and goddammit anymore whiplash today and he was done for. "What?"

"Those two salt shakers are universally ordained to be together," Tsukishima said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world (it sort of was but Kuroo could be confused as fuck if he wanted). "Although if you ask me, it should be disputed."

Kuroo's head spun, and he glanced in the direction Semi had run off in, like somehow he could will him back to provide answers. "But...they said they weren't dating."

Tsukishima's sigh came out long, old, like the ancient myths themselves.

Why did Kuroo feel like he'd just witnessed a tragedy without realizing...

Tsukishima smiled, sweet and one thousand percent fake. "They aren't."

"Oh. Oh no."

And suddenly, all of Tsukishima's suffering looks made sense. "Oh yes."

"Tetsu, you have a test next week."

"But--"

"Stop obsessing over them," Tsukishima said, burying his face further into the first page of a book he'd been trying to get through for the past ten minutes. Kuroo might've felt bad about that, but the tired mutter which left Tsukishima's lips kept his curiosity burning too heavily. "They've wasted enough of everyone's time..."

"See! Right there! There's clearly a lot you're not telling me!" Kuroo pointed accusingly from where he sat on the rug, all of Bokuto's siren memorabilia laid out around him. Apparently, the other had a thing for collecting old newspaper articles where people 'claimed' to have encountered them. It really didn't have anything to do with Kuroo's current predicament, but he thought it made him look more qualified to investigate.

Tsukishima obviously didn't respect that.

"Because it's not important, and it'll just lead to more questions."

Ah, the blond had a point there. But hey this stuff was interesting, Kuroo had scoured the libraries and internet for anything on sirens that involved more than a half assed page in a mythology book. No real luck. These people needed to start hiring community historians.

Although, Kuroo knew he was practically dating one, no matter what Tsukishima said. The blond knew a lot, Kuroo just had to get him to talk.

And sure enough, his persistence would pay.

"Okay...just one question then. One a day, like we used to promise."

The callback to their former agreement no doubt would break down some walls. Kuroo would be sacrificing a lot too. Just one question? Unheard of. Kuroo was a researcher.

But Tsukishima huffed in the few seconds of silence which followed, and from the way he fully set his book down, Kuroo knew he'd won. No matter how much Tsukishima acted like he would not give in, he always did, and Kuroo tried not to smirk as Tsukishima spun his desk chair to face him.

No, smugness wouldn't get his questions answered, and he needed his questions answered.

Tsukishima crossed his arms, thoroughly done, but giving Kuroo permission nonetheless. Kuroo shook his head. If he got distracted by his gorgeous boyfriend, the bickering would've been for nothing.

Right. Kuroo spoke before Tsukishima had time to change his mind. "How did they know they were soulmates?"

Simple enough right? Kuroo had thought about how to phrase it, and if his hunch was correct...

Yup.

Tsukishima groaned, rubbing his temples gently. "I was afraid you'd ask something like that."

Kuroo loved himself sometimes. Kuroo knew Tsukishima, and Tsukishima was thorough. He wouldn't half-ass an answer if it required a lot of explaining. So, Kuroo got comfy, and settled in for the ride.

Tsukishima leaned back, glaring at the ceiling as he figured out where to start. Kuroo felt like a little kid, holding his breath.

"None of us knew for a few months actually," the blond began, like the memories were genuinely as annoying as ever. "I don't know much about where they came from, but Bokuto and I didn't grow up with them. They met Terushima first, then each other, then us. They've always been...difficult."

"You don't say," Kuroo said with a laugh. He thought he and Tsukishima could get heated, but they were a whole different level.

"Yeah well, they're fools for that too. They're so similar in how they handle things, I can't believe how horribly they get along," Tsukishima huffed. "Or how much they feel the need to act like they don't get along. If they dropped it they'd probably be about as disgusting as Bokuto and Akaashi."

Or us, Kuroo thought smugly.

"So...how did they find out? Does that have something to do with it?" Kuroo asked. That would make sense. Kuroo's first encounter with Tsukishima hadn't been ideal but it could've been a lot worse, and it magically ended up working out. Had Tsukishima attacked him with a shovel though...

Yeah, different scenarios.

"Yes and no," Tsukishima said. "They were pretty polite with each other in the beginning, and the attraction was easy to see even then."

Yeah well, with how jealous Shirabu had been, Kuroo wasn't surprised.

"But, then singing came into the picture, as it usually does when we're involved," Tsukishima continued, rolling his eyes. "Bokuto had suggested karaoke, and I'd been dragged into it. Something about community bonding..."

Yeah, sounds like Bokuto.

Karaoke didn't exactly sound like a dangerous place to figure the soulmate thing out though. What happened?

Then it dawned on Kuroo finally, and he was almost ashamed of how long it took to think of the question. If Semi and Shirabu were both sirens, how did that--

"I can tell by your face that you figured out the issue," Tsukishima said, amusement palpable. Kuroo's 'aha' face must've not been the most attractive.

"Uh yeah! Wait...when it's two of you, how do you guys tell?" Kuroo leaned forward, eager for more knowledge. He hadn't considered this to be a possibility. Of course, maybe the whole human/siren matchup only happened more often because sirens were so few and far between.

"Well back then, we didn't know," Tsukishima replied. It looked like it frustrated him, how much he still didn't know. "But when Semi and Shirabu sang, instead of the heavenly, stupidly beautiful voices, or even the hideous one that you hear from me, they just heard...well, average shit. Nothing special, like those people who go on voice shows but don't sound any better than anyone else.

"Bokuto and I thought they sounded fine, normal, but we weren't their soulmates. To each other, they sounded totally unexceptional."

Which probably wasn't the biggest compliment for a mature siren. Oh, now Kuroo could see where the problem might come in...

Kuroo found himself wincing before the words left Tsukishima's mouth.

"Aaand that's where the fighting started," Tsukishima sighed. "They both are horribly prideful and competitive, and with blunt mouths to go with it. They did not appreciate each other's opinions on how bland they sounded. And none of us knew it was a soulmate thing, so..."

"So they thought they were insulting each other, awesome." Kuroo threw up his hands. Everything was a drama show these days. At least Bokuto and Akaashi's meeting had been cute, aside from the spilled popcorn and public humiliation.

Forget it.

"But, they know they're soulmates now," Kuroo said. "So how and why are they still like this?"

Tsukishima tilted his head, like he'd asked himself the same question for months. "I'm not going to lie to you, it's purely because they suck. We may not have known they were soulmates, but Terushima did. Apparently his mom had seen something like this before, so he eventually told us. But by then, the idiots had been fighting so much neither of them wanted to admit they'd been wrong, so here we are. And here we've been."

Tsukishima covered his eyes, perhaps to keep the tears in, and Kuroo couldn't blame him. What the fuck? Who were these people?

"What's wrong with them?" Kuroo asked, mostly to himself, because seriously? If they were truly both that stubborn and blind, they definitely were meant to be.

As much as he wanted them to realize their feelings....er, if they resolved their issues and combined those powers of pettiness, they might just be unstoppable.

But as Tsukishima said...

"They're hopeless, and that's why I prefer not to think about them," Tsukishima said, picking his book back up as he moved to the floor. Kuroo gratefully made room for him between his legs. Yeah, he sure did need the comfort after that story...

He saw Tsukishima's point. Some people weren't ready to help themselves, and he was forever grateful that Tsukishima hadn't been as stubborn with him. Tsukishima had taken a chance, despite his pride and beliefs, and how he sat snuggly in Kuroo's arms.

Right where they both belonged.

The Semi and Shirabu situation still somewhat nagged at him, and it no doubt nagged at Tsukishima too, but Kuroo wanted to rest his brain for now. He'd sure he'd been seeing a lot of the other two sirens now anyways, so he had to mentally prepare for wanting to bash their heads in...

He pulled Tsukishima closer, huffing into his shoulder. At least he wasn't blind. "Not everyone can have what I have right away I guess..."

Tsukishima halted as he turned the page, resting his head against Kuroo's chest gratefully. "Oh, and what do you have?"

Ah, another success.

Kuroo didn't hesitate to tell him, the cheesy declarations of love spilling out until the back of Tsukishima's neck bloomed red.

The thought of meddling didn't cross Kuroo's mind until much later the next day, after he'd gone through piles of homework and could only fathom dragging himself up one floor to crash happily into Tsukishima's arms. Until he got recharged, other thoughts were suspended.

Tsukishima sighed against him, relaxed, his body sinking into the plush blankets on his bed. Kuroo loved them, loved how they felt like clouds. They were familiar to him now too, and maybe that was where part of the adoration came from. Nights spent at the blond's house had become common, and Kuroo purred as he nuzzled his head against Tsukishima's chest, hearing the steady, rhythmic heartbeat he adored.

It was almost too perfect honestly. Was this normal? Perhaps everything about sirens had to do with harmony and music in one way or another. From Tsukishima's voice to the way he drummed his hands and tapped his pencils against notebooks...

Kuroo laughed as he felt Tsukishima's leg bounce against his, following the beat of the song playing lightly through his nightstand speaker. Because yes, Tsukishima would have a nightstand speaker.

Kuroo shook his head, fiddling with the loose neckline of his boyfriend's sweater. "You know, I can put on headphones if you really want to sing that badly..."

But Tsukishima shook his head no, voice as melodic and comforting as ever. "No, please don't."

It made Kuroo think of the one night they got drunk. Tsukishima, giggly and tired, had shrugged at him, his confession delivered so flippantly that Kuroo didn't think he understood at all what it did to him. "I only sing because of you, when you're not around."

Kuroo loved him so much. And whether or not he super believed in the validity of soulmates, he would never regret taking a chance. He adored Tsukishima before he knew anything about the magical aspects, and it hardly made a difference in the end.

Still...

How could Semi and Shirabu not at least explore the chance that they were meant to be?

"Whatever you're thinking now is probably not good," Tsukishima sighed, but the affectionate scratch against Kuroo's scalp dulled the annoyed tone. Victory.

"So...what if we trapped Semi and Shirabu in a room and--"

"Tetsu."

"If we make them think the world is ending outside and they can't leave the room, maybe they'll finally come clean," Kuroo went on, and hey he had a point. Nothing brought people together like possible apocalyptic scenarios. They'd need to find a believable bunker...

The hand in his hair fell, and Kuroo tried not to pout.

"Tetsu, leave it alone..."

Unfortunately, holding back the pout was the extent of his adult ability. Kuroo whined, squirming in the blond's arms. "But I don't wannaaaaa."

Tsukishima pinched him, the ideal blend of pain without being excessive. Evil. "Well you can't. They need to figure it out themselves."

Kuroo sat up, looking at Tsukishima with the most doubtful expression he could manage. Truly, Tsukishima never gave anyone this much credit. People were idiots when it came to love. Them included.

Tsukishima avoided eye contact. Point proven.

"They're not going to figure out shit." So obviously, it was up to Kuroo.

"You're playing with fire," Tsukishima warned, and he tilted his head. Playing dirty I see...

Kuroo tried not to focus on how the movement exposed Tsukishima's collarbones. Nope.

"Also," Tsukishima went on, raising a single finger. No one could argue with that. "It's been tried. You're not even close to being the leader of the 'get Shirabu and Semi together' attack squad. Terushima has exhausted all his plans. He probably cries every night about it."

"Can I call him?"

"Not in a million years."

Kuroo fell against the bed, hopeless. He’d yet to ask about this infamous Terushima Yuuji, but…one problem at a time.

At least the pillows were soft as he sighed into them. "Keiiiiii."

The blond didn’t reply, letting the silence settle. Ironically enough, the notes of a tragic love song began to slowly float into the room. Unfair.

And alright, maybe this was none of Kuroo's business. He had no idea what Semi and Shirabu's real history was beyond what Tsukishima told him, how they felt about soulmates or each other. They probably did just need to be left alone.

Then again, where was the fun in that?

Though, Kuroo had to admit, if he was meant to get involved, the universe would gladly summon his involvement when the time was right. It always had in the past. He supposed he could be patient for a little bit.

Just a little.

He felt Tsukishima roll over onto his side, and Kuroo automatically turned his head to meet his eyes. It was like a calling, an urge he couldn't resist.

And they said he was immune. Yeah right.

Tsukishima smiled at him, his edges softening beautifully just for Kuroo, and yeah...he wasn't immune to anything, and he'd always be one hundred percent okay with it.

"Fine," the blond sighed, his hand moving up to rest against Kuroo's. His finger immediately began to tap along with the music. "I won't ask you to let it go, just...let it go for now, got it?"

Give me all your attention. It went unsaid, but Kuroo heard it loud and clear. How could he refuse?

And yeah, the year was far from over, he had a lot of time to play matchmaker (not to mention a lot of time to drag Tsukishima into his schemes). He wanted to be selfish a little while longer, wanted to hide away and obsess over his own soulmate before he fretted over anyone else's.

He guessed he could wait; this would definitely suffice.

Kuroo was far from disappointed.

Instead he held Tsukishima's hand, cherishing it and not worrying about the distance left to cross, the kisses he wanted to steal. They had all night to do more.

Right then, he was more than okay with being patient, in all areas of life.

Kuroo leaned forward, like his words were a secret, the mischief and adoration dancing in his eyes. "Got it babe. For now."

#adri writing #kurotsuki #semishira #haikyuu!!

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daisysouthmoore · 6 years

Text

Warnings: Explicit (18+) language and eventual smut.

My submission to ‘Negan’s Valentine Challenge’ hosted by the very talented and very sweet @jeffreydeanneganstrash. Thank you for having me!

Category: Angst, Song Prompt: ‘Kiss It Better’ by Rihanna

KISS IT BETTER - PART 1

Click HERE for PART 2

Valentines Day… The one day of the year dedicated entirely to lovers. The air of my apartment was sweetened with fresh flowers, assorted chocolates and a spritz of expensive perfume but I was alone. Meanwhile, just outside my window, the night was softly lit by candlelight and I could hear the distant whispers of sweet nothings while couples wrapped themselves in the warm embrace of love and romance. If you’re a mistress like me, however, you’re left cold and alone. You have to fend for yourself because Valentines Day is the one night of the year when bad husbands everywhere return to the arms of their wives.

On this particularly love filled evening I was both alone and ‘hangry’ and of course, every restaurant in my vicinity had a waitlist. The thought of standing around for an hour to dine alone in a room filled with the men I’d slept with and their unsuspecting wives was far too painful to bear. Or maybe that’s exactly what I should have done. Maybe I should have put my best dress on, draped myself in all the jewelry they’d given me and bared it all. I should have relished in their nervous and suspicious glances. -But I’m not that cruel, so I ordered Chinese instead.

It would take just as long for my Mu Shu chicken and extra egg roll to arrive, but at least here in the comfort of my own apartment, I could watch TV in my new lingerie. It was black and sheer. Made with expensive and delicate lace. It was a gift from a successful banker I’d met a few weeks ago. He was spending the evening with his wife at the Ritz.

***

I’m sure by now I’ve disgusted you. It’s okay, I disgust myself but I wasn’t always like this. Three years ago I was finishing up school. I was still living off ramen but I’d landed a job as an intern at a well-known PR agency. I had all these goals and all the dreams to fuel my journey, but somewhere along the way, I lost myself. I veered off and sold my soul to a devil in a business suit who told his friend, who then told his friend, and his friend. As word got around about the pretty young assistant I quickly learned that the devil came in many forms, in many suits, and he had many bargains. Now I have a job but I certainly didn’t end up where I expected. I’m not necessarily proud of where I am but I don’t want for anything anymore. At least nothing material anyway.

Somewhere in all the possessions I’d accumulated in those three years I’d found something of true value. I met someone and it meant something. He was another man in a suit but he stood out from the rest. He was single for one thing, but he was also far more charming than the others. He reminded me that the devil was in fact just a ‘fallen angel’ after all. He could easily coax you into thinking he was an angel. He looked like an angel but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. In fact, he was the most dangerous one of all because he didn’t want my soul. He wanted my heart.

***

An hour later there was a knock at my door and I thought my Chinese feast had finally arrived. I slipped into a silk kimono robe to conceal my new lacy garments and rushed over with a wad of cash in hand. To my surprise and dismay, it wasn’t my Mu Shu. Instead, I was greeted by a large bouquet of pink peonies. There was only one man who knew my favorite flower and he had no damn business sending them.

“Special delivery for Miss… Sugar…” The delivery man trailed off and squinted like he was confused.

“Sugar Tits’.” I snatched the clipboard from him and scribbled my signature so hard I almost pierced the paper.

“That’s a new one.” He laughed as we exchanged the cumbersome bouquet. “Happy Valentines Day!” He turned to leave.

“Yeah, thanks.” I rolled my eyes and kicked my door closed.

I set my fluffy pink peonies on the table with the rest of my ‘wish-I-was-there’ flowers but all the long-stemmed roses seemed to dim in comparison. I thought about texting him to say ‘thank you’, ‘hi’ maybe, but my hands got clammy and I stopped myself. It was stupid. God, I could give a list of all the reasons why it was stupid. Trust issues, commitment issues, all of the baggage… -Oh and the fact that he’s a total asshole. He’s a cute asshole though… He’s also still set the bar for the best sex I’d ever had in my life. So I turned off my phone to resist temptation.

When my food finally arrived it was short an egg roll but by then I was starving and I didn’t care to mention it. I immediately cozied up on my couch, clutching a fork, a takeout box, and a bottle of wine from my gift pile to wash it all down. I didn’t even bother grabbing a glass. As I took a swig straight from the bottle I tried to focus on the slasher movie on television, but my eyes drifted over to the flowers again. I’d left them sitting on my dining table, still wrapped in cellophane and tissue paper. I should have put them in water but I figured the sooner they wilted, the sooner I could throw them away and forget about them.

I turned to my television again when eerie music started to play. It was building up to one of those pop out and scare you scenes. I slurped up a mouthful of greasy Chinese and chewed vigorously as I watched with unblinking eyes. Any second now the woman on the screen would come face to face with the killer and the suspense was already making my heart race. All the sudden there was another loud knock on my door and it startled me out of my skin. I clutched my chest and gasped, nearly choking on my food. I rushed over expecting my extra egg roll but instead I was faced with the only thing more frightening than a blade-wielding killer. It was Negan.

God, he was gorgeous… His dark hazel eyes were deeply wrinkled with age but they glimmered youthfully with a hint of mischief. His inky hair was freshly faded and combed back without a single strand out of place. His graying beard was neatly groomed. He was wearing a well fitted black suit, hemmed and pressed to perfection, gently hugging all the lean and chiseled lines of his body. He must have just gotten off work and he’d already loosened his tie for the day. I could see a few dark hairs peeking out from beneath his white collared shirt. He was effortlessly sexy. Shit.

“Happy Valentines Day, baby.” He grinned as he looked me up and down.

“What are you doing here?” I asked clutching my robe tightly closed.

“Didn’t you get my text?” He asked.

“My phone’s off for the night.” I said shortly.

“Oh good. I want your undivided attention.” He said.

His dark eyes trailed down my neck and came to rest on my bare shoulder. He licked his lips as he reached up and slipped his long fingers beneath the silk of my robe. In a slow and deliberate motion, he brushed my skin and lifted the delicate fabric back on to my shoulder. His touch grazed my collar bone and a shiver ran through me. A small smirk spread across his lips until dimples formed beneath his black and white scruff.

“No. Absolutely not.” I reached for my door to retreat back to the safety of my couch.

“Come on, darlin’. Don’t be like that… You don’t really wanna spend another Valentines Day all by your lonesome do you?” He grinned.

I reached to slam my door closed but he easily blocked my attempt and stepped inside anyway. I used to swoon over how bossy and presumptuous he could be but at that moment I just wanted to punch him in his stupidly handsome face.

“You haven’t thanked me for the gifts yet.” He said deeply.

He came forward pulling a box of chocolates from behind his back and he stood unnecessarily close. So close I could smell the cologne on his skin and it instantly fogged my mind with memories. His rich musk always reminded me of the woods. Dark, deep and mysterious. One could easily get lost in him. It was just one of the many things about him that lured women. Lots of women.

“I’m not accepting them.” I shoved the box of chocolate into his chest.

“Why not? You’ve accepted the rest.” He motioned to the gifts around my apartment and shoved the box to me.

“Those don’t come with strings attached.” I shoved again.

“Oh, right. Those are from your ‘business partners’.” He condescended. I scowled as I snatched the box from his hands and immediately stormed toward the trash can in my kitchen.

“Hey, hold on now. -Hey! That’s a hundred dollars worth of Belgian fuckin’ chocolate!” He stomped after me in a few long strides.

I froze for a brief moment. To be honest, his words were tempting, but I shoved them in the trash anyway. I’d just changed the liner so I figured I could fish them out later after I got rid of him.

“You ungrateful little asshole…” He grumbled as he reached inside and pulled them out himself. “At least try one first.” He opened the box.

Inside each morsel of rich chocolate was uniquely different. They were little bite-sized works of art that looked like they were detailed by hand. They were so beautiful I was afraid to touch them. So Negan picked one for me. He parted his lips so that his mouth was just slightly ajar as he brought the chocolate up to my lips. I instinctively mimicked his mouth to accept the treat but just before I took a bite he pulled away suddenly. He brought the chocolate back to his own smirking lips. He was teasing me. I sighed impatiently before he chuckled inwardly and brought it back to my frown. I snatched it away with my own hands this time and popped it into my mouth.

It was silky smooth and so luxuriously creamy. As it melted on my tongue a pleasant burst of salted caramel tickled my palette. I closed my eyes so he couldn’t see the way the taste made my eyes roll into the back of my head. It was almost orgasmic and I couldn’t resist the small smile that followed. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted.

“How is it?” He asked with a proud grin.

“S’okay.” I shrugged but snatched the box from him.

Negan watched as I made my way to my dining table. I swung by my living area first to snatch up the bottle of wine I’d been sipping from. I was going to need it. Wherever this night was headed, it wasn’t going to end well. It never did. I took a seat at the table and started rummaging through the rest of the chocolates. I took another swig from the bottle and Negan chuckled as he joined me. He didn’t sit. He just leaned against the edge of the table and stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was his usual power stance. Casually comfortable and yet you could tell he meant business.

“You know, peonies are hard to find this time of year.” He fiddled with one of the ruffly petals. “Most girls get… roses.” He smirked as he motioned to the rest of my bouquets.

“Did you get the rest of your girls roses?” I raised my brow.

“Well, some of them anyway.” He laughed to himself but I found no humor in his joke. It was still a sour subject to me.

“I’m sure one of them did at least.” I said bitterly.

“You’re still mad about that?” He laughed.

“You mean the reason we ended it? Yeah. I’m still mad.” I said as if it was obvious.

“That wasn’t the only reason. You know that.” He shook his head and tilted his chin down ruefully.

“Why did you do it? If you knew I would find out. If you knew it would be the end of us, why did you do it?” I asked.

“Because I was angry.” He said succinctly and it enraged me.

“Because you were angry? You were angry so you fucked around with another woman!?” I shouted.

“You’re not really in any place to judge there, doll.” He said harshly.

“Fuck you! I’m not talking about them, I’m talking about us!” I shouted.

“Open your fuckin’ eyes and look around you! This is us! These other men have always fuckin’ been here! It’s never been just the two of us!” He shouted.

“And why!? You never gave me any reason to trust you! All you did was string me along! You played your stupid mind games! You toyed with my head! You-!“

“You are not the only victim in this fuckin’ relationship! Alright!?” He slammed his hand on the table to silence me and I jumped.

This very moment was all too familiar to me. We’d reached this point many, many times. In the past, I would have purposefully pushed him over the edge. Back then I would have tested him just to spite him. The rage he was capable of was frightening but Negan would never put his hands on me. I knew that and maybe that’s why I was so bold. -But now there was nothing to fight about. We had nothing left worth fighting for. I suppose we never did. As the silence between us drew on it was clear we were both only mourning the death of our relationship. It was over. The air was calm again but now it was heavy with grief.

“Were you really that miserable?” He asked deeply.

“Not always. Not at first.” I admitted.

“If it was so bad then why’d you stay?” He asked.

“Because I loved you, Negan.” I said.

“And now?” He asked.

“I… I love the memory of you.” I said and I saw physical pain furrow his brow.

“Jesus Christ! What am I fuckin’ dead to you?” He was suddenly angry again.

“No, I didn’t mean-“ I tried to double back but the damage was already done.

“After all the shit I’ve done for you! I’ve been generous as fuck to you! Hell, I spent 300 goddamn dollars on fuckin’ flowers and candy tonight alone!” He threw his romantic gestures back in my face, just like he always had.

“I never asked you for any of it!” I snapped and threw the entire box of Belgian chocolates at his feet. He just laughed.

“Trash your shitty little apartment if you want to! -But you were more than happy to spread those legs wide fuckin’ open the first time you peeped my fuckin’ credit card!” He threw a low blow.

The intensity of the pain and anger I felt in that moment was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was a concoction of resentment, accusations and guilt, the loss of something that might have been love if we’d ever given each other a chance. He had every reason to lash out but he knew what he was saying was out of line. He said it to hurt me and in that moment all I wanted to do was hurt him back. So I reached back and swung my hand, slapping it hard across his face. The stillness and silence that followed left the air so dense that I felt like I might suffocate.

When Negan slowly turned to face me again the darkness and anger in his expression pierced the pit of my stomach. I gasped when he suddenly reached out and took hold of my chin. He clutched my jaw so tightly in his grip that it almost hurt. There was a fire in his eyes that made my skin hot. I felt the sudden and intense desire to taste him again. I knew his skin would taste better than any chocolate money could buy and I was willing to surrender to him. -But he shoved away from me. When he turned to leave my heart dropped because I knew it would be the last time.

“Negan, wait! Please don’t end it like this!” I hurried after him.

“Oh, I didn’t fuckin’ end it like this, baby. You did.” He said yanking my door open.

“I’m sorry! Please, don’t go! Don’t leave me alone here like this!” I begged.

“Fuck you. Go lie down in your bed of fuckin’ roses.” He slammed the door behind him.

Continue to PART 2

#jdneganstrashvalentine #negans thirst squad #negan #smut #writing challenge #that's a whole lotta angst

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stormyfayethechristianrunaway · 4 years

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Stormy Faye The Christian Runaway #Repost @stormy_faye Wednesday Evening Confession: I Am Tired . . . My body has been in a state of fatigue for weeks. I’ve experienced my share of ups and downs, wins and losses, and more than a few collisions recently. Literal and figurative stumbles have been upon me. This original post was planned several hours ago. �� These sudden 2am-4am wake-up sessions for the longest time have been a morning test. I’m frustrated by yet another delay. I’ve never claimed to be perfect or have it all together. I’m just me - a spiritual being encased in a very human body. A girl who has many wants and human needs and experience the same bumpy ride in life as others. I’m not claiming a state of hysteria. No need to pull out the smelling salts. I don’t require a swooning couch. 🙄 But it would be nice to sometimes experience being treated as a girly princess. Because lets face it: Being a girl running on faith ain’t always easy. It gets tough sometimes. Tough and lonely, not to always have someone to hand the baton to for the next leg of the journey. I’m having a moment of transparency here. I Am Tired . . . If you’re good with Christ, please say a prayer for me tonight. Will ya? #IAmTired #WednesdayEveningConfession 🛐🛐🛐 For our earthly fathers disciplined us for a few years, doing the best they knew how. But God’s discipline is always good for us, so that we might share in his holiness. No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way. So take a new grip with your tired hands and strengthen your weak knees. Mark out a straight path for your feet so that those who are weak and lame will not fall but become strong. Hebrews 12:10‭-‬13 NLT http://bible.com/116/heb.12.10-13.NLT #August30th2018 #FaithForTheJourney https://www.facebook.com/groups/708592369301103/?ref=share #FaithForTheJourney @stormy_faye StormyFaye.com Use this link when you shop: https://stormy-faye-llc.myshopify.com/collections/all #StormyFayeTheChristianRunaway #August30th2020 https://www.instagram.com/p/CEh163MpGyV/?igshid=1n1f91nkmlzpp

#repost #iamtired #wednesdayeveningconfession #august30th2018 #faithforthejourney #stormyfayethechristianrunaway #august30th2020

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sabraeal · 7 years

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The Most Perverse Creature in the World: Part 2

No one has ever taught you how to be Countess.

Ah, but that is not exactly true. Though your mother died in your infancy, your father spared no expense on tutors. They taught you how to cross your ankles instead of your legs, how to turn a phrase politely when you loathed the topic – or the speaker, how to balance the accounts while your eyes skim over entries for gifts your husband purchased, but you never received. Oh, you have received an education, but no one has ever taught you to be an authority.

You think, not kindly, as the door to your husband’s rooms – your rooms, now – close behind you, they would have rather broken your legs than teach you how to stand. And before you had been strangled in these widow’s weeds, you had been not content, but…complacent. What need had you with legs when your husband had such a fine pair?

It is strange how mere months can make a child out of who you used to be.

Your apartments are not lavish, but well-styled, though not in your way. It does not match the rest of Bederin either – your husband had been a bachelor for many years before your marriage, and set in his ways. Your own bedchamber and parlor had been yours to do with as you please, and your private garden as well, but the rest of your house had been left as you found it after your honeymoon, all muted colors and dark wood. Sometimes it seemed as if there was not a single lamp that could cut through the gloom. But your husband had said he had liked it, that he missed the subdued décor of Bederin when he was at court, and you had obeyed his wishes, no matter how many times you had fantasized about ripping the paper from the walls with your own hands.

But it did not seem he cared for it here. The room is airy, windows open and draperies make of rose and cream gauze, fluttering prettily in the breeze. Even here you smell a hint of salt; the sea is not close, a half-day’s ride at the least, but when the wind blows from the east it makes you remember easy summers by the shore, bare feet sinking deep in the sand with skirts tucked into your sash, too young for anything but a half-hearted scolding.

Even fond memories do not take out the sting of seeing the bedroom. Your hands clench into fists, nails biting at your palms.

So this is where it happened.

A breath shudders from your lungs. A walk. A walk in the gardens to clear your head, that sounds…prudent.

You hardly get to the door when it swings open, conveying a sort of enthusiasm that seems glaringly out of step with your mood. You resolve, with an even breath, not to hold it against the happy creature that slips into your room.

“My lady!” Her smile is not subdued, as most domestics are taught; you suppose she is too young for a lord to have shown her the consequences of such ready eagerness. “I hope you have found the room to your satisfaction.”

You mean to say yes, for that is what you are supposed to say. It is right on the tip of your tongue, ready to fall off –

“No,” your mouth says instead, your heart careening into your throat. “The bed offends me.”

Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, unsure. She is not used to someone making demands. They probably sent her here because a widow was to be easy. “Oh, should I – should I change the sheets?”

“No.” You have committed to this now. There’s no reason for you to be cowed now, for you to live with this…effrontery. “The whole of it is unsatisfactory.”

“You want…” The girl stares. You wonder if she has had any training at all. “You want to have a whole new bed?”

You lift your chin as if you are accustomed to being taken seriously. It occurs to you that you most likely resemble no one so greatly in this moment than your late great aunt. “I am going to take a walk in the gardens. When I return, I expect I will see something more to my liking in its place.”

As the days pass, you reflect often on how your marriage at Bederin has prepared you for your widowhood at court: you are invited nowhere, and wherever you walk, eyes slip off of your person, as if you are merely a shadow that haunts these halls. Bad fortune to see a specter in widow’s weeds, your companions had whispered to you under the sheets, when you were still young enough to have them. It means death will follow you.

The gardens are lovely, and extensive, but after a few afternoons spent wandering its winding paths, you have seen all it can offer. It does not surprise you that you receive no invitations – you are, after all, deep in mourning – but that not a single lady visits, not even those gentlewomen, jockeying for favor among the women of the peerage…

That cuts deeper than you expect.

Your maid – Mayu, she tells you, more serious when you return that first day – is little help as well, far too inexperienced to know what sort of diversions a woman of your station. You ask her to bring you books from the library, and instead of philosophers or volumes of literature, she brings you novels. Salacious ones, where grown women run around in night rails – night rails – and swoon on moors. Stuff your father would have never allowed in his house, and for good reason.

It rots minds, he would say tamping down the tobacco in his pipe. Women should only read improving literature.

If it makes your skin heat and your heart race as you read of two bodies entangled in sheets; if it makes you miss, if only for a moment, the touch of a man, well – no one is around to see it.

“My lady,” Mayu starts one morning, as you take a late breakfast. “Are you here on holiday?”

Why anyone would want to vacation in a snake nest is beyond you, but you answer, “No, I am here to fill Bederin’s council seat.”

Mayu fumbles with the samovar, the clumsy girl. “The council?”

You wish everyone would stop being so surprised at the idea. “Yes. Bederin is mine, and so is it’s seat.”

“Then…” Your maid fusses with the sugar, trembling hands making the spoon chime against the bowl. “Why are you not in council now?”

You arrive with the wrath of storms at your back, veil and crape billowing out like thunderheads in your wake, and when you arrive, twenty some-odd heads swivel towards you, the king’s not included. He merely continues sipping his tea, looking for all the world like he expected you to come in here like thunder itself and make yourself known.

Arluleon was not of the same mind.

“Lady Bederin,” he says, displeasure dripping from his scowl. “I did not think you would join us.”

“Countess Bederin.” You are already tired of saying it. “And perhaps you would have, if you had sent me a summons.”

His jaw sets, shoulders squaring like he’s bracing for a fight. Oh, how you long to be a man, so you might give him one. “I assumed you would still be resting. Travel is quite wearing.”

You hear how that sentence is half finished, how he means to say, for one of your sex. You are glad that you must wear your veil, for oh, oh what a beastly face you make. How you long to wrap your hands around his thick neck and choke the words from him.

“I am much recovered,” you say instead, words forced out through your teeth. All the while, the king sips at his cup, bored.

“Ah.” You expect Arluleon to say something like, excellent, or as it should be, or any sort of pleasantry, but instead he says, “Bederin’s seat is there.”

It is, in the end, all you need from him.

#ans #my fic #haruka x reader #second person #enemies to lovers #slow burn #please enjoy some period feminism #because that's how i roll #apparently this also gets to be my sick gift to myself #apparently that is also how i roll #brought to you by hymn and joanna being meddlesome

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theclaravoyant · 7 years

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Into the Dark [a 4x15 UA]

AN ~ for @fitzsimmonsftw who asked the void, and offered me cyber spring roles, and also tagging @agentcalliope bc she gave me this song the other day so now she can (not-)suffer too.

A 4x15 AU: Bus Kids against the world. Rated T. TW for canon-compat depiction of self harm (without suicidal or depressed ideation).

Read on AO3 (~1800wd)

Into the Dark

“Pick it up.”

There was fear in her voice. Fear. Rage. Every ounce of love and softness in her, she had battened down under sharp steel, and yet her eyes were bleeding with it even as she gestured with them to the knife on the bench.

“And do what?”

“Slit your wrist. Then I’ll be able to see the wires if you’re an LMD.”

“Yeah, and if I’m not, you’ve just made me slit my bloody wrist-“

Her eyes brooked no sympathy, allowed none of his fear or desperation to breach her walls. She’d been shot through the heart too many times and she was right, of course. This always happened to them.

Fitz’ heart was racing so fast he was getting dizzy, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. Were they real? If he looked hard enough, would he see a tiny lens adjusting? Would her tears be salt, or rusty? Was he really about to do this?

He picked up the knife. If he could prove it, if he could, everything would be okay.

(Except it wouldn’t, because if he could prove it, that meant she couldn’t).

Either way, he’d have his answer, he supposed.

He cut in. Carefully at first, but then the blood began to pool and he realised that maybe he hadn’t been careful enough. At first it was actually quite a satisfying feeling. He felt relief: his own blood, proving to himself as well as to her that he wasn’t an LMD, once and for all.

Then his heart dropped into his stomach. He dropped the knife, and inhaled sharply.

“Oh god.”

“Fitz?”

Her voice still crooned with concern and she approached him gently. He scrabbled across the floor, trying to get away from her and stem the now copious bleeding from his wrist at the same time.

“No!” he cried, “get away from me!”

“Fitz, I can help!” she insisted. “It’s not me, I just want to help!”

“Of course you bloody do! Help end my pain, right? Maybe slit the other wrist, help it go faster?!”

Hysterically, Fitz searched for another weapon. He’d left the knife on the floor, and it was closer to her than it was to him now. She bent down slowly and picked it up, lowering the gun at the same time. Fitz’ head spun. Was he really going to have to fight her? This spitting image of Jemma? Could he do that? And if so – would he ever be able to look at her again?

Daisy covered her mouth in horror, and squeezed her eyes shut. She could hardly bear to look. She was going to be sick. She was going to scream and give herself away. Not them, not him, not her, not them.

“Slit your wrist. Then I’ll be able to see the wires if you’re an LMD.”

“Yeah, and if I’m not, you’ve just made me slit my bloody wrist-“

Fitz cut himself off. For a few seconds there was silence – at least, as far as the video camera was concerned. Daisy’s heart pounded in her throat but she had to look. She had to know.

She looked back down at the screen and whimpered to herself. Fitz was doubled over, his whole body cringing in fear and agony as his wrist bleed visibly down his arm and onto the floor. Jemma was relentless, though she pursued him slowly. He scrambled around the bench, breathing heavily, looking for something to defend himself with. Jemma still had the gun, and the knife lay on the floor, torturously far from Fitz

Daisy watched, mesmerised. Traumatised.

“No! Get away from me!”

“Fitz, I can help! It’s not me, I just want to help!”

“Of course you bloody do! Help end my pain, right? Maybe slit the other wrist, help it go fast-“

Then, suddenly, there was nothing but the sound of her racing heart. The screen turned black in front of her.

“No no nononono,” she muttered. She tried turning it back on, to no avail. The device was working, it was the security that had been cut. They knew. They must have known she’d tried to get into it. They must have known she wasn’t one of them. They must be coming for her, like they’d come for him.

Daisy stood up and gathered her wits. She swapped the screen out for Mack’s beloved shotgun-axe. He’d want her to kick killer-robot ass with it, of that she was sure, and happy to oblige.

But first – Fitz.

“Fitz!” Jemma yelped, as he scrambled around the corner. “Fitz, it’s me, I promise.”

His eyes bulged, his head spinning. She didn’t run after him, yet she was always approaching, like a Dalek. Slow but deadly. (Unlike a Dalek, still trying to plead for his attention.) Was she coming around the other way?

“Stop it!” He sniffed, holding his wrist as he tried to gather his thoughts. “Stop saying that. It’s not you.”

“It is!” Jemma insisted. “It is. Look.”

She appeared, with the knife instead of the gun this time, and immediately Fitz grabbed a beaker from the low shelf behind him. What was he planning? To throw it at her? Even he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t get a chance to follow through on anything because Jemma was standing before him, cutting her own wrist.

“Jemma, what the hell?!"

Fitz scrambled to his feet, forgetting for a second that she could reach out and snap his neck at any moment. Swooning a little at the sudden start, he grabbed the bench and stared at Jemma in horror; fear; confusion. She’d done it properly of course, and while there was still a fair amount of blood, it wasn’t cascading out like his had. The sight of it seemed to settle her.

“There,” she said, holding up the wound for him to see. “No wires, no plates. Just me.”

His knees shuddered. Jemma rushed to him and this time he didn’t pull away. She clamped one hand over his wrist and held it between them as she threw the other arm around his neck. He smelled like blood and sweat, and his whole body was still shaking.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” she assured him, the steel and stone she’d heaped up to protect herself finally tumbling down as he hugged her back with everything he had and wept into her shoulder. “It’s you and me, right? Together. Just like always.”

Rapid footsteps in the hall outside reminded her with bone-chilling suddenness that it was not just the two of them after all. She froze, and felt him do the same.

“I think someone’s coming,” she whispered.

They’d barely made it another step when the door flung open and Daisy burst in, wild-eyed and furious and aiming her shotgun at Jemma.

“Get away from him.”

“What?”

“Daisy it’s- “

“Away. NOW.”

“You first!”

Jemma let go Fitz’ wrist, but not to step away. She braced herself defensively in front of him, and wrapped a fist around the handle of the knife and held it above her head, prepared to go for the arteries in Daisy’s neck if she stepped too close.

“I don’t understand,” Fitz said, after a moment of being locked in this impasse. “Why haven’t you killed us yet? What do you need us for?”

“Need you for?” Daisy repeated. “I don’t need you for anything, it’s this one who’s trying to kill you. It’s not Jemma, Fitz, don’t be stupid. Jemma would never ask you to cut your own wrist.”

“Well I didn’t expect he’d cut the radial artery!” Jemma blurted. “That’s not my –“

“Shut up!” Daisy checked that the nose of her gun was still up. “Don’t you speak to him. Fitz, come here.”

“No! No way.”

“She’s trying to trick you. Come here.”

“She’s not!” Fitz insisted. “Look, her wrist, she’s cut it too, see?”

Beneath the sharp blade, Jemma held out her wrist. Daisy studied it.

“Okay. Alright. So the three of us are fine then and we’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Awesome.” She slowly lowered her gun, but Jemma didn’t release her braced position.

“Come on,” Daisy beckoned, “and grab the pistol too. Fitz needs medical. There’s a safe storeroom downstairs. Let’s go already.”

“Downstairs?” Fitz repeated, suspicious.

“We’re not going anywhere with you,” Jemma growled. “You could still be one of them.”

“Yes, and I’m going to save your lives because I, as an evil killer robot, would love to help keep alive the two people in this building who have the greatest chance at defeating me.”

It was something, but not quite enough. Jemma lowered the knife from its dagger-ready position, but she held it out to Daisy instead. Daisy glared at it, then at Jemma.

“You’re joking, right?”

“It’s the only way to know.”

“It’s the only way to get AIDS is what it is.” But they didn’t relent. Daisy sighed and wiped the knife as best she could.

“Fine! But if I die, I’m blaming you. Actually. You wanna do it?”

“Really?”

“The real Jemma wouldn’t kill me. I trust you’re real. Whether or not I am, well, there’s apparently only one way to find out, right?”

Jemma hesitated for a moment, but the trust in Daisy’s eyes was genuine. So genuine it was really going to hurt if wires and plates showed up after all that. But Jemma took the knife back and carefully made a slit, and checked the wound for anything unusual.

“Clear?” Daisy was looking at the roof, just in case.

“Clear.” Jemma sighed with relief.

“Hey, um,” Fitz interjected. “Now that we’ve established that we’re not all trying to kill each other, I’m starting to feel a bit…”

Both of them rushed to his side. Jemma clenched his wrist again.

“We’ll wrap that up as soon as we get there, okay? Can you walk?” Though queasy, Fitz nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured them. “There’s just – there’s a lot of blood.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Jemma assured him. “Just a few more minutes. We’re going to keep holding that and Daisy’s going to help us get to the storeroom, okay?”

Fitz nodded again. Daisy grimaced. There really was a lot of blood. He was still standing though, so that was a good sign, and once they got it all wrapped up, both of them would be more free to move around. That was a promising sign for their escape plan – a promising sign they needed, since they were going to have to go deeper into the belly of the beast before they were to have a chance at getting out.

“Alright, are you ready?” Daisy instructed. “Back door in three – two – one -“

She reached an arm up and quaked the chains holding up the lighting unit. It crashed down, knocking into the cart of IT equipment FitzSimmons had brought in. There was no way the others wouldn’t hear that, no way they wouldn’t come running.

“Go.”

#fitzsimmons #thefitzsimmonsnetwork #buskidsnet #brot3: bus kids #aos s4 #aos spoilers

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